I tied some flies a couple of days ago. I don't tie very much or very often anymore.
I don't fish as much as I used to either. I really think I have most of the flies I need if
I live to be two-hundred plus. But, I tied some anyway. It is salmon season here and
I needed some flies. And I wanted to make sure I had plenty of spares for guests who
will show up this fall. Not fancy ones, mind you, these are not what one would think
of as a 'Le Grande Salmon Dressing.' Nope, just down-an-dirty flies for chum salmon,
in fact here is the link if you want to peek
at the things.
That's not my point though. As I was setting up my tying things, I noticed just how much
fun it was just getting it set up. I have a place to tie, but it is getting a bit cluttered and I
decided the dinning room table would be a better choice. It took a few trips to get all of
the things, I kept forgetting small items. You know, head cement, hackle pliers, clip-on
glasses so I can see up close, stuff like that.
I had some time to tie them and took it. My mind wandered back to some of the other
places and conditions where and when I have tied in the past. Sometimes intent on a live
insect in front of me, other times with one eye on the vice and the other focused on the
page of an open book. Different times, different places, and different things in mind as I
tied. That was what struck me about tying.
I am sure nearly all of you tie to some extent, if not, you probably will someday. Tying your
own flies may not give you the professional results you are after to fish with, but it adds an
element to our sport that is, at least to many of us, very important. It's not for everyone, but
rewarding for those of us who pursue it.
As I fastened the thread on the number two hook and started to wind to the bend I
was thinking of all the people who have done as I was doing, and for so many years,
no, centuries. This stuff goes back hundreds of years. Man has been wrapping stuff on
things and capturing trout with them for a long, long time. Here I was. Just one more little
cog in the wheel of fly-fishing time. Neat.
So once again I find a small diamond in the process of my sport. I am one of the old
guys they will think about a few hundred years from now. I wonder how we will look
to them then. Gosh, I am living history, guess we all are, really. ~ J Castwell