An Unusual Breed of Man

I had planned on fishing Monday (June 19th) at the Upper Credit River, but ended up chatting it up with a fellow that pulled up beside me riverside. This guy in his late 50s was a real purist in the truest sense and as cocky as can be, but I had to stick around and pick his brain just to see how guys like this tick. He was appalled by my one split shot 12 inches above my bead head nymph (the bead head, he also found offensive). He said I wasn’t fly fishing; I was just fishing with a fly – go figure.

He opened his trunk and suddenly I was transported about 75 years. Inside laid a couple cane rods in old vintage wooden cases, reels in old leather pouches, and an old Orvis canvas bag holding a pile of fly boxes. One of the reels was a Vom Hofe and one of the cane rods was a restored vintage over 100 years old (which had a name that I cannot recall). - Everything he owned was vintage, from his fly line, the clothes he wore, to his old pick-up - He was kind enough to put one of these masterpeices together and let me cast with it – the feeling was unbelievable. The smoothness and fluidity of the movement was surreal – to see him cast it was amazing. The rod was like a pendulum that knew exactly what its job was and proceeded to do it on its own.

I sat there and listened to him talk about the history of Brown trout in North America, to the first hatchery in Mumford, to his Scottish heritage and it’s relationship to fly fishing, and the painting on his tailgate of him fishing the Catskills (yes, it’s this is pretty funny, but the painting was actually well done). It was obvious that this guy eats, breaths, and dreams fly fishing.

So at the end I stripped off my gear after barely entering the water but I went home satisfied with my encounter of this unusual breed of man.