the moment…the take

the trout sees the fly, just submerged below the surface. The trout sips in the fly and a small boil appears on the water’s surface…the leader, tethered to the fly, jolts sending vibrations outward. All this is barely perceptible in ‘the moment’.

Sustaining Recollections…….

will have to do. Sun, warmth, a cycle of life that was easy to get into sync with. I have the images to remind me of that optimal harmony. They remind me of the cycle of life and energy, the temperature and how I felt gazing upon all the details, in ‘the moment’.

“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality.” Shirley Jackson

Caught, photographed and quickly released.

The escape, into this harmony with nature’s variables, at least momentarily heals the fractures, tears and bruises of today’s culture. Yes, I will find refuge in the memories, as fleeting as they were. A long Winter awaits.

The Wait, The Pulse, The Moment: ‘Happy As Larry’

I was researching a gardening site on planting Clematis, when the woman remarked the plant would be as ‘Happy as Larry’ in its new spot….huh? Never heard that one before. A little research and ‘Happy as Larry.’ All that aside, I am often given over to being as Happy as Larry with early Summer fly fishing outings. The anticipation and planning during the Winter/Spring. Getting gear ready. All the fly tying and rearranging the flies in boxes. Tweaking the gear, clothing, studying maps, loading it all up and venturing forth. The arrival, the immediate intimacy of the lake or river; even better the fewer the people around you.

I enjoy the giddy feeling and then settle into the wait, the presentation of the fly, the edgy focus. Then in varying ways the Trout takes and from little fish to chunksters they impart the moment. Fought, admired, respected, released back to the icy depths, then I try to repeat the process and with any luck the outdoor, intimate, mind sex repeats itself.  Happy as Larry indeed!

Red Sky Morning Departure

~

~

~

~

~

SwittersB: 5 Years of Fun

I awoke this morning to a missive from WP acknowledging SwittersB started 5 years ago today. 3133 posts later, I have to say it has been a rewarding and intriguing journey. Most enjoyable for me has been sharing my occasional photographic effort, my wife’s photos of the beautiful fish I am fortunate to catch and the gems of creativity that other bloggers create. This is an after hours effort that competes for time with family, work, obligations and hobbies. Some how it continues, sometimes at a fast pace, sometimes limping along, but still there is something in the tank now and then. It has enriched my life and I hope in some small measure, now and then, it pleases the reader.

In ‘The Moment’

Your Special Good Karma Spot?

Do you have that special spot, or two, that is magical? A spot where positive karma abounds because of past encounters? This is a spot that borders on a love affair…just you and a fish or two. A spot that yields epic memories and the one you think of when Winter has cut you off from the spot….that special spot the gives you ‘the moment’. Most of you have one that you think of.

For want of a better name, I have always called this spot the Back Channel and the end of that channel, the Damsel Bay. This is one of my ‘spots’. Epic encounters have happened here and almost every time the Trout has won the encounter. Callibaetis hatches like I have never seen before have been visible here against the sunlight filtered through the trees. Dragons and Damsels are prolific. And, a Damsel dry fly has always….always…resulted in a sound thrashing of the fly. Reeds, weeds, brush piles, jagged rocks, lily pads and sub surface trees snags conspire against the tippet as the Trout dives for a safe refuge. That presentation, the cast and wait, with the slightest draw and twitch, results in memories that will sustain me through Winter. I do need to ties up Damsel dries this Winter too.

This beautiful Rainbow Trout came to a Damsel. It was not ‘huge’ but it was a worthy fish in the hazard prone back bay. It gave me a memory to recall. The other two kicked my skinny ass and kept my flies. I will remember them as well!

Fly Fishing: Instincts, Time on the Water

As a beginning fly fisher, you will spend a majority of your time reading all manner of material to learn how to fish. There will be many levels of sophistication to this and you will soon learn that the sport is broken down into enormous levels of detail that can seem overwhelming as you look for clarity, certainty, simplicity.

The proper gear set up, the cast, the presentation and fly pattern selection will occupy your time for years to come. Beyond that, entomology, gear hoarding, habitat, where to fish, the fly fish culture or fly tying may enhance or burden your ability to stay focused on the basics of how to read water, present the selected fly in a likely spot that would hold a fish. 

