Question:

Okay, a year ago June I went off across Wisconsin and picked up my flying partner at a teeny strip (Cumberland, KUBE) near her cabin so we could go to dinner at an even teenier strip in an airpark.  Only thing better than the food is the opportunity to land in the center of the golf course, with all the fancy summer homes circled around it.   We knew a big front was due through, but blithely disregarded the chance of enormous thunderstorms.  Just to show us we’re not so smart, it came through with perfectly clear skies, and winds that went up and up and up.  We thought we were fine till we almost landed 30 miles away at another strip with an actual town around it. Heck of a tailwind.   Zeroed in on the right place, a dim little runway surounded by too much fast-moving atmosphere. Real dark now.  We can feel the wind now, really pushy and shoving us away from the airport.  I fret aloud that she’ll be high on final, but it takes forever to get to the end of the runway. We’re flying twice as far "against the current" with this wind. By the time we reach short final approach, we’re at the right altitude but then things get intense.      We probably had the flash at the same time: we’re getting shaken around like beans in a can by now, it’s real dark on the ground, and we’re aloft in a tiny mechanical contrivance with the daunting – and basically unrefusable – task of getting it to touch the ground in exactly the right spot at a high speed despite the forces of nature arrayed against us.      The quartering right crosswind is nasty, the narrow runway seems to come up fast at the end, and I never quit talking.  "Remember, aileron right to keep it over the runway.  You can use rudder to kick it straight just before touchdown."  She’s got her hands full with altimeter, speed, closing in on the numbers. I’m her other brain, her other pair of eyes, her reassurance.        "Get more right.  I’m watching it.  More, you can’t go too far right, just keep heading right. It’s going to shove you right off the runway left onto the grass otherwise. More right.  That’s very good."        We finally land, level and straight, with the baby-buggy skittering of wheels you can’t avoid when you’re swooshing forward and the Wind Giants are shoving you sideways.  I assure her it was nicer than many of my no-wind landings.     Back-taxiing to the hangars, she asks, "were you worried?"  I can honestly say, since we were too busy to freak out to the degree appropriate to the situation, that I was not.     "I knew I could bully you off to the right enough, and you took care of the rest."

Response:

That’s as good a story as I’ve read. Husband and Wife teamwork…. There’s just something about that signifigant other, that when they say "fly the plane", it just makes it make sense and so much easier. Always remember, only three things to do in any emergency situation: "fly the plane, fly the plane and fly the plane".

– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Okay, a year ago June I went off across Wisconsin and picked up my flying partner at a teeny strip (Cumberland, KUBE) near her cabin so we could go to dinner at an even teenier strip in an airpark.  Only thing better than the food is the opportunity to land in the center of the golf course, with all the fancy summer homes circled around it. We knew a big front was due through, but blithely disregarded the chance of enormous thunderstorms.  Just to show us we’re not so smart, it came through with perfectly clear skies, and winds that went up and up and up.  We thought we were fine till we almost landed 30 miles away at another strip with an actual town around it. Heck of a tailwind. Zeroed in on the right place, a dim little runway surounded by too much fast-moving atmosphere. Real dark now.  We can feel the wind now, really pushy and shoving us away from the airport.  I fret aloud that she’ll be high on final, but it takes forever to get to the end of the runway. We’re flying twice as far "against the current" with this wind. By the time we reach short final approach, we’re at the right altitude but then things get intense.      We probably had the flash at the same time: we’re getting shaken around like beans in a can by now, it’s real dark on the ground, and we’re aloft in a tiny mechanical contrivance with the daunting – and basically unrefusable – task of getting it to touch the ground in exactly the right spot at a high speed despite the forces of nature arrayed against us.      The quartering right crosswind is nasty, the narrow runway seems to come up fast at the end, and I never quit talking.  "Remember, aileron right to keep it over the runway.  You can use rudder to kick it straight just before touchdown."  She’s got her hands full with altimeter, speed, closing in on the numbers. I’m her other brain, her other pair of eyes, her reassurance.      "Get more right.  I’m watching it.  More, you can’t go too far right, just keep heading right. It’s going to shove you right off the runway left onto the grass otherwise. More right.  That’s very good."      We finally land, level and straight, with the baby-buggy skittering of wheels you can’t avoid when you’re swooshing forward and the Wind Giants are shoving you sideways.  I assure her it was nicer than many of my no-wind landings.     Back-taxiing to the hangars, she asks, "were you worried?"  I can honestly say, since we were too busy to freak out to the degree appropriate to the situation, that I was not.     "I knew I could bully you off to the right enough, and you took care of the rest."

Response:

