Society and Fishing

I’m a pretty introverted guy, believe it or not. Confident enough to enjoy time by myself and not feel like I’m missing out in my social life, but I am still a person. And people were meant to be around one another, enjoy each other’s company, find commonalities, and work together in this thing we call “society”. 

Fishing, of course, offers the chance to enjoy a passion with another person. Sometimes that person can be a significant other, a child, or a parent. More often than not, when on the water, you’ll encounter a fishing party with folks just like you all enjoying time together, fishing for their limit. So, the question becomes, what to do when a friend to go fishing with seems hard to find. 
Finding a fishing buddy can transform a solitary pastime into a shared adventure, deepening both skill and enjoyment for all involved. While fishing alone has its quiet charm, having a partner beside you adds camaraderie, safety, and a sense of connection to each outing. Fear not, as finding someone who shares a love for the water isn’t as difficult as it may seem. With a bit of intention and openness, anyone can build the kind of partnership that turns ordinary fishing trips into memorable experiences with a new friend.

Get Social

One of the most effective ways to find a fishing buddy is to start with your existing social circle. Friends, coworkers, neighbors, or family members may already have an interest in fishing, even if they’ve never mentioned it. I can’t tell you how many times my wife reminds me that “so-and-so”’s husband likes to fish too, or that I seemed to be excited a while ago when mentioning a co-worker who often wets a line. Casual conversations often reveal surprising overlaps in hobbies. Mentioning your weekend plans or sharing a recent catch can spark curiosity in someone who has been wanting to try fishing but hasn’t had the opportunity. 
Even beginners can make excellent fishing partners; teaching someone the basics can be rewarding, and the shared learning process often strengthens the bond. Think of mentors you’ve had in your own life. The appreciation you feel for them as they taught you a skill, technique, or trade. If able to teach another person the finer details of fishing, the sense of loyalty and camaraderie between you both will only lead to more fishing adventures.  

If your immediate circle doesn’t yield a partner, local fishing communities offer a wealth of possibilities. Many towns have fishing clubs, angler associations, or conservation groups that welcome newcomers. These organizations often host events, workshops, and group outings, making them ideal spaces to meet people who share your enthusiasm. 
Joining a club not only helps you find a buddy but also exposes you to new techniques, local knowledge, and a supportive network of experienced anglers. For someone new to an area or new to fishing entirely, these communities can be invaluable. How many episodes have you seen on Northwest Fishing TV where we are out with community groups or organizations? Fishing with the Ilwaco Tuna Club? Check. Fishing in a Salmon Derby? A great opportunity to connect with other anglers.

New Digital Age

In the digital age, online platforms have become powerful tools for connecting with fellow anglers. Social media groups, fishing forums, and specialized apps allow people to meet others who fish in the same region or target the same species. 
Northwest Fishing’s roots come from the days of blogging in the 90’s (Washingtonlakes.com), where anglers could share tips, tricks, and friendly banter about fishing around the region. Now resources like Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and X give us the chance to quickly filter and search for those with similar interests as us. Our Northwest Fishing Group on Facebook alone has nearly 54k members, and our Northwest Fishing TV page has 35k followers! 
I’m willing to bet those platforms can connect you with someone who wouldn’t mind hitting the water. These spaces are full of trip invitations, gear discussions, and shared photos that help break the ice. Posting a simple message like: “Looking for a fishing partner around Helena, MT” can lead to multiple responses from people eager to share their favorite spots. Online communities also make it easy to vet potential partners by reading their posts, seeing their experience level, and getting a sense of their personality before meeting in person.

Tackle Shops

Local tackle shops are another underrated resource. These small businesses often serve as informal hubs for the fishing community. The staff usually know regular customers, local hot spots, and upcoming events. Striking up a conversation while buying bait or asking for advice can naturally lead to meeting other anglers. Many shops keep bulletin boards where people post fishing reports, club announcements, or partner requests. Because everyone there already shares a common interest, it’s one of the easiest places to make connections.
Once you’ve found someone who seems like a good match, communication becomes essential. Discuss expectations before heading out: preferred fishing styles, target species, early-morning start times, and whether you’re fishing for relaxation or competition. Even something as simple as where you plan to meet up, what kind of vehicle you drive, or that your favorite food is bananas and you plan to bring a bunch on board with you can’t be assumed. Aligning these details helps avoid misunderstandings and ensures both people enjoy the experience. It’s also wise to talk about practical matters like gear sharing, transportation, and safety habits. Ideally, you’ll click with this person and have many more fishing trips planned in the future.

