Downstream: Reflections on Brook Trout, Fly Fishing, and the Waters of Appalachia

by David L. O'Hara, Matthew T. Dickerson, Nick Lyons (Foreword)

Downstream: Reflections on Brook Trout, Fly Fishing, and the Waters of Appalachia is a mosaic combining nature writing, fly-fishing narrative, memoir, and philosophical and spiritual inquiry. Fly-fishing narratives and fragments of memoir provide the narrative arc for exploring relationships between humans and rivers, and the ways in which our attitudes and philosophies impact our practices and the waters we depend on for life. The authors guide their readers on a journey from Maine's Androscoggin watershed--once one of the ten filthiest rivers in the United States and now home to some of the best wild brook trout fishing in the United States--southward through Kentucky into Tennessee and North Carolina, where a native southern strain of brook trout struggles to survive. Like the rivers themselves, the chapters alternate between flowing narratives and the stiller waters that settle out above dams. While each stone in this mosaic is worth a close look in its own right, seen from a distance the book offers a broader picture of the cold mountain waters of Appalachia and their famous native fish: the brook trout.

150 pages, Paperback

First published August 4, 2014

About the author

David O'Hara is a professor of philosophy and classics at Augustana College in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. He's also a walker and a wanderer who has had mailing addresses on three continents. He loves being surrounded by books almost as much as he loves being outdoors. In addition to philosophy and classical Greek, he teaches rainforest and reef ecology in Guatemala and Belize, and a short annual course on the Parthenon Marbles and other old broken rocks in Athens. He is an occasional contributor to publications like Books and Culture, The Chronicle of Higher Education, Orion, and Sojourners. He's always writing.

Reviews

[Patrick Hicks · Rating 5 out of 5]

I know nothing about fly fishing and I know even less about brook trout, but I do know when I'm holding a book that is thoughtful and wise. To say this book is just about fishing, though, is a bit like saying Thoreau's "Walden" is just about living in a cabin. The prose here encourages us to slow down and appreciate nature. What is our impact on the landscape around our lives?

The subject may be about fly fishing for brook trout but the authors are really using it as a metaphor for life. I learned much by reading this slender volume of wisdom. At times I almost felt like O'Hara and Dickerson where there in the stream with me, pointing out beautiful things that I'd never seen before...or they were things that I had seen before, but hadn't stared at them with enough wonder.

[J.M. Josten · Rating 5 out of 5]

This volume follows in the footsteps of the cosmic consciousness of Walt Whitman, honest poetry of Robinson Jeffers, and the wonder of a wilderness novice. The important part, however, is that O'Hara and Dickerson are far from novice. They write with wisdom about the place, the history, and above all, the fish. The reader feels like one of the friends along on the journey. Indeed, the introduction begins with, "Our project began like theirs, we were curious and wanted to see everything we could" (1) and this is the draw throughout the text, a current of incurable curiosity ready to sweep the reader along. And with passages like this one:

In every direction, we eventually come to water. Our lives are bounded by waters. Maybe the biblical writers were right to bound their text with waters as well. According to Genesis, four rivers flow out of Eden. I like to think at least one of them had decent trout. The same goes for the river in the new Jerusalem...All of this is in flux, we know. We cannot make rivers stay as they are. But we can try to know them not just as resources but as the children of Eden and as the shadows of heaven, places of refreshment and peace where our ancestors drank and where, God willing, so will our children (129).

It is, indeed, rather simple, to agree with the task set forth by the authors in all of the pages, to consider all that is downstream, to stop and pause, and to recognize the interconnection of it all. There is plenty more that could be said, but suffice it to say, that this volume is powerful, insightful, and an accomplishment for ecology and the environmental humanities.

[Ivan · Rating 5 out of 5]

FIRST LINE REVIEW: "In 1940, novelist John Steinbeck set off on an expedition in the Gulf of California with his friend Ed Ricketts, a marine biologist." And in the 21st century Matthew Dickerson and my good friend, David O'Hara, set off on a series of Appalachian river expeditions in search of brook trout. I've never been fly-fishing and I've never explored off the beaten track anywhere other than a big city. And yet I was thoroughly drawn into the reflections and experiences of these two seasoned guides and felt the fly rod in my hand, saw the lush greenery and heard the laughing water. All from the comfort of my easy chair. An even stronger tribute to this compelling and thoughtful book is that I now want to venture out there...somewhere...and experience first-hand these "places of refreshment and peace where our ancestors drank and where, God willing, so will our children." Thanks, Dave and Matt.

[Christopher H · Rating 5 out of 5]

I think this book has a little something different for each reader. Written by a pair of professors, this book is rich yet accessible. Fly fishing enthusiasts will appreciate the lovingly written portions of the book dedicated to travelogue. Parents will appreciate the bond forged between parent and child in each narrative.

I can't imagine a reader not looking up from this book to glance out a window for a glimpse of what nature is offering at any particular moment. Or even closing the book, walking outside, and getting on all fours to search the ground for invertebrates. If you're reading this review, there's a pretty good chance you're not what the book calls a "modern-day Gnostic who scorns the life of the body in favor of the imaginary life, the life of images on our glowing screens." But even the most enthusiastic adventurer will get something from this book.

[Jane Pfeifle · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love the Moore quote in the Conclusion: "the most loving thing you can say to a person is 'Look'." My dad always said that when we were driving somewhere, "Look, kids." I also loved the descriptions of the prairie and of the streams and rivers and what is there if we look, and listen, and ponder. Thanks for a lovely read.