Great story thanx. BTW, any chance you could post those photos up somewhere we could see them? – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – This is my favorite story from my short bush flying career: Really thick haze was unusual in northeastern Ontario.  It was so bad that June afternoon in 1990 that I had decided against the trip from Ramsey Lake in Sudbury,  Ont., our base, to pick up two guys due to come out of a camp on the Spanish River, about an 80 mile trip.  The vis was just too low, less than 1/2 mile into sun, and Bob, my boss and the owner of Ramsey Airways, was pretty good about not pushing me into conditions I wasn’t ready for, being a new bush pilot (by the end of the season I was flying in just about anything).  The two guys that were waiting for me were local and could stand to spend an extra night in their cabin. A mild cold front cleared out the haze overnight and next morning was one of those blindingly blue razor horizon days you get in the "Near North" when free of the influence of the Great Lakes to the south.  Bob and I discussed the location of the camp and the fact that the useable area of the river was less than 3000 ft long, short for a Cessna 180 on floats with a load.  I decided that the space was adequate but would take a minimum amount of fuel (just enough for the round trip plus 10 gal) to keep the load down. The C-180 was running fine except for a mystery oil leak that seemed to be coming from a pushod tube.  It was a ‘76 model, indistinguishable from a 185, and was in beautiful shape. By 9 am I was cruising northwest from Subury at a couple of thousand feet in silky smooth air, watching the boreal forest slide under the floats, and keeping an eye out for a moose.  Mornings like that made me think, "I can’t believe I’m getting paid to do this" (the catch: the pay for newbies is effectively minimum wage, hence only one season at it). It was no problem getting into the stretch of river where the cabin was, and soon I was at the dock loading the gear of my two passengers.  On the way out I made sure that I used every foot of available river.  The take-off run was between a bend and some rapids and was uneventful. I’d always heard about things going wrong with engines right after the first power change after take off.  Sure enough, just after setting up 24 square for the climb, there started a once per rev beat.  A funny little vibration. After shoving my heart back down my throat and pulling carb heat, I started to assess things, turning to follow the river to a lake a couple of miles south.  Once over the lake I relaxed a bit, circling over it, and starting playing with the engine controls trying to figure out what it was.   The vibration changed with rpm, and playing with mags, carb heat and mixture had no effect.  Oil pressure and temp was fine.  The vibration was too subtle to be a chunk of prop tip missing or anything like that. Decision time came after I examined the power setting and compared it to the airplane’s performance.  By now I was 24 square, flying at 90 kts, and NOT CLIMBING.  Something internal was "holding the engine back" and the vibration was very slowly getting worse. I chopped power, announced to my surprised seat mate, "I’m putting it down; something’s not right." and circled down to land on Lebel Lake, basically a widening of the Spanish River.   Couldn’t get anybody on the unicom on the way down. An outfitter used the lake as part of his camp network and this lake had a nice dock, with boats, and the end of a trail leading to another lake. Pulled up, docked, tied up and looked at the airplane, which had oil all down the lower left side and belly.  Hmmmm.  Removed the top cowl… YIKES! The left forward most cylinder was held on with only one top stud!  The other 3 top ones had broken off, and the bottom ones were loose, which is why the top ones failed.  The oil was coming from the broken seal at the base flange of the cylinder (which was the "mystery oil leak").  The cylinder was able to wobble up and down, which was the cause of the vibration and was not far away from popping right off. Well, how to get outta there… Sent the two guys fishing in one of the boats to keep them occupied.  Gotta get someone on the radio.   Pan calls on 122.8 got nothing.  So I decided to do a Pan call on 121.5.  "PAN PAN PAN… Golf Papa Victor Zulu, any aircraft."  After a while of this, came the surprise response; "Papa Victor Zulu, this is Canadian (airlines) Flight 435.  Can we be of assistance?" It took about 15 minutes to relay the information, the name of the lake, etc. The airliner seemed to be some distance away and couldn’t hear me very clearly, so I had to repeat instructions, but eventually he was able to get enough information to raise Ramsey Base on unicom and talk to my boss, telling him that I was on Lebel Lake with unknown difficulties but everybody was ok.  The airline then relayed back to me that Bob would be out with the Beaver after dropping off another load at a nearby lodge. After lunch I could hear the guttural throb of the 985 in the distance and called Bob on 122.8.  He said, "I got some gas for ya".  He thought I’d decided not to fly back because of not enough fuel.  "I got lotsa gas Bob." "What’s wrong?"  "Cylinder coming off."   "Ohhh shhhhhh—t" (definitely not radio protocol, but under the circumstances…). Anyway, we loaded the two guys and their gear in the Beaver, secured the 180 to the shoreline beside the dock, and off we went.  I went with a mechanic the next day in his personal aircraft and we removed the engine, firewall forward, right there, using a come-along and a bipod made from pine poles. I photographed the whole thing.  That was fun, in spite of the blackflies. Being on an uninhabited lake in the middle of nowhere is one of the most peaceful experiences I’ve ever had.  Hauled the O-470 out in the Ramsey Airways Beaver that afternoon, after an interesting and entertaining 2 hours trying to get it in the Beaver’s cabin. Three weeks later the engine was overhauled and we flew in back in and reinstalled it.  The first flight out was a bit of a nail biter. Luckily, no more problems for the remaining 400 hours I flew for rest of that summer of 1990, probably the most fun summer of my life. John Kahn — Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free. Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com).

Response:

A really great story – the commercial magazines should print such quality! This is my favorite story from my short bush flying career:

<snip You guys are gonna put ‘Flying’ out of businesss if you keep this up! Mark Hickey

Response:

A really great story – the commercial magazines should print such quality! This is my favorite story from my short bush flying career: <snip You guys are gonna put ‘Flying’ out of businesss if you keep this up!

Good.

Response:

A really great story – the commercial magazines should print such quality! Mark Hickey

This is my favorite story from my short bush flying career: Really thick haze was unusual in northeastern Ontario.  It was so bad that June afternoon in 1990 that I had decided against the trip from Ramsey Lake in Sudbury,  Ont., our base, to pick up two guys due to come out of a camp on the Spanish River, about an 80 mile trip.  The vis was just too low, less than 1/2 mile into sun, and Bob, my boss and the owner of Ramsey Airways, was pretty good about not pushing me into conditions I wasn’t ready for, being a new bush pilot (by the end of the season I was flying in just about anything).  The two guys that were waiting for me were local and could stand to spend an extra night in their cabin. A mild cold front cleared out the haze overnight and next morning was one of those blindingly blue razor horizon days you get in the "Near North" when free of the influence of the Great Lakes to the south.  Bob and I discussed the location of the camp and the fact that the useable area of the river was less than 3000 ft long, short for a Cessna 180 on floats with a load.  I decided that the space was adequate but would take a minimum amount of fuel (just enough for the round trip plus 10 gal) to keep the load down. The C-180 was running fine except for a mystery oil leak that seemed to be coming from a pushod tube.  It was a ‘76 model, indistinguishable from a 185, and was in beautiful shape. By 9 am I was cruising northwest from Subury at a couple of thousand feet in silky smooth air, watching the boreal forest slide under the floats, and keeping an eye out for a moose.  Mornings like that made me think, "I can’t believe I’m getting paid to do this" (the catch: the pay for newbies is effectively minimum wage, hence only one season at it). It was no problem getting into the stretch of river where the cabin was, and soon I was at the dock loading the gear of my two passengers.  On the way out I made sure that I used every foot of available river.  The take-off run was between a bend and some rapids and was uneventful. I’d always heard about things going wrong with engines right after the first power change after take off.  Sure enough, just after setting up 24 square for the climb, there started a once per rev beat.  A funny little vibration. After shoving my heart back down my throat and pulling carb heat, I started to assess things, turning to follow the river to a lake a couple of miles south.  Once over the lake I relaxed a bit, circling over it, and starting playing with the engine controls trying to figure out what it was.   The vibration changed with rpm, and playing with mags, carb heat and mixture had no effect.  Oil pressure and temp was fine.  The vibration was too subtle to be a chunk of prop tip missing or anything like that. Decision time came after I examined the power setting and compared it to the airplane’s performance.  By now I was 24 square, flying at 90 kts, and NOT CLIMBING.  Something internal was "holding the engine back" and the vibration was very slowly getting worse. I chopped power, announced to my surprised seat mate, "I’m putting it down; something’s not right." and circled down to land on Lebel Lake, basically a widening of the Spanish River.   Couldn’t get anybody on the unicom on the way down. An outfitter used the lake as part of his camp network and this lake had a nice dock, with boats, and the end of a trail leading to another lake. Pulled up, docked, tied up and looked at the airplane, which had oil all down the lower left side and belly.  Hmmmm.  Removed the top cowl… YIKES! The left forward most cylinder was held on with only one top stud!  The other 3 top ones had broken off, and the bottom ones were loose, which is why the top ones failed.  The oil was coming from the broken seal at the base flange of the cylinder (which was the "mystery oil leak").  The cylinder was able to wobble up and down, which was the cause of the vibration and was not far away from popping right off. Well, how to get outta there… Sent the two guys fishing in one of the boats to keep them occupied.  Gotta get someone on the radio.   Pan calls on 122.8 got nothing.  So I decided to do a Pan call on 121.5.  "PAN PAN PAN… Golf Papa Victor Zulu, any aircraft."  After a while of this, came the surprise response; "Papa Victor Zulu, this is Canadian (airlines) Flight 435.  Can we be of assistance?" It took about 15 minutes to relay the information, the name of the lake, etc. The airliner seemed to be some distance away and couldn’t hear me very clearly, so I had to repeat instructions, but eventually he was able to get enough information to raise Ramsey Base on unicom and talk to my boss, telling him that I was on Lebel Lake with unknown difficulties but everybody was ok.  The airline then relayed back to me that Bob would be out with the Beaver after dropping off another load at a nearby lodge. After lunch I could hear the guttural throb of the 985 in the distance and called Bob on 122.8.  He said, "I got some gas for ya".  He thought I’d decided not to fly back because of not enough fuel.  "I got lotsa gas Bob." "What’s wrong?"  "Cylinder coming off."   "Ohhh shhhhhh—t" (definitely not radio protocol, but under the circumstances…). Anyway, we loaded the two guys and their gear in the Beaver, secured the 180 to the shoreline beside the dock, and off we went.  I went with a mechanic the next day in his personal aircraft and we removed the engine, firewall forward, right there, using a come-along and a bipod made from pine poles. I photographed the whole thing.  That was fun, in spite of the blackflies. Being on an uninhabited lake in the middle of nowhere is one of the most peaceful experiences I’ve ever had.  Hauled the O-470 out in the Ramsey Airways Beaver that afternoon, after an interesting and entertaining 2 hours trying to get it in the Beaver’s cabin. Three weeks later the engine was overhauled and we flew in back in and reinstalled it.  The first flight out was a bit of a nail biter.   Luckily, no more problems for the remaining 400 hours I flew for rest of that summer of 1990, probably the most fun summer of my life. John Kahn — Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free. Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com).

