I was totally absorbed in the task at hand and unaware that I had any company.
“Have you got a license?” The gruff question came from behind me.
“A license for what?” I replied as demurely as I could, trying to recover from the shock of the interruption.
“A fishing license!” The gruff tone raised an octave or two.
“But I’m not fishing!” I was about to start reasoning with the uniformed person now glaring at me.
“You need a license to fish here. If you don’t have a license, I shall have issue you with a fine.”
I stripped in my line as quickly as I could. As I neared the end, I raised the rod tip bringing the end of the line towards me. Taking hold of the end, I held it up to show my accuser.
“See no hook! I am not fishing.”
“But you have a rod and you are casting in the water.”
“And if I had a bag of golf clubs and a caddy, would this be a golf course?”
A blank face stared back at me so I decided on a different tack.
“I’m not fishing. I am learning to cast. Casting a fly line is a matter of timing. I am trying to teach myself the art of the ‘Double Haul’ cast.”
Once again, the blank expression that looked back at me did not inspire any confidence.
Let me try another option.
“Here, hold this for me.” I passed the rod to him.
“What are you doing?” I asked him. There was no change in the blankness. Well perhaps a slight frown. “Cast the line. See if you can catch a fish.”
“But there’s no hook!” I had elicited an intelligent comment.
“Precisely! (I’m not fishing. I have no hook. I have no net, I have no bait. I have nothing in my pockets. I am here to practise my casting.
“Oh!” A long pause.
“Oh! I suppose you can carry on then.”
I gently took my rod back and moved off a little way to give myself some space. Once more, I started going through the rhythm of the casting process.
‘Load, pull, fire.’
Pause
‘Load, pull, fire.’
No different really to the trap shooters with their shotguns on the shooting range. ‘Load, pull, fire.’
The double haul cast is a cast used primarily to get greater distance or to handle heavier flies. The simple flick and roll casts of small stream fishing just didn’t cut it on the large reservoirs where I fished.
Load – the fly rod is designed with a great deal of resistance in its length. In order to cast the line, the weight of the line had to be used to load the spring in the rod.
Pull – the line getting to full stretch. For the rod to be fully loaded, the line is speeded up with the pull. A downward movement of the hand pulling line back in the opposite direction to what it wants to travel. Faster speed, greater load.
Fire – At just the right moment of maximum load, the line is released, shooting it forward to maximum distance.
The whole process required excellent timing and therefore a great deal of practise. But, if one wanted to catch the deep trout on big waters, it had to be mastered.
I noticed that the uniformed official had moved off a distance. The excitement of his ‘catch’ had evaporated.
Should I? I wondered. Maybe?
Wasn’t this why I was practising in the first place? He had moved off quite a distance by now.
“Do you know that Christ called you to be a fisherman?” I called out loudly. I looked past him to the late afternoon sun that hurried towards the horizon. “It is because of Christ that I’m here practising.”
He stopped walking away and turned to look at me.
“If you want to see my license. I’ll show you my real fishing license. That’s the license I wear around my neck.”
He started to move off again. That double haul cast – now I needed that extra distance. ‘Load, pull, fire.’
I let the words sail out over his head and set them down gently before him.
“Instead of checking other people’s licenses let me show you how Christ will give you a license all of your own.”
He stopped and turned. Paused and then slowly, nervously made his way back to me.
I reeled in my line. I’d made my catch of the day. Now I needed to get it safely into the net.
“Hi! Name’s Aloeham. What can I call you?” I stuck out my hand.
“Jack.” He returned the pressure of my grip nervously.
I reached under my shirt collar and pulled out my crucifix. Lifting it over my head, I removed it and held it out towards Jack.
“This is my fishing license Jack. It is the best license in the whole world. You want to know why? You see with this license I can go fishing in all kinds of weather. I can go fishing in all kinds of places. I can go fishing all year round. I don’t have to wait for the right season. Best of all, with this license, I can fish for whatever type of fish God tells me to go and catch. Here I was just learning to cast, and with this license, I am going to have a chance to get you a license just like it.”
From the look on his face I could see that Jack thought I was the craziest fisherman he had ever met. He probably regretted that it was his day to patrol that section of the river where I was casting. But God knew what he was about.
I held out the cross again, motioning Jack to take a seat on the grass bank. As he slowly sank down to position himself next to me, I noticed that he was slowly rubbing his finger over the small wooden cross attached to a thin leather strip that I’d worn for years around my neck.
I looked at the deep dark eyes and the slight glistening in the corner.
“Nobody ever really wants to talk to me, you know.” Jack’s voice was soft. Very different from the gruffness that he’d originally greeted me with.
“That’s probably because they haven’t learnt the art of the ‘Double Haul’ cast yet.” I replied. The smile in my voice was an echo of the joy in my heart.
Thank God! Yes! Thank God, that Christ had called me to be a fisherman. A fly fisherman who handle a double haul cast.
