The Women’s Flyfishing Clinic held outside Virocqua a few weekends ago was a phenomenal learning experience. It was fun, educational, and, most of all, supportive, providing an entryway into a sport that may seem elusive, even esoteric to many.

Four important things happened in the clinic to make this possible: As newbies, we were actively welcomed into the flyfishing community; our instructors and River Buddies demystified the process so we knew enough to be self-sufficient;  we each were matched with a River Buddy/mentor for an afternoon of fishing; and we had a great time.

Fly fishing is more than a sport; like most hobbies, it’s also a community of passionate enthusiasts, with a culture all its own. But every culture or specialized hobby has its jargon, which can be kind of intimidating to the uninitiated. While the visuals always were appealing, I didn’t know if I would ever find a “way in” to this intriguing world of men and women who fish by wading into streams, wearing vests hung up with countless mysterious doodads.

There is something essential about the sharing, or passing on, of a tradition. Think about it. How many people just up and decide to start hunting or fishing, and go and teach themselves? Of course it can be done. But generally speaking, these are skills, traditions, ethics that are shared or passed on from person to person, sometimes intergenerationally, sometimes through friends or other mentors.  The Women’s Flyfishing Clinic provided that way in. From our very first activity, reflecting on what previous experiences or desires we bring to fly fishing, to shadow casting and tying knots, to dry casting on land, to one-on-one streamside mentoring from our River Buddies, to sharing tales of our fishing exploits around the campfire that evening, the Clinic instructors cast a supportive circle that affirmed our belonging and set us up for success.

At the end of the weekend, I got geared up. Through the clinic, we received a few essentials, the most exciting of which was a set of flies, hand-tied by supportive TU members. I can’t think of a more expressive way for the community to welcome us newbies into the fold! But still, I would need a rod, reel and a few other items. My previous experience with this kind of situation would be a state of overwhelm and inability to choose due to insufficient information or experience. But no! Self-sufficiency was the name of the game. I was so impressed (with the Clinic, and myself) that in only two days, I had learned enough and gained the confidence to go into a shop and know what I needed (and didn’t need) in order to get started.

I haven’t been out yet – the first plans I made were rained out – but now I’ve studied the maps and selected several spots within an hour north and west. I also came up with a good spot to practice casting right here in Green Bay, where I may even land a surprising catch. I definitely want to go out fishing with others, and to continue growing, learning, enjoying and building our angling community. But I also am jealously guarding the time I can carve out for myself and my fly rod – time I will set aside to find my way back into the zone, absorbed into the rhythm of casting, with nothing but the ambient voice of  the stream and maybe a wood thrush or two as the soundtrack to that amazing visual:  the woman wading in the water, focused, relaxed, angling her cast just so in the ideal mimic of a real fly.  And what amazes me most of all about that visual? To discover that that woman is me.

Melis Arik
Member, Green Bay Trout Unlimited