Response:

Question:

[snipped] Great story.  I can feel the slime and smell the penetrating odor from here

Response:

……On Saturday at a Back Yard Burger I saw four young Elvises (Elvii) getting out of a powder blue 1962 Buick convertible.

The dude DOES get around.  He spends his days picking up trash at Children’s Hospital of Wisconsin, here in Milwaukee. Wolfgang i guess the king of rock-n-roll biz ain’t what it used to was.

Response:

Great story.  I can feel the slime and smell the penetrating odor from here

TAKE A SHOWER ALREADY! mEMPHIS jIM No, I haven’t seen Elvis this week.

Response:

says… Great story.  I can feel the slime and smell the penetrating odor from here TAKE A SHOWER ALREADY! mEMPHIS jIM No, I haven’t seen Elvis this week.

thanks.  I was wondering what I stepped in… — Rob (but have you gone by Graceland…)

Response:

Actually that’s not true.  On Saturday at a Back Yard Burger I saw four young Elvises (Elvii) getting out of a powder blue 1962 Buick convertible. Memphis Jim – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – No, I haven’t seen Elvis this week. thanks.  I was wondering what I stepped in… — Rob (but have you gone by Graceland…)

Response:

Boulder, ponds near Munson’s ? You mean 75th and Valmont ? Not the Sawhill’s ? How in the world is there trout in any pond near there ? The water must be 85 degrees ? Good bass’n out there, and big carp. But you say there’s some nice trout, eh ? Could you please be more specific about where these ponds are ? TIA. Bone.

BTW, TBone, I forgot to mention the graylings… hehe

Response:

Is that you, Frank?

No sir. Not Frank. Ben. -bh

Response:

Boulder, ponds near Munson’s ? You mean 75th and Valmont ? Not the Sawhill’s ? How in the world is there trout in any pond near there ? The water must be 85 degrees ? Good bass’n out there, and big carp. But you say there’s some nice trout, eh ? Could you please be more specific about where these ponds are ? TIA. Bone.

Response:

Is that you, Frank? No sir. Not Frank. Ben.

It tis nice to see others with a single minded devotion to the fish.  Hey, so what if you get a bit messy, you got a fish and these guys are just dreaming of getting some. — Frank Reid Reverse email to reply.

Response:

Boulder, ponds near Munson’s ? You mean 75th and Valmont ? Not the Sawhill’s ? How in the world is there trout in any pond near there ? The water must be 85 degrees ? Good bass’n out there, and big carp. But you say there’s some nice trout, eh ? Could you please be more specific about where these ponds are ? TIA. Bone.

You clearly know the place, what I’ve been tiold by the F&G guys that patrol the area is that the ponds are and have for some time been dumping grounds for stock. Big bass, yes. I’ve lifted an 18 inch large mouth out of the back pond on a #10 krystal bugger tied to 6X tippet and a 4wt rod. I’ve also taken more than a number of catfish ON THE SURFACE using smallish, bright white upwing something or others (I forget exactly) from the first pond. Sunfish, bluegills, small mouths, big mouths. The place is like a proving ground for fly tackle. Specifically on the trout issue: Walk back from the parking lot, past the pond with the dock. The next pond on the north side of that path is huge and damned near dry. Stand there on the south side near the aspen stand, open your eyes and prick your ears. Those big dark shadowy bug sucking monsters are trout. If we don’t get some rain soon, they will soon be trout jerky. Let me know and I’ll meet you there. -bh Boulder, CO

Response:

