I walked around the shallow flats, gingerly lifting my feet so I don’t make a slushing sound, the water was only inches deep and with my inability to cast a decent distance with a flyrod, I knew I was handicapped. The wind behind me didn’t help, it wasn’t just those gentle breeze days, there is no rule that states the best time for man to fish would be the best time for the weather to cooperate. We always make do, and we never learn.
Scanning the skinny water for some fish wasn’t new to me, only the method was. It wasn’t long before I found a cut in the sandy flat that held some fish. There was some current coming in from the deeper water a few meters in front of the cut, it was a textbook scenario, the fish are facing the current and not just for the dose of freshly oxygenated water, they were waiting for food to be washed in to them.
This sight is not only exciting, it’s almost always a signal that your next move is a guaranteed exercise in futility.
In these situations, no matter how “pro” you think you are and no matter how many times you’ve done it; you revert to your 7 year old self, to keep up with the theme (without knowing it) I did a half witted back cast and felt like I swallowed a desert lizard as I felt the flyline making an absolute mess behind me…Kit, welcome to fly fishing.
The fish I was stalking bolted, the point of the tail sticking above the surface seemed either waving goodbye…or sending me an explicit hand signal. The next thing I did made all my friends come running towards me, they thought the noise I was making was because of a massive hookup. I shook my head and asked myself how in hell did I get myself into this madness…
The day started the night before. I decided that if I was to learn this fly fishing thing, I wouldn’t take anything but a fly rod and reel with me. That night, I thought to myself, I am going to catch fish…no seriously…I would.
As most “the most night before a trip” goes, I was over zealous, confident and bullet proof. There is nothing you could ever say to dampen my enthusiasm. Not even a 17 knot wind forecast.
I don’t know if this makes sense to you, but if you follow this column it means you go fishing. Our days start the night before, the time we prepare for our trips. Right after work in the weekends, we do what we have to do. Our rods and reels need to be checked and loaded in the car, the leaders need to be tied in advance so we don’t waste time in the water, the hooks sharpened, a selection of lures and or flies chosen for the water condition, the bait,the kayak, the sinkers, the tacklebox, water, food…it is endless. This is our routine…no, this is our ritual.
After a few years of doing this, I have come to the realization that we, anglers/fishermen, are strange creatures.
The fishing trip starts the night before. The preparation is an integral part of the trip. Taking the trash out or washing the dishes is not part of the preparation. We are the only ones that stay up the whole night so we can “wake up” early to be at the spot by first light. It’s not just that; we have to be the first ones there so we can take the best spot.
When tying flies, or choosing lures, it doesn’t really occur to us that no matter now weird the thing is at the end of the line, it’s really not our choice, what matters is how it looks like to the fish. They have to get convinced that its something edible. If we don’t catch anything, it really isn’t our fault. The fish were simply…not biting.
We live by one motto, the fish will always be caught on the next cast. You can’t argue with that, thats why there is always “the fish that bit on the last cast”.
We walk the beach looking at the water, girls think this is romantic, what they don’t know is; we’re looking for the drop off. We buy the most expensive equipment we can afford, but we are chasing the same fish. It is a rule that the farther you go or the deeper the water, the expected fish…is bigger. AND, it’s just not the actual fishing gear, for fly tiers, we buy the best vise and tools we can get, but we also know that this doesn’t really guarantee us more, or bigger fish. For fly tiers, anything that comes in strands is fair game. If we can tie it on a hook, we will; especially if it’s shiny. Thats why we buy a lot of Christmas decoration. We tie jigs and flies using hair from dead animals and make them part of a very effective fly or lure. Here’s an example – a bucktail jig. You know where it comes from, but never really think about which part of the animal it comes from.
Behind all of this is the chase. We love it, we look for it, we live for it. We always have great stories of fish we caught and even more epic tales of the ones that got away. After catching the fish, the most prized item we walk away with isn’t even the fish, it’s the picture we have with it!
Amidst all of these, we don’t make bonds of friendship stronger; we create the bonds of brotherhood. We look forward to another trip, even if this past trip was one of the most miserable in recent memory. We don’t count the size of the fish by weight, but by the company we share and would always wish for the same group to fish together once more in the future.
Fishing is probably the most unselfish sports there is…no matter how strange our behaviors at times may be, we share that with others and they; our brothers, accept it.
My fishing group have accepted me for the way I am. I could not be any more of myself when I’m with them. Despite how weird I am, how unconventional l am…They still find it strange that I don’t eat fish though and I be,t you find it strange now as well. There’s nothing to it, It’s just part of all this madness.
Till next tide change,
Kit
