Hooked Again
It’s no monster, but this tiny brook trout is a connection to childhood, memories, and a beloved mentor. All Photos: Lindsey Williams
I don’t know the last time I went fishing as a kid, and it’s been at least twenty-five years since I held a fishing rod. But I’ll never forget my first, when my Uncle Marty proudly showed me the “secret” family fishing knot (which definitely wasn’t a clinch knot). What stuck with me more than the knot was the time spent with him. Memories like those are what remain when people leave us, and images of Uncle Marty have stayed with me ever since.
This March, Uncle Marty passed away after a long fight with cancer. Losing him left me reflecting on just how much his influence shaped who I became. Throughout my life, I’ve been fortunate to have mentors and guides who pointed me in the right direction, and he was one of the first. His presence gave me a sense of direction that has carried me into a life I’m proud of, and lately, it brought me back to the water.
The author’s Uncle Marty instilled a love of fishing and connection to the water.
Taking a Leap
This past July, I had my first summer Friday off. With unexpected free time, I found myself drifting into nostalgia, remembering Uncle Marty and those early days. On a whim, I stepped into a local fly shop and walked out with a fly rod, a handful of flies, and an irresistible urge to find water. That evening, I ended up at a nearby pond and caught fish.
They were nothing more than bluegill and perch sipping bugs from the surface, but in those moments I felt the same spark I had experienced as a child. That first cast back into fishing quickly led to more. I started venturing out early in the mornings, chasing something bigger. I’ve caught brook trout in shaded streams and, more recently, my first rainbow trout. Those trout marked more than just a milestone. Catching them felt like a turning point, as though I had stepped through a doorway from playful nostalgia into something deeper.
A heron stalks its prey in the shallows of a trout stream.
It hasn’t just been about the fish. It’s been about the places fishing takes me. I’ve stood in rivers at dawn, watching the sun rise over the treeline. I’ve had herons land so close I could hear the beat of their wings and watched osprey dive from the sky, lifting trout from the water before flying away. These experiences have reminded me of something I didn’t realize I had been missing. Fishing has become a way to slow down, to pay attention, and to reconnect with something that feels both old and new at the same time.
Reconnection to the Past
Rediscovering fishing has been like picking up a thread from my childhood, one that I thought had been lost long ago. Each cast, each fish, and each quiet morning on the water has carried with it a sense of joy and meaning I hadn’t expected to find.
Somewhere in those mornings, I realized what happened. I have rediscovered a childhood joy. And now, I am hooked all over again, carrying Uncle Marty with me every time I step into the river.
Lindsey Williams lives in Massachusetts.
