I am often asked by friend’s relatives and acquaintances as to what is so appealing about fly fishing, I often scratch my head and rock back and forth on my heels a little before providing my response. To this day I have not been able to give any one of them a single definitive answer, I don’t even remember what drew me to the sport in the first place other than to say I found myself one lunchtime booking a place on a week long course in the Yorkshire dales in August one year.
It is quite safe to say that I did not get off to a flying start by any stretch of the imagination, the memory of repeatedly getting the tip of the line and leader caught in a tree behind me on the first morning whilst trying to cast at an imaginary fish standing on the front lawn of a Georgian country house with four others watching will stay with me for the rest of my days. Things as I recall did not improve in the afternoon session on boat safety either, I was determined to show my fellow classmates that despite my complete inability to cast I would be perfectly capable of rowing a boat. Now before I go any further it should be said that there are moments in life when realisation dawns upon each one of us rather like the curtains being thrown open in a darkened room on a summer’s day that we have all too willingly set ourselves up for a fall. In such circumstances there is nothing that can be done about it other than to hope for the best and get on with it. Stepping into that boat for me proved to be one of those moments!
My boat partner for the occasion was an ex navy bloke called Pete and I remember feeling at the time that the benchmark to which I would invariably measure my own nautical prowess was being set unusually high. Casting off my doubts I recall poling us out of the boat house and onto the choppy waters of the highest tarn in England, sitting down and paying little attention to the wry grin that had appeared upon Pete’s face I duly rigged the oars put my back into it and dug deep for a few minutes to have us away from the boat house in no time at all. Glancing back in the direction of my remaining classmates and instructor I was met by the sight of three of them doubled up in stitches with laughter at me sat facing the wrong way in the boat rowing it stern (back end) first into the prevailing wind! This little episode together with my efforts from earlier in the day earned me the grand title of “problem child” and the banter that was to follow this new recognition later that night was first rate.
Beer in the event was better at healing wounds to the pride than time itself as the following day having consumed a great deal of ale the night before I redeemed myself on the rowing front in style by proceeding to tow the previously tree ensconced boat containing Lancashire Len, Pete, a very expensive motor and a whole host of tackle from one end of England’s highest tarn to the other in the face of a strong westerly wind. There was one fine fish caught between five of us that day by Regan, and I dare to say that there might even have been two had I been allowed to tie my preferred choice of fly onto the leader but even with hindsight I couldn’t fault myself when we eventually regrouped around the table in the evening as I listened to tales of tangles, trees, motors and mysteries of disappearing landing nets.
The remaining days of the course ran fairly glitch free for me after that day on the tarn and things progressively started to come together to the point whereby I had started to catch fish fairly frequently on the local Stillwater’s that we were being taken to. It was enough to convince me when the week eventually finished that despite the bumpy start my spontaneity had paid dividends and within a few weeks of getting home I had acquired rod, reel, line and a fistful of flies, it is safe to say that I have not looked back since except to reminisce upon these funny first memories of fly fishing.
If you have read this then it may not be entirely clear as to why I persisted in pursuing the sport. The answer to me is quite simple, there are two things that need to happen first in order to gain a true appreciation of any belief, skill or person and these are the commitment of time and effort to the matter at hand. If both are carefully applied to anything that sparks your imagination they often allow us to overcome the things that we feel are acting as obstacles to gaining our end goal, it is only then that our mind fully opens up to the new horizons that present themselves. Put simply the appeal is out there you simply have to find yours and grasp it.
I am a deceiver of fish, I am Castaway Fly Fisher.
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