I spent the day fishing one of the back ponds out near Munson’s east of Boulder, CO. The current drought and a bit of local water politics has reduced many of these usually healthy potholes to small bowls of muddy, stringy soup. The hole I chose to visit today caught my eye via my ear when I heard loud slurping sounds coming from the ooze. I sat down on a clump of rye grass and watched some of the biggest lunker trout I’ve ever seen sucking bugs off of the surface, their backs complelety exposed to the air as they lay cradled in the thick weeds. I sat and I watched and I evaluated. Two big problems — 1.) the sea weed was very thick and left only small (maybe 4-5 ft. across) targets of clear (kind of) water in which to land a fly and 2.) the CO Fish and Game had encouraged aspens all along this particular bank leaving only a 10 by 10 ft "window" for me to shoot a line through. Normally I’d feel ok about a tight cast like that, but I was also standing 10-12 feet above the surface of the water which put my backcast up high and my front cast down sharply. So I sat some more and evaluated and while I did I tied on a #8 Dave’s hopper variant that I picked up in a general store in Ten Sleep, WY this summer. This version has gads of jangly rubber legs and makes all kind of ruckus on the surface when you twitch ‘em. I had no clue what they were sipping so I figured something juicy and big might bust them away from whatever hatch they were enjoying at the moment. So I sat some more and evaluated and while I did I began to realise that there was not a single sunfish or gilly or anything small at or near the water’s edge. it occurred to me that this pond had been shrinking for months and that anything small had been consumed by the elders in the water. This explained their size. Off in the distance, maybe 100 yds or so from my clump of grass were two blue herons standing in less than a foot of water. They were no doubt waiting patiently for one of these giants to glide by. I tried to imagine what that fight would look like. The scene in front of me was like an entire wildlife documentory but without the narrative. Truly unreal. So I decided it was time. I screeched off 20 or 30 feet of line from my little Princess and flicked the tippet end out toward the water. Two or three false casts swished through the air and — and this is god’s truth — I popped that little hopper right smack in the center of a clear spot in the water. I watched. I waited. I stripped in the slack and I waited some more. The water was so dark and so thick with growth that it was hard to see anything beneath the surface. I waited a minute or so and finally I gave her a twitch. My little bug pushed a bow-wave straight toward me and floated high on the water. Another ten seconds and I gave it another twitch. This time something thick and black and large rolled over and devoured my fly. I popped my wrist back and hooked up nicely. That fish — my fish — ran a slalom course through the weeds and tangled my leader 5 ways from Sunday. I stood up, fell and slid like a knothead down the bank and landed on my knees in the muck. But I still had a fish on! I stripped the slack that had formed from my fall and felt the leader knot hit the tip of my rod. I knew I was less than 9 feet from this fish and I wasn’t going to let a little slime stop me from landing him. What I didn’t plan on was the "lack of firmness" on the bottom of the pond. I stepped into the water — just a foot or so — and immediately felt the coolness of the mud slide deliciously up to my knees. I tried to step out and I felt one of my Teva’s come off my foot. Damn! I lost balance and fell back, gently and with great style, right on my ass. Here I am, all of my bits and pieces in the water and my legs being swallowed by quick sand. I worked to get my feet out of the suck, all the while trying to hang on to my rod. Eventually I got to my feet and started scanning the weeds for my fishy friend. I bent my rod gently and in doing so pulled my leader into a semi-straight line. I coould feel the fish still and I could see the hissy fit he was throwing in the growth. Laying down my rod I wrapped the leader around my hand and gently pulled him in. The trout was wrapped in so much plant material that he looked twice his actual size. I kept him in the water and slipped a wet hand under his belly. The weeds kept him still as I unhooked him and pointed him, nose first toward the center of the pond. I gathered my dignity and shlepped back to my car, my legs and shorts frosted in foul smelling green/brown goop. Well, there are no facilities at this place and I had nothing more than what I was wearing with me so I slipped out of my shorts and tshirt, put my shirt over the driver’s seat of my car and drove home wearing nothing but my Jockeys and a big smile. Upon my arrival, my wife didn’t inquire as to my condition or how it came to be. She gave me a totally unaffected look and asked me if I had had a good time. I told her that I had.

Response:

– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -I spent the day fishing one of the back ponds out near Munson’s east of Boulder, CO. The current drought and a bit of local water politics has reduced many of these usually healthy potholes to small bowls of muddy, stringy soup. The hole I chose to visit today caught my eye via my ear when I heard loud slurping sounds coming from the ooze. I sat down on a clump of rye grass and watched some of the biggest lunker trout I’ve ever seen sucking bugs off of the surface, their backs complelety exposed to the air as they lay cradled in the thick weeds. I sat and I watched and I evaluated. Two big problems — 1.) the sea weed was very thick and left only small (maybe 4-5 ft. across) targets of clear (kind of) water in which to land a fly and 2.) the CO Fish and Game had encouraged aspens all along this particular bank leaving only a 10 by 10 ft "window" for me to shoot a line through. Normally I’d feel ok about a tight cast like that, but I was also standing 10-12 feet above the surface of the water which put my backcast up high and my front cast down sharply. So I sat some more and evaluated and while I did I tied on a #8 Dave’s hopper variant that I picked up in a general store in Ten Sleep, WY this summer. This version has gads of jangly rubber legs and makes all kind of ruckus on the surface when you twitch ‘em. I had no clue what they were sipping so I figured something juicy and big might bust them away from whatever hatch they were enjoying at the moment. So I sat some more and evaluated and while I did I began to realise that there was not a single sunfish or gilly or anything small at or near the water’s edge. it occurred to me that this pond had been shrinking for months and that anything small had been consumed by the elders in the water. This explained their size. Off in the distance, maybe 100 yds or so from my clump of grass were two blue herons standing in less than a foot of water. They were no doubt waiting patiently for one of these giants to glide by. I tried to imagine what that fight would look like. The scene in front of me was like an entire wildlife documentory but without the narrative. Truly unreal. So I decided it was time. I screeched off 20 or 30 feet of line from my little Princess and flicked the tippet end out toward the water. Two or three false casts swished through the air and — and this is god’s truth — I popped that little hopper right smack in the center of a clear spot in the water. I watched. I waited. I stripped in the slack and I waited some more. The water was so dark and so thick with growth that it was hard to see anything beneath the surface. I waited a minute or so and finally I gave her a twitch. My little bug pushed a bow-wave straight toward me and floated high on the water. Another ten seconds and I gave it another twitch. This time something thick and black and large rolled over and devoured my fly. I popped my wrist back and hooked up nicely. That fish — my fish — ran a slalom course through the weeds and tangled my leader 5 ways from Sunday. I stood up, fell and slid like a knothead down the bank and landed on my knees in the muck. But I still had a fish on! I stripped the slack that had formed from my fall and felt the leader knot hit the tip of my rod. I knew I was less than 9 feet from this fish and I wasn’t going to let a little slime stop me from landing him. What I didn’t plan on was the "lack of firmness" on the bottom of the pond. I stepped into the water — just a foot or so — and immediately felt the coolness of the mud slide deliciously up to my knees. I tried to step out and I felt one of my Teva’s come off my foot. Damn! I lost balance and fell back, gently and with great style, right on my ass. Here I am, all of my bits and pieces in the water and my legs being swallowed by quick sand. I worked to get my feet out of the suck, all the while trying to hang on to my rod. Eventually I got to my feet and started scanning the weeds for my fishy friend. I bent my rod gently and in doing so pulled my leader into a semi-straight line. I coould feel the fish still and I could see the hissy fit he was throwing in the growth. Laying down my rod I wrapped the leader around my hand and gently pulled him in. The trout was wrapped in so much plant material that he looked twice his actual size. I kept him in the water and slipped a wet hand under his belly. The weeds kept him still as I unhooked him and pointed him, nose first toward the center of the pond. I gathered my dignity and shlepped back to my car, my legs and shorts frosted in foul smelling green/brown goop. Well, there are no facilities at this place and I had nothing more than what I was wearing with me so I slipped out of my shorts and tshirt, put my shirt over the driver’s seat of my car and drove home wearing nothing but my Jockeys and a big smile. Upon my arrival, my wife didn’t inquire as to my condition or how it came to be. She gave me a totally unaffected look and asked me if I had had a good time. I told her that I had.

