Without Dad

I’M TAKING HIS ’52 BUICK AND FLY ROD FISHING

Steve tells me that the fishing has been great in Yellowstone. I’m going to spend two days fishing. I only know how to tie one fly, and it’s kind of messy. But it catches fish. It’s called a ’52 Buick. It looks like a lot of the nymphs used around here, and I have a bunch of them.

My new camera is on the fritz again – operator error. So I searched the web for a picture of the ’52 Buick. The only one that looks like the one that Dad tied is from British Columbia.

I found it at “THE FLYSHOP” site. It’s a place where they make custom fly rods and flies. There are some other sites that have flies that look similar, (STS Guiding Service in British Columbia, and Washington State University TV, they have a page showing all the flies on the Open Media Network (OMN) – it’s kind of interesting.

I’m also taking some of “John’s Old Flies“ they worked in the early Spring and he says they work everywhere. I don’t know if they have a name, so I just call them John’s Old Flies. He did say that they are the Nation’s Sedge, whatever that means.

I went to the fly shop to buy some flies so I could see what the real ones looked like. When I asked for a ’52 Buick they all giggled at the silly girl. Of course they never heard of the fly so it didn’t exist. It’s funny how a “professional” in the fly fishing industry deals with women. Silly ego’s and new-found expertise greeted me from the pimply faced youths that arrived here three weeks ago. They spoke gibberish, tried to sell me other flies, and failed to hear what I was saying. I’m not going back to that shop: there’s plenty to choose from here.

Now, I’m not an expert fly fishing person. But I’ve spent more time on the rivers that they were telling me all about – and they’d never even seen them. I pity the tourists that come here and expect to get some good information. Folklore at best – third hand! Bah, Humbug.

I’m also taking some of my favorite bead head nymphs because they look so cute and work real good. I’m going to try to catch some fish on the dry flies that everybody around here uses.

The guys at the bar gave me some Elk Hair Caddis and some Trico Spinners. The caddis are good because they float for a long time. The trico flies are used for the little bugs – they said it didn’t much matter what kind they were, just that they were about the right size – these are real small; hook size 18 and 20.

My fly box is full of the flies that I’ve collected from California. They don’t look much like the flies around here. Here the fish seem to prefer very small flies. I guess it’s a matter of how long the winter lasts. The only big flies are the stone fly types, and some of them are giant. I guess if you’re a trout it’s feast or famine. So, I’m getting a box for just Yellowstone flies.

Dad’s rods are bamboo, (I have a few of them,) but this was his favorite. I use it most of the time. It’s an eight weight and they tell me it’s too heavy for the fishing around here – works fine. It doesn’t have many chips in it and the colors of the silk thread are just beautiful. It’s turning dark orange and Steve says that it ought to be refinished. I’ll probably just get me a new one when this one wears out.

Well, I slept in this morning, called mom and made a few other phone calls, and sat at the computer for a while.

Dad would be proud that I got dressed first thing. I’m going to run a bit, have a late – late lunch and then go to the park for this evening’s fishing. The weather has been very gentle for this time of year. The rains and thundershowers have not materialized like they ought to and the drought is getting worse. The rivers look low, even to me, and I’ve only been here for about a year.

Dad always said that low water was the hardest to fish; the folks around here don’t seem to think so – I’ll find out: with Dad’s ’52 Buick and bamboo rod.