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Albie Video

I didn’t know a thing about fly fishing in February of 2003 when I asked my cousin to order me what I needed. “Tell me what I need. I want to catch a big fish on light tackle.” She took my credit card and ordered me a 5wt newbie special. I didn’t know what the Biminies were for. I read a Tom Rosenbauer fly fishing book. I think my first trout just felt sorry for me. It was a challenge. Between the frustrations of being humiliated, out smarted and left tied up in your own fly line by a fish with a brain the size of a BB. I did find moments of calm, but with Connecticut truck trout I never felt out gunned. I wrestled me some of those wild free range trout out west. In Montana them fish don’t take kindly to being hooked. The guns were getting bigger. On my next fishing trip, a friend took me out to Martha’s Vineyard. Again I was told what salt water gear I needed. 11 ft surf rod and 30 lb Power Pro line. I was told that we were, “going BIG TIME.” The first bluefish I caught came as a two-for-one bluefish special. One tried taking the lure from the other. Allot more fight, but I had a lot more gun. I had stopped at a jetty on the way to the ferry to MV and learned how to salt water fly cast, so I was all set with that…. Now I was still left tied up in my fly line, sobbing in humiliation, but now it was in the dark and by a fish with the brain the size of a large BB. It took me more then 20 outings to catch my fist striper on a fly. 21 to release my fist keeper. When I was out there on the water, I heard people talk about these things called “Albies.” ”The Albies are in at Tashmoo!“ Whatever, I can’t

cast this saltwater rod twice with out getting hobbled. Then I saw this kid, probably the only other guy on the Vineyard who had a casting proficiency that could match mine. He was just sitting there, frustrated with his fly line slack in the water… and then whoosh. Something took his fly, his reel screamed, his fly line turned to backing. The fish ran out past the breakwater, he turned it, then it charged. The kid reeled in, danced, ran, spun, the reel screamed again, he ran and reeled and danced till he landed his first fish on a fly. He was out gunned… and he won. The old guard consoled themselves by saying, “he won’t like the way that tastes … there ain’t no where to go up from that as a first fish.” I was sold on catching a fish that could swim and charge 40 MPH on a fly. Three more trips to Martha’s Vineyard, Edgartown at fist light, then Tashmoo, Point Judith to Block Island. No Albie for me. I had resorted to fishing for Blues on my 3wt to get a taste of what I had seen. It was fun but I still felt I was missing something. On this past Sunday we headed out at fist light. We’d saddle up to one of many busting groups of Albies. I’d blow the cast, tangle, drop the retrieve etc... I tried to step aside feeling I was blowing perfect opportunities. My friend Ed just kept encouraging me, saying, “Keep trying, I just want you to get one.” As the action got more consistent so did the competition from other boats. A school had been busting in front of us at 10 O’clock from the boat, perfect for casting. I fouled my line. I started to step down so Ed could get in. I was being out gunned and my gun was jammed. Instead of fishing himself, Ed handed me his fly rod. “Just get in there“! Poetic license and adrenaline soaked memory would have the fly rod flying through the air, a diving catch and cast to the fish. Austin’s video may prove less dramatic. Within a cast or two I felt it hit. It started with a firm pull but no run. I pinched off the slack. Ed, feared my famous death grip and coached me to let the fish run, but it was still shaking its head deciding what to do. Then it ran. Ed’s fly line turned into an unknown amount of backing and kept going. I palmed the reel, remembering stories of the smart crack of reel handles on stray fingers, and hoped that fish would turn. By now Jeremy had quietly landed Austin on my boat to capture my match on video. My unseen opponent past a first boat and then went under the second. It pulled to the side, the other side and then charged. Austin filmed; Ed kept us off the rocks and out of the buoys. It didn’t just pull hard and get tired. When you thought it must be tired it would find new reserves and run hard again. My arms started to feel an unfamiliar burn. It circled the boat, I danced, spun, reeled, and palmed while Ed dodged buoys. I reeled as the circles slowed and closed. My opponent settled. Ed scooped and landed my first Albie on a fly. Quick pictures while removing the fly and a NFL spiral release. What a feeling to have that direct connection through a fly rod and reel to such force. Out gunned.