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| Some act and talk as though casting were the entire art
of Fly-fishing, and grade an angler solely by the distance he can cover with
his flies. This is a great mistake and pernicious in it's influence. Casting is
but a method of placing a fly before the trout without alarming it, and within
its reach. It is merely placing food before a guest. The selection of such food
as will suit, and so serving it as to please a fastidious and fickle taste,
still remain indispensably necessary to induce its acceptance. - Henry P. Wells, "Fly-Rods and Fly-Tackle", 1885 |
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| Some fishermen think that any rod they buy and pay for
should stand any form of abuse, and if it does not, the rod-maker is blamed and
his work decried. The makers know this, and that their reputation for skilled
and honest work is as sensitive as that of a woman. ......To such of my readers
as wish to buy and do not care to make, I would say that the maker who has a
reputation, will do his best to maintain it. If he once turned out good work,
competition will force him to do so still. If he has the skill, you may be sure
he will use it. No one knows better than he that one bad rod will do him more
harm than a hundred first class in every respect will benefit him..... - Henry P. Wells, "Fly Rods and Fly Tackle" - 1885 |
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| Unless one can enjoy himself fishing with the fly, even
when his efforts are unrewarded, he loses much real pleasure. More than half
the intense enjoyment of fly-fishing is derived from the beautiful
surroundings, the satisfaction felt from being in the open air, the new lease
of life secured thereby, and the many, many pleasant recollections of all one
has seen, heard and done. - Charles F. Orvis, 1886 |
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| Testament of a Fisherman I fish because I love to; because I love the environs where trout are found, which are invariably beautiful, and hate the environs where crowds of people are found, which are invariably ugly; because of all the television commercials, cocktail parties, and assorted social posturing I thus escape; because, in a world where most men seem to spend their lives doing things they hate, my fishing is at once an endless source of delight and an act of small rebellion; because trout do not lie or cheat and cannot be bought or bribed or impressed by power, but respond only to quietude and humility and endless patience; because I suspect that men are going along this way for the last time, and I for one don't want to waste the trip; because mercifully there are no telephones on trout waters; because only in the woods can I find solitude without loneliness; because bourbon out of an old tin cup always tastes better out there; because maybe one day I will catch a mermaid; and, finally, not because I regard fishing as being so terribly important but because I suspect that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant - and not nearly so much fun. - Robert Traver, 1964 (Judge John Voelker, 1903-1993) |
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| Mark well the various seasons of the year, How the succeeding insect race appear, In their revolving moon one color reigns, Which in the next the fickle trout disdains; Oft have I seen a skilful angler try The various colors of the treach'rous fly; When he with fruitless pain hath skimmed the brook, And the coy fish rejects the skipping hook. He shakes the boughs that on the margin grow, Which o'er the stream a weaving forest throw; When if an insect fall (his certain guide) He gently takes him from the whirling tide; Examines well his form with curious eyes, His gaudy vest, his wings, his horns, his size. Then round his hook the chosen fur he winds, And on the back a speckled feather binds; So just the colors shine through every part, That nature seems to live again in art. - John Gay, in Rural Sports 1720 |
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| There is no more graceful and healthful accomplishment
for a lady than fly-fishing, and there is no reason why a lady should not in
every respect, rival a gentleman in the gentle art. - W.C. Prime, 1888 |
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| Then there were billiards; cards, too; but no dice, Save in the clubs no man of honor plays- Boats when 'twas water, skating when 'twas ice, And the hard frost destroy'd the scenting days; And angling too, that solitary vice, Whatever Izaac Walton sings or says; The quaint old cruel coxcomb in his gullet, should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it. - Lord Byron |
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| It is only the inexperienced and thoughtless who find
pleasure in killing fish for the mere sake of killing them. No sportsman does
this. - W.C. Prime, 1888 |
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| Fly-fishing may well be considered the most beautiful of
all rural sports. - Frank Forester, 1895 |
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| The traveller fancies he has seen the country. So he has,
the outside of it at least; but the angler only sees the inside. The angler
only is brought close, face to face with the flower and bird and insect life of
the rich river banks, the only part of the landscape where the hand of man has
never interfered. - Charles Kingsley, 1890 |
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| A gray-haired baitfisher is very rare, while the passion
for fly-casting, whether for trout or salmon, grows by what it feeds upon, and
continues a source of the highest pleasure even after the grasshopper becomes a
burden. - George Dawson, 1888 |
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| An angler, sir, uses the finest tackle, and catches his
