The More Things Change

Despite the relentless march of technology in fly fishing, our core experience remains remarkably unchanged from centuries past. While we now wield graphite rods instead of bamboo, and synthetic lines rather than braided horsehair, we still engage in the same delicate dance with stream and current as our predecessors. We might sport moisture-wicking clothing and GPS units, but we face the same age-old frustrations: tangles in our leaders, wind knots, and rising trout just beyond our comfortable range. The quiet moments spent studying a pool's currents, the thrill of a strike, and the satisfaction of releasing a wild fish remain the same. And nature, not technology, still dictates the terms of engagement.

In this week’s edition:

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Image by Kubie Brown

IN THE RIFFLES

MIDCURRENT CLASSICS

Art and image by Walter Foster

He eats it just below the film on the second drift—nose, dorsal, tail, no bubbles. At first it feels like setting the hook on a log, but it begins to throb and then explodes. I am not ready.


Without running he jumps twice. JT and Dave hear the first jump so they see the second, and we all get a good look: he is a tall and dusky river-resident rainbow of Great Lake proportions. The second reentry is sideways, thunderous, and soaks me with river-water ejecta. He lets me lead him up onto the shoal a bit, but then turns and surges toward deep water, pushing a wake like a killer whale after a seal. My six weight noodles and my drag is too loose and it backlashes and the 5X pops.


I caught a lot of fish this week; I am due for a defeat. But it still hurts. Will hurt for a while. That was a big trout and I worked hard for him. How do I learn how to fight big fish on light tippet? Not on the spot, that’s for sure…


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