by Jason » January 22nd, 2013, 2:30 pm
I gave a brief introduction / trip report in the “Other California Waters” Area, but thought I’d post my fly fishing biography too. I recognize some names from High Sierra Topix, where I post on occasion, and I’m looking forward to participating.
I've spent most of my life in Lodi Ca, so I guess that makes me “NorCal”. I grew up fishing the Delta for stripers with my dad, most often from a boat. We'd also make an occasional trip into SF Bay for Leopard Sharks. We'd also go Trout fishing once in a while in the foothill reservoirs, usually fishing with worms or Powerbait.
It's funny how one thing leads to another, which leads to another; seven degrees of separation if you like, and now I can look back and see how all the pieces fell into place for me to become a fly fisherman.
Back in 1992 a friend of mine convinced me to go on my first backing trip to climb something called ‘Half Dome’, and this was also to be my first trip to Yosemite. Although I had been car camping as a kid, I think this trip is what really got me interested in exploring and hiking. A few years later, when my wife and I started dating we began hiking and exploring and eventually doing some short backpacking trips. I usually brought my spinning rod.
I knew fly fishing existed, but I was never really interested until a backpacking trip my wife and I took up to a reservoir in the Sierra. It was October and in the morning there were fish rising all over the place, but every time I threw my Kastmaster into the reservoir the rings would disappear, and reappear a minute or two later some distance away. I would walk over, cast, spook them all and repeat the cycle. Bummer. Maybe this is where that fly fishing thing would have an advantage? I was intrigued, but didn't pursue it.
Next was a trip to 20 Lakes Basin. It was really windy and I wasn't getting any action in the lake where we were camped, but I could see some small fish in the feeder stream which was only about 8" deep. No Kastmaster here. In my box I had a few small flies someone had given me. I had no idea what they were or how you would fish them with a fly rod, but I tied one on to my spinning rod, held the rod in the air, and the wind would hold about 15ft line and the fly out to the side like a kite. I lowered it down and set the fly on the water in the feeder stream and 'splish!', a take and fish on! I thought to myself 'how cool was that?'. I caught a few more and really considered looking into fly fishing, but once again didn't pursue it.
Finally, my brother in law invited me to go a meeting of the Delta Fly Fishers to see what we could learn. We got some casting lessons and information and eventually bought an Albright Rod / Reel combo. And then waders. And boots. And a vest. And flies, fly boxes, a gear bag, forceps, leaders, tippet (My God!) another rod, another reel, etc, etc.
But before spending all that money, I took my first setup on a backpacking trip for my inaugural attempt at fly fishing. After the hike in and setting up camp, I grabbed my rod and went to the lake; which was surrounded by trees. Now what? I had no room to cast and setting foot in the water seems to be the absolute opposite of stealth. But with no other option, I stripped down to my t-shirt and underwear and waded into the lake (my clothes were sweaty anyways). So there I stood: cold, alternately stubbing my toes, scraping my feet and stepping on sharp sticks. But there was enough room to back cast, and so I did. I whipped the line forward, backward, forward, and...... wrapped it around the rod tip. Over and over. When I did get a decent cast, I'd look out at the fly and think "Now what? It's just sitting there on the top, floating. Do I just wait? Did I scare off the fish? This is boring. Should I retrieve? How long should the strips be? I wish I had my spinning rod." I kept at it for a while, but eventually gave up in a midst of whirling arms, cursing, and my fly rod sailing towards shore in a graceful arc. No fish, no understanding, and lots of frustration.
Still, I kept at it and finally about a year later, at the club's Bridgeport outing, I felt like I was begining to get it. To be fair, it was a steep learning curve and I didn't work that hard at it, but once the parts began to fall into place I really began to enjoy it, much more so that I had with my spinning rod.
And so began my descent into madness and poverty. I feel like fly fishing fits nicely with my love of hiking and the mountains and rather than being another hobby, it's more like an addition to what I already enjoy doing in the mountains. My current preference is to fish in the Sierra Nevada, in relative solitude, catching wild fish. The size of the fish isn't really important right now, which is a good thing I suppose or I'd probably be disappointed.
At any rate, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.