fish scientifically - trout for instance - with the artificial fly, and he is
mostly a quiet, well behaved gentlemen. A fisherman, sir, uses any kind of
'ooks and lines, and catches them any way; so he gets them it's all one to 'im,
and he is generally a noisy fellah, sir, something like a gunner. - Dr. George Washington Bethune, 1847 |
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| Fly-fishers are usually brain-workers in society. Along
the banks of purling streams, beneath the shadows of umbrageous trees, or in
the secluded nooks of charming lakes, they have ever been found, drinking deep
of the invigorating forces of nature - giving rest and tone to over-taxed
brains and wearied nerves- while gracefully wielding the supple rod, the
invisible leader, and the fairy-like fly. - James A. Henshall, MD, 1855 |
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| When the beginner can cast his fly into his hat, eight
times out of ten, at forty feet, he is a fly fisher; and so far as casting is
concerned, a good one. - James A. Henshall, MD, 1881 |
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| The trout fly does not resemble any known species of
insect. It is a "conventionalized" creation, as we say of
ornamentation. The theory is, that, fly-fishing being a high art, the fly must
not be a tame imitation of nature, but an artistic suggestion of it. It
requires an artist to construct one; and not every bungler can take a bit of
red flannel, a peacocks feather, a flash of tinsel thread, a cock's plume, a
section of hen's wing, and fabricate a tiny object that will not look like any
fly, but will still suggest the universal conventional fly. - Charles Dudley Warner, 1862 |
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| You may always know a large trout when feeding in the
evening. He rises continuously, or at small intervals-in a still water almost
always in the same place, and makes little noise--barely elevating his mouth to
suck in the fly, and sometimes showing his back fin and tail. A large circle
spreads around him, but there are seldom any bubbles when he breaks the water,
which usually indicates the coarser fish. - Sir Humphrey Davy, 1868 |
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| It is well known that no person who regards his
reputation will ever kill a trout with anything but a fly. It requires some
training on the part of the trout to take to this method. The uncultivated,
unsophisticated trout in unfrequented waters prefers the bait; and the rural
people, whose sole object in going a-fishing appears to be to catch fish,
indulge them in their primitive taste for the worm. No sportsman however, will
use anything but the fly, except when he happens to be alone. - Charles Dudley Warner, 1862 |
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|
In Praise of the Wet Fly |
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| Oh, the brave fisher's life, It is the best of any, 'T is full of pleasure, void of strife, And 't is beloved of many: Other Joyes, Are but toyes, Only this Lawful is, For our skil Breeds no ill, But content and pleasure. - Isaak Walton |
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| Fly-fishing is the most fun you can have standing up.
- Arnold Gingrich, 1969 |
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| Up i' the early morning, Sleepy pleasures scorning, Rod in hand and creel on back, I'm away, away! Not a care to vex me, Nor a fear to perplex me, Blithe as any bird that pipes in the merry May. Out come reel and tackle, Out come midge and hackle, Length of gut, like gossamer, on the south wind streaming. Brace of palmers fine, As ever decked a line, Dubbed with herl and ribbed with gold, in the sunlight streaming. - Westwood, 1886 |
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|
Is There A Mermaid In Your Creel? Fly fishing is such great fun, I have often felt , that
it really ought to be done in bed. Not that high frolic is the only thing the
pursuit of fish and the pursuit of females have in common; these ancient sports
have more going for them than just that - as I'll now try to tell why. First
off, just as both diversions are best conducted in decent privacy, away from
distracting crowds, so too the most gratifying results are best obtained by
subtlety rather than by force, by seduction rather than rape. Again, just as
both pastimes quickly pall when the conquest is too easy, so too the lures used
in the wooing, whether jewels or jassids, must be presented with the utmost
skill and grace. |
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| Deep down I've always known, fly fishing is to the rest
of fishing what high seduction is to rape. - Robert Traver - Trout Magic, 1974 |
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| When you fish with a flie, if it be possible, let no part
of your line touch the water, but your flie only. - Isaak Walton, 1496 |
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| It is not difficult to learn how to cast; but it is
difficult to learn not to snap the flies off at every throw. - Charles Dudley Warner, 1862 |
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| The Essentials of a Good Fly-Hook The temper of an angel and penetration of a prophet; fine enough to be invisible and strong enough to kill a bull in a ten-acre field. - G.S. Marryat, |
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| It seemed as if I might next cast my line upward into the
air, as well as downward into this element which was scarcely more dense. Thus I caught two fishes as it were with one hook. - H.D. Thoreau, on fishing in Walden Pond |
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| To him, all good things -- trout as well as eternal
salvation-- come by grace and grace comes by art and art does not come easy.
- Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It, 1976 |
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| Go, take thine angle, and with practiced line, Light as the gossamer, the current sweep; And if thou failest in the calm still deep In this rough eddy, may a prize be thine. Say thou'rt unlucky where the sunbeams shine; Beneath the shadow, where these flowing waters creep, Perchance the monarch of the brook shall leap. For fate is ever better than design Still persevere: the giddiest breeze that blows For thee may blow with fame and fortune rife; Be prosperous, and what care if it arose Out of some pebble with the stream at strife, Or that the light wind dallied with the leafy boughs? Though art successful - such is human life! - Thomas Doubleday, 1818 |
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| What pretty bright trout there are in this bold rock
creek! It would full be called a river in England, and so it is! - Thaddeus Norris, 1864 |
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| Over the hill to Henryville 'Tis oft' the fisherman's cry For I'll catch a fourteen-incher With an artificial fly! - Henry Van Dyke, 1898 |
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| And this our life, exempt from public haunt Finds tongues in trees, and books in running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in everything. I would not change it. - William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act II Scene 1 Line 2 |
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| Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs
through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters. - Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It, 1976 |
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| "Bass fishermen watch Monday night football, drink
beer, drive pickup trucks and prefer noisy women with big breasts. Trout fishermen watch MacNeil-Lehrer, drink white wine, drive foreign cars with passenger-side air bags and hardly think about women at all. This last characteristic may have something to do with the fact that trout fishermen spend most of the time immersed up to the thighs in ice-cold water." - New Yorker Magazine, June 13, 1994 |
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| Birth of an Idea The river flowed smooth and dark beneath the fringing alders. Here and there on the surface little rings broke the reflections and occasionally a splash showed white against the bank. A boy was lying prone, peering over the grass into the clear water. His breath came quickly as he saw a big tail appear in the center of a ring, waving slowly from side to side before it quietly sank again. There was life in the air as well; tiny gauze-winged forms were rising and dipping over the water, sometimes lightly touching its smooth surface. The boy looked upward to watch them. He raised himself and grasped an alder branch for support. He felt a delicate touch on his hand and, turning saw the insect resting there, its wings slowlyopening and closing. It was an exquisite creature. The wings were nearly transparent, of iridescent pearly color. The up-curved body was shaded darker on the back, tapering to the slender whisks of a tail long and curved.The eyes protruded prominently and were colored a wonderful violet. It held out its long front legs in an almost supplicating attitude,and all its legs were marked with color, speckled and delicately shaded. What an incredibly beautiful thing, he thought. No wonder trout rose toit so avidly. He looked up at the branch again. There were several of those lovely flies resting there, and one seemed different from the others.The boy stood up and looked more closely. He saw an insect, darker and duller in color, its back split down the middle, and from its body was emerging another, the delicate, bright one he had already seen. With a sudden movement, it pulled itself clear. The wings were not erect but seemed to be folded close to the back. As he watched, he saw them begin to open. The metamorphosis took place quickly before his eyes,and in a few moments there was another fly, complete, shining, drying itself in the sun. He looked away and when his eyes returned again it was gone. The splashes in the stream continued. It is no wonder that, with the impact of that introduction, I became a fly fisherman. Surely, I thought, an art based on imitations of such lovely fragile creatures must offer a great deal, especially if the angler could create them after his own fashion. - John Atherton, The Fly and The Fish, 1971 |
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| Alfred W. Miller, known to all as Sparse Grey
Hackle, and known for the fine H.L. Leonard and Garrison split bamboo fly
rods he fished, was not a fan of modern fly rod technology. Sparse, one
fellow member joked recently at the Angler's Club, when are you going to
fish fiberglass? The old man took a thoughtful swallow of straight
Laphroaig, a special pot-still whiskey so strong it numbs the tongue. I'll
fish fiberglass, Sparse muttered behind his steel rimmed spectacles, the
morning after some concertmaster plays a concerto at Carnegie Hall on a plastic
