If you happen upon a spot and have success, do you keep it secret? It’s an interesting question, one that I often wrestle with as a writer. My policy is that if it’s a spot that I found myself, I’m happy to share it. If it’s shown to me by a captain, guide, or fishing buddy, I respect their wishes to divulge or not. At the end of the day, I can tell you where I was and what I fished, but it’s just the start. You need to go do it yourself and learn how to read and adapt as things change on the water.
One question I often wrestle with is whether or not to name certain places in the stories I write. After all, I’m an angler too. I appreciate solitude on a fishing stream as much as the next person, and I fully understand that you can love a place to death by writing about it in every detail.
For example, I’ve written about this place, but I’ve never named it. Sorry, I’m not going to say where it is now. But those of you who fish in the Rocky Mountain high country know that this is one of thousands of little trout streams that look and fish the same way. It’s no great discovery to chance upon a scene like this… certainly nothing an angler willing to dedicate a little hiking and map reading effort couldn’t find on his own. The way I see it, my job isn’t to tell you exactly where this is, rather, it is to motivate you to go and find it on your own. If you’re willing to huff and wheeze your way up to this water, you’re no intruder. You’re a kindred spirit.
Photos: Field and Stream (top), SoCal Salty (above)
