Posted July, 2019:

Growing up in the mid-west, I recall still- fishing for perch and blue gills at day camp when I was eight years old. It seemed magical and exciting to put a baited hook in the water and emerge with a flopping fish. A few years later the whole family went on a fishing trip to Lake Kabetogama in Minnesota where with a bait casting rig I caught Walleyed Pike until my arms ached. For my 13th birthday, my father took me on a trip to Canada’s Lake of the Woods in Ontario where I had a first taste of spinning. I caught a 15 lb. Northern Pike on that trip. It took me over a half hour to land it, trying valiantly to not tip over our canoe; I remember my father and the guide counseling me not to “horse it in”. I could barely hear them, my heart was pounding so hard. In high school there was the annual smelt run in the North Shore of Lake Michigan, where we would gather on piers with dip and gill nets and have incredible feasts at bonfires on the beach. Along the way, on family vacations to Florida, I had a taste of deep sea fishing. In short, pretty much every way of taking a fish other than with a fly rod.

Parallel to my interest in wine, fly fishing seeped into my awareness outside the family from books and magazines and travelogues. Watching an expert fly caster was like hearing the most elegant, exquisite music. The arcane history and lore of the sport appealed to me much like the world of wine. Tapping into the life cycle of fish and their prey seemed to unite the fly fisher with the rhythms of the planet in a profound and meditative way.

On a lark, I enrolled in a fly casting course while a undergraduate at the University of Illinois in 1959. I bought a mail-order tubular glass road from Herter’s, and learned the rudiments of casting. But it would be a number of years before I began to really use it—the demands of a dual career took precedent, and my fishing adventures, though treasured, were infrequent.

Since the Millennium, with a more relaxed schedule, there has been a crescendo of fly fishing activity, in both fresh and salt water. I'm often flying to exotic locales 3-4 times/year in addition to fishing in local Northern California rivers. 81 at this writing, I'm enjoying my increased level of skill, and am packing in these adventures while my good health holds out.

Here are some reflections on the species of fish I've been seeking over the years. For some photos, click here.

Trout—great fishing in my Northern California "back yard": Sacramento, Hat Creek, and McCloud rivers, and particularly Fall River with its challenging Ph.D trout. Also British Columbia: lakes in Kamloops and the Firesteel River where the Rainbows were almost too plentiful. With trout, the accent is on delicacy and elegance of fly presentation.

Steelhead—In 2010 I began my journey with this species, studying the 2-handed art of the Spey Rod, and "swinging" flies down the Deschutes River on 5 day drifts for 5 years. Ironically, as I became a better Steelhead fisher, the fishing deteriorated, until my last trip where there was not even a strike. I've fished other Oregon and Washington rivers, but find the Trinity river in California most beautiful, and the fish, though smaller, more plentiful. The acrobatics and runs of a hooked Steelhead are exhilarating. I wish there were more of them; they are truly the "fish of 1000 casts."

Arctic Grayling—first encountered them in the Northwest Territories, casting dry flies on the Stark River with my wife, Josephine. She caught one near 5 lbs that won a Field and Stream award in 1970. Subsequently caught them on Alaska trips. They jump beautifully, and are absolutely delicious.

Shad—Often called the "Poor Man's Steelhead," because they are so plentiful and easy to catch, and are fished with Steelhead casting techniques. Great luck in four seasons on the Yuba river in California, often catching 30+ fish/day. The roe is extraordinarily rich, but cooking and eating the fish very challenging.

Salmon—Most of my experience has been in Alaska: the Katmai wilderness, where on the Brooks river I needed to be more concerned about territorial bears than catching a Salmon; and Bristol Bay, with fly out camps where I caught King, Sockeye, and Dog varieties. Flash frozen, we had a freezer full of marvelous fish for months.

Bonefish—I have been on about 15 bonefish expeditions over the years, mostly to Christmas Island in the Central Pacific, but also to the Bahamas, and Florida's Biscayne Bay. These elusive salt water fish move onto the flats with the tides, and you are casting to moving targets that are difficult to see. They can go 30 mph, and when hooked can quickly take you into the backing of your fly reel. My average is 2-6 lbs., but on my last Christmas Island trip I landed an 11 lb. monster bonefish that made 3 separate runs of over 200 yards.

Redfish—I've made three trips to the Biloxi Marsh in Louisiana. Redfish are not easy to spot, but if you can present the fly almost on its nose, they will almost always strike. They're a lot of fun, though they don't jump, and there is always the possibility of running into a bull weighing 45+ lbs. Periodically, Black Drums appear in schools. On one trip where the guide made a run out to the Gulf of Mexico, near Curlew Island we encountered a school of Redfish at least 4 city blocks square. For 45 minutes we were getting strikes on every cast, beginning to feel pretty smug until a 200 lb black Bull Shark exploded on a fish I was about to land, and headed away from the boat with express train speed, my fly reel screaming. I was shell-shocked; my guide broke him off.

Roosterfish, Skipjack, Striped Marlin—I caught all three species on a recent trip to the Sea of Cortez, in Baja, Mexico. Roosterfish are as tough to hook as Permit, and are strong fighters. The Skipjack, in the Tuna family, kept heading for the bottom, and was hard to land. The Striped Marlin was close to 80 lbs, and took 35 minutes to bring in on a 14 weight rod. Seeing a fish that size leap totally out of the water 50 feet from the boat was a heart-stopping experience.That's the biggest fish I have caught to date, and you can see in the photo that it took one of the mates to help hold it.

Tarpon—I began fishing for Tarpon in the Yucatan 3 years ago, and they have become my favorite target. This is sight-fishing on flats from a boat, the fisher standing in the bow, and casting to fish he sees, or to coordinates called out by the guide ( "10 O'Clock—60 feet"). These fish are on the move and are easily spooked. When hooked they put on a gymnastic jumping display that dwarfs other species. These "baby" Tarpon run 5-40 lbs, and are great sport on an 8 or 9 weight rod. They present a special challenge to the caster, who needs to be quick and accurate. Some casts amongst the mangroves are only 5 or 10 feet. Most situations call for casts in the 20-60 foot range., I like that there are opportunities in open water for 80-90+ feet casts as well.

There are a number of other adventures I hope to include along the way, e.g., the Aleutian Islands for Silver Salmon; Atlantic Salmon on a fly rod; Steelhead on the Dean River in B.C.; Trout on the Henry's Fork of the Snake River in Idaho; Trout and Arctic Char in Iceland; Bonefish, Permit, & Tarpon in Belize. There are plenty of other places that would be exotic, but I'll avoid because of the distances, lack of creature comforts, and/or health hazards entailed, e.g., The Seychelles, Africa, the Amazon and other jungle settings.

I've only scratched the surface of fly fishing. I'm a perpetual student and am grateful to the outstanding teachers who have worked with me: Floyd Dean, Bob Pauli, and George Revel.

Mayfly:
Soundclip from Homecoming: “A lyrical, quite classical, free improvisation inspired by the life cycle of the mayfly—the most famous insect imitated by fly fishers.”

See article: On The Trail of the Silver Ghost