violin! - Ernest G. Schwiebert, "Trout" - 1975 |
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| Final Words An old man in his final breaths called in his family and said "I must apologize to you all. I suppose I haven't been the perfect father and husband. I shamefully admit that I spent as much of my life as I could in the woods and on the streams. I was rarely at home during the fishing seasons and I'll admit that I spent too much time at the fly shop, and too much money on rods and lines and reels." He paused here to rest for a minute, then continued. "I've been a terrible father and I hope you all forgive me." Then he paused again and looked around. Then he closed his eyes and smiled and said in a half whisper to himself, "and on the other hand....I have caught a helluva lot of trout." - Anonymous |
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| Beechwood fires are bright and clear If the logs are kept a year. Chestnut's only good, they say If for long it's laid away. But Ash wood new or Ash wood old Is fit for a queen with a crown of gold. Birch and Fir logs burn too fast, Blaze up bright and do not last. It is by the Irish said. That Hawthorn bakes the sweetest bread Elm wood burns like churchyard mold; Even the very flames are cold. But Ash wood green or Ash wood brown, Is fit for a queen with a golden crown. Poplar gives a bitter smoke, Fills your eyes and makes you choke. Applewood will scent your room With an incense-like perfume. Oak and Maple, if dry and old, Keep away the winter cold. But Ash wood wet and Ash wood dry, A king shall warm his slippers by. - Anonymous |
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| I have a friend who's such a nut about fishing that he
almost always manages to refer to the incidents in his life in angling terms of
a sort. I met him for lunch the other day after a long, hard walk through a
driving rain and arrived at the table with my hair all wet and my clothes in a
pretty rough array. He took a prolonged look at me, searching for exactly the
right phrase, shook his head in sympathy and said, "Gene, you look just
like a badly tied fly." - Gene Hill, 1972 |
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| All the charm of the angler's life would be lost but for
these hours of thought and memory. All along the brook, all day on lake or
river, while he takes his sport, he thinks. All the long evenings in camp, or
cottage, or inn, he tells stories of his own life, hears stories of his
friend's lives, and if alone calls up the magic of memory. - W.C. Prime, 1888 |
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| O, sir, doubt not that Angling is an art; is it not an
art to deceive a trout with an artificial fly? - Isaak Walton |
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| Enjoy thy stream oh, harmless fish, And when an angler for his dish, Through gluttony's vile sin, Attempts--a wretch--to pull thee out God give thee strength, oh, gentle trout, To pull the rascal in. - Peter Pindar |
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| In the fly book the sportsman collects his treasures--the
fairy imitations of the tiny nymphs of the waterside --and it is the source of
much delight in inspecting, replenishing and arranging during the season when
the trout are safe from honorable pursuit. - R.B. Roosevelt |
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| The fisherman has a harmless, preoccupied look; he is a
kind of vagrant, that nothing fears. He blends himself with the trees and the
shadows. All his approaches are gentle and indirect. He times himself to the
meandering, soliloquizing stream; he addresses himself to it as a lover to his
mistress; he woos it and stays with it till he knows its hidden secrets. Where
it deepens his purpose deepens; where it is shallow he is indifferent. He knows
how to interpret its every glance and dimple; its beauty haunts him for
days. - John Burroughs, 1886 |
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| April 1st, 1878 - Opening day. Fished Halfway
brook from Morgan brook to, and through the woods; then fished Ogden brook from
Van Husen's road to Gleason's. Banks more than full of roily snow water;
weather decidedly cold; strong wind from the Northwest; cloudy sky. Caught one
small trout that I returned to his native element to grow; discovered from my
single specimen of the Salvelinus fontinalis that they have the same bright
spots that they have always had; look the same, smell the same, feel the
same; other peculiarities lacking. Warm sun and rain required to develop the
characteristics we so much admire in our leaping friend. Managed to fall into
the Ogden brook - in fact went in without the slightest difficulty, amid
applause from the bank; discovered from my involuntary plunge that the water is
just as wet as last year, and if memory serves, a trifle colder. Reached home
in the evening, cold, wet, tired and hungry. Nevertheless, had a
mostglorious time. - A. Nelson Cheney, 1878 |
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| Around the steel no tortur'd worm shall twine, No blood of living insect stain my line; Let me, less cruel, cast the feather'd hook, With pliant rod athwart the pebbled brook, Silent along the mazy margin stray, And with the fur-wrought fly delude the prey. - John Gay, Rural Sports, 1720 |
