Sitting here and pondering whether that, if I tied a few size 22 olives on one of those “big eye” dry fly hooks, might I be able to see it well enough to tie it onto a slender tippet on the water…
I have reached the age where the deconstruction of time has limited my tableau of tackle and tactics, becoming one of those guys who fishes nothing smaller than a size 20 fly regardless the size, or the lack of size the naturals before me display. Granted, there is a respected school of thought among practitioners of this art that presentation can overcome such trivialities as feeding a size 14 neon yellow “sulfur” to a trout dutifully inspecting every size 24 dark hued olive mayfly passing his station to determine if there are the proper number of grayish bands apparent on his six legs before opening his mouth. While I count as presentation of the fly paramount, I also count as equally vital the quality of the imitation as to the naturals being fed upon.
So, shall I forego the opportunities provided by the smallest aquatic insects to limit failures? I shall not.
I have always expounded the belief that presentation and imitation go hand in hand, neither taking an overall priority in the catching of wild trout. I will qualify that, as I am a product of the Eastern United States where the vast majority of America’s population resides, and fly fishes if they are so inclined. I was struck very early on in my journey to fall completely in love with difficult trout: large, wild, well-fed, trout gifted with great experience in the meanderings of human beings armed with sticks and a great deal of varied concoctions of fur, feathers, hair, plastics, and assorted sparkly things, all bearing fishhooks. Who I am, who I have become as an angler has formed my thoughts, opinions and beliefs.
So, I embrace this season of transition in my own best operative mode. I will not spend ten minutes failing to thread my tippet through the eye of a hook that I cannot see. I shall look to other flies of the season, all of whom are not miniscule, if not invisible to me. A size 18 winged ant can be threaded onto my chosen tippet, given my abilities, and has a good chance at tempting a fine, old brown trout settled off to the side of those youngsters smacking down 24 olives. His even larger cousin hidden back along the eddy eyeing a slender thread of current off apart from the main flow, might still relish a Grizzly Beetle, or a drowned isonychia dun or spinner, should a fine imitation might happen by.
I do also maintain a good supply of those old, trusty size 20 olives, the ones with the bright, sparkly gray wings that I can track as they drift in and out of the shade at sixty feet. They have become quite a staple.
