Fishing, Lies, and Penance

by Bob Randall

(Editor's Note:  I hadn't heard from Ranger Bob for awhile and was starting to grow concerned, when I received an email from him earlier this week letting me know things were fine - he had just been away fishing. Bob went on to describe his fishing weekend with friends in his typical humorous fashion.  I asked if I could share the email here for others to enjoy, and Bob agreed.  For those of us who can't visit one of Missouri's beautiful state parks this fall, we can live vicariously through Ranger Bob!  Thanks for sharing, old friend. - Pa Rock)

On the Montauk State Park fishing trip of December 5,6, and 7, four of us had a great time.  On Saturday morning I returned to the location I had successfully fished the previous afternoon below the rearing raceways.   If you're familiar with the area, it is downstream of the old historic mill.  Fishing a soft hackle fly in the stream between the river and the rearing area outflow, I used the same method of swinging a soft hackle which might have mimicked any of the common aquatic insects in their emerging stages.  I have listened to a professional fly fishing class which cost me nearly $150 (what the heck, it's my birthday present to myself), about swinging nymphs.   He swore that most fish are caught within 15 seconds of the swing, and when your fly reaches the end of the swing (I call it the dangle) it's time to recast to a quartering downstream position.  I never caught any fish on the swing.  I caught all of those on Friday afternoon on the "dangle."  Sometimes I had to let it sit at the end of the swing for a minute or so and then all of a sudden: bam!  A strike.  The nice thing about a "dangle" strike is that you let the fish set the hook itself.   You can lollygag, watch birds, other fishermen, water conditions, or even daydream and let the fish set the hook for you.

Back to Saturday morning.  Using the "dangle" technique, I caught a fish right off.  Another cast, recast, and then I caught a lunker that put up such a fight that it broke my fly rod! .........................

As I wrote that previous sentence, I could hear my dad's voice from when I was about ten years old., telling me not to lie.  I recall that he looked at me sternly and said, "Don't lie.  I don't like liars."  So in obedience to Dad, I admit that I did not catch a lunker that broke my rod.  I caught a tree.

Any seasoned fly fisher will tell you that when you get hung up, you should pull the line with your hand, not by trying to rip it away with your fly rod.  I knew better.  I gave a swift and strong sideways jerk with my rod, trying to get the fly free.  My rod snapped.   At nearly a $300 value, my pride and joy of fly fishing was destroyed;

Oh, the feeling of shame!  I experienced anguish, disgust, embarrassment, mortification, and self-blame.  It morphed into rage.  I said some very bad words.  I finally got my line free, but not so much the fly.   The fly still ornaments the tree limb in a gloating display of taunting evil.  I hate that fly!  I hate that tree even more!

What's a guy to do?  I had not brought a spare rod because I was trying to save space.  I could maybe rent a rod from the park store.  Wait.  My fishing buddy is a hard core angler and he knows not to leave home without a spare rod.  He is so good he even had a spare spare.   Two spare rods!  I eventually got back to fishing and caught seven more that afternoon.  I missed at least three hours of life's precious moments of fly fishing.

As penance for my indiscretions, I offer the following advice to any reader who is fool enough to care:

1. Never try to rip a fly loose from a snag with your rod.  Grab the line with your hand and pull straight back until it becomes free or the weakest part of the leader breaks.
2. Never go fishing without a spare outfit.
3. If you don't have a spare outfit, find a fishing buddy who always brings a spare.
4. Telling a lie about the size of a fish you actually caught or got away is different from telling a lie about how you broke your fly rod.  A really good fish story transcends honesty.  (Failing to admit that you fell in the river is a lie of omission.   That's another story.)
5. If it crosses your mind that I should stop fishing, bite your tongue, and don't speak to me again.
6. Life is better when you fish.
7. Finally, I offer you a mathematical formula for successful fly fishing:  fewer trees = more fish.
8. Finally, part II:  Keep your lines tight, mend your line when necessary, adjust the line for a proper drift, read the water before you cast, don't walk behind a fly angler when he or she is casting, catch and release requires you to return a live, healthy fish to the water.  KEEP THEIR GILLS WET!
9. Finally, part III:  It is better to fish before you die than to die before you fish.
10. Finally, final:  I step down from my soapbox a wiser, more equanimous man.