Mission Aborted

I had a plan this morning, and I was fully prepared to execute that plan. The flies were tied, and my main players were set up in the fly threader box I finally found after a weekend long search – take that depth perception!

I was relishing the drastic cool down after a couple of weeks here in the oven, so much that I awakened just before two from the chill air. By the time I regained full consciousness, it was about the right time to be on the river. I got up, got my coffee and a snack, and checked the weather: wind gusts to 30 mph. That slowed my progress as doubt, or more accurately common sense, began to weaken my resolve.

I have a long career of fishing regardless of weather. I can recall 45 mph winds on the big East Branch in Cadosia one spring day, and who could forget the 50 mph winds that nearly pushed me over backwards into the raging whitewater torrent on an Elk Creek steelhead mission. I am retired now, I can fish every day of the season if I want to, so I have become a little more settled in my reasoning in regard to poor conditions.

Of course, just as soon as I aborted this morning’s late mission, the Red Gods chided me by dropping the already gusty winds immediately.

Mission aborted. Fishing will wait another day.

There is a brand new fly box sitting here on the desk after all. I picked it up the other day for a selection of flies I am planning to tie for a gentleman from Germany. I agreed to show him our Catskill fishing when he comes to New York this September for the 30th Catskill Rodmakers Gathering, and I figured it is the least I can do to have a box of flies for him. Early September can be tough on the fishing front, but I do have a number of patterns that usually tempt a few good Catskill trout.

I am on a roll at the moment as far as fly tying. I tied 32 dries yesterday. That’s a large daily output for me, since I tie nearly every day through the season. As alluded to earlier, my depth perception has been suffering this season, most notably as I try to tie on a fly while standing in the river with a nice trout rising. I have been tying sulfurs and olives on big eyed hooks, which of course have been hard to find just when I needed some. I have loaded up my old threader box to solve the on-stream problem.

A lot of anglers struggle with knotting small flies as they age, and magnification is an easy answer. Depth perception compromises are more sinister. I can see the hook eye and the tippet, but every time I try to join them, I misalign the parts. I used to believe that sportsmen should be able to live the retired lifestyle from age 25 to say 55, and then go back to work until its time to have their dusty bones shoveled out of their workplaces. Imagine fishing every day with good eyesight, no aches and pains, and the energy of relative youth!

Of course it doesn’t work that way, so we simply have to adapt. I don’t fish fourteen-hour days anymore, and I am beginning to collect fly threaders. I also recently added one of those white fly plates to my tying vise, and purchased a pair of prescription reading glasses. I have a nice supply of Biofreeze too, to keep the shoulder moving.

The one thing I treasure as related to being retired at this age is the experience and judgement gathered over more than three decades of fly fishing and fly design. The casting parts may hurt a little, but man I wish I could have made the casts and presentations I do today back when I started out! I wish I knew then what I know now about trout flies too.

With that experience comes a lifetime of memories. Some we revel in, and others simply let us shake our heads and laugh at ourselves.