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Futzer

My last day to flyfish, who, what, where and how

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Good thread. I've thought about this, too.

Like a lot of others, I'm at the age where my ticket could be canceled any time

 

I'd go to one of the small familiar streams in N Michigan that I've fished for many years.

I'd fish like I normally do, a 3wt with some soft hackles and nymphs, a few drys. I'd fish a few familiar stretches, not hurrying at all, taking a few breaks to smoke a cigar and listen to the quiet. After fishing all day, I'd prop my rod against a tree at streamside, sit down and watch the sun set behind the hills, the sky get darker and watch the the stars slowly get brighter. I think that's the way it should be.

 

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Now we are getting warmed up, New Zealand is on my short list of destinations that I want to see, fish, and experience, Great photos FlyFisherNZ. I thought we would see some that would travel to far away exotic places, and others that have a one special place that does it for them. I will wait a couple days to tell my story.

 

Thanks for sharing your great stories. Cheers, Jeff.

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I know you say to dream big and think big in this regard, but I gotta be honest, it'd be a day spent fishing my local rivers, streams, ponds, and lakes.

 

Sure, I have dreams of Patagonia, NZ, Alaska for big Salmon, Labrador for big Brook Trout, North Carolina for big Redfish (ok, thats pretty achievable)... but I can get big fish, small fish, green fish, brown fish, even rainbow colored fish, right here where I live. I can't catch bonefish here, which is a little disappointing... but a day spent exploring small brook's, ponds that hold trophy heritage brook trout, rivers that hold trophy browns in the 8 or 9lb range, big 20+" smallies in fast moving small streams, and even walleye, pike, LL Atlantics, down to carp and big white suckers.

 

There are a lot of species here and they're all fun to catch. I don't need to travel far away to get my kicks, I've got my dream right here.

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Staying at Hawks Cay, Duck Key, Florida

Fishing out of Islamorada with my daughters.

Catching a Florida slam (Tarpon, bonefish, permit, snook)

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WEll my dream place to go is Andros to fly fish for bones on a nice moderately hot day with white sand bechs and world record sized bones then ill go sit on the beach and listen to the ocean while drinking a nice cold hawaian punch with nothin to worry about and the beach with only the guys from the forum and a nice little shack where we cook a few little fish and have a feast then we party all night long with a massive bonfire anyway, thats my dream

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Got me thinking Futz. Was trying think of where I would go with unlimited resources but couldn't come up with anything in particular. Would be a happy camper just about anywhere the fishing was good. Of the list of possible places one might be Iceland or New Zealand. But I plan on going to both places in the coming years barring any unforeseen events.

 

Other than that, it would be one of two places. However neither is far from where I am now so it may not be a place but rather a moment. I would love to go to the place where I caught the first fish with a fly I tied. If I wasn't already doomed/blessed to pursue a lifetime of fly fishing before that moment, I definitely was afterward. I can still see it, a small mountain stream just outside of Yosemite Park at about 5500 feet in elevation. Nice meander through this meadow. Green grasses and patches of snow. Before this stream dropped down this canyon in a pretty fast decent there was a pool with some downed timber. I nabbed a brown on a Royal Coachman. Won't venture to say exactly how big it was. I just know it was perfect. In 1997 a very warm storm came through and melted the snow pack. The flows in many of the rivers/streams were incredible. The powers that be called it a 500 year event. It totally changed that meadow. It is just now starting to resemble anything that it was.

 

The other would be this place

 

post-14830-1234242234_thumb.jpg

 

A small mountain lake at about 8500 feet in elevation full of nice fat rainbows. Won't go into the significance of this place but it was good. Of course to die a happy man you got to include the beer, babe, and perfectly cooked rib eye steak. You said dream.

 

That pic.... Dear God, its amazing. I want to be there. It reminds me of the line in the movie "Field of Dreams"....a ball player asks, "What is this place, Is this Heaven?"

Ughh, when will this snow melt! I am ready for Spring.

 

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Got me thinking Futz. Was trying think of where I would go with unlimited resources but couldn't come up with anything in particular. Would be a happy camper just about anywhere the fishing was good. Of the list of possible places one might be Iceland or New Zealand. But I plan on going to both places in the coming years barring any unforeseen events.

 

Other than that, it would be one of two places. However neither is far from where I am now so it may not be a place but rather a moment. I would love to go to the place where I caught the first fish with a fly I tied. If I wasn't already doomed/blessed to pursue a lifetime of fly fishing before that moment, I definitely was afterward. I can still see it, a small mountain stream just outside of Yosemite Park at about 5500 feet in elevation. Nice meander through this meadow. Green grasses and patches of snow. Before this stream dropped down this canyon in a pretty fast decent there was a pool with some downed timber. I nabbed a brown on a Royal Coachman. Won't venture to say exactly how big it was. I just know it was perfect. In 1997 a very warm storm came through and melted the snow pack. The flows in many of the rivers/streams were incredible. The powers that be called it a 500 year event. It totally changed that meadow. It is just now starting to resemble anything that it was.

 

The other would be this place

 

post-14830-1234242234_thumb.jpg

 

A small mountain lake at about 8500 feet in elevation full of nice fat rainbows. Won't go into the significance of this place but it was good. Of course to die a happy man you got to include the beer, babe, and perfectly cooked rib eye steak. You said dream.

