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Pastimes : NNBM - SI Branch

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To: altair19 who wrote (34837)	7/5/2004 8:05:37 PM
From: Clappy	Read Replies (4) of 104167

When I grow up I want to be a professional fly fisherman. <g> <ng> Man-oh-man did I enjoy myself this past weekend. I caught my first trout. Ever. Well, not really ever. When I was a lad my dad took us to a stocked trout pond where I imagine they didn't feed the trout all that often and one could probably hook one using a shoelace and paper clip. Saturday morning I spent my time waist-deep near some riffling waters thinking I'd be pulling out one fish after the next after reading "The Complete Idiot's Guide To Fly Fishing." I think the term that the veteran anglers use is called "Getting Skunked". I caught nothing. Nada. Waded around for 4 hours and got nothing other than sunburned ears. I climbed up the embankment and walked the road back to my car. That's when I saw three fishermen pulling in trout using dry flies. I stood there and just watched them for a half hour or so. Then I went to the general store and got myself a cup of joe along with a handful of dry flies in colors and shapes that I didn't think I already had. I then went over to the dam and watched the old timers fish from their favorite perches of pocket water and pools. Suddenly I began noticing things about how they fished that never registered in that gold-fish sized brain of mine. Instead of just seeing them swinging a pole back and forth, I saw how they were doing things to adjust their angle to get their downstream-left fly back to the upstream-right side of the faster current. What took me ten false casts, these guys could do in two. I also watched how they mended (adjusted) their line as to allow the fly to appear to naturally float down stream. I noticed where they often stopped feeding line so that a submerged fly could rise in the calm water directly in front of a large bolder (potential holding spot for Mr. Fatty-fat Trout-face). Equipped with this new bit of knowledge I returned to the house and reread a few chapters of my fishin book and and baited my youngest brother with an invite to go fishing bright and early Sunday. My brother has about a year's worth of experience with the fly rod and his friend has several years worth. The three of us arrived at the dam while the hovering morning fog layer partially greyed-out the image of the anglers down the bend. All was quiet except for the white noise of the water rushing over the man-made falls. Brother Rick clumsily trodded over the slippery rocks hoping everyone was busy tying on instead of watching him. Friend Jason was already tied on and letting his beaded nymph bounce along the bottom. I peered past my ten fingers tangled up in fisherman knots and soaked up the scene. Appreciating it. Thanking God for it. Man it was so nice. A family ducks were crossing in front of me peaking at me while some tiny fish were staring at my felt bottomed wader boots. Perhaps they thought the sideways dangling laces were something edible. After a minute or two I managed to squelch the sensory overload and do some serious fishing. Started out with some sort of lt. brown fuzzy wet fly emerger thing that has a name like Hendrison or something, I think. Then again they all look like Hendricksons to me. 15 or 20 minutes go by after taking every possible angle on the running water deemed as my territory. Not a bite. I tried a beaded Nymph Cadis thingamarole with different colors. Nope. No luck with that one. I begin to tie on another shaped fuzzy thing when a REAL Live tiny black fluttering fly landed on the edge of the brim of my new fishing hat. Then he fluttered away. I felt like mother- nature was taking notice of how much I was appreciating my surroundings and she wanted to reward me with a hint of what the fish might be biting. I rummage through my fly box and find the smallest black nymph thing with wings. Might be called an emerger or it might not. Anyway it was the closest I could find that resembled that fly that buzzed me. A fish hit on the first drift! Holy smokes! There's a fish on my line! What do I do now?! I begin reeling him in but there is twenty feet of highly visible line floating beneath me. So I begin pulling it in by hand. The fish is fighting pretty nicely and by pole is bent more than I thought it was supposed to bend. Sort of looked like half of a McDonald's Arch. I keep the rod pointed as up as I can get it until the tired fish allows me to look at him. After a few swipes with my left hand finally get a hold of the most beautiful fish I ever saw. Now I understood how Rainbow Trout got their name. Such nice coloring to it. It had the image of a pink sunset sky brush-stroked the length of his twelve inch body. I calmly looked at him and told him I wasn't gonna hurt him. The barbless hook easily came out of his mouth and I sent him on his way. A few fishermen including my brother and friend gave me a thumbs up while asking me what it the fish were biting on. That felt good. Experienced anglers asking "me" with beginners luck. I smiled and did my best to describe the fly on my line. Jason soon pulled in a small brown trout. Rick didn't have anything similar to tie on and continued to thrash around the down stream water. As the morning sun grew high enough to look at us over the tall trees, we decided to go to the diner for breakfast and remove a layer of clothing before heading to a nice shaded area near the single lane wood deck bridge. Little did I know that this would be the place where I'd learn the most about trout. The water was not moving as fast. As I slowly waded upstream I could sneak up to the trout looking for food coming down to them. They didn't see me. Everything was perfect for me. My shadow was down stream and the wind was slightly blowing upstream which helped me get a little bit of distance on my cast when needed. My polarized sunglasses allowed me to see deep into the water. As I watched my fly drift down to the fish next to me I could see him move toward it. It got a good look at it but then decided it didn't want it. I could not coax it even by raising it. I changed patterns and watched the fish approach. This time I saw him suck it in. I set the hook! Wow a nice fight again. This time it was a brownie about 8 inches long. (I told my brother it was about 9-10.) This time I studied it more while freeing the hook. Trout really are nice looking fish. The fight must have spooked the fish in the area. Nobody wanted any part of my Cadis wet fly with the number 12 hook. I ventured further upstream while my brother wrestled with a tree branch. The smell of the mist coming off the stretch of white water mixed well with the scent of the tall pines leaning over the banks of the winding channel. I noticed how the underwater terrain was much different. There was cross current a steep drop off that I'm glad I discovered before walking off it into the deep end. I observed fish waiting behind boulders for food to come. Standing four feet away I could see what they did as they declined a taste of my threaded fly. I presented them in different manners trying to figure out what whey liked. As I'm looking left fish are jumping to my right. They are rising. I tied on a fluffy light tan thing and after a few tries, bam! Another hit! I pulled in another Rainbow! 8 inches. (I squinted rounded it up to next even number.) This is great! Two people on a canoe came paddling by just in time to ask how the fish were biting. My smile said it all. Before I could finish telling them a story approximately the length of this one, the current had taken them further downstream. There they got to witness my brother finally pulled in a four inch small mouth bass. The fly must have mugged the fish. However, today the roles were reversed. The trout humbled me after having me believe I knew something. They jumped and practically had a party 20 feet from me as I threw fly after fly at them. My brother caught two. (Today's he's probably writing something similar as my story about yesterday...) Anyhow, I did manage to catch a Salmon. It was only three inches long. But it was a Salmon! I have fishing lures bigger than it. But it was a Salmon! Can't wait to get back up there. How was everyone's holiday? -ClappyTheAngler P.S. Sorry for all the words. My fingers get carried away when I'm all excited like this.

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