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 Too Easy To Be Called Fly Fishing
Posted by kray on March 16, 2005
There are only a few places that a fly fisherman can still lay a large humpy upon dozens of small rainbow trout and have them all hurl themselves like missiles to be the first to have a taste of the elk hair attractor. There are not many places where you can you still catch fish on flies that are still on some of the most simple flies. Nowaday’s most rivers have become a math problem with different flies providing solutions to the problems. I get no greater joy than hiking up a spring creek with fly rod in hand casting to no place inparticular but always catching a fish. The problem I find is that I get to curious with the many holes that still have not seen the drift of a yellow line and I always wonder what lies around the next bend.
Not too long ago I took a trip to a creek we shall give no name, and with every drift I had such a joy watching the small fish come out from under a
log or bank and wait for the right moment to gently raise the rod and set the hook. But this creek was one that beckoned to be explored and armed with a fly rod and a wonderful family we set off to do just that.
My little sister is not the jack of trades but I must give her credit when she brought to me a stick, some mono line, and asked me to make her a fly rod. I did and I will never forget how many fish she caught that day on her stick, 3ft of mono, and a grasshopper. We walked, and walked, and walked till we found ourselves deeper than few have dared venture and I will just say there are few places as beautiful as this. Drifting humpy’s through every inch of water; a bad cast or drift was impossible. Wading from one side to the other, jumping from boulder to boulder. I would have rather caught those small rainbows all day than a few huge fish. Then when we would make it back to camp dad and I would set out in our drift boat on the small lake that was fed by the creek. This lake looked as though it were always moving. The constant rises of splake, rainbows, and brookies, disturbed the surface of the water like a gentle rain shower in the spring. As the sun did every night, it laid itself into its bed of pine trees that covered the mountain tops. It would grow dark and the soft ripples of fish would glitter under the moon. Then I'd get into my warm sleeping bag only to wake up the next morning and smell the early morning dew and feel the warmth of the sun come over the mountain tops. And, the only thing better than that was the fact that I got to do it all over again.
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Re: Too Easy To Be Called Fly Fishing
by jeremy on March 16, 2005 http://www.ineedasimplesolution.com | | flyrod = a stick - with line tied to the tip and something that looks like a bug tied to the end. jumping from boulder to boulder in crystal clear streams chasing little rainbow trout. kray - your a modern day huck finn - you should write a little book "the adventures of kray fish" - great fishtale. |
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