Wow. July 2015. Time has flown by and left me in such a
time warp. I took on a new job at Boeing as an IT guy, Change and Release
Manager to be exact, and in the last 22 months I have been swept up in the
world of learning my new craft and more recently a newer craft as a Computing
Architect. I sit back and think about my fishing in the last 22 months. I
am much more comfortable in my new career, but when I look at my fly rods
collecting dust, it makes me sad. On one hand I have a new, well paying
career, I am able to better support my family, and that all makes me happy but
I miss my fly rods. I miss stalking Redfish and strolling through the
spartina grass. This is my year though. Even though it is
technically half over, 2015 is my return. My return to fly fishing, my
return to this blog. It's time to get back to basics.
I thought about my journey of fly fishing. How did I begin? How
did it all start for me? I remember my Wal-Mart 3pc 5/6wt rod that my
wife bought me that almost ended fly fishing for me. I remember
struggling to learn how to cast. and then I remember the first time I
casted a real fly rod and how the line shot through the guides and as that nice
tight loop unfolded to a beautiful, soft presentation of the fly that was then
crushed by a small Rainbow trout. THAT is what I wanted again. I
wanted to start all over.
I have caught two world records, caught some big fish, caught a lot of fish,
played the "my wiener is bigger then yours" game, been on the pro staff of a rod company, worked in a world
class fly shop, and fly fished on five continents. All of that was just
filling "goals" to be the cool kid. You know, bragging
rights. I am kinda over all that now. I guess I am older and wiser;
at least that's what I am telling myself. I appreciate the few real
friends I have made over that journey, those few I still fish
with on occasion but talk to all the
time.
All the “friends” I had while I
worked at the fly shop who disappeared shortly after I stopped working there
truly opened my eyes.
I wasted a lot of
time and energy playing the game.
I
think this break has helped me see through all of that and allowed me to take
stock of my passion and reel me back, pardon the pun, to what I used to know
and feel.
I decided I would start with the number one caught fish in the US.
The Mighty Bluegill.
Armed with my trust 2wt and a small box of
small wooly buggers, tiny dry flies and tiny poppers I headed out.
I stalked my old stomping grounds and began
to cast, and cast, and cast some more.
It got dark and I had nary a nibble.
I sat on the bank as the last rays of sun dropped below the
horizon.
I couldn’t even catch a
bluegill.
The fish that literally eat
ANYTHING and I could not nab one of them.
I really was out of touch. I thought about what I had expected and saw
visions of a few small bluegill, maybe a bigger one then a small bass and then
one of the three to four pounders that haunt my pond.
All in one outing, just like before, catch as
many fish as possible in as short amount of time possible. Then it hit me.
That’s not what this was about.
That’s not what I was looking for.
I thought about the fly I had tied
on, a small caddis dry.
I stared at it
in the waning light and cut it off, stashed it neatly in the small box I had
and my eyes rested on the size 12 olive wooly bugger with a small dark colored
bead head.
I walked back to the house
and sat on the couch and tied a new leader and tippet and then tied on that
olive wooly bugger.
The quintessential
beginner fly.
How could I be so dumb,
back to the
basics right?
I was finally thinking right.
The next evening after work I walked
out and surveyed the pond as if I had never seen it before.
I knew all the dips and drop offs and where
the big bass like to hang out.
I walked around
the pond threw that olive wooly bugger. Dragged it across drop offs and was rewarded with a few nibbles but no hook ups. I tied on a small popper and then headed to another pond nearby.
I walked around this pond too, only I didn’t know this
pond.
I had only fished it once or
twice.
I avoided the spots I had fished
and approached it with new eyes.
After a
few prospecting casts I saw a floating grass edge that called my name.
I dropped the small popper next to it and was
almost instantly rewarded with a tiny blow up and a palm sized bluegill
hooked.
Then another and another.
I left my camera in my pocket and just kept fishing.
It was awesome.
Cast after cast, bluegill after
bluegill.
I felt like a kid again.
For the next 45 minutes or so I put a good
old fashioned beat down on those fish.
I
left them biting and moved on.
As I
walked around the pond I saw a small point, near a tree and thought it looked
fishy so I dropped the right on the point and as it sat there… the small rings dissipating,
there was a boil and my fly was gone.
I
set the hook with a sweeping strip set, my redfish brain kicked in, and the
fight was on.
It wasn’t terribly long
and the fish wasn’t terribly big but it was a bass.
I laid him down next to my rod and dropped my
hat to pay homage to the
Lowcountry Fly Shop, and released the beast to swim
again.
I took the long way home and thought about it.
I had gone to a basically new body of water,
figured it out, at least a little, and landed fish all on my fly rod.
Probably 95% of my casts were right where I
wanted them. There was no great catch, no hoopla, no bragging fish.
No one to impress. Just a pleasant evening with my fly rod and a
return to the feeling I missed when I fly fish.
I plan on stalking bigger bass, redfish and any other thing with gills I can
stick on the end of a fly rod this year, but I don’t have any
expectations.
I don’t care how big they
are, how many they are.
I am going to
get out and ENJOY fly fishing again.
If you’d like to join me in my quest, head down to the
Lowcountry Fly Shop in
Mt. Pleasant, they are now located near Wild Wings on Coleman,
stop in talk to the boys, grab a handful of
flies, maybe a new rod or reel and find yourself a neighborhood pond and get
back to your own basics.
