The Baghdad School of Flyfishing

We flew into Baghdad on a Charlie-130, combat loaded, strapped into webbed jump seats, bouncing along on the choppy air. Riding in a C-130 in turbulence is sort of like driving over a logging road in a four-wheel-drive with bad suspension. At the end of the ninety-minute ride, the pilot executed a couple of evasive maneuvers, then dove for the tarmac, leveled off and made a feather-soft landing. Welcome to Iraq, land of high heat, mortal danger, few comforts, and giant carp.

No, I didn’t come for the fishing. But as long as I’m here, what’s wrong with investigating the possibilities? I heard stories of huge carp lurking in the Tigris River, and in a Tigris-fed lagoon which the late, unlamented Saddam Hussein created to reflect the glory of one of his many palaces. En route to Iraq I heard about a soldier who had hauled a carp out of that lagoon that weighed 65 pounds and whose head and tail hung over the edges when laid across the hood of a Humvee. On my first visit to the PX at Camp Liberty I discovered a selection of fishing poles. Not flyrods, but still, the fact that there’s a market for fish sticks in Baghdad was an encouraging sign. Someone must be fishing. Then I discovered Joel Stewart’s website, baghdadflyfishing.com, dedicated to helping devotees of “the quiet sport” find a bit of down-time pleasure in a hard place. Who would have guessed?

The website has pictures which may strike a stateside civilian as somewhat bizarre: guys in camouflage soldier suits holding flyrods in one hand and exotic species of fish in the other. Not just carp, but barbels, “asps,” stinging catfish, and other creatures that we fervently hope we never pull out of a Maine pond.

I’m going fishing. In Baghdad. More to come.