I am constantly surprised by the river.
We were teenagers when we found the fly rods in the lodge at the bottom of the hill next to the Stillwater River. The lodge sat across from the small trapper’s cabin. Both remnants of generations gone, when the ranch we worked as children, brought men on horseback, hunting elk into the Beartooth Mountains. The lodge held the treasures of that time. Looking through the drab green packs and canvas tents and dusty boxes we found a tin fly box that brought life to the rods. In it were the large, fluffy, feathered flies that became all we had, so they were all we fished.
The cutbank of a river is a storied location in the realm of fly fishing. Flies are broken off on gnarled root balls, thick grasses, and precarious branches. Anglers are often left stumbling, slipping, and snagged. The evidence of their efforts can be seen in the tangled tippet and lost flies that look back at those of us who imagine brute-like brown trout lurking in the tight close seams below a hard to reach cutbank. Particularly difficult to reach cutbanks may seem like more trouble than they are worth but armed with some tactics for penetrating these tight spots, cutbanks can bring many a memorable trout to the net. Here are three I use when the opportunity presents itself.
Tying your own flies is a huge leap in the pursuit of becoming a great fly fisher. If you are just starting out, congratulations. Now that you have decided to start tying flies, you may be asking, “what fly should I learn to tie first?” The Zebra Midge is an outstanding answer for many reasons.
Fly fishing can be fun no matter where our lives, or even our day-to-day takes us. For most of my life, I viewed fly fishing as fishing for trout, in the Rocky Mountains, and in a river. Probably with a dry fly. It was all I knew. In hindsight, I had many opportunities to keep fly fishing a part of my life if I would have just been willing to explore other species, waters, and aspects of the sport.
If I get out of the drift boat, you may not see me again until the evening hatch. Yeah --- it’s a problem.
It was in sunny Las Vegas Nevada, that I remember telling my wife, “I’d really like to get into tying my own flies.” My wife, whose memory can be either a steel trap or --- let’s just say the opposite of a steel trap --- decided to use her powers for good and several months later at Christmas I had a fly tying kit. Hooray! Hugs and smooches exchanged, I sat down to tie my first fly on Christmas morning, 2013. And while I tied a few flies between then and now, I can say that the fly tying kit may have “started” me into tying my own flies, but it was a weak and pathetic start. A long road filled with terrible flies, that rarely were used, let alone caught fish. I’ll tell you why.