krayfish2
Well-known member
As we’ve turned the calendar to 2017 and my 50th birthday approaches in the next couple of days, I got to thinking. I reflected on the pleasure fly fishing has provided in my live and how little time there is left in front of me for the sport I truly love.
Nobody in my family fished but I somehow picked up the sport when I was just 10 years old. When out of school, I could be found fishing almost every single day. My trusty Zebco was never far away. When I turned 14, a buddy from school took me along to his family’s cabin on White Deer Creek. I was handed a fly rod and had no idea what it was or how to use it. I watched my buddy ‘fling’ it around so I copied what he did. I spent the majority of the day fishing and had no idea my fly had snapped off on the 2nd or 3rd cast. I still found the fun and challenge in trying to make a cast go where I was looking.
Since I worked at my grandmother’s restaurant washing dishes, I saved my pennies to buy my first fly rod. I believe it was an Eagle Claw glass rod that cost $15. I paired it with a Martin reel and a level line. I spent that entire summer casting it in my backyard and wore out 2 lines. I learned to make the line go where I wanted, could curve it, could shoot it under the tree in the backyard and could whip my brother in the back of his legs at will. LOL.
That Christmas I asked for a fly tying kit which my father got me. I then signed up for free tying classes from Bob and Bobby Clouser at the fire hall. I finished up knowing how to tie a mean muskrat nymph, wooly bugger and a Clouser Crayfish. Since I was too young to drive (and my parents hated each other), my dad started to run me to the Breeches, Big Spring, Indiantown Run, Spring Creek, Big Fishing and other streams. He’d just enjoy the peaceful surroundings and watch. On my very first ‘real’ fly fishing adventure, I managed to land 6 rainbows. I was hooked.
I then started to drive and was able to take my beautiful 1974 AMC Hornet and head out on my own. I became a junkie for the ditch over at Big Spring. Guys with $3000 of Orvis gear and bamboo rods were crawling all over the place. I’d sit back, observe the fishermen and the fish. Once they’d move, I’d take their place…..the kid wearing high tops, Jams shorts and carrying his flies in an old Mazola margarine container. I’d then catch fish after fish which I found very satisfying and hilarious. I had a fishing log where I’d record all conditions and the amount of fish caught. Once I was driving, I became a real shop rat at Clouser’s where Bob would teach me new knots, how to tie flies and share fishing stories. He’s one hell of a nice guy and I’ll never be able to thank him enough for all of the positive influence. One time I challenged Bob to a little competition on Clarks Creek and he took me up on it. He smiled, giggled and loved every fish on his way to humiliating me but never rubbed it in. I though 26 fish was pretty handy but we stopped counting his fish at 70 and he probably exceeded 100 for the day.
After a few years of going whenever and wherever, I went into the service. Once getting back from the service, I worked at a huge private fish hatchery, oversaw an experimental Coho program and became friends with one of the business owners, Jack Kiley. Jack was a former (and pretty famous) golf pro from the West Chester NY area. This is where my golf addiction started. I ended up going to the Catskills with Jack and we stayed at his cabin. We would play 9 holes of golf in the morning and then head out to fish the Hendrickson hatch around lunchtime. This was my first real exposure / knowledge of fishing during a specific insect hatch. I was amazed at the insect life and by the number of fish up feeding on the bugs. The size of the stream and strength of the fish was beyond anything this PA boy had experienced. New addiction found!
For years, I’d make my spring trip up to chase the Blue Quills and Hendricksons. I became pretty handy at developing my own specific patterns for this river, catching lots of fish a somehow escaping death while wading foolishly. One day while fishing Barnhart’s Pool, I heard a cough behind me and stopped my backcast. I turned to see to gentlemen sitting on a log behind me watching. I recognized Art Lee from the multiple FlyFisherman Magazine covers. “Keep fishing. We are just watching you cast.” said Art. I was embarrassed, could barely reach the fish and insisted that they have a go at the fish. Art waved me over, reworked my leader, put on a fly and sent me back out. I did catch the fish and had a few pics taken with him. I ended up planting the magnolia beside his driveway and lost 2 jobs one spring due to spending 3 days a week with Art learning the Beaverkill and East Branch. Galen Mercer (Art’s buddy and painter) joined in often and that guy could throw an entire line on the old Orvis 1wt. They both could really fish.
I expanded by Catskill fishing to try new waters little by little while still meeting Jack for the Hendricksons. I continued to learn more and more about different hatches, timing of hatches, casting and techniques specific to the area. Once the trout freestones became too warm to fish, I’d turn to the target smallmouth in the Susquehanna or creep around on the limestoners.
I’ve been fortunate enough to meet some very nice people through fly fishing and was surrounded by beautiful scenery most of the time. I’ve started others into a sport that they’ve really come to love. Having others share techniques, flies or their ‘home waters’ with you and being able to return the favor. Although I haven’t caught everything on a fly, I’ve have taken steelhead, trout, bass, stripers, panfish, catfish and carp on flies. Over the years, I’ve seen many posts referring to strippers on the fly but I’ve never gotten that lucky. My biggest accomplishment was getting my nephews into fishing and they are true addicts. Believe that I’ve always been very open to helping out those just getting started in fly fishing. My willingness to help newbies has got to be a direct result of others being so kind and helping me get started.
Now to face the facts…… It’s likely that age / health will end my fly fishing (as I know it) in the next 20 years or so. Poor weather conditions and abnormal flows often kill hatches. This means that I’ll see a great Blue Quill, Hendrickson, March Brown, Drake or Grey Fox once every 5-10 years when all conditions fall perfectly into place. Mix in the possibility of a fish kill or health issues and I may only get a few really good days over the next 20 years. I realize that and don’t take any of my time on the water with friends for granted. It’s all stored in the memory for when I’m not able to do it anymore.