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| The one great ingredient in successful fly-fishing is
patience. The man whose fly is always on the water has the best chance. There
is always a chance of a fish or two, no matter how hopeless it looks. You never
know what may happen in fly-fishing. - Francis Francis, 1862 |
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| The charm of fishing is that it is the pursuit of what is
elusive but attainable, a perpetual series of occasions for hope. - John Buchan, Lord Tweedsmuir |
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| But, remember the back cast is the foundation, and that
unless it is solid the superstructure will be rickety. Remember also that the
motion of the rod through the air should be almost, or quite noiseless. Nothing
offends the angler's ear more than the "swish" of a fly-rod. It is
like a false note to an educated musical ear. It indicates a degree of force
about as appropriate to the end in view, as a burglar's jimmy to opening a
watch. This should never be, except possibly when casting directly against the
wind or for distance only. - Henry P. Wells, "Fly-Rods and Fly-Tackle", 1885 |
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| For the supreme test of a fisherman is not how many fish
he has caught, not even how he has caught them, but what he has caught when he
has caught no fish. - John H. Bradley "Farewell Thou Busy World" - 1935 |
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| Go softly by that river side Or when you would depart, You'll find its every winding tied And knotted round your heart. - Rudyard Kipling |
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| Flyfishing is like sex, everyone thinks there is more
than there is, and that everyone is getting more than their share. - Henry Kanemoto, on Flyfish@ 1996 |
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| Why Do I Flyfish? I flyfish because it takes me into a place filled with cool flowing waters inhabited by beautiful iridescent creatures usually surrounded by a cathedral of green. It removes me from my usual work which is stressful, and hurried, and performed in darkened air-conditioned rooms with artificial lighting. I can escape, if only for a short time, from emergencies and beepers and the rest of our high tech world. I can return to a more peaceful place, and in my mind to a much simpler time. I am linked by tradition to the greats of flyfishing, Halford and Skues, Gordon and Wulff, and even back to the apostles, who Norman Maclean considered fishers of men. I am part of a tradition, which like a flowing river, joins me to the past, even as it carries me into the future. I have the benefit of their knowledge and I can learn from their writings. And their wisdom often extends beyond flyfishing into how to live a good life, and how to conduct yourself before other men and women. Flyfishing is, for me, a metaphor for life itself. You set for yourself a code of conduct - upstream, dry fly only, to rising trout if you are a strict moralist. You resist temptation when the fish are feeding subsurface, or you may "sin" and fish to the nymphing trout, resolving next time do better. The fish carry no prejudice. They care not about the color of your skin, your gender, your handicaps, or your station in life. All are equal before the fish, and all are judged equally. You have total control of your actions, unlike the "real" world where your actions are tempered by the needs or influences of others. You must accept responsibility for what follows, and this is not an insignificant lesson in today's world. The fish is your adversary, and by him, will you be judged. There is instant feedback - a satisfying tug at the end of the line or silence and rejection. This too is unlike the "real" world, where the result of your actions is often separated from the action itself. Flyfishing allows me to satisfy a natural predatory instinct, which dates back to the time when our ancestors were hunters and gatherers. It is a challenge, to fish with the fly. There is the thrill of stalking a truly large fish, the anticipation of the cast, the suspense of the drift, and the subsequent elation at a hook up or disappointment at the rejection. There is the adrenaline rush of the fight and the satisfaction of the catch. You can act as God and give the fish back his freedom and life, or you can exercise your ultimate right as a predator and kill him for the table. Life and death, another lesson not easily learned. Perhaps that is why I release almost all my fish now, I deal with death in my real job every day. There is always the anticipation of a new day, a new adventure. Every trip is different with unexpected challenges to be met. Conditions change. Every day is different, and yet it is also strangely the same. Putting on the waders and vest, stringing the rod, checking the leader. The walk to the stream, scanning the water for rises, checking the bushes for prior hatches. The first step into the water, the approach to the