A Reluctant Fisherwoman Wades in the Water with Yvon Chouinard

The rush of emotion took me by surprise. I had awkwardly cast the line several times, usually landing it in

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The rush of emotion took me by surprise. I had awkwardly cast the line several times, usually landing it in a foreshortened blob onto the river instead of the soaring, graceful arch I dreamed of. But it was blissful just to be thigh-deep in a sparkling Idaho river with the Tetons ripping up the distant skyline. When the line pulled taut, I looked around, almost alarmed – what was I supposed to do now? I’d never caught a fish before.

I pulled it in until I could see the flashing rainbow under the water’s surface at my knees. The thrashing trout calmed when I wrapped my hand gently, firmly around it and slid the hook from its lip as delicately as I could, terrified of causing any unnecessary harm. I wanted desperately to keep holding the fish softly in my hand, looking into its bright, lively eye, taking in its shimmering spectrum of colors and feeling its mysterious life pulse – who doesn’t dream of holding a live, wild animal in their hands? But by breathless instinct I plunged it immediately back into the cold river, feeling its muscles surge as it shot out of my hands downstream. My throat tightened, and a thrill rose in a wave up my chest.

A few weeks prior, when an invitation for a fly fishing press trip with Patagonia’s founder, Yvon Chouinard, landed in my inbox, my first thought was, hell yeah! My second thought was, this is probably where I should say I’ve never fished before in my life. I’m a vegetarian – haven’t eaten meat since my freshman year of college, when a friend passed me a dog-eared copy of Diet for a Small Planet. I was not morally opposed to fishing or hunting for sustenance, but most sport fishing and hunting culture turned my stomach. If anyone could open my mind to fishing, it would be Chouinard, I thought. His penchant for simplicity and environmental responsibility appealed to me, so I made the squirrely flight to West Yellowstone with an open mind.

Indeed, over hot coffee that morning in Idaho, he made a passionate case. “We need people out there who love rivers,” he said. “You protect what you love. If we don’t, they’ll turn into sewers.” His idea is that people who feel deeply connected to rivers and streams will be more likely to stand up and protect them, and what better way to connect with a river than fishing it? He’s especially driven to introduce fly fishing to women and children, people who might previously may have been turned off to it but will be key decision makers affecting freshwater use.

adventure journal fly fishing 02Soft spoken and relaxed in the water, Chouinard gave gentle pointers on technique as we women fanned out up and down the river. His story goes, his first time fishing as a boy, his older brother secretly hooked a fish to his line, making Chouinard believe he had caught it himself and hooking him on fishing for life. Later on, he learned the art of fly fishing from legendary Teton guide Glenn Exum. Repeatedly feeling the tug of fish on my line – eight times that day – I was thankful he’d pointed me to the particular deep spot in the river where the fish couldn’t seem to resist the blue-bodied fly he’d tied by hand for me. I began to understand how learning the subtleties of where fish hang out and what they’re attracted to would be a lifelong process. And Chouinard’s mantra, “the more you know, the less you need,” rang true in a new way.

Fishing is a metaphor for life for Chouinard, an example of how a simpler life doesn’t necessarily equal an impoverished life. He laments how fishing has morphed from a contemplative pastime into what he calls a combat sport. Knowing cringes passed among the women of the group as we discussed the machismo of amassing collections of expensive rods and flies, and the cruel images of anglers “ripping lips.”

One way Chouinard envisions connecting women to fishing is by passing on the ancient Japanese Tenkara technique. The flexible, telescoping Tenkara-style rod has no reel, so it’s simpler to use and a fraction of the cost of typical fly rods, and portable enough to take backpacking or bike touring. It’s best for catching smaller fish, but with the proper modifications and technique, Chouinard says he’s landed massive salmon. Of course, Patagonia is also launching a line of women’s waders and fishing gear in the spring. The designs are thoughtful, but in his classic style, Chouinard was quick to assure us that fly fishing can be done in gym shorts.

As a climber and mountain biker based loosely in Colorado, I have precious little experience in bodies of water. Usually a stream is an obstacle to be pedaled through or babbling company along a climbing approach. But those hours spent thoughtfully focused on the river in Idaho shifted my perspective. Witnessing the magical, fluttering life under the water’s surface and considering the agricultural runoff upstream reinforced my proclivity for organic food. It deepened my consideration as a consumer, opening my eyes to another level of consequences from unchecked industry and consumption. My view of rivers went beyond the surface for the first time.

