It's hard to imagine anyone arguing that fly fishers are highly visual individuals. There's so much about our sport that's driven by appreciation for the beauty of the...
Point Remove Creek's slow, warm currents dawdle in the lazy hot days of mid-summer. The creek bottom's damp air dawdles, too. It's stagnant, amplifying smells of life and death, and the soured odor of death is strong today. Metallic green and blue bottle flies swarm and cover the corpse of a shortnose gar lying on the silty creek bank. The mucous coating of a fish is irresistible to flies.
I fished up above Tom Creek last night. Over the course of an hour I fished back down to the run where I had come in. A tree, felled in a spring flood, lay blocking half the flow. As I cast into the near seam my peripheral vision caught movement by the bank. When I got both eyes on target I saw a good-sized trout struggling in the flow. It slipped and rolled into the fast current disappearing into the riffle below. ‘That one is screwed’, I thought.
History is full of great conversion narratives. Saint Paul on his way to Damascus. Brett Favre on his way to Minnesota. Me on my way to a specialty Chicago tackle shop to pick up my first fly rod.
Most anglers probably think of boots as fairly blunt, unsophisticated tools. Talking boots with Korkers' CEO Brian Chaney might change that impression. Chaney talks boots much the same way reel and rod designers talk disc drag coefficients and graphite-resin mixtures: with excitement. And product designers and company executives typically get excited when new technologies and designs solve problems and offer new possibilities.
Running up the passage between the rock garden and the shore, I open the outboard’s throttle. Five horses give me all they've got. There are three buoys which delimit the boulder water. I cut inside the first one knowing that the shark fin boulder on my left is only a sentry. There’s still plenty of deep water before the real peril. Cutting right just a few yards from shore, I cruise through the shallow water. Someone watching from the far shore would think this run reckless, but they can’t see me in the fog.