Breaking Fly Fishing Rules

Wednesday, January 14. I'd just fished two previous days climatically good for fly fishing, with spinning gear. So I was locked in on fly fishing. Dropping temperatures, sustained winds over 20 mph with gusts exceeding 40 mph...and I wouldn't yield to anything except fly fishing.

The dikes on the winter trout lakes were "shored up" a couple years ago with rocks the size of bowling balls, and that roll like bowling balls. Add to that, the 45 degree angle of the dike faces seen here are just a bonus. Many places the rocks drop 2-3 feet at 90 degrees and usually into the water. And the trout seem to know that, hanging out there. Most of my winter buddies about my age have eliminated these areas or the dikes altogether, for fishing. Sometimes, the smart fisherman isn't always the one catching all the fish. That would be these guys, settling for less fish and a longer life. I keep negotiating the rocks knowing that it's just a matter of time. I "go down" every year-already done it this year. Thinking my thick winter layers will protect me which is true for the most part, so far.

On Wednesday, I made my way to the 90 degree angle cut in the dike where trout had been consistently hanging out for ambushing prey. Fortunately, I could stay about 10 feet from the 90 degree drop and fish from the more accommodating 45 degree angled dike face. I'd periodically used a wading staff through the years, on those Ozark rivers. But duh it had never occurred to me after the rock dump on the dikes, that a wading staff could be used on dry ground, too. In fact, my "wading staffs" are actually hiking staffs that fold up, easily stow from my hip belt to behind my back, and have interchangeable tips for mud, snow, and hard surfaces. The soft rubber foot pictured here has so far, been awesome on these rocks. I'm zig zag moving like a lizard on the treacherous footing with my third leg, now!

New problem-the 20+ mph/gusts over 40 mph wind was blowing almost in my face. I'm proud of how quickly I learned to do what I'll call "the cutting the wind" cast. I seldom had to worry about much wind on those Ozark river bottoms. So I had to study it, learn it better on these big lakes. But today added a new challenge.

As you may imagine the wind blown waves blowing against those rocks created a virtual "sushi on a conveyer belt" feeding situation for those trout-they were sitting against that 90 degree drop, or right against the bank. I'd been nymphing and so I had a home made nymph leader on the fly line. Nymph leader isn't very versatile-it's for fishing nymphs under indicators. But I'd already almost been knocked down the rocks two times, by wind gusts. And I wasn't catching fish. I didn't want to take the risk to change my focus to staying up in the wind, to focus changing the leader to more closely match what I was about to do.

Cutting the wind to make casts truly brought me back to my Little League pitching days, when I'd wind up and throw that fast ball as hard as I could. My arm was getting tired. My shoulder sore. And I was about to break another one of the fly fishing codes-I was going to tie on the same 1/32 oz lead head jig and plastic jig body I'd been spin fishing the previous two days. Though I ended up down sizing to a 1/64 oz jig, a fly fisherman knows I was throwing a hot mess of a fly fishing train. Now I'm contact (streamer) fishing with a nymph leader, into wind gusts that several times blew even this heavy rig onto the rocks, and not in the water.

A fly fisherman is used to that ballet feel and look, not feeling the offering go forward rather, watching it fall as gently to the water as the whole procedure casting, was gentle. Like a romantic, seductive dance. I looked like I was chopping invisible wood. And when that heavily mismatched to a fly rod jig reached the end of the fly line on the forward cast, often the feeling was that it was going to pull me in. Even against the wind! But when it hit the water and I could strip line like a slave pulling rope building the Pyramids, I started catching trout. And more trout. In fact, since the wind was going to do this all day, and I'd already gotten creative and broken several of the fly fisherman's codes, I could rip lips to sunset. But the arm and shoulder cutting wind harder than I remember ever splitting wood-I was done. Besides, now that I had their number I went into my trance that tends to shut off being aware of a lot of other things happening. And today, not staying aware of those wind gusts that had already almost taken me out twice, wasn't smart.