Another universal truth discovered

Thanks to my years involved in fly fishing

Everyone has their own "philosophy." For most of us it is not defined.

Over the years, I have recognized some truths about this world that fit into an otherwise largely undefined philosophy.

A while back, I wrote and podcasted about O'Leary's First Law: Nice is not a virtue.

Today, I unveil ...

O'Leary's Second Law: You can't cast yourself out of a tangle.

As far as I remember, the Second Law was the first one I articulated. It became a mantra I’d repeat to clients.

See, once upon a time, I was a fly fishing instructor and guide. The biggest problem I saw in my beginner-level clients was patience.

Without going into detail, fly fishing is as complicated or as simple as you need it to be. When Robert Redford rhapsodized about fly casting—using the words of Norman Maclean—in the film version of A River Runs Through It, many of those exposed to the sport for the first time marveled at the beauty and complexity of the "shadow casting" by Paul (the Brad Pitt character).

Reminder: this was a Hollywood production.

My method of teaching the cast was even simpler than the one Reverend Maclean taught his children.

Reportedly, Brad Pitt couldn't fish a lick. His fishing scenes were performed by Jason Borger.

Gary Borger, the father of the "shadow caster," was a consultant for the film and it was from his books, videos, and in-person seminars where I, perhaps ironically, learned the simplicity of a fly cast.

Be that as it may, most first-time fly anglers try to be Brad Pitt. As mentioned, Pitt didn't know what he was doing, so most of my clientele succeeded in their mission.

But my roles were different from instructor to guide.

• An instructor teaches the angler skills and principles. The fish are secondary.

• A guide is supposed to put the angler "where the fish are." Skills are secondary. The guide's tactics should be based on the client's skill level.

Without a fish in mind, the fly caster can learn the skills.

When I was learning how to fish steelhead with two-handed rods, a great friend and mentor of mine made me go "fishing" without a hook on my fly until I could competently complete the cast without messing it up. Casting lessons, really.

We were friends, but it wasn't until I was good enough not to scare the fish that we became "fishing buddies." We logged a lot of river time and, perhaps more importantly, time on the road together.

Even though I was a decent angler, I lacked certain skills ... but I soon developed them with time and intent.

With that in mind, imagine a guided trip for first time anglers. They are often disastrous.

The typical "newbie" angler knows "how easy" it is to cast and to fish because he saw it in the movies or on a video or something like that. These folks are met with disappointment, and...

Tangles

Simply put, the general principle in fly fishing is that the angler uses a weighted line to cast a nearly (or relatively) weightless fly (or lure if you will).

In conventional fishing, one casts a nearly weightless line to cast a heavy lure.

Both methods use the concept of rod and reel and depend on the notion that fish may be in the water. The "how-to's" of catching those fish, thus, vary widely.

So, here's how a "first-timers" trip may go, saying I have two clients.

• I set up the tackle for each and send one fellow upstream and the other one downstream.

• I get one of them set up first, showing them how to use the water—instead of the air—to help him cast. Basic motion. Basic. But not really shown in the movies.

• I go help the other fellow do the same thing.

• The first guy starts thinking he's Brad Pitt. He is. Because, remember, Brad Pitt sucks at fly fishing (or at least did in the early 1990s). Something inevitably goes haywire in no time, and I must fix it. If we're lucky, it’s maybe only a snag on a log or something like that.

• Meanwhile, the other fellow, seeing that his buddy has neglected my commands, decides that he has license to shadow-cast ... his line into a ball of knots, with the fly somewhere amid a tangle of monofilament and/or fly line.

This is the root of O'Leary's Second Law. If I weren't there to cry "Halt," these morons would keep "fishing" past this point of no return then wonder why they can't catch a fish. Guide's fault?

Maybe it is the guide’s fault, as ...

The blissful angler amidst the wild, rippling waters is manifesting rising trout on Big Blackfoot on his hook. All the while, summoning the ghost of Paul Maclean.

It’s fantasy.

Furthermore, the crux of the matter is getting the fly to reach the trout where it will look like something to eat. The fish "bites," hopefully gets hooked, and then the fun begins.

But if one presents a fly to a trout as a bunch of fur and feathers caught up what appears to be a small cabbage, the once-curious beast is scared and it leaves the vicinity.

Advice?

Stop. Seriously. Stop.

The tangle only becomes worse. Never better.

After a tangle, I'd have to set up the tackle once again. New leader, fly, etc. Occasionally, I'd untangle by hand.

'Twas a pain in the hind end either way.

Perhaps a bigger problem is when the client THINKS he has cast himself out of a tangle. Remember...he didn't really get untangled.

That's O'Leary's Second Law. Years of first-hand and anecdotal evidence has revealed its truth.

So, here’s the reality: his tangle looked like it disappeared, but in fly fishing we use a "leader" that is fractions of millimeters thick and when it turns over on itself it loses roughly half of its strength after forming a simple overhand (or "granny") knot. "Rookies" call this a wind knot, though it has nothing really to do with the "wind," per se.

Take it a step further. Say we get lucky, and the guy gets his fly in front of the fish—which could happen, though less likely with fully in-tact tackle. Once a fish gets on the line (hook, whatever), it will bust him off 90% of the time. Right at the weak knot.

All that work ...

For nothing!

Literally!

There’s a lesson here.

But if you can’t figure it out, don't be ashamed. Keep going.

Keep pursuing that which could be great and enjoyable.

These things take time.

While I don’t necessarily buy the “10,000 Hours” principle, I certainly logged multiples of that with my pursuit of fly fishing excellence.

Because fly fishing is more accessible than pro baseball, this analogy might not ring true for most folks, but the hypothetical trip I've described above is like watching the film The Natural and thinking you could play in the big leagues the next day because Robert Redford inspired you to do so.

Don't cast yourself out of a tangle. You'll only make it worse.

Goes for fishing and for life.

The more you listen to my ideas the more you will agree.

As always,

Brian

P.S. — If you would like to be a part of a community where people—many (most?) of them smarter than me—can help you get "untangled" in life, consider joining me in the Tom Woods School of Life.

P.P.S. — Even though he wasn't as "good," I always considered the older brother Norman the more practical fly angler, though Paul was indeed the artist.