Phat Mack
05-14-2003, 04:39 PM
Ray's mentioning Ed Zern and his Exit Laughing column brought back memories that I didn't know I had. I started thinking about the first fish I ever caught on a fly, an event most anglers should remember.
I was probably 14 years old and living in New Jersey. Ted Trueblood, a sports writer, had given a demonstration on fly fishing and I thought I would give it a try. The plan was to ride my bike to the Wanaque river along the New York State border, camp out, fish at dawn and ride back home. I fit a sleeping bag and a mess kit on the back of the bike, tied my rod on the handle bars and set out. I rode my bike for the first ten or twenty miles (it was probably less, but time changes distances) and then hit the Ramapo mountains and pushed my bike the last five miles or so. I had gone to a discount store and bought a selection of flies for $.50. They were tied in Japan and were things like Royal Coachmen and Pink Ladies. I finaly got there a little after dark and made camp. There was no flat ground and no soft ground, but I was too excited to sleep anyway. I was up at first light and fishing.
I got my first strike at dusk. I was using a pink lady and roll casting in a small pool. My line was saturated, but the leader was long enough for the fly to float on the surface tension of the water. It was about 15 feet away from me when a nine inch brown came up to it, gently lipped it and dove. I spent an eternity getting the line sorted, then pulled back with the rod. He was still on! I gently pulled him to the bank and beached him. I was astounded. I knew fly fishing existed in theory but had no confidence that I could execute it in practice. Like many people, this one event hooked me on fly fishing for life.
I had to let the brown go. I knew full well that none of my friends would believe that I had caught him without producing the fish, but I didn't want to eat him, and I had another problem: I was supposed to be home before dark, and it was already past that time.
I got all my stuff on my bike and rode about a mile in the dark when I came to a bar. It was a white cinderblock building with two cannons in front of it, so it may have been connected to the VFW or something. I walked in and was told immediately to get out. I stood outside the door and told the bartender that I was stranded and wanted to find a phone. He relented and let me come in to use the pay phone. I had to borrow a quarter because it was a toll call and my dime wasn't enough. I called my dad; he came and picked me up, and the bartender gave me a homemade birch beer while I waited. Quite an adventure, two firsts in one day: first trout on a fly - first sit on a bar stool. I've kept up with both activities my entire life.
Who else remembers getting hooked on fly fishing?
I was probably 14 years old and living in New Jersey. Ted Trueblood, a sports writer, had given a demonstration on fly fishing and I thought I would give it a try. The plan was to ride my bike to the Wanaque river along the New York State border, camp out, fish at dawn and ride back home. I fit a sleeping bag and a mess kit on the back of the bike, tied my rod on the handle bars and set out. I rode my bike for the first ten or twenty miles (it was probably less, but time changes distances) and then hit the Ramapo mountains and pushed my bike the last five miles or so. I had gone to a discount store and bought a selection of flies for $.50. They were tied in Japan and were things like Royal Coachmen and Pink Ladies. I finaly got there a little after dark and made camp. There was no flat ground and no soft ground, but I was too excited to sleep anyway. I was up at first light and fishing.
I got my first strike at dusk. I was using a pink lady and roll casting in a small pool. My line was saturated, but the leader was long enough for the fly to float on the surface tension of the water. It was about 15 feet away from me when a nine inch brown came up to it, gently lipped it and dove. I spent an eternity getting the line sorted, then pulled back with the rod. He was still on! I gently pulled him to the bank and beached him. I was astounded. I knew fly fishing existed in theory but had no confidence that I could execute it in practice. Like many people, this one event hooked me on fly fishing for life.
I had to let the brown go. I knew full well that none of my friends would believe that I had caught him without producing the fish, but I didn't want to eat him, and I had another problem: I was supposed to be home before dark, and it was already past that time.
I got all my stuff on my bike and rode about a mile in the dark when I came to a bar. It was a white cinderblock building with two cannons in front of it, so it may have been connected to the VFW or something. I walked in and was told immediately to get out. I stood outside the door and told the bartender that I was stranded and wanted to find a phone. He relented and let me come in to use the pay phone. I had to borrow a quarter because it was a toll call and my dime wasn't enough. I called my dad; he came and picked me up, and the bartender gave me a homemade birch beer while I waited. Quite an adventure, two firsts in one day: first trout on a fly - first sit on a bar stool. I've kept up with both activities my entire life.
Who else remembers getting hooked on fly fishing?