Eight men living with cancer were lined up in the waters of Grand Lake Stream alongside their fishing guides. The swirling, restorative currents of the stream braided together the lives of these men, and a happier, more connected group stepped out of the water that morning than had stepped in a couple of hours previously. Many had felt that their lives were unraveling, but the process of binding and healing had begun.
These men were participating in a retreat hosted by Reel Recovery, a nonprofit organization that runs fly-fishing retreats all over the country for men living with cancer. Thanks to charitable contributions and corporate sponsorships, the retreats are free to participants.
The beneficial effects of the event were immediate, and evident in the eager faces of fishermen reading the water of the stream. Instead of the antiseptic smells of an exam room, here the air was redolent of conifer needles, wood smoke, mist blowing off the river, and meals being prepared at the lodge. Instead of interns in hospital smocks and nurses in whites, here we were all sporting baggy waders, signed fly-fishing vests, and broad smiles.
This was the second such retreat I’d attended. My first had been in Montana in 2019, a year after I had been treated for cancer. For three incandescent days, I lived life to the fullest, far removed from the worries and pessimism that had plagued me after my diagnosis. I returned home with a new attitude and positive outlook. Now I treat each day as a blessing.
When I arrived at the Maine retreat in September 2021, it was as a reporter. I wondered whether the magic could happen again, and whether I would be accepted as one of the guys. As it turned out, the answer to both questions was a resounding “yes.”
Grand Lake Stream
The retreat was held at Weatherby’s Lodge in the small village of Grand Lake Stream near Moosehorn National Wildlife Refuge. Weatherby’s is a classic Maine sporting camp: it has pine paneling, exposed rafters, a stuffed grouse launching from a writing desk, framed salmon flies, and sporting books in an oak bookcase. The obligatory piles of spaniels snooze around the hearth. Rocking chairs on the porch provide a place to gather, relax, and swap stories between fishing trips. The retreat participants and guides slept in cabins clustered around the stream. Meals were served in the lodge.
The retreat ran for three days and two nights with two fishing trips on the second day and another trip on the last day. The late September timing of this gathering coincided with the beginning of the landlocked salmon run. The premier inland gamefish of the Northeast, landlocked salmon are a freshwater version of the famous sea-run Atlantic salmon. Grand Lake Stream is one of the most storied landlocked salmon streams in the country. It empties out of West Grand Lake in a torrent, and its crystalline waters are broken into cataracts by ridges of Paleozoic slate – tilted vertically and exposed like the edge of a hymnal – before emptying into Big Lake.
The woodlands surrounding the stream are remarkably healthy and support a rich diversity of bird life. During our time there, hermit thrushes, belying their name, seemed to show up on every path through the hemlocks. I was happily surprised to run into a spruce grouse on a nearby esker, and the owner of Weatherby’s, Jeff McEvoy, told me that the species is not uncommon in the area. Walking along the wooded streambank and watching the graceful arcs of the participants’ fly lines, I wondered if any amount of counseling, therapy, or pharmaceuticals could match the rejuvenating power of this sylvan setting.
At the start of this retreat, the participants seemed nervous, shy, and reticent. By dinner on the second night, however, they were laughing and joking around with their new friends. Whether it was the salubrious woodland surroundings, the soul-searching discussions, the fly fishing, the sense of community among the participants, or the generous outpouring of support by the volunteers running the retreat, it is hard to say, but there was an alchemy at work that turned doubt and worry into smiles and optimism.
Courageous Conversations
The retreat began with dinner at Weatherby’s lodge followed by the first of three “Courageous Conversations,” led by Reel Recovery Director Stan Golub. These discussions are the heart and soul of these retreats. For many men living with cancer, there is no emotional outlet for their worries and doubts, no one to talk to or commiserate with. At the retreat, the men could air their concerns in a supportive environment with others who were dealing with similar issues. During Courageous Conversations, participants are invited to talk about their cancer and treatment, how the cancer has changed them, their fears surrounding the disease, and what they hope to bring away from the retreat. Participants support each other through what can be an emotionally challenging process.
