My leader looks a bit gnarly: 5x tied directly to 3x. The connecting knot does not help the look of the thing. My blue shirt has a large dark spot on the front where the cap of a floatant bottle somehow unscrewed itself and screwed me. I wonder if this now makes my shirt a flotation device. My felt hat has a feather from my first turkey – a feather that once was straight and true but now resembles a cat’s toy.

I have just finished two masses and delivered a homily that I’ve been praying and working over since last Sunday. The summer day has been boiling and the un-air condition churches seem like an oven under all the layers that a priest wears. This is the second week at these new parishes and I have been surrounded by Germans. My people, but returning to country Germans after being in a city surrounded by Irishmen, it’s a bit of a jarring experience. Stoic faces seem to glare back at me as I attempt to put meaningful thoughts into words about the readings and Gospel of the day. The glances leave me wondering if I have presented my Lord well to the Good people of this farmland.

I wandered back to the rectory – a tall red brick building located next to the red brick church, both over a hundred years old. Across the way is a small pond that I looked at last week but did not test, but instead chose to have a drink and smoke with a local priest friend at his rectory.

This week is different. The thirsty fields have gotten their fill of rain today, with a little hail thrown in for good measure. The small storms are past and all that is left is a cooler evening and damp grass. I string up the rod and tie on a fly that I made last Sunday and make my way to the pond. Aside from a couple of patches, it is clear of moss and the insects are stirring on the surface. A turtle pops its head out of the deep brown water only to recoil and flee the moment it sees me.

Two good ol’boys were here earlier with their can of worms and ugly sticks. They didn’t seem to do well and my expectations are low. My first cast is good for not having touched the rod in well over a month… now that I come to think of it, almost two months. This is really the first chance to fish since it got warm; life has been everywhere but anywhere these past months. I am still surprised that no takes were had on the first retrieve and the second is the same. On the third cast I let the fly sit and I see a small black mass that resembles a blue gill come to inspect it as it dangles between two worlds. Then there is a small thhhhmp. The line goes straight then limp. It happened so quickly I had no time to react; a barely perceptible take that somehow reminds me of the people I am here to serve.

~ Fly Fishing Padre
Indiana, USA
Summer 2010

Tom’s Tarpon: Fly Fishing For Tarpon from WorldANGLING on Vimeo.

A short clip of “Silver” a (2-3 part?) series film about chasing tarpon, bonefish, and permit on the flats. This first clip highlights a little Keys tarpon fishing with the boys.

Tunes: Scott H. Biram, “Blood, Sweat, and Murder”

I have slowly come to the conclusion over the last few years that Capitalism should be the enemy of all right thinking fishermen and women out there. It doesn’t matter if you spin or fly, if you only catch-and-release (“by Jove”), or whack em on the head for a living. If the motive is strictly profit, we lose … and the fish lose. And, (here’s the thing) it is always the short term interest, the near sighted investor that presides over the destruction of any “resource”. The fisherman who thinks he could supply the town instead of the neighborhood and ends up fishing himself out of business is just as guilty as the fish supplier who thinks they should supply the international market instead of the city.

There is a word for unchecked growth: cancer.

I know only 5 (maybe 6) human souls actually check this blog … and only 3 of those actually read it … but if we all share the same righteous indignation with another half-dozen, and they do the same. Well, we’d all still be at it for the rest of our lives, but at least we could say we tried. I mean, frankly, at this point there isn’t much hope. We have taken the wrong path. We have chosen poorly. We must push our stone to the top of the hill every … single … day. (And, we could only hope for such a lenient penance.)

So, all you in the business take note (if you read my blog, which you don’t, so never mind): your primary responsibility is to your benefactor … and she is Mother Nature. Never, ever, assume that catching fish is the main goal here. It is not.

What is the goal of golf? To play the game, right? Ok, ok, to win, but that is merely the result of having played the game well. Playing the game is really the main thing, and that is where the majority of the fun and entertainment is, right? If the goal were merely to win golf would only be one round long.

It is the same with fishing. The goal is just to go fishing, to fish. Catching a fish is merely the result of fishing well, and not everyone does that, right? Of course, there are days when someone who can’t actually play golf very well still wins, which is lucky for them and a lot of fun. It’s the same way with fishing.

