THE PIONEER SPIRIT
I have recently been reading a number of historical fly-fishing treatises covering not only the origins of fly-fishing on the continent but also the early history of fly-fishing in the America’s. The one thing that has impressed me is the resourcefulness and pioneering spirit of those early fly anglers. It has caused me to wonder where that spirit has gone in our modern day.
I remember when I started fly-fishing in the early 60’s it was pretty much a do-it-yourself project. My first fly tying kit was sold by H.J. Noll and had a book entitled Noll Guide to Trout Flies and How to Tie Them by Ray Camp. Later I acquired Helen Shaw’s book on Fly Tying, but I learned most of the basic fly-tying techniques by trial and error. [Lots of error in those early trials]
The early books on fly patterns, what few there were, were merely lists of materials. Books like Bergman’s Trout, and Schwiebert’s Matching the Hatch had extensive lists of flies but each one was merely a list of materials. Bergman included a section on fly tying with some black and white photos showing some of the steps used to construct a fly. You had to have a vivid imagination to get much out of those photographs. Bergman’s list of flies only told you what materials to use without telling you what size hook to use. You were on your own when it came to size or proportions.
Learning to tie flies was but one of the skills that most anglers learned by trial and error. Most of the information about fly lines, leaders and rods was outdated. Lines were described by a series of letters [HCH, GBF, etc.] that was as useful to most anglers as the old English dialect of Walton’s The Compleat Angler.
If you did not have a relative or a family friend that fished with a fly rod there were very few ways that you could learn to cast except by trial and error. Fly rods were either made of bamboo [expensive], steel, [yes steel and telescoping] or the new modern wonder material – fiberglass. Most of those early fiberglass fly rods were more suited to poking bats out of chimneys than as serious fly casting tools.
Leaders were a world unto themselves. Nylon, another wonder material derived from the World War II, became the ‘modern’ leader material. Much of what was available had the flexibility of 10 gauge wire, and the breaking strength of a wet noodle. The diameter of the material on any given spool was always suspect. One manufacturers 5x material was another manufacturers 4x. If you put a micrometer on even the best material it varied widely from one spool to another. Breaking strength was generally greatly exaggerated.
How did we do it? How did we learn to tie flies without step by step photographs? How did we learn to cast with rods that were better suited to for pole vaulting than fly casting, and without fly casting classes or videos? There were so many obstacles that it’s a wonder that anyone ever figured out how to catch fish on a fly, but we did!
We bought a rod, put a fly reel and line on it and we discovered how to get the thing to work. Our casting may not have been a thing of beauty but we managed, somehow, to get the fly where it needed to go and we caught fish.
We spent time observing, we learned what the fish ate, we tied things that looked like the bugs we saw the fish eating, and we caught fish on the things we created.
In time the rods we had to fish with improved, and we even sprung for fly rods made from bamboo. Fly lines improved and we no longer had to rely on trying to match the fly line to the rod by using a series of letters that no one truly understood. More books became available and we read them and became more informed. Sometimes we even confirmed that what we had been doing was right!
Today we have instant everything; from how-to- information to up to the minute fishing reports. We have fly-fishing schools, fly casting clinics, and classes on fly tying from beginners to advanced and beyond. Not that this is all bad but it causes me to wonder; where is the sense of discovery?
Anglers from the old school may have learned it the hard way but there is a certain richness and sense of ownership when you do something yourself. In those early years when I was learning to become a fly fisher the fun of discovery, of using a fly rod just because it was fun, of tying ridiculous fly patterns, and having fun doing it are some of my fondest memories. We arrived at the stream when it was bank full from run-off, too late or too early to find the hatch that we had hoped to fish, we fished with patterns that failed miserably or succeed beyond our wildest dreams, we rejoiced when we succeed, and we resolved to solve the problem when we failed. In the process we learned. With each personal success or failure we became better and we had a better understanding of why. I wouldn’t trade experiences for anything that we have today.