I think I was born on water. I'm struggling to recall the first time I "officially" went fishing, with a line of my own. Lost to antiquity and fickle memory.
I vividly remember the first fish on a fly. It was one of those cold blooded fish. A rainbow trout. On a mountain reservoir about half way up Pike's Peak.
My good friend, who is a casual fly fisher, and his wife invited us to join them on vacation in Colorado Springs. He mentioned he had his gear along, and asked if I wanted to go trout fishing.
I said sure, then went to a fly shop and just about changed my mind. With my limited knowledge, I could not see spending that sort of money on a rig to use one or two days a year.
So I went to a discount store and bought a "starter" kit. $29 if I recall correctly. Stiff, physically heavy rod, clunky reel, level 6wt line.
My friend didn't laugh at me. He showed me how to get a little line out, explained what a leader was, then walked away. I struggled quite a bit that day, including breaking a couple hooks on the rocks. But eventually I got a blackish fly to land on the water about 30 feet out.
I'm just standing there, watching the tiny fly bobbing with the waves when this fish comes up from beneath, takes the fly, and disappears toward the depths. He bent the rod nicely, and he *was* a beautiful fish. I released him to swim another day.
I can't explain how, but all of you will understand. That fish and those few moments seared themselves into the very core of my being.
When I got home, I did an internet search for "bluegill fly fishing". I found articles by Hillfisher at FAOL. The rest, as they say, is history. And it has been totally rewarding on multiple levels.
Jim
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