Text and Photos: Yoshiro Fukushima

A fly fisher and skier residing in Nanae Town, Hakodate City, Hokkaido. He immerses himself in nature, moving between rivers and mountains with the changing seasons. His life's work is capturing those moments when people and nature connect through his lens.

Instagram: @fl_y3

Well, let's just say catching a big one is pure joy. That's what you go fishing for, after all. It's a feeling every angler naturally shares. I'm sure it's the same no matter what kind of fishing you do.

But when it comes to fly fishing, I feel there's so much more “pure joy” beyond just size.

(Trout that catch your eye for beauty over size)

You could say it's fly fishing that offers countless moments of pure joy and delight. And whether you feel that joy and delight depends largely on yourself—

That's what fly fishing is, I believe.

I'm a Sunday angler fly fisher.

During workdays Monday through Friday, my mind is completely consumed by fly fishing.

Even when I go out drinking the night before, I can't stop thinking about tomorrow's fishing.

I just want to get home.

That's how full my head is with fly fishing.

And during my limited fishing time (on holidays), I want to catch the biggest fish possible. Even just 1cm bigger.

But the path to that big one is lined with obstacles: weather, water levels, other anglers, family obligations, other events. The reality is, reaching that longed-for “dream giant trout” is rarely easy.

The biggest reason is probably that my skills just aren't up to par yet.

Amidst all this, as I kept fly fishing, I realized there was “another kind of joy” to be found.

(After countless fly changes, the small yet beautiful trout finally emerged)

It's not about chasing size, but the “process.”

Yes, the process itself.

Those who enjoy fly fishing will likely understand this vaguely. So, with my small brain, I'll try to think about what this “process” means to me in fly fishing.

First, from Monday to Thursday, I indulge in intense fantasies of catching a monster fish.

Very intensely, as intensely as possible.

(Big trout have a different look about them)

This might seem abrupt, but it's the most crucial process.

The very foundation of the process.

And to encounter “that big one” the night before, I meticulously select the river, tie flies, swap leaders, and even tie on the tippet. If I feel like it, I might even clean the fly line. I check the camera's charge and memory card. I even clean my lenses.

Then, I tie my favorite flies (get drunk), considering the location, season, temperature, water level, and seasonal patterns.

Of course, with drinks in hand.

“The perfect accompaniment to sake is trout.”

Putting on airs like that, I get even more drunk (tie more flies).

(Tying flies intensely stirs a fly fisher's delusions)

As the drunkenness takes hold, the thread I'm winding starts snapping.

Yes, time to stop tying.

I decide to turn in early and crawl into bed.

From there, it's intense fantasies again until my memory fades.

The next morning, I wake up a little before the alarm.

I don't know if this is from anticipation or just my age catching up.

Then, I head to the river and cast my fly.

To cut to the chase, you rarely catch any big fish.

But even without landing the big ones, plenty of trout will play along.

Then, I try to photograph them quickly and release them carefully.

Even with a single fish, far from a giant trout, landing it involves many small, delicate steps. Trying to describe each one would take longer than sharing stories over drinks at a pub. —So I'll skip those details here.

But if I were to give just a few examples:

The fly lands exactly where you aimed, and the trout strikes!

You place the line just as planned, the fly drifts naturally for ages,

and right at the edge of drag... it strikes!

A trout that ignored everything else suddenly takes a “second-string fly” tucked away in the corner of your fly box! That bug is flying! Walking!

And so on, and so forth...

Through such processes, both “fun” and “joy” overflow.

And then—how to savor that experience.

That, precisely, is fly fishing.

(Finally emerged after letting the small countercurrent flow naturally)

So, I've written this concisely up to this point—but please reread it.

Yes, the entire process is complete.

From Monday's daydream to release.

Perfect.

Ultimately, what matters isn't catching big trout, but how you enjoy yourself. Isn't fly fishing precisely about how profoundly and diversely that enjoyment can be experienced?

Whether you notice such “joyful” and “delightful” processes can change the richness of your life—

I don't think it's an exaggeration to say so.

Even small trout are incredibly clever.

When you land one like that, you feel pure happiness.

While telling myself that, I find myself grinning again as I recall facing that giant trout I once caught, even as I constantly think about wanting to confront one soon.

That, too, is surely one of the important processes.