BEST FISH EVER!!!!

My father first took me fishing when I was very young. I have no idea how old I was but there are plenty of pictures of me as a child, with a fishing rod in hand, from before I can even remember. When I was 13, he introduced me to fly fishing. I knew about fly fishing before then and had often gone with my father to watch him. I was always so intrigued by the concept. Mostly because, to my young mind, he was waving the rod around and making cool loops with the line. Which looked like a lot of fun. Plus the line wasn't clear. It was pale yellow. And the idea of having colorful line is pretty appealing when your a boy. Anyway, when I was 13, I got my first fly rod for my birthday. It was stiffer than a 2x4, but it was a fly rod. Yet, it was not just a fly rod, but a right of passage. To me, that rod was symbol that my father thought I was mature enough and patient enough to learn something that, to 13 year old me, was an activity only for the elite.
On our first trip, we borrowed my aunt's camper and went up to northern NH. My father took me to a small stream and set me loose with a few quick instructions. I was having a blast and getting horribly frustrated at the same time. Finally getting the hang of casting, I spotted a small brook trout swimming in a little pool just above the riffle I was playing around in and decided to try to catch it. I must have thrown the fly to him 30 times before he finally took pity on me and sipped my terribly presented Hornburg. I played him for 3 seconds before he gave in and let me bring him to hand. Being only 4 inches at best, he was by far the smallest, and yet biggest fish I have ever caught. That fish was the most satisfying fish I have ever played to hand. Not because he gave me a good fight, because he didn't, but because I was with my father... And because he was passing on his passion for fly fishing to me.
So here's to you Dad. Happy Fathers' Day.

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I've been tying a lot of flies lately, and with fly tying comes reminiscing. Personally, I can't help but lose myself in the experiences I have had while I am at the vise. One day, in particular, seams to stand out the most for me today. I was fishing a relatively quick stretch of river just below the damn where I live. It was a pretty warm day and I chose to where shorts and Chacos as the river bottom is mostly gravel and wading boots are just not necessary. The water felt cool on my legs as it flowed past. We had some rain recently and the water was a bit murky so I tied on a light-olive damsel with silver bead eyes and used a random pattern of stripping to retrieve it. Sunfish, Rio Grand Cichlids, and Small Mouth Bass were hitting almost every cast. I even had an occasional Guadalupe Bass. It was one of those afternoons that you get to stand in refreshing water and enjoy the aggressive nature of little fish. A small crowd formed on the river bank. OK... It was more like a family and their dog. Regardless, I had a small audience. The shadow of a pretty sizable Rio Grand caught my eye in the shallows of the far bank. I pulled my line up off the water into a backcast and proceeded to make a few false casts paying out line with every forward stroke. Soon, I was ready to launch. The line flew past me on my final back cast. I waited for the rod to load... Only it didn't. I looked back in time to see the tip section of my rod zipping down the line and splashing into the water behind me. My heart went into my throat as my head spun left to see if my audience had noticed. They had. And they found the caper quite amusing. I'm not going to lie, this one hurt a little.

I've struggled with confidence my entire life. I let my self awareness and fear of looking dumb interfere with my activities. Up until a year ago, I hadn't been fly fishing since I was a kid. "What if people see me mess up?" "What if they also fly fish and notice my imperfect loops?" A year ago I came to a realization when talking with my father on the phone. He told me he considers himself a novice; a claim that a lot of people who, like him, who have been fly fishing for 40 plus years make. That was the "aha" moment for me. Fly fishing is inherently difficult. It doesn't matter how good you are, how much you practice, or how long you have been doing it. You're going to make mistakes. And other fly fisherman are going to laugh. But they truly aren't laughing at you (at least not all the time). They are laughing because you just reminded them of the time they did exactly what you just did. And often times, the time they are thinking of is a lot more recent than you think.