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In January of 2003 I invested a little time
and effort in inflicting another human being
with an obsession my friends and family have
tolerated for quite some time (see Readers
Cast's January 27, 2003). Little did I
realize at the time just how contagious fly
fishing was? I can only assume that my Brother-in-Law,
Doug Gran, saw in my demeanor a euphoric resonance
without which his life would not be complete.
It was but a matter of a few months, until Doug
started dropping innuendos about needing something
to occupy his free time, an escape from the routine
he was settling into. Finally retired from the Postal
Service, he was working diligently as an associate
Pastor for a growing parish in West Seattle, Washington.
The inevitable questions arose. What would be a
good entry level fly rod? Where are some good
places to fish in his area? How could he learn
to cast? It took very little encouragement on
my part to entice him into ordering an economical
set up. A visit to the coast in the spring, and
an afternoon in his back yard practicing casting
under my less than knowing eye while our wives
visited on the deck, was enough motivation to
encourage him to put Doug and Kate Gran on the
"I'm going list" for the 2003 FAOL Idaho Fish In.
It's often said that "Misery loves company" and
I find that when it comes to the exquisite misery
found in fly fishing it remains the truth. I was
excited to be able to introduce a friend of 30
years, to an avocation that can totally consume
my every waking moment. The next 6 months were
an exercise in patience as I awaited our trek to
the junction of the Selway and the Lochsa where
we would venture forth in a crusade to entice
willing westslope cutts to sacrifice their freedom
momentarily, so that we could feed our deep seated
need. The need to occupy the Hunter Gatherer niche,
to fill the Alpha Male role, the need to justify
expenditures on doo-dads that only fill up our vest
and empty our wallets.
And so we had arrived at 3 Rivers Resort well rested
and excited after a leisurely cruise in Doug's Winnie
Sightseer. Meeting new friends and renewing old
acquaintances, I introduced Doug to the fraternity
that is FAOL.
First fish on a fly on the Lochsa
The next 5 days were spent helping Doug
accumulate some of the knowledge needed to
facilitate reasonable competence on the
water. His casting improved over the course
of the fish in, fish were hooked and brought
to hand to be admired and released. I felt
that this was a precursor to times ahead,
when he and I would be sharing more time
on the water.
We left Idaho a day early for a couple of
reasons. To spend the night at our house
would enable Doug to halve the drive home,
and would provide ample time the next morning
to visit Rocky Ford Creek, where the seed had
been planted.
Without the overbearing self appointed
instructor looking over his shoulder, Doug
staked out a nice pool with rising fish and
preceded to put his practice to good use,
making a fine cast and good presentation to
a cooperative rainbow. Doug was morphing,
and it was all good. I could see the thrill
in his eyes and feel the satisfaction in his
voice that comes from doing all the right things
to gain the desired results. He was hooked.
Doug's first Rocky Ford rainbow
That was 6 months prior. It hasn't taken Doug
long to discover the downside to fly fishing.
He called me in February and it was obvious he
was suffering a severe case of cabin fever. I
invited him over for the cure and it was a matter
of a week and we were meeting in the parking lot
at the creek. Having left Seattle at 5:30, he was
itching to get out on the water and rekindle the
spark.
It was a mite colder than his last time here,
and there was nowhere near the same amount of
bugs coming off. The water level was way down,
however he didn't have the aquatic vegetation
to contend with. As always, we had a good day
on the water. I caught a few fish but Doug was
having trouble getting a hook up. He was doing
everything right, but as we all know, some days
it just doesn't happen.
Being aware of the time, unlike myself, Doug
informed me that he should be hitting the highway
so that he could get home at a reasonable hour.
As we walked back to the parking lot, I was forced
to stop and make a couple more casts to some water
I had yet to fish that day. It was the wisest
decision I made all day. I didn't catch anything,
but it did allow Doug to make a few more casts
himself, and he made the most of them. In a pool
holding maybe 15 fish, he hooked the largest of
the lot on a #20 dry, joining the 20/20 club on
his third time out. Needless to say he had a smile
on his face when last I saw him as he was leaving
the parking lot.
Doug enrolls in the 20/20 club
I guess I take as much pleasure in catching
fishermen as I do in catching fish. I believe
there are thousands of unsuspecting people out
there who have not yet had the gentle prod in
the right direction required to convince them
that they, also, are fly fishers.
I find that the more time I spend on the water
with a person, the better I get to know them.
My circle of friends is growing all the time. ~Linemender AKA Cary Morlan
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