lie, the deep breath before the first cast. Each action, a ritual behavior we follow which comforts us. Flycasting itself is a pleasing sensation. It is relaxing. There is an almost hypnotic cadence to the cast. The back and forth motion of the rod with the tug of line against rod just before we release the cast. Casting is an art and as Norman Maclean states "art comes by grace, and grace does not come easily." So much of what I do is not art and is not graceful at all. In much of our modern life, we are surrounded by pettiness and ugliness. By contrast the flycast, in and of itself, is a thing of beauty. It is pure in its simplicity and yet difficult to master. It remains one of the few artistic things I have learned. It is a right brain exercise, and much of what I do is left brain exercise. A good and peaceful life is composed of balance, and flyfishing gives my life balance. We search for perfection in all we do. In flyfishing there is the promise of constant improvement but perfection can rarely be attained. Therein lies the challenge of flyfishing; to improve, to attain a state of grace. There is also the comradeship with other flyfishers. There is the sharing, both literally and figuratively, of sustenance. This shared experience makes our own experiences so much richer. Because of this comradeship, we are fishing for our friends as well as with our friends. I fish with the friends who accompany me, but I also fish for my new friends I have met in this virtual flyshop. So my friends, that is why I flyfish. Until we meet again in this virtual flyshop, I remain, - Henry H. Kanemoto, on Flyfish@ 1996 |
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| Here comes the trout that must be caught with
tickling. - William Shakespeare Twelfth Night Act II Scene 1 Line 2 |
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| A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm. - William Shakespeare Hamlet Act IV Scene 3 Line 29 |
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| A trout is a moment of beauty known only to those who
seek it. - Arnold Gingrich |
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| There's no taking trout with dry breeches. - Miguel de Cervantes (1547-1616) |
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| If fishing is like religion, then flyfishing is high
church. - Tom Brokaw |
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| Fly fishing may be a very pleasant amusement; but angling
or float fishing I can only compare to a stick and a string, with a worm at one
end and a fool at the other. - Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) |
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| Somebody just back of you while you are fishing is as bad
as someone looking over your shoulder while you write a letter to your
girl. - Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) |
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| To me heaven would be a big bull ring with me holding two
barrera seats and a trout stream outside that no one else was allowed to fish
in and two lovely houses in the town; one where I would have my wife and
children and be monogamous and love them truly and well and the other where I
would have my nine beautiful mistresses on nine different floors. - Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) |
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| People talk of being a child of nature, and moments such
as these are the times when it is possible to feel so; to know the full joy of
animal life - to desire nothing beyond. There are times when I have stood still
for the joy of it all, on my way through the wild freedom of a Highland moor,
and felt the wind, and looked upon the mountains and water and light and sky,
till I felt conscious only of the strength of a mighty current of life, which
swept away all consciousness of self, and made me a part of all that I
beheld. - Viscount Grey of Falloden - 1899 |
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| The time must come to all of us, who live long, when
memory is more than prospect. An angler who has reached this stage and reviews
the pleasure of life will be grateful and glad that he has been an angler, for
he will look back on days radiant with happiness, peaks of enjoyment that are
no less bright because they are lit in memory by the light of a setting
sun. - Viscount Grey of Falloden - 1899 |
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| Ours is the grandest sport. It is an intriguing battle of
wits between an angler and a trout; and in addition to appreciating the
tradition and grace of the game, we play it in the magnificent
out-of-doors. - Ernest G. Schwiebert, Jr. |
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| Blessings upon all that hate contention, and love
quietnesse, and vertue, and Angling. - Izaak Walton |
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| A Toast to Flyfishing! Celebration of Our
