I was so jealous when I heard her voice call back to her parents not far away on the bank. I was calf deep in December cold water waters at Table Rock Lake, Missouri and I was jealous of 12 year old little girl. “I caught my first fish on my own fly!” she sang out.
There was no call to be disgruntled-jealous; no this was more of a shameful kind of jealous. I had been avoiding fly tying using overhead cost and ignorance on the subject as an excuse to keep frustration and failure at bay. But inside I was dying to learn how. Adding insult to injury was the reminder that I was fishing on a borrowed fly- kindness from a stranger who saw I needed help. It was time to tighten up my boot straps and learn how.
Fast forward past Christmas and back to Texas and I had a vise! Not to mention no clue with what I was doing. With some helpful instruction at Bass Pro Shops I had what I needed to begin. Quickly I set the task to hand. After a few misfires I was able to get near enough to a Crawfish I had seen at the shop. I was proud of it- almost too proud.
When I got to the lake I didn’t want to fish it. I had made only one (stupid grunt) and didn’t want to lose it. Separating emotion from rationale I decided at some point I was going to lose it anyways. Might as well fish it right? Five minutes later it was 15 feet in the air 50 feet behind me stuck in a tree. Since the tree was too skinny to support me to climb it- and way too stout to bend, I literally had to fish it out with my spare rod. Ask in the comment section if you must know how.
After two near misses in another cedar tree I decide the terrain was not to my advantage. I had to relocate. When I moved to the other end of the lake, that’s when all the magic happened. There are bigger fish I know but the first bass made my heart race. In the moment he came to hand, I, he, and the fly were all larger than life.
You can imagine then my surprise and elation after what happened next. I decided to leave my net grounded well outside arm’s reach by the picnic table (stupid, stupid grunt). I had just released my prize bass and set to cast again. Instantly like we playing pitch and catch a Catfish took hold. Shooting straight for me I couldn’t reel him in fast enough. Not risking rising him out of the water to grab (and stab myself), I opted for the rookie-rear-march tactic to drag him a meter up the bank for a pic. After a poorly executed photo-op ambush he was off and away and probably as relieved as me. The moment was so fleeting but the pride will last forever.
I caught my first fish… on my own fly. And fly tying is my new vise.
I’ll see you on the high ground, AirborneAngler.