It’s Only Fishing, by Joseph Jackson

It’s Only Fishing, by Joseph Jackson

2020 was a year of change. Caught between occupations and a global pandemic, 24-year-old Joe Jackson decided to write an essay for every fly-fishing trip he took. And just like the fishing itself, these essays drift from the metaphysical to the wholly matter-of-fact; they chronicle the spontaneous spectacles of bear encounters, rivers hidden in plain sight, a wonderfully cryptic angler called ‘the Samurai’, and much, much more—all elements that not only shaped the season, but the fisherman himself.

These are the yarns of a young and dumb Alaskan fly angler; one who travels less the far corners of angling’s exotic destinations and more the familiar streams close to home. These are vital investigations into why he fishes at all: why he bushwhacks through a mile of alders for the small hope of a trout stream; why he forces himself through early morning after early morning in the slow deterioration of sockeye fishing; why he burns gas and time in the face of concerned family and friends that suggest he “might spend a little too much time fishing.” 

The conclusion that Joe’s come to is a simple one: It’s only fishing—but it’s also so much more.

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