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by Dave Shultz

The working title for this piece was “Fish Whisperer”.  I couldn’t help but see the similarities between Robert Redfords character in that movie and my guides for the day, Loris Sauers and Jan (pronounced “Yan”) Peterson.  I changed the title out of guilt from popular plagiarism but feel free to remember it as you will.

We traveled to the lush green hills and mountains of the Susquehanna Valley of central Pennsylvania to experience the history and culture of the country of our forefathers.  The mountains I found are different from mountains I’m used to out west.  The thick vegetation covers the crags and sharp edges we associate with those mountains.  It makes everything softer and more calming to the eye.  No sharp edges or rock faces disturbed the carpet of trees.  The elements that created these mountains may be the same but there’s something less harsh about them.  They have weathered gracefully.

I had come to learn the secrets of the trout that inhabit the local streams.  The waters here flow wide and shallow like a noisy ribbon woven into a patchwork quilt of green.  Loris Sauers teaches prospective fish wranglers like me how to read these waters and understand the art of fly-fishing.  Jan Peterson runs the Campus Cycle and Fly Fishing Center in Lewisburg and was able to outfit our group of novice fisherman and instantly turn us into perfect Field & Stream models.  We may not know anything about fishing, but we sure looked the part thanks to Jan.

We drove along two lane roads through Amish farming country full of patchwork fields, big country houses and even bigger country barns to Penn’s Creek.  This particular creek is unusual in that it starts in Penn’s Cave, the only all-water cavern in America.  It broadens into a fast moving but shallow river that is a perfect breeding ground for the trout we sought.

All too soon we parked at the end of a dirt road that wound through the forested hills.  The canopy above us opened up on our parking spot and showered us with golden light.  Through the trees, we could hear the waters soft murmur and we were all anxious to get our waders and vests on.  Decked out in our new gear and carrying rods fitted with perfect imitations of local insects, we started down a gentle slope towards the waters edge.  We soon caught glimpses of the river through the trees and I found my pace quickening a little, hurrying to the silver light dancing on the water.

We stepped from the darkened canopy of forest into a scene from “A River Runs Through It”.  This is what I had come for; the perfect river on a perfect day.  Brilliant blue skies created crisp shadows under the trees that lined the waters edge and the constant sound of water being woven through the rocks made the moment mesmerizing.  Who needed to fish?  This alone was enough to satisfy the soul and nurture the spirit.  Of course, I couldn’t possibly stay on the bank in my brand new Orvis waders when I saw little circular ripples in the still shallows that meant the presence of fish.  I was here to fish after all!

Loris patiently took each of us in turn to a spot in the river and gave us our first lessons in casting the almost weightless fly.  The line wafted back and forth and caught the light of the sun as it silently drifted overhead.  Gone were any other thoughts or concerns.  The line falling softly onto the water and drifting slowly downstream filled my consciousness.  I had found my calling!

It was at this moment that I realized how Zen like fly-fishing was.  The stress melted away and I became one with the rod and line.  We both twisted in the breeze and the rod became an extension of my arm.   I’m sure my form was less than perfect and the fish weren’t even remotely tempted to taste the imitation midge I so carefully floated above them but I was at peace.  Happy in the knowledge that I had achieved a connection with the land around me.  Penn’s Creek is a catch and release area anyway so I was very content to let sleeping fish lie.  I was sure they would only sacrifice their freedom to people who actually needed to catch a fish.  I, being in my Zen like state felt no such need.  The fish and I had an understanding.

The morning light gave way to noonday sun and all too soon, we were forced to retreat from the comforting coolness of the water and remove the vestiges of fishermen.  The walk back to the road and cars seemed to take a lot longer than the trip down.  The river still spoke to me through the trees and every once in a while I had to look back to catch a glimpse of sunlight sparkling on water covered rocks.

You don’t have to catch any fish to be a fisherman.  You do need to understand the yin and yang of nature.  In one brief moment I had become a fisherman and I understood what keeps bringing people back to these waters.  I had joined an elite group that knows what it means to forget about the things that crowd our busy lives.  Once learned, it’s not an easy thing to forget.  The river and I will meet again.  As for the fish…?

Loris Sauers – R.D. #3, Box 273 Mifflinburg, PA 17844 (717) 966-3796 Evenings
Campus & Fly Fishing Center – 233 Market St., Lewisburg, PA 17837 (717) 524-2998

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