The payoff was coming.
There was no doubt that with the high water and time of year it would be an absolute sure thing. If there was ever time to put money down on catching a steelhead, that was the day.
But the fly continued to swing untouched. I refocused and was diligent about covering the water and still, not a pull. My heightened excitement at the prospect of an epic day made the waiting more intense. Cold winter days in low water can be dull and the action slow. But the peak of spring steelhead season brings an energy unlike any other time of year.
However, being shutout on a day when everything should be prime happens, and the lack of results can make the pursuit seem foolish. But why is often the wrong question. In some cases justification isn’t needed and in others, it’s simply too complex or not worth the time to ask.
Iconic climber Alex Honnold says it’s a stupid question to ask why he is willing to risk his life climbing some of the most extreme rock faces on the planet. Fly fishing for steelhead is not like scaling the face of El Capitan without a rope, but asking the same why is a waste of time. An angler can launch into a soliloquy about beauty, and peace, and nature and all that, but it will likely fall short.
Passions are compelling and necessary on a level that isn’t matched in the same way by doing something that is simply fun. Fun is temporary. Going to a concert or a sporting event is fun. But some things are necessary to our existence even if they seem inconsequential or dangerous to those who don’t share the same pull.
Breakthroughs in neuroscience have helped us understand that much of what we do is not simple decision-making inspired by a desired result. Anticipation itself is addicting. But this knowledge has been leveraged to work against us. Slot machines have existed for a long time, but it wasn’t until the understanding that our brain craves the suspense before the result, that engineers were able to create increasingly addictive games. It wasn’t about making them more fun, it was the application of neuroscience to trigger interest and maintain it for long durations.
A cluster of Stanford students doomed the mental health of millions of people when they integrated skills learned in a behavioral psychology lab into social media features and apps.
Fly fishing in general, steelhead fishing in particular, is my slot machine. I’m a lab rat pawing at a lever when I’m standing in a river hoping for a take.
Fishing is an addiction that we lean into. We gladly submit ourselves to the prolonged, miserable anticipation. Buoyed by strikes, real or phantom, we continue, pulling the lever in leaky waders. It’s mechanical and monotonous at times, but we’re addicted to the chance and if the chance does come, that’s not the end.
It doesn’t end when Triple 7s finally stop in a row at the slots. It doesn’t stop when day traders buy low and sell high. It doesn’t stop when a hoops fan hits a 10-leg parlay at 720:1 odds. And it sure doesn’t stop for steelheaders with a 34-inch chrome slab of anadromous fish.
We’re only more motivated to wade through the anticipation again.
I didn’t catch a fish that day and spent the rest of the weekend wondering about tactics, approaches and what I’ll do next time. I can’t just leave it alone.
It’s not just fishing, it’s neuroscience.
• Jeff Lund is a freelance writer based in Ketchikan. His book, “A Miserable Paradise: Life in Southeast Alaska,” is available in local bookstores and at Amazon.com. “I Went to the Woods” appears twice per month in the Sports & Outdoors section of the Juneau Empire.
