I’m fixing him with my best grizzled guide Mac Daddy look, hoping I resemble in betwixt pure menacing and and just plain ornery mean, while I snarl, “… and you think you’re ready for dry flies, eh?”
“Sure, as you ain’t got a truck, I can drive us up to the woods and we can try some stream fishing – with cold water and trout …”
“ … and backlashes, and swift water, and gossamer tippets, wary trout, invasive species, a predawn McDonald’s colon plug, a side of rarified casting, quiet water that you can’t splash in, nine phases of the mayfly lifecycle, tactical clothing, fly floatant and application of same, gusty winds, perilous sharp edged rocks, mosquitoes, rubber soles, wading staffs, long leaders, and you ain’t even mastered the Roll cast yet?”
“Yea, that.”
“You want to leave hungry and desperate fish in a private game preserve, within walking distance of your house, cold refreshment, and a nap – in favor of hot, sweaty, public, and hard?”
“Well, yea …”
Ignoring reason and wise council is a critical part of fly fishing – almost as crucial as ignoring weather forecasts and hygiene … yet before we head for the Pristine and all the perils that await you, you’ll need to abandon fancy and embrace science ..
We’ve done big and gaudy, small and wiggly, and bright and ponderous, now we’ll learn to match the hatch, where we fish a reasonable facsimile of what the fish really eat. I call it “WidderMaker” and if you can avoid burying it in an arse cheek and bleeding to death, we’ll consider your apprenticeship complete.
“This floats right? I mean, this is a dry fly?”
“Which leader should I use, the 7.5’ or the 9 footer?”
“Do I put floatant on it?”
“Hey, this is kind of fun.”
“That’s the biggest bass I’ve caught here.”
“… and the biggest bluegill too, I can’t believe they eat this.”
“I like this, it’s visual.”
I don’t think the bug lasted more than seven seconds without something attempting to eat it, evidenced by the bluegill snacking on my Widdermaker in the picture below … making it the Thrill that comes Once in a Lifetime …
“For over a thousand years Roman conquerors returning from the wars enjoyed the honor of triumph, a tumultuous parade. In the procession came trumpeters, musicians and strange animals from conquered territories, together with carts laden with treasure and captured armaments. The conquerors rode in a triumphal chariot, the dazed prisoners walking in chains before him. Sometimes his children robed in white stood with him in the chariot or rode the trace horses. A slave stood behind the conqueror holding a golden crown and whispering in his ear a warning: that all glory is fleeting.”
– Gen. George C. Patton
If I only knew then what I know now – the spiral downward would have less gut wrenching.
I suppose most of our experiences were similar, something magical and foreign mixed with a dab of science, and suddenly luck has much less influence than first thought. I had the same disregard for wisdom, the same endless questions, only Pop was much less perverse in his instruction.
Dry fly, George C. Patton, Dragonfly, mayfly lifecycle, scientific angling, fly fishing lessons, warm water fishery, trout, grizzled guide
well written and a truly ugly fly that now has me contemplating madness at the vise.
Looks to me like a great looking dragonfly imitation!!
The fish received it with open arms, but as you’d expect it’ll spin OX tippet.
Me I just wind the leader up like a rubber band and let the bug flop around in circles.
No, I can’t take credit for its invention, I just fiddled with the colors to make it resemble the local bugs.
I was shocked into extreme deja vu when I saw the fly. Nearly forty years ago, on a small pond in the Sierra north of Tahoe, I took one of my most memorable trout on a fly I tied that looked almost identical to that bug. I used twisted gray yarn for the extended abdomen,but otherwise, it’s identical. I tied it on a size 6, 3X-long shank hook to “match” the dragonflies flitting and egg-laying over the water. First cast to the middle of the pond, a brown trout materialized and rushed upwards to grab it. It was the first fish I ever caught that took me into my backing. What a memory. Thanks. A young girl, who 15 years later was to become my ex-wife, watched the event unfold from a shady spot on the bank. I’ve never fished with a fly of that type since. I wonder, why not?
What one has to endure minus a vehicle, minus water in the creek, plus in dire need of free produce.
What a guy, oh Zen Master Yoda.
My only hope is to someday elevate to the rank of Wannabe.