Gone with the Wind
Every now and then I discover something that really makes me take a step back and look at the big picture. Today while talking with a friend, it wasn’t long until we ended up reminiscing about our early fly fishing trips. They routinely consisted of camping, hanging around the fire too late, and the occasional hatch magic. Back then we’d hop in our cold rubber waders at the crack of dawn fish all day, and party all night; sleep – who needs it. The only time we rested was when we finally passed out. Our flies were comprised of Hares Ear nymphs, Wooly buggers, and the classic Adams in an assortment of sizes. Hell with flies like that we were fly fishin’ and damn well equipped. While reminiscing, vivid images of rolling fish, wet flannel shirts, clinking metal stringers, and tattered ball caps all came alive under the bough of a soft glowing Pine tree.
Recently I was out on a piece of water that tests me to the brink. It can be very technical, often requiring meticulous casts with fine tippets and quite presentations. On the way home that particular day I found myself ticked off about my fishless day. “Damn stream.” I conjured up a couple of real good reasons why there were no fish hooked. Seems if I would of only had a smaller version of that Chocolate nymph I’d been using. Forget the fact this simple pattern caught many fish before – it must be the fly. Maybe it needed something extra, like rubber legs. Something was needed, “I’ll try two strands of purple, two of brown, a couple of black, and four sparkle chartreuse tipped with fire orange”. Maybe even all of the colored legs on one glorious pattern. “Wait I’ve got it, a micro-pattern with all of the above and a mini silver propeller on the front.” Another idea had to do with the gear. Something like “I need more stuff, do they make a GPS, thermal imaging, sonar device that can be attached to the tip of my rod with an adjoining wireless ear piece for listening in on these suckers?”
Not long after, I began to research my theory on how to listen for trout. I was on to something. I also found a way to grind down bass plug propellers so they would fit properly on a size 16 hook. It got real involved. I had diagrams laid out on the kitchen table, material lists made for the great rubber leg purchase, and I even came up with a unique name “the micro slump buster” - genius pure genius. I was losing sleep from mulling over the decision whether or not to inform others about my plan. This occurred near the time I scheduled a conference call with NASA about making a prototype for the “Trout-A-Phone”. You know trout do crunch while taking nymphs - I’m sure of it. One day while hanging out at the local fly shop, two gentlemen walked in discussing the morning hatch. They made sure everyone could hear their conversation about the Baetis Punctiventris hatch. They were baffled by why the trout had refused their goose biot, CDC emerger pattern with ultra-translucent micro-fibet tails. “It seems highly unlikely but they may have been taking floating nymphs.” “We should of brought our travel kit and whipped up a few floating versions.” “I’m disappointed we didn’t consider this before.” “Then again maybe our tails are too opaque.” I couldn’t resist any longer “I have plans to listen in on trout”, I announced. Both men looked at me silently perplexed with that sort of expression that says, “Who are you and what in the world are you talking about.” The one guy had a slightly different look; like “You are freakin’ nuts.” They couldn’t help but ask “A trout-a-what?” “Trout-A-Phone”, I proudly explained. It had been like a dam that burst, “Yes trout do make noises while feeding on the bottom and I plan to capitalize on this flawed design of nature.” “I mean why would a trout want to give up its position by making such a ruckus?” As we discussed my theory an older man walked apprehensively into the shop with his grandson. We looked up for a minute as Buzz the owner asked “Can I help you guys out?” The man smiled “We’ve been catching a few down the road and decided to pick-up more supplies before the evening hatch, do you have any floatant? .” “Right over there”, Buzz pointed. “Catchin’ a few?” I asked. “Yes, man they’re really hitting it hard.” May I ask what they are taking sir”, asked one of the gents. “One of these little gray deals here” There it was, a small nothing of a fly, a simple generic searching pattern tattered and torn. Then it hit me. That’s when I realized just how far out I had gone. I had become a freak. I was considering an electronic gizmo for a sport that I loved because of its natural old-world beauty; its simplicity. I was frantically trying to fill voids with convoluted, over-labored, whacked-out strategies. I had rubber legs growing in places they shouldn’t. Just as I began to realize my extreme perspective, the little boy said “Hey Pap can I have some of these small bobbers?”
Bobbers, remember them?
Leo Vensel