 

That pic.... Dear God, its amazing. I want to be there. It reminds me of the line in the movie "Field of Dreams"....a ball player asks, "What is this place, Is this Heaven?"

Ughh, when will this snow melt! I am ready for Spring.

 

You said it!

 

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some people would go for huge trout with friends and theirs nothing wrong with this but all i would want is to be with my dad. we always say that we will die fishing together and thats how i want it to end.

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Great thread Futzer.

This is something I’ve often pondered; usually when I’m fishing already. I’ve been lucky in my life and I’ve fished some excellent water all across this great land. I must admit though, I’d spend my “last day” right here on my home water where the greatest number of my fishing memories were made. I have two rivers that I call my home water:

One is the West Canada Creek and it’s where I cut my fly fishing teeth and where I caught my first fish on a fly I tied myself. It’s a dry fly fisherman’s dream (certainly one of mine as well); clear, full of big browns, very picturesque and has a few spots that rarely see a fly, so the solitude is intact. The hatches are varied and strong from #22 BWOs to #6 stones and almost everything in between. The fish can be really picky as well, and test the mettle of the best tied flys and the best presentation. If that weren’t enough, it’s open all year in a designated C&R stretch that has the best water/habitat and, not surprisingly, the best fish.

 

The other “home water” is the Salmon River, where I spend my time chasing steel and browns that will scare the hell out of anything less than an 8 weight. Sure, you can catch fish on a 5 weight, but those aren’t the ones I’m after; 15 pound browns and 20 pound chromers are not the dream, they’re a reality and have the mangled remains of flys attached to broken tippet hanging out of their scarred mouths to prove it. That river is also open all year and, some would say, I spend too much time in it.

 

As for who I’d bring, that’s a no brainer: there are two. One is my dad and he is the reason that I tie flys and fly fish at all. The patience of a saint and years of fishing the chalk streams of PA made him the perfect teacher. Throw in an antique vice, a container of moldy feathers that smelled of 40 years of moth balls, a box of miscellaneous (and not too awfully rusty) hooks, and a 15 year old boy and he found the secret to keeping me off the streets and out of trouble (except for those few trespassing deals on private water. . . ). By the time I was in college, I was tying for a few of the local shops for extra cash so I could keep myself in materials and gas in my truck to fish the best water from the Adirondacks to the Sierras and almost all the water in the middle too. When I could find a pay phone, I’d call home (collect of course) and tell him all about my escapades fishing, living out of the back of my truck and subsisting on trout, potatoes and beer. Yes, I killed my share of trout back in those days and very gladly turned them back into nutrients, but I didn’t kill the big fish I caught because my father made sure I knew that those were the major breeding stock; surely the future of the sport. A number of years ago, I was lucky enough to be able to return a very small amount of what my father has given me back to him: I took him fly fishing for steelhead for his first time. To see him standing in the river with a big fish on, looking every bit like a kid, is something I will always cherish.

 

The other fishing buddy I’d bring is my son. At thirteen, he already ties as well as most of my friends and has the patience of his grandfather when it comes to spending a day on the river. Unlike many of my friends though, he’s always willing to go fishing on a moments notice and sees the beauty in spending a day casting a fly rod, even if the fish aren’t cooperating. Like many of the folks his age, he’s grown up in a time where conservation and being a good steward of the river means so much more than taking home a limit of chrome bullets. I’m sure the day will soon be approaching that that my dad won’t be around to fish with me and I’ll be the one on the other end of the phone (a cell phone no doubt) listening to the fly fishing adventures of a young man living out of the back of his truck and traveling the country in search of the best trout water. The only difference will be, he’ll be subsisting on power bars and not trout.

 

Yes, I do believe that those two rivers and those two fishing buddies would be my perfect “last day”, and it won’t even matter if I don’t raise a fish.

 

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....hm....

i want to go home from were i come from.

There were the surf beats so hard against the pier that the sea becomes airborne, and in that force, it yells so loud that my scream become over voted and in the alarm hushed up.

There. Right there ...

I want to live, and breathe my last breath.

There were the sea becomes creek

Where in the dark water fish new rised trout, blank like new trimmed silver.

There.

Right there ... in my waders,with my orvis some flies and a thermos of coffe and the moon hanging over my head.

 

C

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Iwould be more than content to stay fairly close to home, and enjoy one of my favorite drives,heading north of Bishop, California and head into the High Sierras. The fantastic scenery of the snowy peaks. the seemingly endless places to fish, and after a great day of fishing wherever, I would head up into the Lee Vining entrance into the fabulous drive into the high country of Yosemite Park.

To make it a totally special day, I must leave my self enough time to end up in Yosemite Valley at late evening and enjoy my favorite hike of the valley , with the sounds and sights of the falls, deer grazing in the meadows, watching the approaching moon lighting the awesome splendor Yosemite has to offer. Of course, I must have my wife of many years with me enjoying what is truly one of our favorite gems.A new view of Half Dome ain't too bad, either.

Come to think of it, this is a dream we often keep wanting to relive. We have been fortunate to visit Yosemite many, many times and nothing beats , late evening with a full moon,and enjoying Mother Nature at her best.

Thanks for allowing me to remember what dreaming and life is about. We are blessed.

 

Have a good one

Pat Carroll

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I would want to spend my last day fishing dries on Soda Butte Creek in Montana with my 3wt, & a case of the local micro brew 'Irresistable' catching Cutthroat Trout from sun up till sunset ....or at least until some bear comes along & chews my a..

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