A novice is lured into fly-fishing

Nathan Rodriguez, nrodriguez@vailtrail.com
July 16, 2008

"Ah, looks like we caught a stick fish!”

Wading in Gore Creek and practicing catch and release with a hooked branch, it’s a typical morning for fly-fishing guide John Hansen of the Vail Nature Center.

Today, he’s giving lessons to a family of three from New Jersey: husband and wife, Jim and Sue, and Sue’s aunt, Jean.

It’s their second day, explains Jean. “We’ve paid $350 in the past, and learned less” in other fly-fishing courses. She says the first day focused on the basics of casting, and learning about the ecosystem.

After Hansen frees the errant line, he cheerfully admits, “Maybe we’re not quite ready for this,” later explaining that the creek was flooded, and “there’s usually more bank to work with.”

“Still, it’s important that people learn to throw casts in rivers and learn where the fishable spots are,” says Hansen. “That’s why we talked about hydrodynamics yesterday and learned where the oxygen-rich parts of the water are.”

After a few more snagged lines, Hansen leads the group to the calmer waters of the Island Pond on the Vail Golf Course.

Leaping brookies
The fish were leaping from the Gold Medal waters of the pond. Hansen decides to switch to “wooly buggers,” advising that the goal is to “present them so it looks like a leech swimming through the water.”

Our group put the “10 o’clock and 2 o’clock” casting method to good use, and aimed for the pockets along the bank where the brook trout were dancing in the air, seemingly toying with our non-threatening casting abilities.

For the most part, we had the more standard beginner’s luck, which included a number of snags, knots in the line, and another stick fish or two. Aside from a moderate breeze, the weather was idyllic, as the occasional swallow swooped along the surface of the pond to reap the bounty from the caddis hatch.

Taking an idle moment to offer instruction, Hansen pulls a caddis larvae from the pond, apologized to it, explaining, “this is for science,” and showed the brown exterior was actually a cocoon, and, when removed, exposes the caddis, which bears a striking resemblance to a grub worm.

Taking the bait
To my right, Jim has a bite. Hansen helps him reel in the foot-long “brookie,” admires the catch, snaps a photo, and offers additional detail about the physical characteristics of the fish before releasing it to the pond.

Meanwhile, I’m “Mr. It’s-My-First-Time,” and gradually get the hang of casting after 20 or 30 minutes. The slight breeze wreaks havoc with my already suspect accuracy, but the leaping brookies maintain my full interest. Hansen offers me his polarized sunglasses for a better view, and the difference in visibility is absurd.

While rocking the polarized lenses, I can now see the fish flirting with my fly from a few feet. Finally, one takes pity and nibbles.

Naturally, I react with the restraint of a love-starved Pepe Le Pew. The unhooked brookie swims off, and Hansen drops over to explain. “What happened is the fly has a pretty decent-sized hook on it, and his mouth probably wasn’t that big,” he says. “Next time, you’ll want to tip your pole up so he gets hooked in.”

The end is near
“Alright, we’ve got about 20 minutes left, so we can go check out this little island here if you want,” says Hansen, and the group ambles over to a shady inlet.

Jean and Sue relax in the shade, sipping on beverages Hansen brought for the group, as Jim and I occupy different banks, hoping for that golden cast.

After a few minutes, Jim hooks another brookie, this one about seven inches long. I try to balance the “force and finesse” of casting, but find my luck deteriorating as the day unfolds.

Suddenly, I hook a monster. I can barely move the rod. This thing’s gotta be at least 15 feet!

Hansen comes over to lend an experienced hand. “Here’s another little trick of the trade,” he says. “Reel the line in all the way to the fly, and that should take care of it.”

He then yanks the fly from the pine tree behind me, my only catch of the day.

Hooked
As someone who had fished but not fly-fished, I would compare the two as the difference between driving a stick shift versus an automatic. The more interactive nature of fly-fishing made the four hours race by, and struck a nice balance between getting some quality time in at water’s edge and still wishing for another hour.

The scorecard at the end of our expedition may have read “Stick Fish 3, Real Fish 2,” but the experience was memorable. As Jean put it when we parted ways, “It would have been nice to have caught a couple more fish, but that’s why they call it fishing and not catching!”


Nathan Rodriguez may be reached for comment at nrodriguez@vailtrail.com
For more information on fly-fishing courses offered by the Vail Nature Center, call 970.479.2291 or visit http://www.vailrec.com.