Is that you, Frank?

Response:

Question:

Hi Folks, I made the long trip from Oz to Orlando for a conference and on Saturday 5th of May got out to Titusville for a fish. I wanted to stop in at The Flyfisherman store, but they didn’t open until 10am, so I sniffed out a likely spot on Mosquito Lagoon about 8am and got started. It was a windy as hell which limited my options and the water was pretty dirty. I put on a white and pink clouser and nervous of crocs, oops, gators, started wading. After 45 min of nothing, I hooked up solid to a decent sized fish in knee deep water that turned out to be a spotted sea trout about 3lb. Soon after I got another about 4lb or so. I really wanted to catch a red so I packed up and went into the Flyfisherman for help. The guys there were really friendly and Chris there drew me a map to one of his favourite secret spots (he doesn’t mind showing them to visitors from a far ). I went forth to spot X on the Indian R with some prefered local flies, being told to shuffle out to a knee deep grass bank and wait patiently for something to happen. After about 20 min, 3 or 4 big red tails popped up through the wind chop about 40 feet to my right. The wind was at that nasty level where flyline comes out of the rod tip sideways. I took 2 or 3 tries to get the fly to them and I ended up slamming it down right over where I thought they were. To cut a sad story short, I don’t know if I spooked them or if they just doddled along their way invisible under the choppy surface – but I didn’t get a touch off them and lost track of them. I stayed out there another 2 hours and didn’t see another thing! In calmer conditions, this kind of fishing would be fantastic, alas, I had my chances and dudded out completely on the reds. I will return!!!!! Thanks to Anis Popp and R Dean for their advice and putting me onto The Flyfisherman. Cheers John K Sydney Flyrodders — John Knight ALEMITE LUBREQUIP PTY LTD mobile 0407 959100 office 61-2-99382999 fax 61-2-99053631

Response:

I stayed out there another 2 hours and didn’t see another thing! In calmer conditions, this kind of fishing would be fantastic, alas, I had my chances and dudded out completely on the reds. I will return!!!!!

Nice report.  I’ve only fished FL once since leaving Gainesville in the early 90s.  Your story brought back pleasant memories. At least you dudded out on the reds and not on the redds.  ;-)  Better luck next time. JR

Response:

I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I assume you were told Redds are quite moody and what spooks them one minute drives them to mall a fly the next. When the shrimp are running at haul over they’ll nail just about anything. Possibly the fish were cognizant of the shock to your nervous system that would have occurred if you had tied into one of the biggie redds of the area. When you consider most of them caught are too BIG to keep you can see why this is a popular fishing spot. — John Popp in Sanford Fl.

– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Hi Folks, I made the long trip from Oz to Orlando for a conference and on Saturday 5th of May got out to Titusville for a fish. I wanted to stop in at The Flyfisherman store, but they didn’t open until 10am, so I sniffed out a likely spot on Mosquito Lagoon about 8am and got started. It was a windy as hell which limited my options and the water was pretty dirty. I put on a white and pink clouser and nervous of crocs, oops, gators, started wading. After 45 min of nothing, I hooked up solid to a decent sized fish in knee deep water that turned out to be a spotted sea trout about 3lb. Soon after I got another about 4lb or so. I really wanted to catch a red so I packed up and went into the Flyfisherman for help. The guys there were really friendly and Chris there drew me a map to one of his favourite secret spots (he doesn’t mind showing them to visitors from a far ). I went forth to spot X on the Indian R with some prefered local flies, being told to shuffle out to a knee deep grass bank and wait patiently for something to happen. After about 20 min, 3 or 4 big red tails popped up through the wind chop about 40 feet to my right. The wind was at that nasty level where flyline comes out of the rod tip sideways. I took 2 or 3 tries to get the fly to them and I ended up slamming it down right over where I thought they were. To cut a sad story short, I don’t know if I spooked them or if they just doddled along their way invisible under the choppy surface – but I didn’t get a touch off them and lost track of them. I stayed out there another 2 hours and didn’t see another thing! In calmer conditions, this kind of fishing would be fantastic, alas, I had my chances and dudded out completely on the reds. I will return!!!!! Thanks to Anis Popp and R Dean for their advice and putting me onto The Flyfisherman. Cheers John K Sydney Flyrodders — John Knight ALEMITE LUBREQUIP PTY LTD mobile 0407 959100 office 61-2-99382999 fax 61-2-99053631

Response:

The ones I saw I guessed at 10-15lb. I was just above knee deep and they had big fat tails sticking up 4"-5" from the chop. It was good fun – Chris at The Flyfisherman said he has seen them tailing in 3 feet of water so I know what you mean about maximum sizes. When they are close by can you hear or feel them? About the time I saw them I sensed croaking or popping sounds coming up my spine and at the back of my neck – was that them or something else (like shrimps) they  were feeding on? Sorry about the name John, I went from memory yesterday. Regards John K Sydney Flyrodders

Response:

Thanks to Anis Popp and R Dean for their advice and putting me onto The Flyfisherman.

You’re more than welcome. TC, R – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -Cheers John K Sydney Flyrodders

Response:

– John Popp in Sanford Fl.

The ones I saw I guessed at 10-15lb. I was just above knee deep and they had big fat tails sticking up 4"-5" from the chop. It was good fun – Chris at The Flyfisherman said he has seen them tailing in 3 feet of water so I know what you mean about maximum sizes. When they are close by can you hear or feel them? About the time I saw them I sensed croaking or popping sounds coming up my spine and at the back of my neck – was that them or something else (like shrimps) they  were feeding on?

They do croak, like a croaker. Most people miss that as they fish from boats. They must have been on a young oyster bed, they make a popimg sound as the fish crush the shells. they will often also leave a cloud like discoloration in the water. It’s not bottom but the crushed up shell fish remains they emit. As for gators, they do frequent the intercoastal occasionally but prefer fresh water right now folks who have pools close to open water better look before they leap. by the way you were just a bit early due to the weather, but then a good spot kinda beats a brookie. And I was hopeing for you. John Popp in Sanford Fl. – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Sorry about the name John, I went from memory yesterday. Regards John K Sydney Flyrodders

Response:

Hey Dean;     While you were in G-ville did you ever get over to St.Augestine Beach to fish flounder with a fly? I tied into a winter flounder over there about 20 yrs ago that measured exactly 3′. Did it on a 6wt fiberglass, it took about 45 min. to get it out of the water. It spit the fly when on the beach. Man we hustled to keep it from being a catch and return. My wife grabbed the rod and pinned it and I belly flopped on it. It was delicious. I think that was a once in a lifetime experience for a po boy. — John Popp in Sanford Fl.

– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Thanks to Anis Popp and R Dean for their advice and putting me onto The Flyfisherman. You’re more than welcome. TC, R Cheers John K Sydney Flyrodders

Response:

I thought the popping sound was them – damn I’m cranky I never got one. I saw a big gator on the Mosquito Lagoon side – about 8′ – laying on the fresh water side of the roadway. A kid picnicking with his parents pointed it out to me, he was throwing bait at it. Dopey things – Believe me, there is no way I would have been that close to an Aussie croc without a .44! Cheers John K

Response:

Question:

<Good report snipped What, no whitefish to report about Jeff? Darin

Response:

Jeff C writes:

(snip for brev) – Jeff Miller’s week: up at 5:30 to fish before breakfast.  Sometimes pack a lunch to fish straight through.  At dinner, eat everything he ordered plus half of Dene’s order,

You mean to tell me that scurrilous lawyer from the great North State was also eating Dene’s food?  Helll, when he sat opposite me I had to build a defensive wall consisting of wine bottles, water glasses, etc. to keep my food from ending up in his plate.  Somewhere there is a picture of Jeffy, ala the picture of Dorian Gray, growing fatter and fatter and fatter, while our beloved yet scurrilous friend remains lean and mean. As far as Benee goes —- well, if I didn’t have to take a leak so badly, we’d *still* be in the 2nd current catching big brookies and salmon.  I enjoyed meeting her, Jeff, and hope the both of you can come back. Dave LaCourse, Bottom Dweller

Response:

Helll, when [Jeffy] sat opposite me I had to build a defensive wall consisting of wine bottles, water glasses, etc. to keep my food from ending up in his plate.

That’s good …hope the both of you can come back.

Yes, that would be good. Regards, Jeff

Response:

What, no whitefish to report about Jeff?

I forgot!  No whitefish!  One nice thing about the fishing there is that when you hook something it’s either a salmon or brook trout (although there were rumours of some browns being in the water, which was made more confusing because apparently some salmon had red spots.)  And you know immediately which one it is by the direction the fish streaks – north or south Regards, Jeff

Response:

Jeff C writes: What, no whitefish to report about Jeff? I forgot!  No whitefish!  One nice thing about the fishing there is that when you hook something it’s either a salmon or brook trout (although there were rumours of some browns being in the water, which was made more confusing because apparently some salmon had red spots.)  And you know immediately which one it is by the direction the fish streaks – north or south Regards, Jeff

There are both chubs (large shiner-like fish) and suckers in the Rapid.  The chubs will hit a streamer and the suckers regularly take a nymph.  In fact, on Monday I took a slucker out of 1st current.  Peter was at the tail of the current and couldn’t see it — he thought it was a big brookie.  There are also yellow perch and supposedly small mouth bass.  I’ve caught a yellow perch, but never a bass. Dave LaCourse

Response:

There are also yellow perch and supposedly small mouth bass.

I remember now I saw a sign on the riverside that said smallmouth had been illegally "stocked" in the river.  It encouraged fishermen to keep any smallmouth that were caught, since they are "very aggressive" (in taking over trout habitat.)  I have to admit I would have been shocked to catch a perch Regards, Jeff

Response:

- Benee and I really enjoyed our trip to Lakewood.  Ever since I dropped in on this group and mentioned to Benee the sort of names I’ve been called, she really had no interest in reading or posting.  She’s not a big internet surfer in any case.  But slowly I was able to convince her she’d enjoy a clave like the one in Maine.  I think one of the things that intrigued her was some of the handles of ROFF posters: Indian Joe, Pamlico Jim, Daytripper, Fishworship, Flyfish, Big Dale, Bruiser, Wayno, and now I guess Zimbo??, etc.  She says she will invent her own handle and post a trip report herself, and she also has pics to contribute. – First I’d like to say that one of my primary goals was to see Benee catch her first trout on a fly.  Now, as many of you know, teaching fly fishing to your significant other ranks right up there with showing them how to golf. According to Peter Charles, it is second to hanging wallpaper together.  So I’m very thankful to Dave LaCourse who not only provided a pleasant guiding experience to Benee, but actually helped her catch her first fish.  There was one tag team effort between Dave and Benee on a brookie of about 17", and after that Benee caught a salmon on her own that appeared somewhere around 14-16". Mission accomplished!! – My dream fish for the trip was an 18" native brook trout.  I never caught that fish, but I was pleasantly surprised by the salmon, which went ballistic when hooked, as Zimbo said. – I cannot claim the biggest fish, the most fish, the largest fish on a little hook, or any other meaningful accomplishment, but I do claim the toughest river crossing – *below* lower dam.  I made it, but not recommended. – I wasn’t able to stay long enough for the raffle, but look forward to whatever I might have gotten.  Also sorry I missed the bonfire.  On the way out Wednesday morning, I ran into Dave Tatosian, Paul Goodwin, and Dave (Bottom ? flyfish).  Glad I was able to at least say hi to Dave again but sorry we again didn’t get a chance to fish. – Dave LaCourse drives an Audi.  When Dave asked Benee what she did, Benee said she was an audiologist.  Dave asked Benee if she could look at his car. – One thing that’s fun about fishing with a newbie is a fresh look at some of the lingo we take for granted.  When you or I might say "Had a few splashy refusals", Benee would say "I think I had a nibble.  Didn’t pan out though." – From the sound of things, the better fishing seems to have been in the second half of the week.  Oh well!  That’s the kind of thing that keeps you coming back. – The accomodations were exactly my style.  On Sunday I only had half a day to fish, so I took a lunch with me to the river.  There wasn’t anything unique or special in the lunch bag, yet the lunch out on the river, under absolutely beautiful skies and perfect temperature, *was* special and it tasted damn good.  Hard to say why, but you know what I mean. – Jeff Miller’s week: up at 5:30 to fish before breakfast.  Sometimes pack a lunch to fish straight through.  At dinner, eat everything he ordered plus half of Dene’s order, and start drinking wine.  After dinner, sit in a rocking chair and start drinking heavier stuff.  At some point while listening to the "party", drift off to sleep.  Repeat. – It turns out Indian Joe and Dene stayed at the same bed and breakfast that Benee and I did in Portland Thursday night.  The contrast between the brochure and the actual accomodations was a joke!  Luckily we had good company to share the laugh with. – Well, Dave did a great job with the organization, thank you. Regards, Jeff