As we packed up along the riverbanks after the second day of fishing, one of the guides conceded something I feared, but hadn’t had the guts to ask yet: He said about 20 percent of the fish we’d caught would probably eventually die from some form of the trauma of being hooked, reeled in and handled. My heart dropped. Over the next couple of days I wrestled with that and concluded that, while those intimate moments with the fish and the river certainly changed me in a wonderful way, it would be hard for me to personally justify the sport if I’m not fishing for sustenance. But if Chouinard’s goal in introducing women to fly fishing truly is to connect us more deeply with the rivers and streams that are the life veins of our planet, I fell for it, hook, line and sinker.

Photos by Jeremy Koreski

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Contributing editor Hilary Oliver lives in Denver and blogs at The Gription.
Showing 14 comments
  • Christy

    Patagonia is making girl waders!? Sold!!!

    Love the photos!

  • Rob Greenfield

    Hello Hillary!
    Thanks so much for this inspirational and heart felt read. I’ve been fishing for a few decades but in the last handful of years as I’ve started eating a vegetarian diet I’ve had much less of a desire to risk hurting a fish. I can relate to the heart drop of yours. I agree with Yvon though. If we can connect people to the rivers in this manner, even if we kill some of the beauties in the process, we can save the species as a whole by instilling a love for the creatures and the habitat they depend on.
    Keep up the great writing and the conscious living. And I hope our paths cross somewhere in the woods or on the way out there!

  • Chase

    It might be worth noting for other prospective anglers that the mentioned 20% mortality rate is probably based on a high water temperature that day.

    With barbless hooks, careful handling and safe water temperatures (under 65 degrees), the catch and release mortality rate for cold water fish like trout is typically estimated at around 5%.

  • Doug Robinson
    Doug Robinson

    Cute girls usually get the best attention from YC

  • Sara Grace Lingafelter
    Sara Grace Lingafelter

    Hey wait, I’d know that smile anywhere! High fives, Hilary Oliver!

  • Heather

    Love this, Hilary.

  • David Hayes

    Ms. Oliver, great to hear you enjoyed fishing, and what a dream to spend a day on the water with Yvon Chouinard. Please keep fishing! Although you should be concerned about released fish mortality, and should seek to minimize the number of fish you harm, like much in life, there is more to the story. The guide did you no favors with his blanket statement of “20% die.” Formal studies on the topic give widely conflicting percentages. But there is one takeaway from the literature – fly angling with a single barb-less hook, when combined with a quick landing to minimize stress to the fish, substantially improves the survival rates for released fish. Instead of killing your joy, the guide might have pointed you to any number of resources that help a beginner angler learn appropriate technique, such as Trout Unlimited’s website. When done right, you take more life with the windshield of your vehicle when driving to the stream (or for that matter, to your mountain bike trail head/bouldering crag) than number of trout killed by release. All recreation harms something; an ethical person constantly seeks to minimize that harm, regardless of activity. I don’t think it requires one to stop.

    I hope you keep throwing the fly.


  • Trevor Hartzell
    Trevor Hartzell

    If he can make me spend thousands of dollars on gear, I bet he can get this girl to fish.

  • Ken

    Nice shots Jer!

  • Jaden

    …soo, if I read this right, you wouldn’t have had a positive response, had say I invited you to fish for a few days in Oregon?….Yet you would jump at a high roller who foots the bill to Jellystone so he can soft talk his way to cleaner rivers…. and, of course, slip in a promo for the new wader line on the side???
    Sorry, I don’t buy it.
    I’ll be nice and just say Corporate Fly Fishing STILL sucks.

  • Marko Shapiro
    Marko Shapiro

    why not!!! catch and release daaa

  • Sean

    I’m just getting into fly fishing, and I have to say this article opened my eyes to the idea of fish mortality rate during catch and release fishing.

    A couple numbers on fish mortality have been tossed out, both in the article and the comments: “20%”, “5%”…

    Can anyone cite any studies that have been done on this topic that give their claims a little credence?

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