Women in Fly Fishing

A little Fly Fishing Fate

by Rebecca on April 6, 2010

in Fly Fishing

~From under the Blackberry Camera~

When I woke up yesterday it was rasnowing. You know, a sweet mixture of rain and snow. It was exactly the kind of mixed weather signal that just dared me to go out and fly fish in it. So being the brave and fearless sort of fisherman that I am, I grabbed my gear– plus one dog and headed straight for a Fly Shop to pick out a new fly or two that gave off a rasnowing fishing vibe.

I do love visiting this fly shop. The guys that run it, (especially you Michael) are always smiling,  helpful and encouraging of my activities both on the river and this website.

While Michael and I sifted through the flies we chatted it up, fly shop style. Like a good Fly Fishing Pastor, Michael kept me in check when my hand hovered over the stripper pole flashy type nymphs and he dropped several Holy Celestial flies into my plastic tithing cup. No multicolored flash with neon disco dubbing and extra large beadheads for me…..

As I was waiting to check out I found myself surveying another anglers pile of purchases. Now, normally I would never snoop like this, but something caught my eye and I couldn’t resist (no really, there was no containing myself) asking what in the world were those thingamajigs.  Now, I won’t get into what those thingamajigs were because that calls for a whole ‘nother blog entry, but I was concerned about the wayward angler and told him I had a better solution right outside in my truck.

My Fly Fishing Good Deed for the week got a check mark when I shared two items from my personal stock of illicit and controversial enablers. Based on the ratio of good vs. evil, I realize today I probably could have gotten away with one sinfully sparkly fly because my good deed would have balanced out the sinner flash……

Sinful flash aside, I believe that my good tidings to the Fly Fishing Brethren did inspire a bit of reward from the weather front. It stopped rasnowing while I was in the Fly Shop and only a non-fisher type would argue that these things aren’t all linked together in one large cosmic cloud of FATE.  

The ever loyal Bandon and I raced down to the river for what ended up being an afternoon of tree snags and little hatchery trout. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I absolutely hate losing flies and typically I hold onto my little furry friends like a nun clutches her rosary. The area I choose to fish was new to me and despite exploration I was unable to find either a wadeable area or a section of river that wasn’t surrounded by trees, bushes and weeds.

Perfect for the fish of course, a nightmare for casting and missed hook sets. I won’t admit how many flies I lost or how many trees I climbed or even how many cuss words I spewed. Instead I will let yesterdays fly fishing excursion lie in the past and offer up a mini-video I took while retying for the blankenty blankth time.

Disclaimer: I didn’t take a camera yesterday. This is from my new Blackberry which I took to the river swaddled in 2 ziplock bags. I’ve never done video and I’m not convinced I should. There’s a reason I don’t have a lot of pictures of myself and furthermore, why there are no videos of me. I tend to flip off camera operators, spit like a hissing cat and run the opposite direction when a lens is lurking around. But, because of this person…..and this person….I’m testing out the possibilities with this irrelevant, shaky and pointless video ~

I know. I’m as big a chicken as Bandon is, but at least I don’t try to lick fish ~ 

{ 16 comments }

The River High and The River Low

by Rebecca on March 2, 2010

in Fly Fishing

~Can't Catch a Fish? Stack Rocks~

When I was out fly fishing last Sunday, one of the comments I got was a general observation, but it’s the one I’ve been thinking about as a general river theme. One man remarked after asking me how the fishing was (not good),”Well the river is pretty low right now.”
Yes. And that means? I wanted to ask him, but held my thought to myself.

This is where my personal experience, a sheltered bubble of fly fishing innocence (or ignorance) falls into play. My lack of interaction with all things common fly fishing opinion and technical knowledge over the past 10 plus years puts me into an undisturbed, uninfluenced state of fishing spirit. 80% of what I do or know has been established through personal trial and error rather then credible advice or instruction. I’ve yet to decide if that is a good thing, or a bad thing.

The thing is, when I turned the chapter in my fishing life from metal chucker to fly floater, I had assistance in several of the basics: fly choices, casting, presentation among other beginner instruction. However, I was pretty much left to my own devices when it came to river choices, time on the water, areas to visit and reading the water. Although I had heard rumors about things like river flow and water temperature, I humbly admit, I shrugged it off. Such technical assessments I deemed best left to those who actually knew what they were doing. I just wanted to go out and fish, regardless of prevailing ‘conditions’…

Because I didn’t know any better, or didn’t care, I’ve fished rivers when they were roaring over their banks flooding into the trees and I’ve fished when everything was just a trickle with tiny little holding pools. Some of my best memories or fishing days —the type where you force yourself to stop casting because the sun has been behind the mountain for almost an hour and tying on a new fly by the light of a match starts to burn up a lot of tippet— were on rivers that may have been considered ‘unfishable’ ….sometimes, ignorance really is bliss.

