Defining fly-fishing and drawing lines.

Defining fly-fishing and drawing lines.



We all draw lines. It is an inevitable part of how we go about forming our identities; our concepts of ourselves and our place in relation to others and our surroundings. This is true of our fly-fishing as it everything else in life. Where we draw these lines often changes with time and maturity. Taste also plays a part, as do aesthetics. What we consider sporting definitely applies.


If we go back in time to the essence of fly-fishing, what do we find?

First off, we may look at the word ‘fly.’ Fly-fishing originated, as far as we can tell, by imitating hatching insects in a body of water. In Macedonia as well as England, and other areas in-between, the sketchy historical records agree on this one point; mayflies, wasps, aquatic moths, caddis or sedges.

Presenting an artificial fly, or even a live fly on a hook in order to fool wary fish took special equipment. Until the 18th century, there were few records of winches or reels. Rods were commonly switches cut from bushes and trees such as yew. Dame Julia made hers a composite. The line had to be delicate in order not to spook the fish. Silk and horsehair were used, as well as other materials. It is doubtful if the flies actually floated. More likely from historical documents, the flies were ‘dappled’ into the water where the fish were rising or eating bugs.


Thus, if we take matters to their absolute essence, fly-fishing is a way of delivering an artificial fly imitating some sort of hatching insect to the fish.


This leaves much of what we call fly-fishing today outside that first boundary-line.


If we stop here, most fishing for bass, steelhead, Atlantic salmon, warm water and saltwater fish is not really fly-fishing.

Interesting, but rather pointless, unless we now add technology to the equation, and the resulting changes in technique that result.


Let’s fast forward to the present.

Today we have flies that look like crank baits, lines that sink to 30 feet, bead-head nymphs, and every other possible advantage to allow us to pursue species in places and ways never before possible. Technology has expanded our horizons, as well as opening up fly-fishing to the masses.


Somewhere in all this freedom and hybridization of fly-fishing, we draw our identity lines or fences. We will or will not cross these lines. Some anglers draw no lines at all, and anything goes. Spinning reel and mono on a flyrod? Bring it on! Fifteen weight shark rods? Lets Go!

Other anglers draw a line in the sand sooner or later, as to what they will or will not do. Much of this is species specific. One may only use dry flies for trout, but see nothing wrong with using foam poppers for bass. Some of us may only use un-weighted nymphs and no indicator, while others have no issue with attaching split-shot, running multiple nymphs deep where allowed, and using a balloon bobber. Some fly-tiers will not use artificial materials outside of tinsel, while others of us consider anything fair game as a material. Some anglers use only gear and pawl reels, while others use only large-arbor disc-drag models. Some casters only use long-belly or DT lines, while others praise the ease of shooting heads and attached mono. Some anglers refer to insects with their Latin names, in effect becoming amateur taxonomists. Others know them as “those little cream bugs.”


Most of us fall somewhere in between, comfortable to just catch a fish.


The drawing of lines and distinctions as to how we pursue game, (for that is really what we are doing, despite catch and release) can also become platforms of refinement.


We fly-anglers often think of ourselves as more refined that the guys in the BASS tourney.

Why?

Perhaps it has to do with the inherent limitations in our tackle. No sonar detectors or depth-finders for us. Limited casting distance. No corporate logos. No motors or noise. No tourney $$.

But what about the persons who limit themselves to casting with a cane rod and a silk line using dry flies only? Do the limitations he constrains himself with make him a better angler per se? Alternatively, is it the skill that it takes in order to consistently catch fish this way that elevates the approach? Good questions.


Let’s take this analysis out of fly-fishing for the moment in order to make it clearer and remove it from our own feelings on the subject.


Deer hunting. Let us imagine a set of hypothetical hunters pursuing deer. The hunters are all skilled, and each kills a deer. Each is a humane hunter, and is skilled enough in technique to make a clean kill.

The first hunter fells his prey with a wooden bow that he made himself, a bow-string that he made from the sinew of a deer he shot, an arrow he hand fashioned, and an arrowhead he made of bone.

The second hunter uses a commercially made wooden longbow, and commercial wooden arrows.

The third hunter uses a fiberglass bow and aluminum arrows.

The fourth hunter uses a compound bow with optical sights and a stabilizer.


Which is the best way? The easiest? The most effective? The most refined? Which method takes the most skill?

