Spinnin' Ain't For Moi

I was sipping a little Tennessee whiskey the other evening, smoking a cigar, and sitting by one of my favorite hidden streams (location not to be disclosed…I could tell you, but I would have to kill you and that probably wouldn’t be any fun for either of us) and I was pondering the meaning of life. Well, not really. I was actually pondering this whole fly fishing thing. I thought back to when I first tried the sport and how odd everything felt. Casting was strange (vs. my spinning gear), the terminology about blew my mind, and I was afraid I wouldn’t fit into the “club” (not the Ozark Fly Fishers club, but the larger club of fly fisher people everywhere). And then, one day, it clicked. The whole thing fit me like a pair of Levi’s that hadn’t been washed for six months. Bam! I was more at home fly fishing than pulling out the spinning gear. I was a bona fide fly fisherman.

Now…back to the stream. I had come to do some later afternoon fishing for smallies, but I was so taken by the beautiful spring afternoon that I just plopped down my camp chair, grabbed a seat, and soaked it all in. I was just so damn happy to be outside and away from people, and traffic, and e-mail, and voice messages, and bills, and concrete, and noise, and, and, and, that I almost couldn’t see straight. I was just so thankful that I have had the opportunity to enjoy the outdoors and get involved in this sport that I love – fly fishing. I am not even sure how much I fished, but it was good to be there. And, it was good to have my 9 foot 5 weight by my side.

So, I am making a proclamation. I am a fly fisherman. There…I said it and I feel better. I may not be the best fly fisherman this side of the Atlantic, but I also know I am not the worst. I am a “middle of the packer” and, although I would like to improve (and I will), I am pretty darn happy to be where I am at. “I ain’t got it all that bad.”

You might have seen me rolling down an Ozark stream in my canoe hunting down bronze-backs. You might catch me on occasion in my belly boat on a Missouri pond stalking the warm water species. I am even insane enough to fish for trout during the winter catch and release season. I have been known to head north, south, east and west in search of new waters. Chasing the saltwater species is an experience I can’t seem to get out of my system – amazing. I have even caught some monster Wipers on my fly rod from an Arkansas lake. I love to catch anything with fins on these long skinny rods – bamboo, fiberglass, or graphite – it just doesn’t matter.

I have three of everything that I don’t need. Waders, boots, rods (okay, maybe I have more than three – maybe lots more) and much, much more. My vest weights 24 pounds (before it gets wet) and I know that I am never carrying what I need in there. Never! So, I go back to the fly shop in search of that gadget or thingamabob that will give me the edge on the water, driving me from a “middle of the packer” to “almost a guide” status. Unfortunately, a much wiser person told me that the “silver bullet” just doesn’t exist. They are right, but I won’t stop looking. I am looking for an attachment that prevents wind knots. Please let me know if you have one for sale. Name your price.

You think about that. TL