I want to share with you a great fishing story written by my friend Moon.
Moon is one of those larger than life characters we meet along the way but he is an excellent fly fisherman and can spin a great fishing yarn. His lovely and long suffering wife Monica is actually the brains of the family and refers to herself as "Keeper of the Moon" Monica is also a first rate fly tyer and world class caster.
There are so many stories involved into what happened today…. I don’t know where to start. So I’ll just start with the ending and work from there.
It was a good day, a big hatch and a lot of risers…. But, that’s not the ending I want to tell you about. The ending went like this….
I’m casting a dry on a long fine leader to rising trout when I hear Boomer the wonder dog start barking…. I look back towards the bank and see a guy coming down the path. He waves in a friendly manner so I wave back and start for the river bank to see what’s up.
He say’s – “are you Moon???” and I think, oh crap! – but I’m bigger than he is so I say, yeah – that’s me…. and he says – “I’m so and so. I lurk on Westfly and I have been watching you from the road, I just wanted to tell you I love your stories”… and I thought, well all right – here’s a guy who obviously comes from good breeding and has a fine intellect… unlike the guys I fish with most of the time. He says, “That’s a great hatch – but your sure missing a lot of takes”. And I say yeah, but I cut the hook off my fly and am just fishing for risers right now… and he said “WHAT????” so I showed him my fly and where I had cut the hook off and before I could say anything else he just sort of stared at me and blurted out – “DAMN, you are hard core” and walked away shaking his head as he went…
So as most of you know, the fishing has been hit or miss with the cold water this year… and for those of us who prefer to fish proper, the cold water has played hell with our averages. And when I do get it right, it’s just not quite right either… oh sure I’ll take a fish or three, but – I should be doing a bit better I think…. something has seemed amiss all year this year. So Monica and I have had some rip roaring discussions over her fly’s and my abilities… the neighbors think we hate one another, and the cops think were killing one another, but – it’s just shop talk. So after our last fight, er – I mean discussion over the proper fly and its size, color and shape. She tied me up a half dozen different prototypes to take and fish. (I guess our biggest problem is our two different opinions on just what a doo-hickey, or thingamajigger is and what color and or size it should be…) She says, oh you want more thoraxes and I say – yeah, fry me up a mess of that just as soon as you change the do-hickey on that fly….. Anyway – it turns out, we were both right. My design and her colors was the ticket today…
So I ran up the road to a popular turn out where the fish will rise, but have seen enough pressure by the un-holy heathens to be a bit on the discriminative side when it comes to flys and so it is a good proving ground for new patterns or colors. I also find a longer, finer leader helps too.
I ran into the first lurker while gearing up on the road…. DAMN DIRTY LURKERS…. Anyway I geared up and went on down the trail. I put the first fly on and waited. It wasn’t long and the bugs started to spit and sputter and the fish were soon rising. I made seven casts with that new fly, took five trout and missed another. WELLLLLLLLLlllllllllllllllllllll okie dokie then, that’s a winner as I cut it off and put it away for her to tie off of with out us having to get into another fight, er – I mean discussion about do-hickeys and whatchamacallits…. Then I tied on another almost identical fly, but with a darker thingamajib and a bigger do-hickey. Nada, not even a refusal…. So I cut that one off and proceeded through the other four prototypes. Out of the six, one was a smashing hit, one was okay and another took a couple more - but three where dismal failures…. I’m giving those three to Erock. He’s a heathen anyway, plus – I think he’s got French Canadian bloodlines…. I suspect those N.E. yankees all have a Mounty in the woodpile somewhere….
So the fish are going off…. Man I want to fish that first fly. So I convince myself I should try it just one more time and tie it back on. Yup, first cast and I’m into a good fish. After landing and releasing said fish, I’m thinking – damn it moon. You’re going to *% around and lose this fly…. and that’s when it hit me. So I said to myself – self, why don’t you just cut the hook off at the bend and fish for a rise only till momma can get more of these tied up with out another fight, er – I mean discussion… and so that’s what I did. I was having a hell of a time, but – in the end. It was just more mopeds and Keystone Lights than I prefer. Now I am a elitist, I do fish proper and all – but, my hypocrisy only goes so far and the other half of the equation is still redneck after all.
And that my friends is another true story of the kind of crap that happens to me.