Now lets add in the method they got to the woods. One used his own two feet, one a horse, one an ATV, and the last was driven in by the guide he hired.
Where does fishing with glo-bugs or indicator nymphing fit in this hierarchy? Does it matter?

Does the end justify the means, in that fishing is just catching fish, or is there some sort of journey of maturation in technique?


When it comes down to it, this is just a brain exercise to make us think.

I don’t know. I still get crap for not owning a cane rod.

Fishing, thinking, observing, and the sporting tradition.

Fishing, thinking, observing, and the sporting tradition.

In reviewing some of my fly-fishing writing, I find that much of it has been devoted to observation and thinking; analyzing what we do and our approach to this sport we so love.

I believe that thinking is part of what separates fly anglers from the madding crowds. The river consists of intricate puzzles to be solved, and by intent, we restrict ourselves to tackle which places restraint on our numbers. Observing, analyzing and reflection to me are the greatest part of fly-fishing. Experimenting with a new technique such as nymphing with an un-weighted nymph and no indicator can produce all sorts of discoveries (and frustrations). These discoveries and our ability to solve the puzzles create the foundation blocks of a good angler. The more varied the experiences we tack up, the more we have to weigh when sitting by the river and thinking over a puzzle. It gives us precedent.

Imagine a world in which an angler always fishes the same way in the same place and with the same technique. He or she enjoys some success, but has no other experience to measure or weigh it against. He or she would be incapable of solving puzzles on other waters simply because they have limited their experiences and therefore limited their critical thinking as well. I imagine that most of us would find it boring to do the same thing the same way all of the time, but yet so many of us do just that.

Thinking and problem solving allow a greater access to experiences as well. I would argue that the combination of restraint and thinking has always been countered by new technologies. Bead head flies, shooting heads, sinking lines, etc. are all great innovations, but also allow us to catch fish easier. That ease may in time start to decay our thinking skills as we allow the gear to solve the challenges we face.

A perfect example of this is the BASS circuit. Radar, sonar, water clarity readers which indicate which colors to use, crank-baits with LED lights and rattles… in essence everything humanly or technologically possible to give someone an advantage. Or take the center-pin angler with roe. The person really is taken out of the experience. Once one learns to select bobbers and arrange split-shot, there is just lobbing the rig into the river. It is the essence of simplicity and the antithesis of restraint. Little thinking is required at all any longer.

Our sport is supposed to be the opposite of that. Restraint in tackle and technique also means restraint in numbers. Although fly anglers may classify themselves as non-competitive, we increasingly adapt technologies and techniques to allow us to catch fish where we could not have caught them before. Is this wrong? No, not necessarily, but if we really are non-competitive, why show an increasing lack of restraint?

Fish catching is the measure of our success, and that is tied in with our ego whether we admit it or not. It is just a simple fact. When we begin to think of ourselves as ‘good anglers’, we often equate the maturation process with numbers of fish landed.

Putting away the technological advantages may allow us to get back to that essence of angling: the puzzle and how to solve it. We may have to use our brains instead of that new gadget that is being touted by the guy with the big fish on the magazine cover, but in that return to our essence, and the return of observing, thinking, and problem solving, we may become better anglers in the long run.

However, this is the age of instant gratification, and thinking out a problem and solving it on our own may be as much as an anachronism as a double-taper line. The Internet provided the vehicle through which the rivers could be whored out faster and new improvements in tackle brought to the market quicker. Most people who browse the web have about a thirty second attention span, and I think that may equate with the lack of patience that is required to solve a puzzle on the river with just oneself and a rod and a line. Thus, a lack of thinking results.

We all measure things by degrees. I am a dry-fly fisherman only, I use cane only, I nymph, but NEVER use an indicator, etc. There is no correct way nor any right or wrong in the way we approach the little problem of how to make Mr. Fish take or presentation, but when technology takes the place of thinking, it is a slippery slope to walk. Competition should occur with ourselves and the fish, not other anglers.

Thinking, observing, and the resulting learning are also very joyful processes. Yes, you did read that right, learning can be fun!

I have written that the essence of the sporting tradition lies with restraint. Now I would add that the resulting problem-solving and skills that have to be developed in order for us to bag our game make us the sportsmen and women that we are.

I think, therefore I fish.

Enjoy the whole journey. Miss nothing. Think, savor, and learn.