Welcome to Just Old Flies

Welcome to 'just old flies,' a section of methods and flies that used-to-be. These flies were tied with the only materials available. Long before the advent of 'modern' tying materials, they were created and improved upon at a far slower pace than todays modern counterparts; limited by materials available and the tiers imagination.

Once long gone, there existed a 'fraternity' of anglers who felt an obligation to use only the 'standard' patterns of the day. We hope to bring a bit of nostalgia to these pages and to you. And sometimes what you find here will not always be about fishing. Perhaps you will enjoy them. Perhaps you will fish the flies. Perhaps . .

Part Sixty-two

Fish and Flies

By Old Rupe

It's another day off and I'm tying some more of the flies that I like and use. I have just completed five dozen and am working to finish the other 200 or so. Sure, I won't use or give them all away, but in the winter what else can I do. Each fly I tie causes me to think ahead to the future when it may help me catch a trout or two. When I tie a fly I really visualize the fish I'll catch with it in the spring. I sort of exist in a day dream where I catch a trout on the fly that I'm tying. It sure makes it easier to tie a fly under those conditions. That's why I'll never be a commercial tier. Those flies are never incidental. Each one is important. Whether it ever actually fishes or not is not the thing. I have already fished it in my mind. Sometimes I think those fish are more important than the ones that actually find their way into my net.

I can spend hours just thinking about and planning for a series of flies. I get out my pattern books and look at the variations and start laying out the materials. I'm rather lazy and once I get into a pattern I'll tie it for a month or so in all its colors and sizes. I don't tie many a day. I generally tie two when I look at the financial news, another while I do the local news and weather. A good football game can produce five or six, but the Cleveland Indians can really strain my hook supply.

I don't know what it is about a good baseball game that seems to generate flies. Maybe it's the pauses, or the slow pace of events or my general disinterest, but I think most commercial tiers would benefit from a video that showed an endless ball game with innings that seem to stretch into forever. With videos like that available Mustad, Daiichi and Tiemco will have to put on a third shift to supply the demand.

A good night in a chat room will at least generate four or so. I just put them into my fly box. Plop, plop, plop, and somehow the fly box never seems to get full. I suspect the local house elf of selling them. He doesn't like Fosters Lager and I won't buy him anything else. I have a hard time supporting my taste for Fosters let alone his thousand year old liking for good single malt Scotch. If I ever find a market for shriveled up nasty elves with a bad disposition then he's gone. Lately to get even I've taken to leaving him milk at night. Maybe that's why my flies look funny in the morning.

Like many I tie not to fill the box but just because I like to do it. I catch more fish in my mind than I do in my net. I seldom miss that tough throw back into the downed tree. I never slip on that steep slope and my fly selection is always right. Dave always buys the burgers at Graybels, and I'm always high rod on my river.

It's a shame to step into reality and fail again. I can't believe one of my flies won't produce. Today there wasn't a rise on the river. You just can't trust an elf with the d.t.'s. I just got my order of Daiichi 1310's. All is well.

Now I am back into my dream world where nothing is ever wrong.

I can't believe all the fish that are rising on my river.

Even a blind man can catch them now.

Wait while I get my boots. ~ Old Rupe

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