Catching Up

As my journey in fly fishing began, my dad played a big part and pushed us both in to a casting lesson together.  It was actually him who had the great idea of fly fishing and thought it would be a great way for us to spend some time together.  We'd often golf, but I had really become interested in bass fishing and he thought this could our thing.  So we began a journey together, that quickly became an obsession for me, but remained an interest, for my dad.  We still spend a lot of time together and the time we have on the water, I covet a bit more than some of the other.  

When my dad and I are on the water, when it's just he and I, often times I'm helping him battle knots, work on his casting, help him select flies and in general, kind of play guide.  It's one of my favorite things to do.  He's helped me so much over the years that it's great to return the favor sometimes. But this can bother him a bit, feeling that he's taking me away from fishing.  So as we continued to learn new water, he asked if we could get a guide on water I knew pretty well.  I chuckled at the idea and said we shouldn't waste our money.  In just the way a dad can, he let me know that he needed a bit more help than I could provide and any extra bit of knowledge of some close to home water, wouldn't be a bad thing.  

Knowing the fly shop in town offered guiding services, I reached out and asked who might be available.  They said they'd take care of everything, just meet up at the shop.  I wasn't sure of things, but we showed up and choosing to get a guide that day introduced me to a guy I think is one of the best in the Driftless.  And one of the most knowledgeable and fishy guys around.  

Nick Volk has been a man of many shops and it seems every time I run in to him or talk to him, he's smiling and wanting to know what I've been up to.  Nick was working out of what is now defunct, On the Creek Outfitters in Cross Plains, WI and then spent some time as the Fishing Manager at the Orvis here Lombard, out in the burbs.  He's since headed back up with Wisconsin and committed himself to catching every type of fish he can here in the Midwest, from musky to trout and everything in between.  He's started up Streamside Fly Fishing Co. and invited me out to great little local stream to chase brownies and catch up recently.  Our paths seem to cross a couple times a year and we always talk about spending a day on the water, and thought one of these last weekends might be a great weekend to get out.  

I'll let the pictures do the talking.  But in what seems to be my continued curse in Wisconsin, we spent another wet day chasing brownies and had some good success.  We broke in the Yomogi with a nice 14" brown and seemed to catch every 3" fish in the stream.  We traded off fishing different the different holes, delicately laying out flies in between branches in the brush, and chucking big streamers in to the heads of pools hoping for an eat somewhere before it reached the end.  All while we had intermittent heavy rains and a nice steady rain from pretty much walking in to walking out.  

It's always good to catch up with someone like Nick.  Not only do I seem to learn a ton every time we hang out, he's just an all around nice guy.  If you're looking for some help finding your way around the Driftless area, give him a call.  It'll be a decision you won't regret.

STREAMSIDE FLY FISHING CO.


Pig Farm Ink Invades The Burbs

I was hoping someone would take the initiative and bring Pig Farm Ink to the Chicagoland area.  And now, thanks to the Dave and the other awesome guys over at Chi Tie, we'll have our chance to take part in what is the part Iron Chef and part fly tying.

Grab your vice and a buddy and head on over to Thornwoods in Wood Dale on Thursday night at six pm and get ready for what looks like a heck of a good time.  

Part Two of the Spey Journey - Gandalf takes Bilbo fishing

Doug is six foot six, I am five foot four. We stood in the Kankakee, he had the long fourteen foot Spey rod and I had the eleven foot switch rod. He made perfect casts like a wizard with a wand and I fumbled about like a hobbit with a stick.  

Earlier in the day I followed my GPS to locate Doug's house. I admire anyone who says, "Here's my address mate, you'll need to use your GPS to find the place." 

It was  like going to find a wizard, you know, over the river, off to the forest preserve, last house on the block, over the sleeping policeman and there you are kind of trek. No dragons, no dwarves and no trolls threatened me on my trip. Although I was nearly killed by the driver of a Chevy truck who merged without looking. I followed the voice from my phone and not the one in my head and arrived safely. 

After meeting his lovely wife I loaded my gear into his truck and we drove off to the Kankakee to work on my casting. 

"First we'll start out on the grass, then into the river." I had been visualizing my casting all week as it had been rainy and cold and my work schedule had been hectic and long. In the middle of the week, I spent an hour on the Des Plaines River and made the best use of it. 

