The Crossing

To argue with a person who has renounced the use of reason is like administering medicine to the dead.  –Thomas Paine

All of the recent rain had made the anglers hopeful and raring to hit Fall Creek on a Saturday morning but, alas, the fish hadn’t yet heard the call. For the most part, the landlocked salmon and brown trout continued to idle in the big lake. It’s said that anglers are a part of nature but, thankfully, nature is a whole lot larger and smarter than we are when it comes to sensibly answering the call of reproduction.

I practiced my downstream swing of the line and leader, pretty much losing hope for success before my first half mile of wading was complete. It was a little sad because the water was flowing full and beautiful. The anglers thinned out quickly and, before I knew it, there were just a few of us still at the game. All was not lost, however. It felt rather pleasant to be casting futilely in the presence of Ithaca Falls, one of my favorite sites for viewing tumultuous water.

The next day I was hoping to return to Pennsylvania for brook trout, but the rain put a lid on that idea, as well, as the streams rose quickly and wore a cape of mud. I decided to try a rainy hill hike near my house and throw myself into climbing mode.

But something felt lacking. I was starting up my sixth year of Rivertop Rambles and, at this point, didn’t feel as if there was anything new to add for an upcoming post. I don’t like repeating myself unless I have a damn good reason for doing so. If I can’t find a new angle or perspective for a post, then it’s probably time to pack it up and shake the hand of silence.

God knows we could use a little more quiet in this crazy cacophonous world…But I wasn’t despairing, by any means. At my age, I’ve come to understand that each new day of a healthy life on earth is a cause for celebration. You never cross the same rivertop twice. Each crossing of the stream is a new experience. At first glance, the place may look the same, but down below the riffles there, down at the bottom of the little pool, there’s a different world still waiting to be explored, perhaps whispering an invitation to jump in and tell about it in another post….

My hike in the rain was a pleasant one, even if nothing “new” occurred.

I crossed familiar ground and saw it in a rich October light. The summit pond was comforting; the old thresher in the woods was like a monument to a time now sadly passed. As I made a slow descent toward home, I thought about the upcoming elections in America…

We’ve got a guy heading to trial for fraud and child-rape, who denies global warming and who dreams of white-washing society, who would nuke the crazies of another land, whose running mate doesn’t even believe in evolution… and yet… there’s those pesky emails out in cyberspace that a WOMAN candidate may or may not have sent….Now there’s a reason for a nation to go completely off its nut.

I was feeling sick, like finding trash deliberately scattered in an otherwise pristine location. I looked to the fading colors of the rain-wet leaves. If THEY crossed over into this world, who would they endorse? If the deer that leapt out from the woods in front of me crossed over to this human world to vote for highest office, who would benefit? And for that matter, what about the trout? You might fool them with an artificial fly, but they’re no dummies, if given the chance to help select an honest representative.

Looking at the broader picture of a life immersed in nature, I was feeling much improved…

Like imagining how baseball wins when, at last, the Windy City Cubs become world champions in the most dramatic way.