The one exception or perhaps it’s a concession, is blown out rivers that have turned the color of brown hotel carpet. Although I have caught fish under such conditions, it wasn’t easy and times like those earn a humble place in the tenacious (desperate) category of a fly fishing life. Not exactly memorable, but earns points for effort.

Over the years I’ve read fishing reports that made it seem like if you simply drove to a river, tossed in some dental floss with a safety pin tied to the end you would catch fish–”"The river is on FIRE it’s so smoking good”"– yet when I got there it didn’t seem that great, or even good. Just the opposite, I’ve read reports that moaned depression like conditions in a sluggish river economy and I’ve hit the jackpot in fishing riches. (To be fair, I have ! read fishing reports that were spot on, which is always a nice surprise) So either some fishing reports are just screwing with me, for fun and all, or everyone forgot to inform the fish what was expected of them or…..fishing simply defies logical expectation.

So all of that begs the question. How much do you all put into fishing reports, river flow, optimum fishing conditions? Will a flooded river put an end to your day? Will a dire fishing report inspire you to stay home and finish your ‘honey do’ list instead?

An inquiring mind wants to know ~ Me

Rebecca

{ 26 comments }

The Kindness of Fishermen

by Rebecca on February 10, 2010

in Fly Fishing

Yellowstone Fly

~The Unknown Fly I named Kindness~

I’m not sure what the above fly is called, maybe the man who gave it to me told me, maybe he didn’t. The fly used to have little rubber legs and was a bit more fluffy and distinguished. Now it’s a piece of my vintage fly history and a testament to the kindness I’ve stumbled across while on the waterways.

The morning I was given that fly, I was sitting on the dirt bank of the Yellowstone River in Yellowstone Park. My fly rod was propped in the dirt leaning across my shoulder, my fly bag was tossed near my feet, open, ignored, and I was gazing out across the big Yellowstone watching risers that I couldn’t get close enough to. At the moment, I was feeling frustrated and defeated by my wading limitations.

Then he came along, a nameless man who just happened across my sovereign spot in the dirt. He stopped, asked me the normal fisherman pleasantries…how’s it going….have you caught any fish…I opted for honesty and told him that despite all attempts to love the Yellowstone River, she continued to toy with me, tease me and deny me reasonable (without the threat of death via drowning) wading entrance.

He pulled out a fly box and started sifting through it while he explained to me that although the Yellowstone liked to keep her treasured rising cutties out in the deep zones, the fish could be caught nearer to the bank if you know where to look for them. He pulled out the above fly, handed it to me and told me to walk along the bank and spot fish for underwater bank cruisers. Then he smiled, and was gone….

Honestly, I can’t remember if I caught a fish with that fly, but his kindness is something I’ve never forgotten. He’s not the only one who has given me flies on the riverbank over the years. I have a special little box I keep that holds the flies men (sadly, it’s all men, I rarely, if ever come across woman on the rivers) have graciously given me. I can be catching fish just fine, but I’ve noticed men like to stop, talk, and impress upon me their favorite, or secret fly for the day.

It isn’t just about the flies that have been given me, this kindness I write of, it’s the friendliness and willingness to offer conversation, wisdom or just a friendly smile to me…the anomaly on the river.  I’m not sure how it is for other men– the man to man interaction–on the water. But I have witnessed acts of kindness between guys that confirms this sort of graciousness isn’t just reserved for the pink elephant (me) wading in the water.

I believe in every persons life, it’s good to pause, look back and thank the people who made a good impression in your life. So today I’d like to publicly thank:

~The man on the Yellowstone River for a fly I would never have thought of. I don’t remember the fish of that day, but I remember your smile, your laughter and your kindness. The other men who have gifted me their secret flies over the years, if I didn’t lose them to fish, I’ve still got your flies.

~The two men (and dog) who rescued me from the wrong side of the South Fork of the Boise River with their drift boat after my death defying swim. I know I was frozen silent, embarrassed into stone, but I was grateful for the safe passage back to the other side. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be over there.

~I’d like to thank the man who came running up the river when he saw me fighting a huge fish on my little fly rod. Your passionate chase with your net did not go unnoticed, your gallant dive in the river was impressive and I’m sorry the fish ended up being a monster sucker fish. I told you it felt like I was hauling in a water logged tree that moved….not a steelie like you hoped.

~Thank you to all the guys who have offered marriage proposals over the years. I may never hold a big fish record, but I bet I’m in the running for the most proposals in a lifetime =)

~Thanks goes to the several different men who provided jumper cables, towing service and hitchhiker rides.

~Thanks goes to the fly shop manager who was beyond kind and helpful to me yesterday. You have renewed my faith in the local fly shop atmosphere…

~Thanks goes to all the people who have visited this site, commented, emailed and encouraged me along. I hope to run into you all on the river ~

Rebecca

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