12-05-2007, 02:28 PM
[font "Times New Roman"]When my wife, now an X, and I started to learn to fly fish back at the turn of the Century (Doesn’t that make it sound like it’s a long time ago), anyways, we would hire the same guide, Kevin, each time we made a trip from North Texas to Crested Butte. We did that every couple of months or so. After a few of these day long guided trips Kevin started giving us his ties of flies to use when ours were not producing good results. He refused to take money for them. If we managed not to loose them then he would leave the fly with us for our use the next time that we fly fished. Whenever Kevin took off one of our own flies he thoughtfully was sure to return it to us. Yes, it is very nice to have someone change your flies, tippet, and tangles for you. Especially since I have to fumble around with reading glasses otherwise.[/font]
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[font "Times New Roman"]I had some spare time on my hands so I decided it would be good to take up a new hobby. Like any other fly fishing idiot I decided it should be fly tying. But I was not progress quickly. The following summer my wife surprised me for my birthday with a Kevin guided float trip down the Upper Gunnison. Around noon we stopped at the top of some riffles for lunch where Kevin prepared cold cut sandwiches for us all on a roll up table. As he would do on occasion, he broke out a few bottles of his home brew for us to enjoy. The wife and I relaxed enjoying the sunny day enhanced by a light breeze and billowing white clouds lazy floating by in the distance while the river rolled on by and our guide packed the aftermath from lunch.[/font]
[font "Times New Roman"] [/font]
[font "Times New Roman"]Much to my surprise Kevin did not put the roll up table away but instead moved the it out into the river above the riffles and started to setup a fly tying vise. While doing this he asked me if I would like to learn to tie a couple flies. So we sat there at the table in the shallow riffles of Gunnison River tying flies. After a while the wind started to pick up. Between the wind, the water currents and my awkwardness it got tough to stay in place and balanced at the table so we moved everything to streamside and began again. I cannot remember what flies we started with. probably a bead head pheasant tail and a hairs ear. The other fly that he taught me to tie was a stimulator, a dry fly that we fished a lot during the summer. That birthday trip is one that I will always remember. I am sure. This is not the end of the story, however. It just leads to the rest of the story.[/font]
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[font "Times New Roman"]Sometime later, probably another year or so later, Kevin was again boating me down the Upper Gunnison using a “hopper dropper” setup with a stimulator as the hopper imitation and a copper John as the dropper. The fishing had slowed down and it had been probably half an hour since I had had any attention from our finny friends. As was common Kevin would say to cast the flies tight up against the bank. But as was also usually the case I could not get the flies to land close enough to the bank. It always seemed to be just a foot too far for me to cast. As the frustration started to build with my bad casting and the lack of attention or rising fish anywhere I said “Maybe I should change my flies.” Kevin did not immediately response. As we both watched my stimulator drift another 30 feet all of a sudden a swallow swooped down and grabbed the stimulator off the water and flew off with it. While I was trying to figure out whether I should give my line a quick yank or a gentle pull the swallow let the flies go. The flies fluttered quickly back to the water and began another drag free drift another 10 feet further from the bank while I laughed. Then after about 15 more feet of drifting there was an explosion as a nice rainbow grabbed that stimulator. While I started to tease the rainbow to the pontoon boat Kevin flatly stated “ I thin that is the correct fly for today.” I could no longer argue with that logic. After all how can you argue with what a bird and trout like for flies.[/font]
[font "Times New Roman"] [/font]
[font "Times New Roman"]Sometime later when the weather changed drastically Kevin switched out my flies for some others he had tied. He asked me if I had tied the fly. I responded no it was one he, Kevin, had tied. But he stated that it was not. That the fly was a sofa pillow and he never tied any. I responded that then it had to be one I had tied. I noticed that Kevin put that fly on his fly patch and did not return it to me. I took that as a subtle compliment as he had never failed to return my flies to me before. Maybe I was not that bad at tying flies and adapting patterns. Even if it was more accidental than by design.[/font]
[font "Times New Roman"] [/font]
[font "Times New Roman"]That is my story. …. And I am sticking to it.[/font]
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[font "Times New Roman"] [/font]
[font "Times New Roman"]I had some spare time on my hands so I decided it would be good to take up a new hobby. Like any other fly fishing idiot I decided it should be fly tying. But I was not progress quickly. The following summer my wife surprised me for my birthday with a Kevin guided float trip down the Upper Gunnison. Around noon we stopped at the top of some riffles for lunch where Kevin prepared cold cut sandwiches for us all on a roll up table. As he would do on occasion, he broke out a few bottles of his home brew for us to enjoy. The wife and I relaxed enjoying the sunny day enhanced by a light breeze and billowing white clouds lazy floating by in the distance while the river rolled on by and our guide packed the aftermath from lunch.[/font]
[font "Times New Roman"] [/font]
[font "Times New Roman"]Much to my surprise Kevin did not put the roll up table away but instead moved the it out into the river above the riffles and started to setup a fly tying vise. While doing this he asked me if I would like to learn to tie a couple flies. So we sat there at the table in the shallow riffles of Gunnison River tying flies. After a while the wind started to pick up. Between the wind, the water currents and my awkwardness it got tough to stay in place and balanced at the table so we moved everything to streamside and began again. I cannot remember what flies we started with. probably a bead head pheasant tail and a hairs ear. The other fly that he taught me to tie was a stimulator, a dry fly that we fished a lot during the summer. That birthday trip is one that I will always remember. I am sure. This is not the end of the story, however. It just leads to the rest of the story.[/font]
[font "Times New Roman"] [/font]
[font "Times New Roman"]Sometime later, probably another year or so later, Kevin was again boating me down the Upper Gunnison using a “hopper dropper” setup with a stimulator as the hopper imitation and a copper John as the dropper. The fishing had slowed down and it had been probably half an hour since I had had any attention from our finny friends. As was common Kevin would say to cast the flies tight up against the bank. But as was also usually the case I could not get the flies to land close enough to the bank. It always seemed to be just a foot too far for me to cast. As the frustration started to build with my bad casting and the lack of attention or rising fish anywhere I said “Maybe I should change my flies.” Kevin did not immediately response. As we both watched my stimulator drift another 30 feet all of a sudden a swallow swooped down and grabbed the stimulator off the water and flew off with it. While I was trying to figure out whether I should give my line a quick yank or a gentle pull the swallow let the flies go. The flies fluttered quickly back to the water and began another drag free drift another 10 feet further from the bank while I laughed. Then after about 15 more feet of drifting there was an explosion as a nice rainbow grabbed that stimulator. While I started to tease the rainbow to the pontoon boat Kevin flatly stated “ I thin that is the correct fly for today.” I could no longer argue with that logic. After all how can you argue with what a bird and trout like for flies.[/font]
[font "Times New Roman"] [/font]
[font "Times New Roman"]Sometime later when the weather changed drastically Kevin switched out my flies for some others he had tied. He asked me if I had tied the fly. I responded no it was one he, Kevin, had tied. But he stated that it was not. That the fly was a sofa pillow and he never tied any. I responded that then it had to be one I had tied. I noticed that Kevin put that fly on his fly patch and did not return it to me. I took that as a subtle compliment as he had never failed to return my flies to me before. Maybe I was not that bad at tying flies and adapting patterns. Even if it was more accidental than by design.[/font]
[font "Times New Roman"] [/font]
[font "Times New Roman"]That is my story. …. And I am sticking to it.[/font]
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