Recently I talked to a friend who related to me many instances
of successful fishing. Thinking about this I experienced a pang of jealousy, so
far this summer and fall my fishing has not been met with much success. I have
even fished some of the same water as my friend, but I have nothing to show for
it. This has caused some reflection on
my part, I have been fishing for some 20 yrs longer than him, so why havn’t I
caught anything? In a short time my
friend has demonstrated a natural talent for Flyfishing, this has been his
first real summer trying the sport, but yet he has spent hrs watching videos
and podcasts downloaded to his phone and computer, as well as getting out on
the water, for a average of once a week for the past few months. Me? Well I have relied upon experience and
articles read, & videos watched over the last 20 yrs, with the last 15
mainly Flyfishing. But I noticed
something, a difference in the approach.
While contemplating on this difference I decided to go back to the
beginning, back to the start, back to the very stream where I caught my first
fish all on my own. It has changed in
the almost 40 yrs since, but it also hasn’t, physically it has been altered, it
has suffered, floods, fires, some good management and some very bad management. After one flood, in the name of flood
protection, a tractor was actually driven up the stream and removed any
obstacles that blocked the water, and straightened its path. It seems like it is still recovering from
that experience from almost 30yrs ago, but my memories of my favorite small
stream, and the first fish I caught from it, may have added a distorted image
to my perspective. But at the same time,
it hasn’t changed, it is still there, still flowing down the narrow canyon
carving out its bed, like it has for millennia, undaunted by the new
impoundments, culverts roads, etc which has tried to block its path.
It is not a big river, and most people are
unimpressed by it. In fact for most of its length it is barely 10 ft wide. But it is still there still flowing, ever
flowing. I too have changed much since
that summer when I was 8, I no longer tuck a bag full of Velveeta cheese in my
pocket, and run off to try my luck. I
have also had my ups and downs, like school, job changes, moves, adding a
family, a few distractions along the way. Some of which helped and some of
which hindered, just like this small stream.
The actual pool, that I caught my first fish in, is long gone, a victim
of flood and tractor, but there are a few others I know of that have since
developed. While I was preparing to fish, I was thinking about the river
changes and about the differences of fishing the river as an 8 yr old, compared
to now. I no longer run excitedly from
one hole to the next, and instead of walking up or down the river for hours,
and what seemed like miles. I drive,
basically from one known hole to another.
As I was reflecting on this, and walking the 15-20 feet from the car to
the hole I was going to fish.... The difference finally struck me, the difference
between my friend and his success compared to mine as of late. He is excited, just like when I was 8, full
of enthusiasm and new found achievement.
He is trying to do everything just exactly right, he crouches low,
sneaks up on likely spots, careful not to have his shadow cross the water,
tries to put his fly in the perfect spot, and have it drift, ever so lightly,
without drag, as natural as can be thru the run. He concentrates, all his attention is on that
fly, as he tries to get the presentation perfect. It suddenly dawned on me, I am in total
conflict to this strategy, I lazily saunter up to the stream, poke my head,
then my body out over the stream as I look for fish and decide which fly to tie
on. I then try for a good cast, and a good
drift, I manage this, once maybe twice thru the run. But then, my mind drifts, I look at the
scenery, and enjoy just being by the stream, and away from the hectic
city. So if I do get a bite, if I
haven’t scared everything off by now, I am slow to react, and miss it.
Now don’t get me wrong, most of the reason,
I love fishing, is the scenery, the music of the water, and the soothing
action, it seems to impart me with. But
I wonder, has this same lack of concentration, lack of dedication to the task?
Has this affected other parts of my life as well? Has it affected my job? My relationship to my
wife? Or to my Children? Friends? Etc? I
always use fishing and fishing trips as a way to recharge the internal battery,
to reflect and to shrug off the stresses at the time, to, as it was suggested
to me once, to leave all the stresses with the car, and hope that by the time
you get back to the car, some of them have disappeared. For the rest of the trip, I resolved to go
back to the basics, go back to dedicating myself to do it the right way, and to
do it whole heartedly, not lackadaisical.
Did I catch a fish?
Hmmm we shall see….. to be continued…..
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| Fall colors on the upper pond |
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| Oops wrong place for that fly |
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| Beutiful Brown Trout, ya its blurry, still had to include it. |
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| The stream, its small I know |
As I was pondering all of this, while making my way down to
the river, I discovered one of those changes I was talking about. Now for the
first time ever, there was a sign right by the path, this section of the river
is now posted private property! Access by permission only! It gave a website to visit, but for now, I
will have to just come back another day.
After a few minutes, I got back in the car and drove up the canyon
thinking about what spot I would try next.
I was suddenly amazed by all the campers, every pull out had a trailer
or motor home and usually both. Then it
struck, me.. oh ya..opening weekend of the deer hunt!
After driving up and then back down the canyon, I pulled off
at a place we call the upper pond. It is
a small impoundment, that was added for flood control, during the summer it is
heavily stocked with rainbows, but on the backside where the river used to go,
you can usually catch a wild Brown or two.
As I parked and climbed out of the car, I noticed in front of me, what
appeared to be, and later was confirmed as I overheard their conversation, a
small boy, his dad, and granddad were fishing together. I then looked past them towards the place
where I wanted to fish. And saw a family
there gathered together in front of a photographer, but they were blocking the
area I wanted to fish! This is not a big
pond! I climbed back in the car, and drove up and down the canyon again, but
really this was my only option, as I pulled back in the parking lot I noticed
that the family and photographer were gone, YEA!
