|
 I started fly-fishing and tying again, after an
absence of many years (last time was in 1973), during 2001, owing to the usual
things marriage, work, children etc. All of which conspired against fishing.
Anyway, a long term
friend of mine, Margaret said that she was interested in
going fishing, so I volunteered to be the instructor.
After an attempt at
coarse fishing, which she did not enjoy, I suggested we
should try trout fishing.
As you may remember, I
had not cast a fly for over a quarter of a century, so I
hurriedly began to sort out my tackle.
Rods, although glass with
one exception, were ok. Reels needed cleaning but were
serviceable. Lines, marvellous! Not a crack in sight –
but with coils so tight you could have used them for
bedsprings. And lastly flies – ugh! Just rust and fluff.
The one rod that was not
glass, was one of the early attempts of an American
company – Fenwick – to get a foothold in this country
and never used in anger. This, a mill end fly line, a
cleaned up Abu fly reel (circa 1970), a 4x nylon cast of
about the same age, a piece of white wool and the
confidence of someone who has just assumed that casting
was like riding a bike, got Margaret practicing casting
in her garden.
This gave me time to
consider what to do about flies. Well I didn’t really
think of any option but to make my own, after all I had
lots of bits somewhere, hadn’t I??
Surprisingly, after a lot
of searching, many items turned up including a good few
feathers which had survived in quite good condition,
many items were still in plastic bags from a company who
stopped trading in the late 70’s.
I got copies of some
magazines, and using my copy of ‘The Observer’s Book of
Pond Life’ cost new 90p, I set about tying some flies.
I quickly found that what
had once been a second nature was now like trying to pat
your head with one hand whilst rubbing your stomach with
the other.
Once I got used to the
materials, stopped breaking the thread, I would then
forget which order to tie things in, so that I would
finish the body but would forget the tails or rib.
You may laugh, but it
comes as a real blow when, having eventually produced
something that might just be considered edible by a
starving and partially sighted fish, you pick up a whip
finish tool (I never found my fingers easier) and can’t
remember which way round the thread goes.
Eventually I had enough
acceptable ones to try them out. So, alone and on a
weekday, a local fishery was chosen to see if I could
still remember what to do.
After losing several
flies in the bushes I was regularly able to drop a small
nymph, gently, at about 10yds more or less in the
general direction I was facing. This was rewarded, after
about an hour, with a trout of about a pound and a half
followed by two more by the end of the day.
I could now confidently
take Margaret fishing, but, to hedge my bets, I talked
to the only 2 other people also fishing that day. Both
of them were regulars, and agreed that the best fly was
one of the ‘Montana’ varieties. So when I got home, I
spent several hours tying up ‘Montana Nymphs’ just for
this fisher.
We picked a day and took
lunch, the weather was bright and temperature was in the
upper 70’s and both ended up with catching fish. A more
perfect day for someone to start fly fishing could not
be had.
As for Margaret, she got
the bug and really enjoys fishing and has caught a good
few fish – on my flies too!
p.s. Neither Margaret or
I have ever caught a trout on a ‘Montana’ from any
water.
Steve Wyatt, 2007 |
