Fisherman's Paradise

“Of course, now I am too old to be much of a fisherman, and now of course I usually fish the big waters alone, although some friends think I shouldn’t. Like many fly fishermen in western Montana where the summer days are almost Arctic in length, I often do not start fishing until the cool of the evening. Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise.

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.

I am haunted by waters.”
― Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It and Other Stories


It was one of my so-called "Freedom Fridays," and my husband and I decided to run up to Bellefonte for our second "library date" of the year. I have every Friday off now, since I reduced my work schedule to four days a week back in October. What a great decision that was; and oh, what fun we have!

So we had a lovely lunch at Jim's, not quite the "entire usual," but most of it; we skipped only the garlic bread this time. I think it may be the first time we've eaten in since my birthday last year; where does the time go? From there, we walked over to the library and looked around for a while before we each checked out a stack of books, then headed back to our car.

We planned to hike somewhere in the afternoon, and our travels led us to Fisherman's Paradise, between State College and Bellefonte. It is one of the best trout fishing streams in the entire state, and the oldest fly fishing-only waters in the United States. Yes, Fisherman's Paradise is its real name!

At first, we actually drove past the place where we ended up stopping. We both spotted a little pond, with reeds, near a parking lot. But we were past it in a second. My brain was already scheming as to when and how I might get back myself to check it out, when my husband said, "Did you want to go back and look at that little pond?" A happy and enthusiastic "YES!" was my answer. And so we did!

And what a delight! It wasn't just a little pond and a parking area, but an entire series of interconnected trails along Spring Creek, lined by wildflowers. This is the time of year for Dame's rocket, a purple wildflower that looks very similar to phlox, and the place is just covered with it.

It wasn't quite as amazing as opening up your wardrobe and finding a lion, and then an entire magical land hidden inside, but it was pretty darn cool. We walked around with our mouths opened, surprised at all of what was there. Oh yes, we will be back!

There were green pathways along the creek, very easy walking, and I have included a photo of one of those in the extras; you can also glimpse the purple wildflowers. (After all of our hiking, we eventually got our chairs and sat along one of these green pathways by some big trees and started reading our new books. Can you say . . . paradise?)

We discovered a charming wooden bridge with a tiny snake guarding it, like a bridge troll. But we love snakes, and it was so little and cute, and so I took pictures of it, before the little snake sneaked through a hole in the bridge, hung for a few minutes by its tail, then dropped.

The main shot above was my view of Spring Creek, looking upstream, with a fisherman in the stream, waiting for a trout to rise. You can see how absolutely GREEN everything is here right now; the color in these shots is unretouched. I adore my camera's vivid, saturation-enhancing mode, but you just can't use it this time of year, as everything is already drenched in green.

There is a thing about waters that is very soothing, and I felt that on this day. You get a sense of the passage of time, and yet of things never changing. The waters roll on. The past and the present become one. The waters are timeless.

All things merge into one, and a river runs through it.

Technically, the water in this photo is a creek, not a river. But a creek can sort of be a little river, can't it? The song to accompany this posting is the Little River Band, with Take It Easy on Me.