My Cherry-Poppin, Pole bending, Fly fishing folly...Rogue River (Not what you think)
(Tom Wolfe Anyone?)
Any how...my first dive into fly fishing captures all of these posts. I go out with my pal on a stealheading trip to the Rogue river (Grand Rapids, MI) and he walks up with a sage rod (hat to match), neoprenes, 80 pocket vest, sun-goggles with the string tie and a lanyard with everything but the film containers. I felt a little under-dressed, sporting waders and a spinning outfit. "Is this fly only water?"
"Nope, but I'd thought I'd try and swing some flies," he blasted, carving the air with his new rod.
"Ok, how do we get down to the water and why did we meet at this gas station?"
"We gotta fuel up bro...can't hit the water without refreshments."
That seemed right, so we headed in side for a water and some jerky. Nope...he B-lined it straight for the beer cooler. He grabbed an arm full of Foster's oil cans and headed for the check out. "I'll get the beers if you grab us some jerky," he yelled across the two isles and past the nervous patrons. I obliged and grabbed up some jerky and we got to walking.
It was a balmy 80 degrees that day and neoprene waders seemed more like wool blankets wrapped around my sweat-drenched jeans. The hill behind the gas station was steep and I could tell I was going to tumble straight down the hill into the river. And I did, hitting the water with a splash and a stumble. He laughed, "way to scare all the fish, we aint even gonna get a bite now!" It wasn't my floundering that would lock jaw these fish, it was noon and 80 degrees, these fish wouldn't even be in this little river, I thought...half-way out loud.
We got to "the spot" and shouldered in-line between me and ten of my new friends. It looked like a motley crew, that went in order: Sage, St. Croix, Walmart, Orvis, Walmart, Quantum, Walmart, Quantum, Croix, Orvis, Walmart, all in a neat line. I was on the Quantum team and my friend was elbowing up to one of his Sage buddies. Well I get rigged up and made a cast, swinging a bobber and hair jig rig. After I sent a few more casts I look over and see my buddy finally ending his conversation about how and where he and Mr. Sage got their rods. Well he wades in and then he wades a little further, and then he creeps out a little more...then a little more. Before he gets over his waders I say, "where the hell are you going, your creeping into my drift?"
He mumbles back, "I'm setting up for a drift, relax...just cast out further." The river is thirty feet wide where was I supposed to cast, I thought. And then I see him pull out ten feet of line, steeple cast and lay out ten feet of line. He couldn't cast, all his gumption, all the gear, the clothes, the talk and he couldn't make a twenty foot cast. I didn't laugh out loud but I grinned ear to ear and as I remember this; I sit typing, grinning ear to ear.