Response:

Question:

Hello all. Im just getting back into fishing, haveing not been able to go for a while. I live in Virginia, and just got back from Shenendoa National park fishing, but it was pretty poor. Im wondering if anyone has any info on Gunpowder Falls Trout streams in MD? Im thinking of trying there next week. Or any other good streams near the MD/VA area

Response:

Michael,  I’m an avid fly fisherman in Maryland.  One of my favorite streams is in Thurmon, MD.  Just up route 15.  Big Hunting Creek is the name.  It’s a fly fishing catch and release area with some large trout.  I do really well with midges just under the surface.  Try fishing up from the ranger cabin. Some great water.  Bill  (two years ago I caught my largest trout. 36" rainbow up there)

– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Hello all. Im just getting back into fishing, haveing not been able to go for a while. I live in Virginia, and just got back from Shenendoa National park fishing, but it was pretty poor. Im wondering if anyone has any info on Gunpowder Falls Trout streams in MD? Im thinking of trying there next week. Or any other good streams near the MD/VA area

Response:

Question:

But seriously, someone once told me that Greg LeMonde was accidentally shot while he was fly fishing.  This true? I believe he was hunting birds with his brother.

He was turkey hunting. JM

Response:

Well done Mike!  I don’t know bout Uncle Sam teaching him to shoot Indians at three hundred yards, but I wonder who taught him to shoot himself so comprehensively in the foot!!  Gillaroo

Response:

[snip] I can hear an occasional rustling in the brush.  Maybe hear a bird or was it a bat flying by.

Or maybe it was a 30/06 whizzing by… /daytripper (maybe I should paint my vest blaze orange?)

Response:

An archived article by Old Rupe indicates that he often fishes in Michigan.  And it got me thinking… There are those days.  I’ve made it to the stream somehow in spite of my work schedule. It’s before daybreak and I am shivering on the tailgate of my truck.  I can hear an occasional rustling in the brush.  Maybe hear a bird or was it a bat flying by.  What is very obvious is the sound of the river and the anticipation of excitement.  A bit of starlight or moonlight provides just enough to see the outline of the trees.  These are the moments when the imagination sometimes runs wild and suddenly, I begin wondering about those sightings of the Michigan sasquatch.  Oh s**t, what was that?  Did I just see an anthropoidal form emerge from the shadowed thicket?  Or is it Old Rupe at three hundred yards trying to get a good look at my face? Mu in Michigan

Response:

Maybe hear a bird or was it a bat flying by. Or maybe it was a 30/06 whizzing by… /daytripper (maybe I should paint my vest blaze orange?)

Oh, Mr. T, you menfolks is always talking about your guns and what size it is   d;-) But seriously, someone once told me that Greg LeMonde was accidentally shot while he was fly fishing.  This true? Mu

Response:

But seriously, someone once told me that Greg LeMonde was accidentally shot while he was fly fishing.  This true?

I believe he was hunting birds with his brother. — visit my web site: http://home.earthlink.net/~royalwulff/ something bogus to avoid spam)

Response:

Question:

Does anyone have knowledge and advice re: flyfishing for smallmouth in the Russian River. Thank in advance Bill C

Response:

Does anyone have knowledge and advice re: flyfishing for smallmouth in the Russian River. Thank in advance Bill C

Use crayfish patterns of 1" to ! 1/4" in length.  Rust color to almost black.  Best time for these patterns is late summer and fall.  Best smallmouth fishing is above Wholer Bridge to Cloverdale.  Use a canoe to drift the river. you will have best luck around the vineyards as people can’t get there to swim as easily as they can when they get close to roads. Good Luck —                                     Jeff Olsen If you don"t know your rights,                                            you have none.

Response:

Question:

Just sent in a check for $245 to the Montana wild life dept. The out of state  license is a lottery.I am not asking for am elk license and wonder if anyone  with experience knows the odds of being picked. I know this is a rather foolish  question to ask but I just might get an answer. Jim

Response:

1995 results for non-resident deer combo license was 20%. Don’t recall what 1996 results were but they weren’t much different. Just sent in a check for $245 to the Montana wild life dept. The out of state

 license is a lottery.I am not asking for am elk license and wonder if anyone  with experience knows the odds of being picked. — Brian D. Nelson, Missoula, Montana Montana Flyfishing and Hunting Outfitter http://www.montana.com/dno/dno.htm http://www.montana.com/dno/hunt.htm

Response:

Question:

The last time I used a dropper fly I had horrible problems with the line tangling up. I had attached the fly to the tag end of a surgeons knot Has anyone got any suggestions for keeping the whole thing untangled when fishing? I guess you could attach the dropper onto the first fly, but I often wonder about hooking success? Any thots would be appreciated. Jeff Dueck Calgary Alberta Canada

Response:

The last time I used a dropper fly I had horrible problems with the line tangling up. I had attached the fly to the tag end of a surgeons knot Has anyone got any suggestions for keeping the whole thing untangled when fishing? I guess you could attach the dropper onto the first fly, but I often wonder about hooking success? Any thots would be appreciated.

I use a two-fly rig often.  I tie the upper fly onto the end of the taper then with this attached I tie my tippet in with a barrel knot, leaving the fly hanging about 2" from the knot.  As long as the lower fly is heavier and the upper isn’t hanging down too far I don’t have problems. When I tangle it is the fault of my casting.  When I overpower the rod it forms a "tailing loop" where the flies tangle in the line.  With a two fly rig it works best to cast a gentle slow cast with a nice wide loop. If it’s windy forget the upper fly. Mark Vinsel Visit my gallery: http://www.lanminds.com/local/vinnie/gallery.HTML

Response:

The last time I used a dropper fly I had horrible problems with the line tangling up. I had attached the fly to the tag end of a surgeons knot Has anyone got any suggestions for keeping the whole thing untangled when fishing? I guess you could attach the dropper onto the first fly, but I often wonder about hooking success? Any thots would be appreciated. Jeff Dueck Calgary Alberta Canada

I have good luck by tying a loop knot into my tippet and then tying a pefection loop into my dropper leader, and looping them together.  Keep the dropper leader short, less than 6 inches, and the stiffness of the loop junction will keep you good. ATB

Response:

The last time I used a dropper fly I had horrible problems with the line tangling up. I had attached the fly to the tag end of a surgeons knot Has anyone got any suggestions for keeping the whole thing untangled when fishing?

