More is written about trout fishing than any other form of angling.
And some of the babble is aimed at instructing you to “think like some trout.”
From my perspective, if you want to catch trout this time of year you’re better off thinking like a truck. Where the trout truck goes is where the trout will be.
You don’t need words to tell you how to fish, although I’vepenned a few flowery phrases in my time about purling mountain brooks wherein lie flame-tinted trout eager to snap at a deftly presented dry fly no bigger than a pinhead.
But there’s little time to read when the put-and-take trout season is in full swing in the Mountain State, and this month features some of the best of it. It’s a time when anglers can feel righteous about catching a stringer full and taking it home for the family fish fry. These are fish that wouldn’t exist anyway if it weren’t for anglers’ trout-stamp money.
And it isn’t likely they’d survive the coming hot summer if they weren’t caught.
Fishing is a crazy business. So, if you want to fill a bucket with trout—and who doesn’t? —just plunk a worm onto a hook and fling it into your favorite lake or stream.
And then wait. And wait. If that’s what you want.
It’s a kind of fishing that’s like being dead, only you won’t have to worry about sending six close friends to a chiropractor with back problems from lugging you to the cemetery.
But if you want to do some real fishing this spring, then arm yourself with the latest fly-fishing gear and head for adventure.
First, a word of caution, though. Fly-fishing can get stunningly expensive.
We certainly do not recommend that you rob your children’s education fund to afford the $200 to $500 graphite rods, the dazzling reels, the $40 fly line, and the trunk-load of other gear you’ll need.
So, let’s just go fishing with a little help from our friends and forget-about-it.
Borrow a fly rod from your brother-in-law or your pastor. You can pick up the accessories at practically any local bait shop or outdoor center. Even Wal-Mart has a generous selection this time of year.
Are you ready?
Let’s try to convince a trout (in let’s say in nearby Glade Creek) that a tiny hook covered with fur and feathers floating over his head would make a sumptuous snack.
This quest has become one of the fastest-growing sports in America during the past 20 years.
And it all begins with…the fly.
This can be overwhelming to the novice.
For there are hundreds of varieties of flies, from dry flies (they float) to streamer flies (they look like tiny fish) to nymphs(they’re nice to have along when the fish aren’t biting). Actually, nymphs imitate the emerging form of an insect.
All of the seemingly endless variety of flies has a place in fly fishing.
That place, unfortunately, is often the tip of the angler’s nose, which—and this is not just a theory—causes a grown man to hop up and down, shrieking and yelling bad words.
Of course, the needle-sharp point of the hook doesn’t always embed itself in the fly fisherman’s proboscis.
The ears are also popular targets.
The reason for this is called “the presentation,” which basically involves waving a 9-foot rod and 30 feet of line with the aforementioned sharp hook attached madly above your head in brisk winds until you can somehow lay the whole mess downon the water, or anywhere else it might decide to stop.
At this point, if all the shrieking and hopping and swearing hasn’t spooked the fish—and it will—the fly angler lets the fly drift with the current, waiting for some trout to snatch it.
When the fish does take the fly, the general idea—and this comes from years spent not only observing but actually doing it—is to yelp sharply and jerk the rod and fly violently backward, yanking the fly away from the hungry, frightened fish.
And by the way, these fish are often referred to as “finicky.”
But if the trout is faster than the fly fisherman and hooks itself before the human is able to rip the fly away from him—and believe me, it can happen—the next thing the fly angler attempts is to break the line, once it has become snagged,tangled, or wedged under a tree stump.
It’s most commonly accomplished by tugging on the line with roughly the same force suggested for wrenching a bulldozer from the mud on a mountain-top mine road.
If that doesn’t work, a more advanced technique is recommended.
This involves giving the fish just the right amount of slack line so he can wrap it around a rock and break it.
Fish that are hooked, even briefly, before the fly fisherman snaps the line are known in angling circles as “huge” fish.
Okay. Now you have the basics. And you’re probably wondering, “Where can I, a dazzling, Neanderthal worm fisherman, go to yank fake insects away from hungry trout?”
Well, you can go to nearly any stream where the DNR trout trucks make regular stocking runs.
It’s fairly simple around here. All you have to do is spot a stocking truck cruising down the Interstate, heading to some remote stretch of water, with some 15 or 20 pickups and utility vehicles in tow.
Or you can go to Montana or Colorado or Alaska.
See, that’s the greatest thing about fly fishing. No matter how close, no matter how far, you still have about the same chance of actually catching a trout as you do of seeing Big Foot orobserving a Chinese spy balloon being shot down before it canphotograph all our missile installations.
And, surprising as this may sound, fly fishing isn’t for everybody. Why, just a couple of years ago, a group of men who apparently were frustrated by the complexities of fly fishing—or the constant pain in their noses—strung a net across a stream, caught a sizable number of small trout, dragged them onto the bank and whacked them dead with sawed-off broom handles.
They were arrested, of course. Because not only is a thing like that illegal, well, it’s just not very sporting, either.
So, the bottom line is a trunk load of gear, the cash to afford it and a lot of patience—that’s all you need to get hooked on one of the fastest-growing sports in America: fly fishing.
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Top o’ the morning!