Do You Actually Fish Or Just Own The Hat?

A random encounter leads to introspection

Photo by Marcus Reubenstein on Unsplash

I was recently stopped in the parking lot of Costco by a total stranger who noticed my prized black Orvis hat embroidered with a silver dry fly. He asked me if I fly fished or simply owned the hat. I thought that was a bizarre question, but I have found myself thinking more deeply about the Importance of fly fishing in my life.

Fortunately, I have a Wyoming trip to fish the North Platte River coming up in a few weeks. I politely answered that I did indeed fly fish and was looking forward to hunting trophy trout in Wyoming. It turned out this stranger was recently retired and was taking up fly fishing. Unexpectedly, my answer seemed to bolster his enthusiasm to more deeply embrace the sport.

That random encounter was two days ago. Since then, I have been thinking about my personal fly fishing journey. Like this stranger, I came to the sport at the start of my retirement. My former Board Chair (PJ) invited me to join him for a day of trout fishing at the Sunnybrook Trout Club where he was a member.

The Club is located near Sandusky, Ohio. It has a two-mile stretch of the Cold Creek, a beautiful meandering stream fed by a cavernous underground spring called the Blue Hole. The stream was first stocked with trout in 1873 and supports both rainbow and browns. PJ taught me the basics of casting and how to set a hook.

I enjoyed every opportunity I had to fish Sunnybrook with PJ. I would drive up from Cincinnati at dawn to start fishing on my own. PJ would get there after taking care of some morning business and meet me for lunch in the Lodge. At lunch we’d report on how many fish we caught that morning. Despite his later start, PJ always outfished me by a significant margin. It wasn't until the third year of fishing with him that PJ shared his secret. As a member, he knew where and when the trout were stocked. Every time he fished with me, PJ would go to that spot and pitch a yellow egg pattern that was the exact color of the food the stocked trout were fed at the hatchery. This was the ultimate “match the hatch” trick and made for a good laugh. I miss those days with PJ.

PJ introduced me to the sport, but it was my former work colleague and now one of my best friends Bob that got me “hooked.” Bob took me under his wing and sponsored my nomination to be a member of the Queen City Anglers Guild, a local club of men who are passionate about fishing. I have shared some “Bob insights” in several earlier stories. He loves the sport so much Bob works at our local Orvis store so he can share his passion with others.

Bob and I have logged many hours together slapping the water. We have fished together on some amazing western rivers, local Ohio waters, and even in the Everglades. His knowledge and passion for the sport is unmatched by anyone I know. Plus, he is a fun guy to fish with. I am envious of his roll cast. It is silky smooth.

Bob is responsible for getting me started on the art of fly tying. It is an aspect of the sport I am trying to master, but finding a challenge. I readily admit I tie some of the ugliest flies in the world. But, they do catch fish.

One of the things I appreciate about Bob is his ability to lie about my cast with a straight face. He is the consummate cheerleader even though I know my cast needs work. I have yet to find the patience needed to get the right rhythm between my back (always rushed) and forward cast. I believe for me truly mastering this skill will be a lifetime challenge. And, it is one I look forward to.

As much as I love fishing with Bob, my greatest joy comes from fishing with my wife. It is something I know she does for no other reason than to indulge my passion. Surprisingly, she is pretty good at fly fishing. It has become an annual event to fish for Peacock bass in the Everglades. I look forward to it every year. This past year she brought to hand a male peacock who put up a rather tough fight. Our next adventure is fishing for salmon on the Salmon River in New York. I can’t wait.

I hope I run into that stranger again so I can ask him how his personal journey with fishing is going. It would be nice to encourage him to keep at it. It was wonderful to be inspired to look back at my relationship with the sport. A little nostalgia can warm the heart. But, I don’t want to forget to also look forward. At the age of 70, I know my time on the water has an end date. If I can stay healthy, there will be many more adventures and memories to be had before my last cast. The trick will be to live in the moment and enjoy every tug on my line.

I’d love to hear how you got into the sport. Please leave a comment and share your story.