I tie the tippet for the dropper to the curve in the hook of the first fly (usually a dry, with the dropper a nymph) using an improved clinch knot. I’ve never lost a dropper even tho’ my hooks are debarbed, and I don’t think that the dropper has interfered with hookups on the upper fly. The big advantage is that this rig casts much like a single fly and avoids the twists and snarls that I formerly encountered tying the dropper off from the leader above the other fly.

Response:

The last time I used a dropper fly I had horrible problems with the line tangling up. I had attached the fly to the tag end of a surgeons knot Has anyone got any suggestions for keeping the whole thing untangled when fishing?

Tom Johnson at Johnson’s Pere Marquette Lodge taught me to tie a second peice of tippet to the eye of the first fly, and attach the second fly to the second tippet.  So far it has worked great for me. . Lenny Bloksberg . .

Response:

The last time I used a dropper fly I had horrible problems with the line tangling up. I had attached the fly to the tag end of a surgeons knot Has anyone got any suggestions for keeping the whole thing untangled when fishing?

        Another method of avoiding tangles is to run your tippet through the eye of the dropper fly, tie on another length of tippet with a double surgeon’s knot and then tie on your tail fly. The dropper fly runs free but snugs up against the surgeon’s knot during casting. The only problem is that the dropper fly can’t be larger than a #14 or it slides over the knot but I rarely use flies that large so it’s no problem.

Response:

: The last time I used a dropper fly I had horrible problems with the line : tangling up. I had attached the fly to the tag end of a surgeons knot : Has anyone got any suggestions for keeping the whole thing untangled : when fishing? : :       Another method of avoiding tangles is to run your tippet through : the eye of the dropper fly, tie on another length of tippet with a double : surgeon’s knot and then tie on your tail fly. The dropper fly runs free : but snugs up against the surgeon’s knot during casting. The only problem : is that the dropper fly can’t be larger than a #14 or it slides over the : knot but I rarely use flies that large so it’s no problem. For a classical dropper, make sure that you are using a reasonably stiff piece of mono to make the leader.  I find that if the mono can support the weight of the fly horizontally over the 5-10 cm length of the dropper, then it is stiff enough not to tangle when casting.  However, I too prefer the methods previously mentioned.

Response:

Tom Johnson at Johnson’s Pere Marquette Lodge taught me to tie a second peice of tippet to the eye of the first fly, and attach the second fly to the second tippet.  So far it has worked great for me.

This works only if the eye is complete – and many hooks have either a small gap in the eye, or where the wire was cut may have sharp corners exposed to the inside of the eye. Neither of these may affect the mainline, but a trailing dropper might decide to go it alone with some vigorous casting… <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< < Digital Equipment Corp.    Alpha Server Engineering  < <           "Read this and nobody gets hurt"           < <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Response:

The real key is learning to cast.  Don’t bother with any kind of dropper set up if you can’t exercise a modicum of loop control in all wind/weather conditions.                                 Mike in PDX                "When the trout are lost, smash the state."                                            Tom McGuane

Response:

You can attach an additional wet fly to your leader by leaving the heavier tag end of the barrel knot closest to your tippet a little long.   If the barrel knot is tied properly, the heavier tage end should stick out at 180 degrees from the tippet tag end.  Trim off the tag end of the tippet and just tie the additional fly to the remaining line.  The dropper line should be short (I usually use 6-8 inches) and no finer than 3X, or else it will tangle.  You can use this to attach as many flies as you want further up the leader too. Jim Davis Philadelphia, PA Temple University

Response:

Question:

I am just getting into fly-fishing. snip I seem to remember he used some sort of pin, but I can’t actually remember how he set it up (I was only 10 at the time). Anybody have some tips or suggestions? Paul

Paul, I would recommend you contact the Fly Box in Ottawa, they should be able to steer in the right direction. Also the Ottawa FlyFishers are an active organization you could contact also for info. Also ask around Bell Northern, I know some people flyfish there. David Delcloo

Response:

You might want to start by reading a book or two on the basics of fly fishing.  Check your local library.  I like to suggest that folks try to get into a beginners fly fishing class.  I think its is well worth the money.  As to the kind of equipment to use, it depends on the kind of fishing you expect to be doing.  Generally, a 5wt or 6wt outfit works well for most rivers and streams, but I don’t know your situation.  As you are just starting out, you might want to look at an inexpensive outfit (I started out with a 5/6wt Cortland outfit.)  I bet that "pin" your grandfather used to attach the leader to the fly line was used in tying a nail knot. Good luck and enjoy, Claude

Response:

Paul, I also use the nail knot with a 9′ tapered leader and would like to thank Tim for saving me trying to describe nail knot tying. With a 9′ leader I do get through about three or four per season due to my poor casting or snagging the bottom. Alan UK Flyfisher

Response:

I am just getting into fly-fishing. The last time I ever tried it was with my grandfather ages ago. I’ve not forgotten his recommendations on the size and type of rod, nor how to play the fish. What I have forgotten is fairly basic – the best method to secure the leader line with fly (using monofilament) to the fly line. I seem to remember he used some sort of pin, but I can’t actually remember how he set it up (I was only 10 at the time). Anybody have some tips or suggestions? Regards, Paul Usual disclaimers apply…….    

Response:

I seem to remember he used some sort of pin, but I can’t actually remember how he set it up (I was only 10 at the time). Anybody have some tips or suggestions? Regards, Paul Usual disclaimers apply…….    

The method you briefly described of attaching leader to fly line sounds like a needle knot.  This is my favorite method but is a little time consuming.   However, If you are building leaders by tying tapering dia. tippett material, you only have to tie one needle knot for the whole season.  (provided you do it right the first time) The prodedure goes like this. First you will need two sewing needles, one small enough to fit into the end of the fly line eye first, the other should be considerably larger. Step 1. Push the small needle, eye first into the end of the fly line up to a         quarter inch or so and then push it through the wall of the fly line. Step 2. Thread the smallend of the leader through the exposed eye and withdraw         the needle, with tippett, from inside the fly line.  Pull the leader         through the end of the fly line, leaving 5" or 6" extending through         the wall. Step 3. Take the larger needle and place it along side the fly line with         the eye toward the tippett and the point toward the reel.   Step 4. Wrap the butt end of the leader around the fly line and needle         starting above the point where the leader exits the wall.  Wrap down         five or so times past the exit point and pass the tag end through the         eye of the needle.   Step 5. Grab the poionted end of the needle firmly, and carefully draw the tag         end of the leader under the wraps you have just made.   Step 6. Wet the knot and cinch it up slowly ensuring that the wraps tighten         up smoothly and cover the area where the but end exited the line wall.         Trim the tag end and you are ready to go. Sounds complicated but it is knot so bad.  Pictures are a big help and there are many other ways that are a lot simpler, ie. loop connections, but as I said the is the method I prefer. Good luck, Tim

Response: