I suck at fishing
Here’s the problem with fly-fishing: Novels like Norman Maclean’s A River Runs Through It and David James Duncan’s The River Why have loaded so much hardscrabble spirituality into the sport that being bad at it feels like a failure of living. This is why countless folks obsess over it, especially many men of a certain age. It’s like golf, but with a point, and much better scenery.
I’m a man of a certain age, and man, do I suck at fly-fishing. It’s no surprise–I’d never tried it, which is a kind of failure in itself. But this past weekend, former colleague Langdon Cook (author of The Mushroom Hunters), current colleague Chris Schluep, and I loaded gear into the back of my car and lit out for the Yakima River in Eastern Washington on a Soul-Quest for Trout.
After pinning all sorts of nippers, forceps, and other inscrutable gadgets to our vests, we took a quick hit of Rainier lager from the can and then we made the river. My low expectations served me well as I fumbled with my fly-rod and mainly concerned myself with not letting the current wash me downstream. Compared to the arcing seraphim casts so eloquently described in Maclean’s classic, my feeble efforts could barely be called fishing, but I conned myself into thinking that standing in the river at the bottom of a gorgeous canyon was point enough in itself.
Then something happened. In between hooking my brand-new waders with my nymphing rig and scudding over the slick rocks of the river bottom like Hunter S. Thompson on casino carpet, I hooked a fish. It was whitefish, not trout, and the pictire at right is the only proof I can offer (I released it because it’s not only karma-positive, but also the law in the section of the Yak where we fished), but that singular moment might have been enough to hook me for good. My casting improved through the afternoon, but I still suck at fly-fishing. And now I’m possessed of a metaphysical need to get better. Not master (I’m not naïve), but improve.
There is much to learn, and I’ve fallen into the occult demimonde of knots, hatches, and flies. Books alone won’t suffice, of course, but among the hundreds to choose from, Ian Whitelaw’s The History of Fly-Fishing in Fifty Flies is a brilliant example of how the mystique of fly-fishing transcends the actual sport of it. Whitelaw presents 50 flies that demonstrate the origins and evolution of fly-fishing, a history spanning centuries. Packed with stories, tips, and beautiful illustrations, Whitelaw’s book is essential for any fisherman–expert, novice, armchair, or otherwise. Enjoy the following excerpts and images.
Excerpted from The History of Fly-Fishing in Fifty Flies by Ian Whitelaw
Fishing has often been referred to as an art as much as a sport, and in the case of fly-fishing the artistry extends beyond the practice to the creation of the flies themselves. Carefully designed and tied, often delicate and intricate, the flies are a large part of what makes fly-fishing so enjoyable, so what better way to examine the history of the sport than through a chronological sequence of fifty flies?
For each fly we list the year in which it was first tied, by whom and where, and include a watercolor illustration that depicts the fly in its original form. Schematic diagrams show what materials are—or were—used to make each part of the fly. Each of the fifty flies is really a starting point, and as the story of each one unfolds, connections with other flies and other flytiers are made, and trends in the practice of fly-fishing appear. The materials used change from basic, locally available fur and feathers to the most exotic and colorful plumage from around the world, then to dyed replacements for endangered feathers and finally to a host of synthetic materials and new breeds of fly. Changes in the technology of fishing both affect and are affected by the evolution of fly design, and interspersed throughout the book there are “State of the Art” sections that summarize the development of rods, reels, lines and hooks in each of the last three centuries. Finally, there is a bibliography of fly-fishing books and a list of useful websites, as well as a mention of some of the many anglers, flytiers and historians who have so generously helped to put this book together.
Sample pages from The History of Fly-Fishing in Fifty Flies (parts of these pages have been resized to better show off the flies):
“In March or April, if the Weather be dark, or a little windy or cloudy, the best Fishing is with the Palmer-Worm, which, with the May-Fly, are the Ground of all Fly-Angling.” (page 19)
“If the invention of the dry fly can be laid at the door of any one man, [James Ogden] is that man.” (page 33)
“As Ogden recounts, ‘After well soaking my cast, and testing it, I put on one of my artificial drakes, which looked very tempting dressed as follows: a straw body, ribbed with red silk well waxed; tail, three strands of hen pheasant tail feather, hackle, a pale buff with brown center, rather short in fiber; wings, upright, taken from the wood or summer duck.'” (pages 34-35)