I pulled into a parking stall and started putting my pole
together, an 8 ft 4 wt rod, perfect for small water, as it makes small fish
feel big. Out of the corner of my eye, I
caught the movement of the grandfather making his way towards the back of the
pond, luckily he stopped short, but it caused me to panic, just a little, so I
grabbed my vest and hurried over to the back side. I no sooner stepped off the parking lot, when
I heard the voice of the photographer, guiding another family back to her spot,
blocking my area! I walked quickly back
to the sandy point I wanted to fish and staked my claim. I immediately noticed how low, and still the
water was, even though I was only steps away from the exit spillway, there was
almost no flow to the water. I tied on a
small renegade pattern, no reason, except that it has worked here before. As soon as that I was done, I looked out to
aim my cast, when not more that 4 ft in front of me, was a fish. Looked like maybe a brookie, obviously it
could see me, but of course I cast right out in front of it anyway, I think it
looked at me in disgust, like what are you thinking? Turned and swam away. I fished from that spot for awhile, but no
bites, and nothing rising to the surface.
I did notice that same fish swim by a couple of times, but each time he
just disappeared again.
As I was fishing
I heard the dad across the pond, praising and helping his son as he reeled in a
fish, calling the granddad over he had his son hold up the fish and pose for a
picture. Made for a nice moment and I
thought about the first fish I caught in that canyon, and some of the more
memorable fish since. This suddenly made
me feel kind of frustrated, I was trying to use the trip to rededicate myself,
to doing things the right way, to go back to the fundamentals and put forth a
good effort to fishing, and so far, my first spot, and many others were blocked
and I wasn’t having any luck!... ok ok, a little over reaction but it’s what I
felt.
I decided to work my way down
stream, I hadn’t fished that part of the stream in a long time. I walked down the hill to the bottom of the
spill way, and before I was even 10 ft away, I saw the flash of movement, and
fish zooming very quickly for cover.
Dang I blew it, I then proceeded to move a little farther down, and
again 20 ft away, I saw 3 or 4, zigzag crazily trying to find cover.
The water was very clear and very low, in some places I
could see fins sticking out of the water, as they darted for cover. This was going to take my best, ninja type
skills to catch one of these, they were scared of everything! I circled my way
down stream, to try and sneak up on the next spot. My thoughts drifted off, to a spring trip, a
dozen years ago, it was just a little farther downstream, there used to be a wide
lazy curve with a cut bank, my brother, walked out on a log to try and drift
his worm right under that bank, when splash! He slipped fell off the log and
completely went under! I wouldn’t have believed there was that much water
there! I was standing there kind of shocked! When first one hand came up with
hat in hand, then the other with the fishing pole, and then his head poked out
of the water. I saw he was ok, and I
about died from laughing, only he would be able to go completely under and not
lose his hat or his fishing pole.
Now
back to this trip, alongside the river is a high gravel bank, I carefully put a
tree between me and the river, and started slowly down this bank to the river, suddenly the gravel gave way and I slid and
fell on my elbow, I wasn’t going to put my hand down and risk my 200 dollar
pole! Ok, maybe only 100, but still. So
once again, I blew that approach, but I did better on the next spot, carefully
tiptoed up to the water and, yup first cast, snagged a tree and broke off my fly! I was having fun, watching the fish and
trying to sneak up on them, but still I wanted to catch one. So I tied on
another fly, a Griffith’s gnat this time, it is one of the smallest I had,
seemed appropriate since this water was not even 8ft wide at this point. It was
starting to get dark by this time, so I slowly started working my way back up
the river, casting here and there, snagging a bush here and one there.
As I approached the bottom of the spillway, I carefully walked up to the
little stream, and saw a fish dart, making a note that it went down
stream. Just upstream was a very small
pool that looked promising, so concentrating, I made a few cast’s, managing to
land my fly there more times than not.
About the 4th cast, a flash of gold and YEA!!! Success!! A 12
inch brown, huge for this water, took my fly and tried to make a run
downstream. I quickly played it in took
a picture, and let it go. The picture turned out blurry of course, it wouldn’t
stay still, and I was trying hard not to drop my phone in the river. A wild
brown, I think is one of the prettiest fish you can catch, at least until the
next cutthroat, I catch. Oh well another time and I will get a better
picture. I tried a few more times, had
one more bite, but it was getting dark, and I had no clue where my fly was. It
was time to go back to my car. I climbed up the bank and out of the river.
While I was walking back past the pond, I was watching two men fish the pond, and
noticed a few fish jumping, and couldn’t resist a cast or two. I walked over to the far side where the inlet
was. I pulled some line out and made a
cast, remember this is a fly rod, and cast it about 10 ft. Note someday, I should sign up for some
lessons. I pulled in my line, and tried
a few more times, managing to cast it a little over 20 ft, which is good for
this pond, since that’s about halfway out.
It was way too dark I couldn’t see my fly, but I could still see the fly
line, and I knew the fly was a few feet beyond that. While admiring the sunset, a splash and a
miss! I cast again to about the same
spot, stared at my line and the water, and YEA!! Another bite!! Not sure I
think this one might have been a rainbow, and a fat little one. I played it in, and just as I made a final
reach for it, it broke my line, and was gone!
Oh well, I was happy, I caught two fish, ya I know, not supposed to
count that second one. Too bad, I will anyway.
It ended up a really great trip! The time down by the river, watching
the fish, and trying to sneak up on them was great! A beautiful challenge just
what I needed.
And it was the return to the foundation, trying hard to do
what you’re supposed to do, in this case sneak up on the fish, and place my fly
in just the right spot, is what made the trip payoff! Trips like this are great! … already planning
the next one, shhh don’t tell my wife. As to the rest, well that will remain
for another day.. to be continued..
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| The home of the trout |
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| End of the day |
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