“We’ll start on the grass mate, it’s a bit easier.” 

I never thought about casting on the grass. Where I work there is a perfect place to stand and practice. Just add a grass leader and I'd be good to go. Better than staying in for lunch, I thought. Although people would probably do what they always do and ask, “Any fish in the grass?”
Doug’s voice woke me from my daydream, 

"Ready mate?"

I stopped visualizing and picked up the rod.  "Single Spey, let's see it." 

I made the cast and it was awful.  "What was that?"

"Spey Fart."

"Do it again."

"Fart?"

"Cast Van Dorn, cast." 

I slowly pulled the rod up, then accelerated the rod back in an arc, bringing the anchor point close, made the D-loop and fired the rod forward. 

And then I heard it, "Easy mate, easy mate, this is Spey casting, effortless power, but otherwise, good job, good job, now make ten more and we'll go onto the other casts."

I wondered how much I'd remember. For the next hour we worked on the Snap-T, the circle Spey, Double Spey and slowing my casting down. I remembered at least a couple of the names, as I'd spent the entire week reading Simon Gaeworth's book on singlehanded Spey casting. 

If you have a good memory, Spey casting has a lot to challenge you. If you have my memory, you’ll need tattoos on your forearms. 

"Let's wader up and get into the water."

 

I finished lacing up my boots, grabbed my rod and headed into the water. 

"Easy mate, just to your knees, no need to get up to your wedding tackle."

"Wedding tackle? Oh - Wedding tackle."

So I stopped with the water at my knees.

"Cast to the island over there." 

So I did.

"Spey cast Van Dorn, two handed, not single handed."

"Water must've erased my memory." 

"Cast again." 

I liked casting on the grass, the anchor stops on the grass, it doesn't move downstream on you. You can clearly see where the fly and fly line are and you can wait as long as you want before making that forward cast. 

"Now face the island and make a cast, two handed please." 

Good instructors are polite, with a touch of sarcasm. Mean ones shoot over your head with automatic firearms and real bullets. Doug doesn't own any automatics, at least if he did, I didn't see them come out in the next three hours. 

I was better this time around and I heard a lot more, "Good job mate, good job, much better, now slow down, work on keeping your rod tip low."

Then I heard what I've been waiting for, "Let's go fishing mate." 

I was thinking, "I get a real fly, no fluffie, a fly with a hook! Look out fish, here I come!” 

And so it began, Gandalf the Wizard leading Bilbo the hobbit out into the river in search of bass. 

The words, "it isn’t deep mate," have a different meaning when the person you're fishing with is about sixteen inches taller than you are. Making a cast with both elbows in the water isn't covered in any DVD that I'm aware of. Or if there is one called, “Casting for short people,” I checked but there isn’t a you-tube video either. 

It was a good day for practice casting. Doug and I waded across the Kankakee and back and got into his truck to go try another spot. We went to Momence, drove over the bridge and took a short walk upstream. A bar was located not far from where we’d get out of the water. I thought, “Ah hah, the teacher knows how to get the best out of the student, no carrot and stick here.” 

"Easy mate, the water is shallower over here." 

Shallow water is a relative term to tall people. Up to your armpits isn't. 

We walked up and across the Kankakee past where an old dam used to be. The fish were cooperating and I got to celebrate catching my first fish on a Spey rod with a proper Spey cast. The next one came on a one handed cast. I caught a few fish and Doug made lovely Spey casts. 

"What d'ya think mate?"

"I think my arms are tired."

"You're moving along alright." 

"Yep, but I'm still about a hundred hours of casting or more, which is quite a way to go till I'm ready for the conclave."

"You want to keep going?"

"Sure, Bilbo had to make the trek to the mountain."

"We'll meet in two weeks mate till then I want you to practice going from low to high and making a proper D-Loop before you make that forward cast and slow down."

I drove from his house listening to my GPS. The ride home was without event. I read more of Simon Gawesworth's book, tried to memorize the movements of Andy Murray and tied up a grass leader to try out on my lunch hour. 

There is much work to do and it seems to me, that on this climb to the mountain, all I’ve done is pack the tent. 

 

Stuart Van Dorn