Anyone else taken a really good look at their fly fishing past and what the future may or may not hold for them?
Nobody in my family fished but I somehow picked up the sport when I was just 10 years old. When out of school, I could be found fishing almost every single day. My trusty Zebco was never far away. When I turned 14, a buddy from school took me along to his family’s cabin on White Deer Creek. I was handed a fly rod and had no idea what it was or how to use it. I watched my buddy ‘fling’ it around so I copied what he did. I spent the majority of the day fishing and had no idea my fly had snapped off on the 2nd or 3rd cast. I still found the fun and challenge in trying to make a cast go where I was looking.
Since I worked at my grandmother’s restaurant washing dishes, I saved my pennies to buy my first fly rod. I believe it was an Eagle Claw glass rod that cost $15. I paired it with a Martin reel and a level line. I spent that entire summer casting it in my backyard and wore out 2 lines. I learned to make the line go where I wanted, could curve it, could shoot it under the tree in the backyard and could whip my brother in the back of his legs at will. LOL.
That Christmas I asked for a fly tying kit which my father got me. I then signed up for free tying classes from Bob and Bobby Clouser at the fire hall. I finished up knowing how to tie a mean muskrat nymph, wooly bugger and a Clouser Crayfish. Since I was too young to drive (and my parents hated each other), my dad started to run me to the Breeches, Big Spring, Indiantown Run, Spring Creek, Big Fishing and other streams. He’d just enjoy the peaceful surroundings and watch. On my very first ‘real’ fly fishing adventure, I managed to land 6 rainbows. I was hooked.
I then started to drive and was able to take my beautiful 1974 AMC Hornet and head out on my own. I became a junkie for the ditch over at Big Spring. Guys with $3000 of Orvis gear and bamboo rods were crawling all over the place. I’d sit back, observe the fishermen and the fish. Once they’d move, I’d take their place…..the kid wearing high tops, Jams shorts and carrying his flies in an old Mazola margarine container. I’d then catch fish after fish which I found very satisfying and hilarious. I had a fishing log where I’d record all conditions and the amount of fish caught. Once I was driving, I became a real shop rat at Clouser’s where Bob would teach me new knots, how to tie flies and share fishing stories. He’s one hell of a nice guy and I’ll never be able to thank him enough for all of the positive influence. One time I challenged Bob to a little competition on Clarks Creek and he took me up on it. He smiled, giggled and loved every fish on his way to humiliating me but never rubbed it in. I though 26 fish was pretty handy but we stopped counting his fish at 70 and he probably exceeded 100 for the day.
After a few years of going whenever and wherever, I went into the service. Once getting back from the service, I worked at a huge private fish hatchery, oversaw an experimental Coho program and became friends with one of the business owners, Jack Kiley. Jack was a former (and pretty famous) golf pro from the West Chester NY area. This is where my golf addiction started. I ended up going to the Catskills with Jack and we stayed at his cabin. We would play 9 holes of golf in the morning and then head out to fish the Hendrickson hatch around lunchtime. This was my first real exposure / knowledge of fishing during a specific insect hatch. I was amazed at the insect life and by the number of fish up feeding on the bugs. The size of the stream and strength of the fish was beyond anything this PA boy had experienced. New addiction found!
For years, I’d make my spring trip up to chase the Blue Quills and Hendricksons. I became pretty handy at developing my own specific patterns for this river, catching lots of fish a somehow escaping death while wading foolishly. One day while fishing Barnhart’s Pool, I heard a cough behind me and stopped my backcast. I turned to see to gentlemen sitting on a log behind me watching. I recognized Art Lee from the multiple FlyFisherman Magazine covers. “Keep fishing. We are just watching you cast.” said Art. I was embarrassed, could barely reach the fish and insisted that they have a go at the fish. Art waved me over, reworked my leader, put on a fly and sent me back out. I did catch the fish and had a few pics taken with him. I ended up planting the magnolia beside his driveway and lost 2 jobs one spring due to spending 3 days a week with Art learning the Beaverkill and East Branch. Galen Mercer (Art’s buddy and painter) joined in often and that guy could throw an entire line on the old Orvis 1wt. They both could really fish.
I expanded by Catskill fishing to try new waters little by little while still meeting Jack for the Hendricksons. I continued to learn more and more about different hatches, timing of hatches, casting and techniques specific to the area. Once the trout freestones became too warm to fish, I’d turn to the target smallmouth in the Susquehanna or creep around on the limestoners.
I’ve been fortunate enough to meet some very nice people through fly fishing and was surrounded by beautiful scenery most of the time. I’ve started others into a sport that they’ve really come to love. Having others share techniques, flies or their ‘home waters’ with you and being able to return the favor. Although I haven’t caught everything on a fly, I’ve have taken steelhead, trout, bass, stripers, panfish, catfish and carp on flies. Over the years, I’ve seen many posts referring to strippers on the fly but I’ve never gotten that lucky. My biggest accomplishment was getting my nephews into fishing and they are true addicts. Believe that I’ve always been very open to helping out those just getting started in fly fishing. My willingness to help newbies has got to be a direct result of others being so kind and helping me get started.
Now to face the facts…… It’s likely that age / health will end my fly fishing (as I know it) in the next 20 years or so. Poor weather conditions and abnormal flows often kill hatches. This means that I’ll see a great Blue Quill, Hendrickson, March Brown, Drake or Grey Fox once every 5-10 years when all conditions fall perfectly into place. Mix in the possibility of a fish kill or health issues and I may only get a few really good days over the next 20 years. I realize that and don’t take any of my time on the water with friends for granted. It’s all stored in the memory for when I’m not able to do it anymore.
Anyone else taken a really good look at their fly fishing past and what the future may or may not hold for them?
