Tag Archives: Big Game

A Day In The Life

People do not generally ask what my daily life is like. Being behind the counter of a fly shop drums up comments such as “must be nice” or “I would give anything to be in your shoes”. Unfortunately for most, the assumptions fall a bit short of the real thing. If you really love being broke and being asked “what are they biting on” on a regular basis, the shop life is definitely for you. Lucky for me, I hate money and love answering questions. I also love to be outside, which is what brought me here in the first place. Such a rookie move. I should have just buttered up to someone with a huge trust fund account that likes to fish. A paid personal fishing assistant if you will. (In case you are wondering, yes I would)

Here I sit though, compelled by past choices, trapped in the same fishing conversation I’ll be having for the rest of my life. It’s almost like Groundhog Day, the movie. As cringe-worthy as the movie is, I loved it.

Staring off into the void, that numb indirect stare not focusing on anything in particular, my mind races to flies and other assorted items that need improving. Building and rebuilding in my head until it flows effortlessly off of the vice. Which never happens as poetically as you want it to. Usually just a glob of materials dangling from a hook.

Without further ado, I write to you today, off the cuff. This comes with every intention of answering a question nobody has asked. I guess it fortifies how much I enjoy answering questions. I’ll even ask myself. Really, the only goal of the day is to tie a fly and fish it for about an hour till sunset. Just to possibly entice a musky into the most exciting moment of his life, a photo op.

I have been toying around with suspending style walking flies for some years now. The latest iterations involve restrictions in the articulating joints but tinkering with weight distribution is showing positive results. Summer is definitely not the time for giant articulating flies though. I am, however, going to spice up an X-tail. If you haven’t seen the X-tail video… Here Goes!

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The absolute magic! Shimmer Fringe in bronze, yellow and blue!

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Too big for the omni jaw, luckily I come prepared.

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Voila!IMG_1324

Such a sexy hook! Run through the tulips!

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It is important to note: that is .035 lead free wire behind the barb. It is centerish between the head and tail of the fly. With mass there, in the middle, the fly sways left and right.

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Add feathers… (should’ve picked some more photogenic stuff)

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Add bucktail…

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Add flash…

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Add more flash…

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add even more flash…

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Repeat till complete!

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A tiny morsel of yum.

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Gah! Choices. Too much of a hurry to deal with this!

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Throw on some chill tunes…

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Conditions are PERFECT!!!!

To be continued…

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From Birth to Change

My birth into fly fishing began at age ten. My father, brother and I combed the shores of Bluewater Lake for catfish twenty years ago. Instead of finding catfish, we found a trout. At the time, I had no idea exactly what it was, but I did know that it was cool looking. My head was then wrapped around this fish. My nose buried in untouched books and magazines. My mother probably thought it was a child’s addiction, a passing phase. We were all unaware that this was a precursor to a life made from that addiction. A life so infused with fly fishing, time away from the water seemed like an eternity. Fly fishing ruined my life and saved it at the same time. Relationships were lost, friendships destroyed, all for one goal. To fish. The Lake...

Naturally, after twenty years, I returned to this lake. The lake of my fly fishing birth. Things had changed wildly. Upon my departure in 2002, the lake was so low and temps so high that the goldfish and white sucker population exploded. Gold bands largely covered the lake. Around the same time, Ramah Lake turned over and died taking its huge largemouth bass population with it. For the time, fishing was dead. I took my leave to Florida to study the worthless career path of “Audio Engineering”. Just before I left, there was talk about introducing bass to the lake. Then, talk of tiger muskie. The operation had momentum in 2003 when I returned. It takes a few years to grow a muskie and as I hiked down to the shoreline, thoughts of age began to surface. The oldest fish in this lake is ten, and we broke the state record five times last year. If you dig around in the world of studies and boring graphs, you will find that on average, these fish should only be around fourty inches. Not here, records are already topping fifty inches. This place has become world-class and it will remain that way for the next ten years.

I sat down on the broken shoreline and stared out across the lake. I was looking for signs of muskie. Ducks dove down into the water catching my attention, tricking me into the thought of swirling fish. There were no signs of fish, just calm and very cold water. I began casting clousers and other small flies to no avail. After the first couple hours, the story was about missed hook-ups and failing gear. I even had one snap a hook in two. Something wasn’t right. I tied on an articulating streamer pattern, only about five or so inches and the only one I had tied. On the second cast, I hooked up and lost the fly.frayed

It wasn’t long ago that I was out here and it happened in the same way. I swore I would come after the entire race to retrieve my fly. That day, I tied a ten inch double articulating fly that looked strikingly similar to a parrot. This could have been fueled by my subconscious hatred of parrots, but it was created to be big and bold. I tied with revenge on my mind.

On day two, I threw caution to the wind and tied on the monster. Within the first few minutes I had a fish in hand. They continually came after it, the fly bombarded by swimming baseball bats with teeth. In the wake of each miss, the fly would shed some hair and feathers, floating debris after being struck center mass by a torpedo. The fish came abundantly, sometimes waiting in the dark three feet from shore to come screaming out of nowhere. It became a suspense movie. My little brother was reeling in his lure humming “Pop!  Goes The Weasel”. Automatically, when turning that crank, you know a scary clown will pop out of the Jack-in-the Box. The question was, when? The clowns who stood before me in this lake weren’t happily colored clowns with red noses and a chipper attitude. These were voracious predators. Imagine a hand crank on the side of a lions cage, that is about the level of fear that works through you when you are trying to entice a strike from an unseen monster with a mouthful of razorblades. You expect the clown to jump out of the box at the end of the song. It never happens that way. Ever. That isn’t even the worst part of it! When you look down at the water and your fly, you will see the shadow lurking behind it. Even when there isn’t a shadow, your mind will create one. You will dangle that fly in front of the shadow, then the shadow disappears. It isn’t over yet. It’s like a dog waiting for you to throw its ball. Before you know it, you are evacuating your bladder while this fish tries to rip your arm off. You thought you would be casting until your arm turned to jello, but it isn’t the casting that gets you. It is the huge takes. They even give you a warning twitch! As if to say, “Hey! Watch this!”the take

The excitement never really ends. If you aren’t a smoker, by the time you finish muskie fishing, you will be. Just one to calm the nerves, just one more to calm the nerves… I couldn’t tell if my hands were shaking from the cold or from me being on edge. I walked around the corner into the sun for warmth. A cast and an immediate take and set. I didn’t know I was on with the biggest muskie of my life. As it lifted it’s head, I realized this fish could potentially put me in the hospital. I couldn’t tell the difference between excitement and fear. My whole life lead up to this moment. My life of fly fishing started here. Events of my life had been changing, as did with this lake. We evolved together. Even though we had our times apart, maybe the beginnings will be our future endings.Monster