When I was very young, probably seven or eight years old, I discovered an old bamboo fly fishing rod and reel in my Grandfather’s basement. Since I was already an avid fisherman by that time (I was on the water in Minnesota since I was three or so),
I thought this discovery was worth further exploration. I can’t really recall Grandpa giving me any instruction or anyone else showing me how to use this piece of equipment, but I did get permission to use it if I wanted to. For that whole summer, I spent hours figuring out by trial and error how to cast a fly to hungry little sunfish and bluegills on Shallow Lake.
In Tennessee, I had a friend who said he would take me Trout fishing sometime, so I decided to bite the bullet and buy a starter fly rod rig to fish for trout in the Caney Fork River. Since I knew how to use a fly rod, I figured with a little instruction, some careful mentoring on presentation, water movement, where the trout hide in the currents, etc. I would be going in no time. Well, when I got to the water the first time, I got just that – a little instruction, which was comprised of something like “you fish that section of the river and I will fish this one”. And off I went to figure it out – and to my surprise I struggled along and did not really enjoy myself. The next time I went out to trout fish, I brought along both my fly rod and my spinning reel, because as much as I wanted to learn to catch trout with a fly rod, I wanted to catch trout more. So I brought my spinning rod along for several more trips, like a woobie blanket for security and a backup plan. And more often than not, I would quickly abandon the fly rod in favor of familiar.
For years I watched salt water fishing shows on Saturday morning like “The Spanish Fly” and “The Walker’s Cay Chronicles” where shaggy, tanned, barefooted, rugged looking men threw flies at saltwater fish like tarpon, snook, and redfish. I thought in the back of my mind, that could be me someday. I mean, isn’t that what really goes on in men’s minds when we watch those types of shows? Kind of living an exciting life through the camera watching others do things we wish we could, in the safe comfort of our beds or recliners, without the risk, expense, or investment in practice time. Oops, did I say that out loud. Now you ladies out there have the same kinds of shows, so don’t bust your man’s chops. In fact you might say something supportive while he is watching – sometime like “Gee he is tan, rugged, and handsome there in that exotic location with blue ocean water all around and all, but I much prefer my men a bit more pasty, soft, and tame – you know, like you dear”. Well, maybe you might just want to keep it to yourself…
When I moved to the Island, I wanted to get a salt water fly rod and figure out how to do the saltwater fly fishing thing. However, just like in the past, my desire to catch fish overcame my desire to pick up something new – not to mention the expense of getting new gear and all that. As I was looking through some old clutter in my bedroom one day, I found an unused $100 gift card I had received last year from my company’s health care incentive program. And that was the tipping point – on to Bass Pro Shop to get the deal done as Teresa and I were scheduled to go to the mainland for other travel anyway – perfect storm. As expected the total was more than I would want to spend, but I kept telling myself “yeah, but there is that gift card”. I left the store with my new stuff, ready to get my shaggy, tan, barefooted, rugged self on the beach to fly fish. Well, the mind does play strange tricks under the influence of the adrenaline rush of shelling out that kind of cash on equipment (and not the happy kind I tell you).
My first effort came not long after. I committed to using just the fly rod, no backup woobie. Give it a shot, learn to cast the new equipment and deal with all the new elements like strong wind, current, beach behind, long casts, etc. So I flailed around a bit, paying my dues like I did in the cold waters of the Caney Fork. I did manage to get two fish taking my fly, but lost both as I did not use the proper hook setting technique with this type of fly fishing. I was a bit disappointed with my first trip, but was determined to figure it out. The next time was a complete disaster. Wrong tide, lots of wind, no fish, much frustration. The next time out, the woobie was with me, and when things did not go so well, out came the spinning outfit, just like old times.
Then came the warmer weather. With the warmer weather came the sea trout to the grass flats. Jason and I had begun to catch trout on our spinning gear with regularity, and so I thought, now is the time to catch some fish on my fly gear. Out I came with new confidence – which is much easier to have when there are fish all over the place. Somewhere in the process, I gained the rhythm and technique that allowed me to cast the way I needed to, even in the blustery ocean breeze. And I was rewarded with trout, one after another. Ahhh, the pleasure of success at something that requires work to figure out. So now the fly rod is more often used, and is not usually accompanied by the woobie. Kind of like life in a lot of ways. Many times there are things we bring along or go back to, not because they are the best thing, or the most rewarding thing, but because they are easy or familiar. Most of the best and rewarding things in life are out beyond our normal and easy. Leave the woobie at home, or you will be tempted to abandon the challenge when the going gets tough and to go with easy – and miss the rich life where success requires commitment, endurance, and practice.
David