In fact, I’d argue that on some days catching just one fish is better than losing track … and, if they’re honest, I’d bet a lot of the folks I’ve fished with would say the same. Fishing is not (or should not) be a quantitative experience, but rather, a qualitative one. That’s what bothers us about the countless grip-n-grin “hero” shots on the average fish porn blog. That’s what upsets us when some SOB kills a great fish just for the sake of some obscure record. (Catching The Biggest is, for those “anglers” the ultimate form of having more.)

Turn your back on more. Forget about the biggest or the most. Cherish the one that got away. Remember the slow days that were still great days of fishing. Take those fish porn blogs off your favorites list. Boycott the grip-n-grin mags. Remove those links on your own blogs to the same. Let’s embrace the quiet message, the paradox that less is more, that the first shall be last, that the poor shall inherit the earth, that we must lose our (selfish, greedy) selves to find our selves… and if you get there, can you help me find my way?

A little clip of how to tie Larry Dahlberg’s Bonecrusher, a very effective bonefish fly. Read more about it the fly here: bonefishonthebrain.com.

Sunday, December 24, 2000

I scared some fish pretty badly today. None died of heart attacks, so I didn’t catch any.

For the first time in days it was a decent weather. Not good, but decent. It wasn’t blowing a full gale and there were the odd moments of sunlight between the driven clouds. I hadn’t been on that flat since summer and I wanted to see if there would be any real difference in the fishing… apparently not. Just windier. In three hours I saw maybe eight fish. The first were in a group of maybe a half dozen and were past me so fast I had only one shot at them. The other two were singles and I spooked them both.

I still don’t get this bonefishing thing. I mean, other fish make sense: they eat baitfish so you throw a streamer at them, pull it away, and if they like what they see they’ll come over and eat it. It’s simple. The only worry is maybe matching the size of the bait, though if the fish are biting this hardly matters.

Bonefish seem totally different, even though one hears they can be caught using the same logic. The trick, they say (usually in magazines that come out of places like Illinois or New Hampshire), is to figure out what the bonefish are eating, learn how those bait act, and present a fly accordingly. Apparently this works, since in the same publications they have pictures of anglers cradling five-pounders with the flies still stuck in their mouths. Smug bastards.

Every time I try their advice the whole thing goes to pieces (threatening to take my sanity with it). I have tossed all sorts of flies at many bonefish and the results are fairly predictable. About the only thing that varies is how the fish leave. Some hustle around nervously and then cruise off while others bolt outright, pushing what I invariably think of as “bow-wakes” across the flat. Most, however, either ignore my offerings or never see them. To borrow from Tom Stoppard’s Guildenstern, I feel like a blind man looting a bazaar for his own portrait.

Clearly more research is needed, but how? Do I take a year’s hiatus from my job and try to discover some of their secrets on my own, or do I simply hire one of the Bahamian gurus – “Crazy” Charlie Smith, perhaps – to teach me what they know? I suppose I could pray for enlightenment, but I’m reasonably confident catching a bonefish doesn’t rate very highly on The Almighty’s list of goals for my life. At the rate I’m going I might catch one before the year is out, but the odds seem against it. I’m either so hopeless that I should be banned from all bonefish flats for life, or these fish are just impossible. If I ever do nail this thing it’ll undoubtedly turn out that there was some really simple thing I was doing wrong the whole time. I hope so. I’m tired of throwing flies at fish and either scaring them, or (worse) having them not see my fly at all. There has got to be a middle ground somewhere – a zone where the fly lands perfectly, the bonefish sees the fly, likes it, swims over and eats it. I would love to be there just once.

A review of the flycasting DVD “Taming the Wind: Prescott Smith Reveals His Secrets & New Techniques for Casting Into the Wind.”

A breakdown of the basic techniques covered in Mr. Smith’s instructional DVD, and the benefits of this revolutionary casting style. Though this DVD has been out for a while, I’d heard very little about it. So, I bought it, watched it, studied it, practiced the techniques, and used it to help teach a brand new fly caster. Guess what: IT WORKS! I really wish I’d found this DVD years ago. I KNOW I’d have gotten better faster.

Even though I cover some basic stuff in it, there’s plenty more there, trust me. Do yourself a favor and find a copy. Doesn’t matter where we are–the river, the lake, the beach, or on the flats–the wind is our biggest challenge…rise to the challenge with the movie.