It is not unusual for me to be skunked on the water. More often, than not it is because I am an average at best caster and the level of cooperation between my rod and my leader is about as amicable as dinner conversation between Reverend Billy Graham and Osama ben Ladin. That is what made the trip I took Saturday even more unusual than the regular riverside jaunts. I knew that I wouldn’t be catching any fish, but I absolutely had to get out in the water.

So, a good thirty minutes before the sun was scheduled to make its daily crossing of the East Tennessee horizon, I was sitting on the hood of my car with a warm cup of coffee nestled in my hands. Alone. Quiet. Serine.

By the time the silhouette of the distant mountains became distinguishable I was shin deep in the river. The water was a little over sixty degrees and low. No doubt about it, there would be no fish here today. And I was right. I waded out to the very center of the river and turned back to face the shore so that the sun would come up behind me. The fall colors slowly came to life in my viewing as the sky lightened and the day came to life.

A resounding chorus of Geese sounded over my head as a living V raced up the river valley, followed by a smaller group who honked fervently as if they were pleading with the other group to slow down so that they could catch up.

A group of deer came from underneath the shadows of the timberline to draw from the river. At best they were only about fifty feet from me, but I was motionless, and with the sun at my back, they never knew I was there.

Looking at my watch I saw that I had roughly two more hours until I absolutely had to leave and looking up river I could see a spot that would be holding trout if any were in this section of water. Briefly I considered wading on up and trying it, but instead I headed to shore, the deer vanished with one quick leap, and I went back to the car and headed home.

Sometimes it just ain’t about the catching, and often what you are fishing for isn’t a fish…it is peace.