Casting a Lifeline to Disabled Veterans

Hiroko Masuike/The New York Times Sean McGovern, a veteran of the Vietnam War, fly fishing in Breezy Point as part of a program that uses fishing as a form of therapy for veterans who have served in wars.

Todd Ford whisked back his fly-fishing rod, and then flung it forward, the plastic line slicing through the air. He might have been in Montana, if not for a distinctly urban scene: a view of One World Trade Center, Coney Island’s Wonder Wheel and the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, as tankers cruised through Lower New York Bay.

For Mr. Ford and other fishermen casting off in Breezy Point on a recent Saturday â€" some in waterproof waders, others in bluejeans and work boots â€" Jamaica Bay offered a chance to practice the skills they had been learning for months.

It also is helping them recover from the trauma of war. Mr. Ford and the other men and women casting lines into the frigid waters are all veterans, many of whom have been scarred by the violence and bloodshed of conflicts abroad. They are members of a program called Project Healing Waters Fly Fishing, a nonprofit that uses fly-fishing as rehabilitative therapy for veterans.

Founded eight years ago by Ed Nicholson, a retired Navy captain who served in Vietnam, Project Healing Waters runs programs in 47 states across the country, and is open to any disabled veteran, from any conflict.

Mr. Nicholson developed the idea for the organization when he was recovering from prostate surgery at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center during the Iraq war. An avid outdoorsman, he approached officials at Walter Reed about incorporating fly-fishing into its “adaptive sports” rehabilitative program. Soon he began offering fly-tying lessons and weekly river excursions to wounded veterans.

Since then, he has expanded the operation by enlisting local chapters of fly-fishing clubs, like Trout Unlimited, and raising funds for equipment, which veterans can use free.

In New York City, the program’s 30 or so veterans are a mix of ages, with a range of physical and mental disabilities. During the winter, they meet twice a month at the Upper West Side Jewish Community Center, where they learn how to make a rod and tie a fly. That process sharpens motor skills; the community offers emotional support. Volunteers come from every corner of the city, and include an architect, the captain of a party boat and the editor of a trade magazine. Come spring, the group heads outdoors â€" to Montauk, the Beaver Kill and the west branch of the Delaware. Two Fridays a month, they practice casting in Central Park’s Sheep Meadow. Occasionally, they fish in the Harlem Meer.

Andy Roberts, 38, a former battery commander in Iraq, serves as program leader. When he returned from Iraq in 2004, Mr. Roberts struggled with symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder; he was hypervigilant, and had extreme reactions to unexpected noises. While he was receiving professional help, he read an article about Project Healing Waters, and in 2009 joined the mid-Atlantic chapter. “A lot of people feel a real sense of isolation when they come back, and this group provides a community,” Mr. Roberts said.

Fly-fishing requires a combination of finesse and physical restraint. The angler uses his forearm to whip the rod backward, and then forward; that motion loads the rod by bending its tip and transferring energy to the line. The line is coated with plastic, and its weight helps to propel the fly through the air, until it hits the water. “You can’t use too much force or aggression,” said Robert Gil, 28, a former Army machine-gunner who received a Purple Heart after sustaining injuries during combat in the Iraqi city of Ramadi. “You have to relax and softly bring the rod back, feel it spring. When you do it nice and relaxed, you actually feel relaxed and the momentum and flex of the tip will do its job and release the line. If you did it too powerfully, it wouldn’t cast.”

The rhythmic, repetitive act of casting has a calming effect, but the social part of the outings is even more important. Fishing allows for easy conversation. “The therapeutic value is that it’s not therapy,” said Mr. Ford, 46, a retired Marine helicopter pilot who recently completed a master’s degree at Columbia. “It’s a bunch of guys and gals getting together and fly-fishing. We happen to be vets, and that binds us together.”

On Saturday the wind was strong, and responsible for a few rogue hooks. Two snagged Warren Stern, a lawyer and a first-time volunteer. One pierced the ear of Manuel Vasquez, 65, who had served as a paratrooper in Vietnam. (After another veteran used pliers to flatten the barb, Mr. Vasquez pulled it out. “It was more embarrassing than anything,” he said.)

On the Breezy Point jetty, Mr. Gil, an Army veteran and a student at Hunter College, cast alongside Mr. Ford. Their fly-fishing guide, Nick Parish, gave pointers on technique.

The fish tend to stay farther offshore, and the ratio of casting to catching was low. In three hours on the beach, only one person caught a fish â€" a striped bass about 10 inches long â€" which Audonelle Loreto, a 62-year-old retired Army reservist, threw back in the sea.

No one seemed disappointed.

“It’s all about the experience,” Mr. Ford said. “If we wanted to get fish, we’d go down to the market to get them.”