“Fly-fishing is a lifelong pursuit where one never actually perfects the skill but hopefully improves through time.”

 

 

To herald the publication of his suspenseful new Pickett novel, Breaking Point, I asked Box to tell us what he likes to do when he’s NOT writing the next Joe Pickett adventure.

 

When I’m not writing (or doing writing-like things) I’m fishing.  Fly-fishing, to be more specific.

 

Sure, I do all the standard household stuff and engage in plenty of other outdoor pursuits – hunting, skiing, hiking, camping – but the older I get, the more my passion grows for fly-fishing.  Thing is, I’m not sure I’m all that good at it and I don’t know if I ever will be.  Like golf -- from what I understand – fly-fishing is a lifelong pursuit where one never actually perfects the skill but hopefully improves through time.

 

Fly-fishing, unlike the bait-fishing or spin-casting I used to do, is an active sport.  There’s no sitting on a bank watching a bobber or trolling behind a boat.  One must be completely in the game to read the water, select the right fly, and make a proper cast.  You are of the water and the fish and the conditions, not just putting up with them.  It is harder than fishing with spinning rods and I likely catch far fewer fish.  But when I do, when I’m able to entice a big trout to take my fly and put up a fight, well, there is nothing quite like it.

 

Over the years, I’ve amassed a ridiculous – but not unusual among fly-fishers – amount of gear.  Rods are like crack cocaine to a fly-fisherman, and I have dozens of them from willowy three-weights for small trout to fourteen-weight bruisers that can and have landed thirty-pound tuna and mahi-mahi in the ocean. I also have a drift boat and a raft for Rocky Mountain rivers.  Best of all, my wife and I own a cabin on the bank of a river (and my own fishing pond) where I’ve been able to attain my life’s dream: never having to break down the rod and put it back in its case.