Sport Like river stones worn smooth and bright from a river's timeless flows, an angler's nature is shaped by his immersion in waters and the treasures within. Values like persistence, patience and perfection arise from their rough form if one takes time to feel the flow upon his legs and prospect from it's depths the precious things that are as much part of himself as they are surprises from his oasis. He searches for his own soul in the shadow of the far bank, seeking the satisfaction of bringing to hand the olive and blacks framed in bold rich reds and stark white fin tips of the Eastern Brook Trout in the brilliance of the autumn colors in a placid pool's reflection on a bright October evening. We feel it with a stiff east wind howling in our faces while standing and delivering to a brawling linesider in the pungent-sweet salty surf of a scarlet dawn, treading the line between land and a seemingly infinite and turbulent sea. It comes as pure as Christmas morning's joy when the reel empties for a mirage-like lightning bolt of 'bone' streaking across a snow-white flat under moisture-laden clouds hanging like the wetness in our shirts beneath a pure blue Caribbean heaven. It shivers us with a feeling of utter amazement as the relentless acceleration of a summer steelhead's run for freedom escalates into a series of cognizant vaults; culminating in a vicious aerial leap clearing all of the line from the water - taught from rod tip to jaw of an energized silvery missile exploding five feet above the surface of a crisp, cool glacial pool, bright beads of spray suspended for a fleeting moment, yet for a lifetime. Indeed the breadth of this celebration of our sport is as spacious as the places we long to flyfish. The degree to which we realize this joy depends upon the depth of our appreciation, and it's longevity depends upon our honor and our conviction to protect it. - Juro Mukai - Seattle, WA, on Flyfish@ 1996 |
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| There are trout in my river whose attitudes, Are quite of the blackest ingratitude; Though I offer them duns, Most superior ones, They maintain a persistent Black Gnatitude. - Anonymous |
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| If fishing is interfering with your business, give up
your business. - Sparse Grey Hackle (Alfred W. Miller) |
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| The best time to go fishing is when you can get away.
- Robert Traver |
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| Out the door of "Anglers Retreat," past the dam
keeper's white house, his garden,and his goats, I walk the path away from sleep
into another kind of water, another place, the dam. It separates Lower
Richardson Lake from Rapid River, and if the dam keeper has cut back on the
flow just enough, the fish will rise, even in early June, to the fly. If laid
out correctly, the fly floats downstream, twisting with the current, and
fooling the fish with its delicate wings and thread bound body. I read the
water. I wade deeper into the pool and feel the pull of the river, the pressure
of the lake as it flows through the sluice and into the narrow passage toward
Umbagog. On a map these bodies of water look tranquil, blue, like pieces of a
puzzle; jagged, yet they fit, and in fitting stay still. There is nothing but
motion this morning, the river racing, its spray cool and swift. I plant my
feet against a rock and lay my line out, upstream. My fly stalls, caught in an
eddy, then runs along the outer edge of the pool. I'm hoping that it passes
just beneath an overhanging boulder where last night I caught a brook trout,
its color darker, I imagined, from the shadows and the lack of light, living as
it did below this piece of land. I released him, wetting my hands first and
slipping the barbless hook out easily. Years ago my husband taught me how to
handle the rod, how to stop at ten o'clock and two o'clock, how to let the line
out then flick my wrist, how to roll cast, how to tie on flies, how to release
without harm. But when he on how to kill, how to whack the head of the trout
against a tree or a rock, swiftly, I did not listen. It was like watching a
film where the lips move, but no sound comes out. I know I cannot kill the
trout. I know I cannot watch all the color drain from its skin, the pinks and
greens fading to a dull silver. But I know that when it strikes, I'll se the
rod tip up and work the line with my hands. There is a hatch on. Small gray
mayflies that remind me of house dust and feathers flutter just above the
water, land, then ride toward Harbec Pool out of view. Others glide on a black
piece of water that looks like a moon without moonlight, or the first thin ice
of winter. I switch to a Sulphur Dun and adjust my cast. This time I'm trying
to float my fly down the way milkweed seed switches back on the wind up, then
down, but never straight down, as if bottom were not the point, but flight. I
know that fly-fishing and poetry are about the same thing - the line - about
laying it out again, varying the length, a certain rythm as point, then
counterpoint. It is a kind of meditation, paying attention to one thing. All
morning I've been reading the water, looking for surface signs that reveal
what's underneath. - Mimi White in Yankee Magazine, June 1993 |
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| Calling Fly Fishing a hobby is like calling Brain Surgery