New Connections

Finally, be open-minded. The ideal fishing buddy might not look exactly like you expect. They might be older, younger, more experienced, or brand new to the sport. What matters most is compatibility, respect, and a shared appreciation for the water. Sometimes the best partnerships form between people who bring different strengths to the boat or shoreline.

In the end, finding a fishing buddy is about more than just catching fish. It’s about building a connection rooted in patience, nature, and shared adventure. With a little effort and a willingness to reach out, anyone can find someone to cast a line with, and maybe even form a friendship that lasts far beyond the fishing season.
 

By Gary Lewis

After 26 rainbows brought to hand and released, I reeled up the loose coils at my feet and clipped the Muddler Minnow off the line. Rain had been steady for the last hour and, soaked, I looked forward to climbing back in the Mustang and turning up the heater. 

Upstream from a two-lane bridge, the river cut a channel through rock leaving a pool deeper than a man’s head. In the winter, an angler might catch a steelhead here; in the spring it was chinook, but the river offered a trout fishery too. 

Today’s lipstick was a Muddler Minnow tied on a No. 8 long-shank hook, unweighted, with a turkey feather for the dorsal. 

With no one else for company, it was easy to start at the top of the run, shake out a bit of line and stack-mend to get the fly to work into the seam this side of the riffle. 

Lengthening the line, making micro-mends, the diminutive sculpin imitation presented to the trout below, and rainbows streaked up from the bottom to follow the Muddler across its arcs. And the longer the arc, the more likely the trout would grab. 

After several trout I was startled to realize I did not feel a single bite. Instead, at best, it was a movement of the line, a two-inch indication, not even a tick that I responded to. Now and then a trout would give itself away with a flash below the surface. Trout after trout bit. Almost every cast they grabbed, but I only counted them when I could fight them all the way to the bank. 

As time passed, I stepped downstream, roll-cast the same length of line each time and teased trout out from beneath the shadow of the bridge. When, properly soaked from the rain, I saw another angler headed toward me. He cast a glance toward the fly I had just removed from my line. 

“Take this,” I said. “It’s working.” And before I walked up to the bridge, I pointed out where I supposed the trout were lying in the tea-colored water. 

But I couldn’t leave. I had to watch from the bridge to see what the trout were doing. Taking care to not cast my shadow over the fish, I leant both elbows on the rail and watched the angler work out line and swing the Muddler across. 

A trout streaked up from the middle of the water column, followed a couple of feet and then closed its mouth over the deer hair streamer. There was no reaction from the fisherman. He let the fly continue to swing while the trout moved with the Muddler then opened its mouth and spit it out. 

Surprised, I said nothing and continued to watch. In twenty casts, ten trout grabbed and the guy did not a single time sense the bite. I could not stand it. I walked back down. 

He was ready to change flies. 

“You’re getting bit on almost every cast,” I said. He didn’t believe me but he consented to cast again. When the fish bit, I called the strike. And he caught a fish. And I left him to it. 

What was the difference, I wondered then, and I still wonder today when I fish alongside someone who clearly catches more fish than me. If the fly is the same and the presentation is the same, why does one angler catch fish and another does not? How many fish bite and we do not know it?

Line control and sensitivity is hard to teach and even harder to learn. 

Let’s call it electricity, an impulse in a conductor. Cast out a dead thing; the conductor swings out in the void. And then, out of the void comes a live thing and closes the circuit. For a moment, the line tingles and energy pulses from the muscles of the trout on the other end. In tune with the lightning rod that is the graphite in your hand, you sense it. Exchange of energy. Reaction making contact. 

Let the fish take a bit of line, lift the rod or turn the tip toward the bank. Let the trout hook itself. It’s electric. 

# # #

Gary Lewis is the host of Frontier Unlimited TV and author of Fishing Central Oregon, Fishing Mount Hood Country, Hunting Oregon and other titles. Contact Gary at www.GaryLewisOutdoors.com

The End

The rainbow on the other end of my line was giving a good accounting of himself. After a solid take, the winter rainbow awoke with several strong jumps, clearing the water with an impressive aerial display, before settling down to a solid tug of war with my 7-weight rod. I slowly worked the fish into the shallows, carefully backstepping on the gravel bottom of the Missouri River. As the fish grew weary, I slipped him into my net and gently slid out the #16 streamer that fooled him. Resting the tired fish, with a strong splash he gave a signal that he was ready to return to his home. I eased the glistening rainbow out of my net and watched satisfied as he darted back to the depths. 

It was the middle of January, and my former home state of Washington was trapped in a cycle of wet, icy roads causing a general standstill from accidents throughout the Puget Sound area. Meanwhile, in Montana we were experiencing our first “Chinook Winds” , a warming trend I was told was a common occurrence in the Great Falls area. With temps hitting the upper forties I decided it was high time to explore the winter trout fishery that I had heard and read about on the Missouri River. In Great Falls the river was frozen from an earlier cold snap, but traveling 50 miles to the angling community of Craig revealed a free-flowing river devoid of the summer line up of drift boats plying the waters. 