As time progresses, you will develop certain instincts based upon your studies and success/failures on the water. The accumulation of input, while fishing, is the most beneficial. The process of fishing will become more fluid as your intuition or gut instincts steer you toward successful outcomes. This is the most enjoyable aspect of fishing….intuitively stalking and connecting with ‘the moment’. 

The reality is, the more you fish, the better you will perfect not just your motor skills, but also your instincts. Presentation….presentation….presentation (casting, location, presenting the pattern to look real).

A Woman & Fly Fishing (Seeking a Sanctuary While Waving The Magic Wand)

Tree of Life (Bryant Art)

Your article about women and fly fishing led me to tell you my fly fishing story.  Fly fishing was never an interest to me until this year.  Sure, I have some amazing memories of fishing with my father when I was a child on the McKenzie River at Doris Landing, with our Spinning Rods and Salmon eggs and a packed lunch. I would see the men floating down the river in big boats, laughing, yelling, smoking cigars, waving their rods in and out of the water as I sat on the big rock waiting for a bite.  Always wondering in my mind, what kind of fish are they trying to catch?

Until about seven months ago, when I met a wonderful young man, who began telling me about the sport of fly fishing. At first I only listened because I was very interested in him, but as he began describing stories of his past trips, childhood memories and the enthusiasm he had even for tying the flies, my ears perked up.  It was as if I couldn’t get enough information fast enough.  I wanted to learn. I wanted that excitement, that happiness.  I wanted my eyes to sparkle as his were, just telling me his stories.

See this last year and a half I have been severely depressed, honestly not knowing how I would get out of my funk. A long marriage that went bust, and some other major issues had put me in a hole.

Listening to the stories and the beauty of the sport via pictures, books and blogs, I decided to take a fly fishing class at our local fly shop.  The first class I took was in August and it had to be 100 degrees out, and we all sat inside with no A/C, talking about the terminology of fly fishing.  Now, I will admit the gentleman that taught the class was very easy on the eyes and the way he cast the line made him and the sport ever more attractive. So after six classes out on the ponds and next to the shop, I decided to rent a rod from the shop and hit the river.  I had no idea even where to go, so I decided to head up Hwy. 58.  I packed my rented rod, some newly purchased flies, my puppy and some drinks.

I found a likely spot, parked and started walking a ways.  I strung the rod and started wading into the river.  It was refreshing, as it was a very hot day.  I was amazed just being surrounded with the beauty of the mountains, the water, the trees, the birds, the soft breeze and a few white clouds drifting by. I felt so happy to be out there even though I lost mucho flies in the bushes and in the river.  I definitely needed to practice tying my fly on the tippet.  I was at peace for the first time in a very long time- I could have stayed out there all day and night, but obligations of children brought me home. But the desire to go again and again was born.

The most memorable day, thus far, I have had fly fishing, was when I went fly fishing with the young man who introduced the sport to me.  We left early in the day and headed toward the mountains.  I took him to the place the fly shop and another friend had recommended to me.  I caught three fish nymphing with a strike indicator. He tutored me on when to strike as he watched the strike indicator bobbing along the current seam. Well, let’s say it was a joint effort. I had a blast. Not only to be out on the beautiful water, learning, but to be in such good company-such a good friend.   I feel very lucky and blessed that we crossed paths-not only because of a friendship that grew, but also being introduced to something I had no clue about and probably would never have discovered without him.I have since continued to reasearch and fish although not as much as I would like to since Winter has come.  I have had amazing friends give me lots of fishing gear and support this last year. I have my own gear now including my very own rod and reel. I have joined two local fly fishing groups and am still looking for a buddy to fish with.

I probably wont ever get to go fishing with my fine attractive friend as he has moved away and I don’t have a picture, which is too bad for the ladies, but his face, body and energy will always be engraved in my mind and heart. I don’t have any pictures of myself (not a HOT young nymph)  holding any big trout or salmon but I sure am hooked!

So keep looking ladies our fishing angel is our there in one form or another-handsome or not.

~FFG~

—————————————-

(Reading the narrative leaves little doubt (if I may generalize…well, of course I can…its my blog)…that women often bring a different perspective to the sport or any endeavor for that matter. It is more than the recent fishing ad re ‘women speak 21,000 words a day and men 7,000 words a day. No, women will stop to look at the butterfly. I for one hope FFG continues with her new found passion in FFing. One universal truth: Women and Men crave The Moment)