a job. - Paul Schullery |
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| I have many loves and Flyfishing is one of them; it
brings peace and harmony to my being, which I can then pass on to others. - Sue Kreutzer, on Flyfish@ |
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| To go fishing is the chance to wash one's soul with pure
air, with the rush of the brook, or with the shimmer of sun on blue water. It
brings meekness and inspiration from the decency of nature, charity toward
tackle-makers, patience toward fish, a mockery of profits and egos, a quieting
of hate, a rejoicing that you do not have to decide a darned thing until next
week. And it is discipline in the equality of men - for all men are equal
before fish. - Herbert Hoover |
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| Fur of hare's ear, wing of duck Tail of deer, and neck of cock, Wound and spun on hook of steel Fool the fish my fly surreal. - Agust Gudmundsson, Flyfish@ 1995 |
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|
Rest in Peace I knew from previous experience that this was a taking fish, likely to be hooked on the next cast. Just then however, a funeral procession started across the bridge about seventy yards downstream. The elderly gentleman reeled in his line and stepped out of the water. He stood at military attention with his rod smartly at his side and doffed his cap waiting there until the slow procession passed across the bridge and out of sight. He quickly replaced his cap and began stripping line as he made his way back into the water. I was moved by this display and yet curious. I
approached the gentleman and remarked that he must have known the deceased
quite well to have possibly lost the opportunity to hook and land the large
fish he had raised. He replied "Yes, and if she had lived until next
Tuesday, we would have been married 53 years". |
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| Season's Greetings Here's wishing you, twelve months to flyfish eleven rivers running ten rainbows leaping nine mayfly hatches eight foot bamboo rod seven days in NZ six pound brookies *five salmon flies* four rising browns three hen capes two keeper bass and a partridge and orange on the tree. - Bob Perry, on Flyfish@ 1995 |
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| The opinion of one man is only as good as his experience,
but the opinions of many can become so stabilized as to be the contributions of
considerable value to angling knowledge. - Col. Joseph D. Bates, Jr. |
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| Fly fishing costs like sin but requires heavier
clothing. - L. C. Clower - on Flyfish@ |
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| To the companion who knows how to go light and fare hard,
who is friendly with the rain, and finds no road too long - W. H. Blake, 'Brown Waters' |
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| The difference between fly fishers and worm dunkers is
the quality of their excuses. - Anonymous |
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| Many go fishing all their lives without knowing that it
is not fish they are after. - Henry David Thoreau |
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| Three-fourths of the Earth's surface is water, and
one-fourth is land. It is quite clear that the good Lord intended us to spend triple the amount of time fishing as taking care of the lawn. - Chuck Clark, on Flyfish@ |
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| There is certainly something in angling that tends to
produce a serenity of mind. - Washington Irving |
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| The two best times to fish is when it's rainin' and when
it ain't. - Patrick F. McManus |
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| Smoked carp tastes just as good as smoked salmon when you
ain't got no smoked salmon. - Patrick F. McManus |
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| Rivers and the inhabitants of the watery elements are
made for wise men to contemplate and for fools to pass by without
consideration. - Izaac Walton |
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| Some go to church and think about fishing, others go
fishing and think about God. - Tony Blake, on Flyfish@ |
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| If we carry purism to it's logical conclusion, to do it
right you'd have to live naked in a cave, hit your trout on the head with
rocks, and eat them raw. But, so as not to violate another essential element of
the fly-fishing tradition, the rocks would have to be quarried in England and
cost $300 each. - John Gierach |
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| Scholars have long known that fishing eventually turns
men into philosophers. Unfortunately, it is almost impossible to buy decent
tackle on a philosopher's salary. - Patrick F. McManus |
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| I am not against golf, since I cannot but suspect it
keeps armies of the unworthy from discovering trout. - Paul O'Neil |
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Revised: October 10, 2000