Reaching the Bull Pasture access, I shared a beautiful drift with one other angler. He graciously gave me some tips and an extra leader (I had forgotten mine!). Saying “I’ll see you on the water”, I followed at a respectful distance, giving him first water. 

Moving to a new home is not easy. Moving to a new home in another state multiples the challenges and frustrations. For my wife and I it had been a year of packing belongings, cleaning, getting quotes for house repairs, and slowly but surely learning our new hometown, Great Falls. Somewhere in that mix of seemingly never ending tasks I vowed to myself that I would get some fishing and exploring in. Over previous visits my son Matt and I had fished different locations and so I knew a few places to go, but I also wanted to learn new spots and explore fresh places.

Montana has a wealth of angling options, but they are very different from Washington. Lakes are fewer and farther between. Trophy trout rivers are seemingly around every bend. Reservoirs offer big bodies of water which suited my Thunderjet well, but I was also looking for those local spots closer to home where I could make a quick drive, fish, and return home with time left in the day to do chores. 

Fortunately, I discovered a totally unexpected source of fishing information other than YouTube and internet searches. That information source was none other than the various handymen and contractors that came to our home to work on building a fence, repairing a garage door, and graveling our driveway. Striking up conversations I quickly discovered that, like myself, these anglers were more than happy to talk about fishing and share places to go, times to fish, and gear to use. Following our chats, I would go to my computer and do the further research needed to start expanding my fishing horizons. New locations and fishing adventures were what I craved, and suddenly my world was opening to a wealth of exciting opportunities. 

Networking is nothing new, but in our new age of social media it seems to me we are losing that piece of our human connection. Or, maybe it’s just that I’ve read one too many harangues of comments such as “I don’t share locations” anytime someone asks for help on social media. As if that is the cause of our woes as anglers, and being more selfish is the solution to shrinking opportunities. Perhaps the answer is we all expand our horizons, finding those new locations and species to target. And we share the wealth, instead of tightly clinging to our ever-shrinking little world, becoming bitter and inward focused. But I digress…

As I made new friends and we shared our passion for fishing, more ideas and destinations swirled in my head. Epic adventures lay ahead of me – a trip to Fort Peck to target land-locked chinook salmon, or maybe an RV trip to a remote high country lake to fly fish out of my belly boat. Or win the Montana angler lottery’s trip of a lifetime and float the Smith River on a four day camping-fishing adventure. Can’t forget Flathead Lake with its famed lake trout fishery. 

In addition to learning new spots to fish, I realized with both a feeling of sadness but also intrigue that the fishing routines I was used to in Washington were going to be very different in Montana. For one thing, gone will be the days of waiting to hear what seasons will or won’t be open. No longer would my boat see the salt water and flow of the tides. Battling seaweed while trolling for salmon will be a thing of the past. Having my choice of dozens of kokanee lakes was done.  And steelheading… I can only say I am very thankful to have seen the days when local rivers had healthy returns and anglers had a multitude of opportunities to catch these magnificent fish.

In their place, however, were new piscatorial pursuits. Reservoirs with solid populations of large walleye, bass, and pike awaited. Kokanee lakes, while less in number and more spread out, offered solitude and bigger fish. Smaller mountain lakes and high elevation ponds compelled me to buy a new belly boat, bringing me full circle back to my first year in Spokane when I would travel to the multitude of trout lakes and fly fish out of a float tube. I realized with a feeling of excitement that I would need to dust off my neglected fly rods, go through my fly gear, and reacquaint myself with the fine art of fly fishing.

Montana is truly the Mecca of fly-fishing and my new home put me in close proximity to one of the most famous and bountiful trout rivers in the west, the Missouri River. I will confess, my first few trips to the “Mo” were humbling experiences. My fly-casting skills left much to be desired and Missouri rainbows are not easily fooled by sloppy casts. That said, I am embracing the challenge of becoming a better fly-fishing angler, and I observe with satisfaction a steadily improving presentation and distance in my fly tossing.

Most of all I am excited to share new adventure stories and TV episodes with our readers featuring the “Big Sky” country. I look forward to taking friends new and old out to enjoy with them the beauty that is Montana. In the meantime, wherever you call home, I encourage you to broaden your horizons, fish new waters, and share your love of fishing with other anglers. Take a kid fishing and help spark the passion in the next generation so our waters will have advocates to take care of them, help them flourish, and protect them.