“The Courageous Conversations were the most moving part of our time together,” said Bob Parsons from Plymouth, Massachusetts. “This retreat gave me a new outlook on my battle with cancer. It gave me a new appreciation of the support system I already have in place.”
Many of the men arrived at the retreat carrying a heavy burden, probably none more so than Ken Sabol of Milford, Connecticut. He lost his wife, daughter, and mother-in-law to cancer while dealing with his own illness. “The retreat for me was very therapeutic.
It’s difficult to speak to people about cancer. They don’t understand the difficulties of living with the disease,” Ken said. “Being with other guys going through the same experiences, or worse, gave me a sense of kinship and empathy that I have not felt before.”
Guides and Volunteers
This retreat was run by Mike Pratico, a retirement plan advisor and Registered Maine Guide from Sinclair, Maine. After losing two of his friends to cancer, Mike wanted to help others who were struggling with this disease, so he approached Stan Golub about sponsoring a retreat in Grand Lake Stream. Stan gave his approval, and Mike organized the first retreat in 2019.
“The 2019 retreat was like a dream,” Mike said. “We had peak fall Maine foliage, cool nights, and warm days. The group really connected, and the Courageous Conversations were meaningful right from the start. I was fortunate to be the fishing buddy alongside the first fish caught. It still ranks as the single most meaningful fish I have ever been part of catching. I can still see the pure joy on the face of the participant two years after the event.”
Shortly after the 2019 retreat, Mike Pratico got a heartfelt message from the wife of one of the participants saying that her husband had passed away. She noted how deeply meaningful the retreat had been for her husband. He was able to feel like one of the guys for a couple of days and barely thought about his cancer all the time that he was on the stream. She was grateful that the Reel Recovery retreat was one of her husband’s final memories.
Mike recruited many of his friends and fellow fly-fishing experts as guides for the participants. The guides took time off from work and families to volunteer at the retreat, and they seemed to appreciate the retreat as much as the participants did. “I’ve always gotten great pleasure in giving back when it comes to fly fishing, since it’s been my lifelong passion,” said guide Mickey Haas from Rangeley, Maine. “The days at Grand Lake Stream were a life-changing event for me. The gentlemen I got to meet and guide are truly heroes in life.”
Fishing Grand Lake Stream
On the second day of the retreat, the men got a chance to test the waters of Grand Lake Stream. The first step was Reel Recovery’s traditional vest signing ceremony. The same set of fly-fishing vests is sent to every retreat across the country. Each participant chooses a vest to use while fishing and adds their signature to it. This tradition is another thread that connects the participants to the 3,700 men who came before them and those who will attend future retreats.
After the vest signing ceremony, we headed to Grand Lake Stream to fish, walking on paths cushioned with springy hemlock needles. The morning sun streamed through the clerestory of conifers lining the river. Red-breasted nuthatches, myrtle warblers, and pileated woodpeckers added their voices to the gentle benediction of the stream. Mosaic darner dragonflies flitted along the stream, taking advantage of summer’s gentle afterglow. Patches of color were beginning to checkerboard the leaves of red maples, like miniature sunsets signaling the end of the season.
Although worries and fears were melting away among the participants, anxiety ran high among the guides. They had scouted the river the previous day, and there were no fish to be found. The guides were afraid that they would let the guys down. Fish or no, however, the participants were thankful for the guides’ presence, and for their empathy and kindness throughout the retreat. The guides lent a hand as the participants gingerly stepped into the water and started casting. After an hour or two on the water, the men took a break for lunch, then returned to the stream in the afternoon to try again.
At the end of the day, after two fishing expeditions to one of the most famous streams in the country, with some of the best guides in Maine, not a single salmon had been caught. But the mood was jovial and upbeat. For some of the participants, it was the best fishing trip of their lives. It was clear that there was more to this retreat than fly fishing, and that there was more to fly fishing than catching fish. Something more significant than fish was taken from the river that day.
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