Back to Where It All Started

    Tonight I was reminded of just how far I have come in my journeys into the world of fly fishing. I have been a fisherman for as long as I can remember. My father was the one who first put a fishing pole in my hands. Poor guy, it was years of climbing in trees to fetch snagged lures, whining kids, chiggers, backlash, and all of the other trials that build the saint-like patience of an experienced fisherman. I grew up in East Tennessee fishing backwoods ponds full of plate sized bluegills Those tenacious coppernose gills would make my eyes light up time after time as the ultralight spin rod bowed over helplessly, bobber dissapearing into the murky pond water. I began of course, with a spinning reel chucking treble hook clad rapalas and spinners, eventually graduating to soft plastics. I still have my absurd box of rubber lures, and crank baits that I have since retired for a few small boxes of flies.

    Years later, after moving to the Hill Country of Texas I was fortunate enough to be gifted my first fly rod. My girlfriend of the time had received a fly rod for Christmas from her mother. As to be expected, she was not terribly excited seeing as she had no clue how to use it. I on the other hand took quite an interest in this new piece of equipment. Wasn't long before I was wishing for one of my own. My birthday rolled around, and I was surprised with a trip to Cabellas and a credit card and told to pick out my gear. I, having no clue whatsoever what I was looking for, began fiddling with every rod in the store. Then I looked at the price tag on a few of the ones I liked, nearly passing out from shock at the 500 dollar price tag on the Sage or whatever it may have been, I began looking for something for a little more reasonable price. I came to find an 8'6" Temple Fork Outfitters Professional Series 5wt rod that immediately felt like it was meant to be in my hands. It is still to this day my favorite overall rod in my collection.
    It was all over after that. I now tie my own flies, which of course comes along with boxes of absurd materials, own four fly rods, and plan on building another one with my old man in the spring. I am fortunate enough to have landed a lot of beautiful fish of varying species, in some truly incredible places, and am no doubt a lifetime fly fisherman.

    For the past year and a half my dog Clyde and I have been traveling and exploring along the mountains and coast of Northern California and Oregon. It has been an incredible journey filled with epic beauty, trials and tribulations, and fly fishing on some of the most beautiful waters I have ever encountered. There are many stories to be told, but not that will have to wait for another day. I am back in Central Texas now for some rest and recovery over the winter. More importantly, I'm back for some good ol fashioned freshwater fly fishing. The kind I cut my teeth on. Topwater blow-ups from big San Marcos Red Breasts, and rowdy Guads in the Pedernales. For those strange and beatiful Texas Cichlids, and of course the ever sought after Large Mouth Bass.

  Tonight's outing, however, was a completion of the circle. My dear friend called me and said that he decided to go for it, he had bought his first fly rod. He asked me if I would teach him how to fly fish. I always hesitate when people ask me this favor. Anyone who has learned the art of fly fishing knows that it is not the sort of thing you just teach someone in a lesson. It is a lot like golf, you play your whole life but never really master it. There is always some new scenario, some new current, new hole that will test you in a way you have never been prepared for. That is the beauty, and the battle of choosing to begin the journey of a lifestyle such as fly fishing. However, to my surprise, he was fervent about learning this new skill. So after about an hour in the driveway, and some helpful instruction, he was actually casting like a champ. Nice tight loops, setting his fly line down softly, it was time to hit the water.
    We went to spot that I though would be good for easy casting, and let him loose. He had focus like I have never seen. After tossing a yellow popper for a while I suggested he switcthed to something more natural. About two casts after tying on his muddler minnow he got a  nice little pop from a sunfish. As was the case for most of us on our first topwater hit, his eyes got as big as silver dollars and he jerked the fly right out of the fishes mouth as his fly line went all over the place. But I could tell, he was hooked right then. He was determined to catch a fish. The bite was really tricky, they were taking caddis on a long still drift but were sipping so gently that they were not sticking on the hook. After the sun went down, we went to a spot where I knew we could fish under the lights. His determination was ten fold as we neared the end of the session. Finally, "I got one!!" I looked over to see his rod high and and he pulled in a tiny but beautiful Red Spotted Sunfish. It was incredibly rewarding to teach him to cast, and see him put a fish on the line in one afternoon. I felt as if I had  truly come around full circle. There is no greater gift I could think of. Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime.

Tight Lines