fishing for words

(and tossing out random thoughts)

teach a son to (fly) fish…

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“Give a son a fish; you have fed him for today. Teach that son to fly fish; and you will have to answer constant questions about where, when, how…and tie a bunch of flies for his next camping trip.”

Sean and Christopher are back after a three-day fishing/camping trip in the high country around Tuolumne Meadows. And the fishing went well.

The first report trickled in from a pay phone…at least once Sean figured out how to use it. I’m hoping he didn’t immediately leave the stream to seek out the phone, but it was great to get a message that he’d caught his first wild brown trout using a fly rod. Later I’d learn that he caught other trout, including two wild brookies in a section of Lee Vining Creek where I know it’s tough to get any interest in a fly. It’s also cool to note that he caught them on dry fly. I believe that’s the first time he’s hooked a trout on a dry.

It would have been nice to be there…and I’m still awaiting photographic proof…but it’s nice to know that Sean put to use skills and tactics taught by his ol’ dad to fool some fish. (Just need to keep enough secrets to myself so he’ll never outfish me!)

Apparently though, Christopher resorted to spinners and, of all things, that stinky, unnaturally colored man-made bait to land a bushel or more of trout. Guess he won the weekend on sheer numbers, if not on the elegance of the method. (Insert acknowlegement of a certain bias toward fish caught on the fly.)

It seems that for me days of fishing, and catching, have been somewhat of a rarity so far this year. Here’s to hoping that next weekend I’ll get in some make-up fishing.

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