It's now 2006 and I finally went fly fishing again. I will write up brief reports after each time out, but for this first one, I wrote a story.
A lot of anglers sign emails with that phrase as a kind of good luck thing. If you cast well, your line will land on the water in a nice straight line. Then, when a fish takes your fly, the line will become tight as you pull it in. I suppose the actual casting of your line isn't that important and it's just hooking a fish.
Last night, I went fly fishing for the first time in maybe eight years. It was just to a local lake not 10 miles from where I live, and to be perfectly honest, I wondered why on earth I hadn't gone there before. I had made excuses for why I hadn't gone fly fishing, just like I make excuses for a lot of things I do or don't do. It took a little prodding and pushing to get me out there and I'm grateful to Marge for doing that.
The last time I went fly-fishing was when I lived in North Carolina, but I fished in Tennessee. It wasn't the best time I had, but that's not why I basically stopped doing it. I like to blame it on my fishing partner living in another state, but that's just another excuse. I had forgotten why I liked fly-fishing in the first place. And today it was all brought back to me.
I went to a Prescott Flycasters meeting back in May and joined the group shortly thereafter. The group often gets together to fish, but they were going up to Hurricane Lake in June, and there wouldn't be another meeting till July. I thought about fishing, but that's as far as it got. At the July meeting, they planned a local outing two days after the meeting and I had thought about going. A lady I'd met through OLLI was at that meeting and I told her I'd probably go. That Thursday, it was hot, and I thought it too hot to go, so I had no problem talking myself out of it. On Friday, I had to face Marge and make excuses for not having shown up. When I thought about it, I realized the main reason had nothing to do with the weather, I didn't want to make a fool of myself in front of a bunch of strangers, mostly men, because I hadn't even looked at my equipment for years.
I had gotten out my reels a few weeks back, to check to see if the lines had disintegrated over time, and they hadn't. Most of the lines still had flies attached, as if telling me to get out there and use them! On Monday morning, I took my rods out of the closet. I have three with different weights and lengths by three different manufactures. My favorite is my Mary Marbury Orvis rod, which they claim was designed for a woman. It's a six weight, eight feet long so it's good for larger fish. My Thomas and Thomas is a three weight and seven and a half feet and my Winston is a seven weight and also eight feet. I decided to take the Orvis rod because I felt most comfortable with it, almost like having a good friend with me.
Then I had to call Marge to pick the time we'd meet. I talked to her the previous Friday and we'd agreed on Monday, but we couldn't agree on a time. She didn't know how sometimes I hate making phone calls, so I really had wished we'd picked the time when we were together. Luckily, she was more determined than I was and she called me. It was raining when we talked, but it looked like it was going to clear up and she said she'd come get in about 40 minutes. I already had my vest out, so all I needed was boots or shoes and a water bottle. And some courage.
I was ready to go but I don't think you'd say I was roaring to go. I was more or less resigned to making a fool of myself and try something again that I had not done in years. We made small talk as she drove the short distance to the lake and said the south edge would be better than the north. Because of the weather, the temperature had dropped significantly so it was rather pleasant outdoors. And because of the weather, the sky still dark and cloudy, there weren't too many people at the lake.
We got our equipment out and I threaded my line through the eyes along the edge of my raft and walked to the shore. The water was muddy and there was a lot of weeds or plants at the shore, so we both stayed on the ground instead of getting into the water. We were probably thirty feet apart and it was time for me to make my first cast. I raised my arm and back went the rod, then forward and my line landed in the water about 25 feet from the shoreline. I felt a small twinge of success that one, I hadn't made a fool of myself and two, that I could still cast, even though it was as poorly as before.
For ninety minutes, we stood and watched ducks of varying colors fly by chasing each other and the dark clouds move around in the sky. I practiced roll casting as well as overhead casting. More than a few times, I hooked the weeds behind us and walked back to untangle my line. I watched Marge's casting and wished I was as good as she is, but then again, she's fished a lot longer than me and didn't take an eight year hiatus. I managed to lose three flies to the lake, including the last one which I tied on, doubling the knot so I would avoid doing that. Probably for the last fifteen minutes or so, I cast my line with nothing on the end. Since nothing was biting all night, it didn't matter. What was important that I had finally forced myself to take a step forward and from here on, it's a matter of keeping moving and keeping my lines tight.
©25 July 2006I emailed Marge two days ago and suggested we go fishing either yesterday or today. Well, today or actually tonight was better for her, so she said she'd call me before she left her house and I figured it would be about the same time as the other one. Again it poured the few hours before I thought she would call, and when she did, it was still raining at my house. We decided to take our chances and off we went again to Lynx Lake. This time I used my 3 weight, 7.5 foot rod and brought my boots. The weather was perfect, it was about 75 outside, the sun was near setting, the clouds were in all directions and all shapes and there were ducks and kayakers on the water. However, the fish weren't there. She thought she saw one over near the rounded part of the lake, but I stayed where I was. This time we went on the other side of the boat dock, in the southwest corner of the lake. There was a lot less stuff growing right at the waters edge. I realized I have to learn how to tie flies on the line, because I lost three again for no reason. And I'm going to try to tie some again, so I can sacrifice more to the lake. If nothing else, my casting seemed better, I love that rod and I loved being out in the water.