Matthew and I woke up at about 8AM at the Red Lion on our way to meet Bill at Western Rivers Flyfisher shop at 9AM. Before meeting him, at about 8:45 we stopped off at a bread store called Great Harvest Bread Co and tried it out. Matthew had an excellent egg sandwich and I had tasty oatmeal and we bought a fresh loaf of “Cinnamon Burst” bread to bring fishing with us. The fly fishing store was about a block away, and we entered the store and started chatting up the staff. Bill’s friend Nick hooked us up with waders and boots and as we were fitting them on Bill walked in to the store. We greeted each other and I introduced him to Matthew. He chatted up Nick and another friend named Bryce to find out what was fishing well. We purchased some flies and Bryce printed us out two days of licenses. We departed the store and Bill pointed out that Bryce was not only a Cubs fan but a Yankees fan as well. Bryce’s allegiance to the Bronx Bomber would play a role in the weekend’s events.
We drove to Bill’s house and loaded all of his gear into our rental car and drove over two hours to a favorite area of Bill’s known as Fish Creek. We put out gear on and Bill loaded up our rods and flies. We were near a railroad track and as we dressed a train chugged by and we exchanged greetings. We stuffed some food and water into our day packs and set off. It was probably between 12:30 and 1:00 PM.
Bill lead us through a meadow and we stopped near a small stream and he started teaching us the basics. He brought us to an area with a “soft spot” behind a rock where the fish were likely to hang out, and he showed us how to drop a fly in that spot and let it drift down river in a tasty fashion.
I began to try (for the first time ever) and instantly recognized that I would likely not be catching one fish that entire weekend! It seemed near impossible to toss the fly without snagging it on something, never mind letting it drift realistically while keeping the line out of the way and reeling it in using the left hand. I was using a dry fly that was floating on the river. Matthew opted for a wet fly which floated under the surface. We moved onto a bridge which allowed us to look down at the river and simply watch our flies float. This was easy and helped us observe the realistic fly floatage that was desired. We dropped several succulent flies down onto the stream and Bill was aghast that they weren’t immediately snacked upon. At this point we moved upriver to an area that we could cross and Matthew and I started working different sides of the river. The area was wider and it afforded the ability to cast a longer way and that’s when it got really fun.
We began to get the knack of whipping the rod back and forth and increasing the distance of the fly in the air before dropping it into a tasty-looking soft area. Of course we were shipping it back and forth too quickly and Bill corrected our form to allow the fly to travel further behind us before moving the rod forward. I continued to let out more and more line until I had reached the perfectly correct amount to reach the tree behind me, and my fly nestled beautifully within its branches and out of reach of my 6’ 3” largeness. Bill replaced the fly gracefully and without expressing undue horror. I continued to wield the rod like a lion tamer and even heard what I thought was an excellent snapping noise. I convinced myself that this noise was a reflection of the excellent distance I was getting on my backward whip but Bill informed me that the noise meant that I had snapped the fly right off the rod (which he again graciously replaced).
I asked him why he dusted the flies before giving them to me. It was not due to the fact that this technique would lead the flies to “bite the dust”, but instead it was a substance which dried the fly and helped it to float more realistically.
The wind was an issue. It was hard enough to learn how to fly fish without the wind factor. I continued undeterred and began my quest to see how far I could toss the line. When fishing on a lake it is a source of pride to show how far one can throw a lure such as a Jitterbug, and I figured that if I could continually whip that fly till it was about 30 yards upriver I’d be a complete fly fishing madman. It took about 20 overhead back-and-forth movements to get the line out that far and it never occurred to me that the fact that the fly was never entering the water was seriously limiting my ability to catch anything. Anyway, on the 21st try the wind took the fly and it started coming back right at my eye. I feared pupil hookage and wielded my rod like an epee and made circular jabbing motions at the oncoming fly. With several deft circular motions I wrapped the fly around my rod several times. I was unable to remove the fly from the rod and Bill once again came to the rescue and untangled the mess. I asked him if there were any other first-day fly fishermen that had pulled off “The Zorro” at an oncoming fly and he admitted that very few if any had ever executed that move.
Matthew in the meantime was having good luck simply tossing the wet fly into the river and spent less time getting new flies from Bill.
We had an excellent snack and started moving back downriver. The wind died down and the afternoon turned golden and glorious. Bill took me to a bend in the river and I took aim at another area which seemed likely to produce a fish. I was having good luck flipping it across the river and landing it where I wanted it to go, however as my line fell into the stream the more rapid part of the river dragged my fly in an unrealistic fashion. At this point Bill taught me how to mend, and I successfully produced enough slack to produce a realistic float through the tasty zone. Both Matthew and I were having an absolute blast.
I reached another bend in the river where I waded out into a really fast rapid in order to reach a calm bend on the other side. The river was so fast that it instantly grabbed my line and yanked it (and the fly) downriver. Bill taught me about the reach cast, which directed the line upstream before the fly landed and gave me some extra time to mend a few times and leave the fly floating lusciously on top of the river. Incredible fun. Matthew found a great spot to try…….
We called it quits and took some pictures because of the beautiful golden hue.
Bill pointed out the swallows overhead and mentioned that they are a good indicator of the fly activity on the river (which we did not know). At that point in time the swallows were pretty much just circling and weren’t diving down onto the river to snack on anything. All-in-all I believe Bill had one bite that day, and that was it. It didn’t matter. It was a perfect day. We walked back to the car and took off the gear.
We drove back to SLC and dropped Bill off at his house, and then Matthew and I drove downtown and checked out some of the architecture at the Mormon square.
Gadzooks!