Right Between the Eyes

By: Bill Hetland

It was hurling toward my eye like a charging locomotive. Instinctively, I tried to dodge it. I was too slow. Splat! A soggy orange piece of yarn slammed into my cheek and slumped unceremoniously to my feet.

So this is what learning to fly fish was going to be all about. Thank heavens they didn't let us use flies with real hooks. I would have been hooked for sure.

For my birthday, my children gifted me a new fly-fishing pole and reel. Now I have fished most of my life - or as my wife likes to say, I have casted for most of my life, since "fishing" assumes that at some point one actually catches a fish. Unfortunately, that hasn't happened too often for me.

Since I use spinning equipment and had no idea how to use a fly outfit, my new adventure began with a quick check of the internet, through which I located Keine's Fly Fishing Shop in Sacramento. As I walked into the shop I was struck by the vast collection of rods, gear and float tubes of every imaginable kind ringing the store. I was quickly approach and politely asked if I needed any help. Did I ever! I explained my situation. I had a new 9' Sage DS2 pole and a 5/6 disc Orvis Battenkill reel. The salesman said that was a good middle-of-the-road outfit with which to start fly fishing. (Guess my kids knew more about this than I thought.) He first asked if I had a fly line on my reel. Yes, I said some white cotton looking stuff. I was informed that was called backing and not fly line. Oh.

He took me over to the counter and first explained that fly line comes in different types of tapers. There are weight forward, level line, long belly, Nymph, Wulff triangle and other tapers with equally befuddling descriptive names. His explanations were Greek to me.

Fly lines can also be a floating line or a sinking line or sinking tip or intermediate line, he told me. He then said I should add a leader - something I finally understood - and then something called a tippet. He saw the blank stare on my face and quickly suggested I use a weight forward, 5 F line, and optic yellow in color so I would be able to follow it better as I learned to cast. He also suggested a 7 ½ foot 5X tapered leader and some additional 5X tippet material. Yeah, that was just what I was going to suggest also.

He asked if I had my reel with me so he could put the line on it. No, I didn't. He then asked if I knew how to tie the various line pieces together but I'm sure he knew the answer even before he asked the questions. He very patiently showed me in detail as he tied each piece of line to the next, each with a different knot. He pointed out there were instructions in the fly line box in case I forgot how to tie each knot. Right. His estimation of my retention ability was admirable.

I was all set. I had my pole and reel and some new fly line and leader and some tippet. (Love that word: tippet.)

I noticed a number of books and videos in the store and asked if he had any favorites for the beginner. He suggested the L.L. Bean Fly-Fishing Handbook and a DVD by Mel Krieger titled "The Essence of Fly Casting". He also strongly recommended I attend a fly fishing school to get some real hands-on practice under the watchful eye of a knowledgeable fly fisherman. Being a handy man of sorts I knew all too well from experience that you can only get so much information from a book or video. Hands-on was the only sure way to go. He handed me a flyer for the Jeff Putnam Fly Fishing School. A quick phone call and I was off to my first lesson in fly fishing.

We met Saturday morning underneath the Watt Ave Bridge along the banks of the American River. The air was cool as a honking squadron of Canadian geese flew in and came to rest in a little backwater just downstream as the early fishermen were coming off the river. Jeff introduced himself and smiled when he heard I was a true beginner who had never fly fished before. He must have figured I hadn't had time to cultivate any bad habits that he'd have to break.

I put my fly pole together and screwed on the reel. After searching for some time for the end of my hair-thin tippet leader, I pulled off a few feet of line. I pushed it through the first guide and then the second. At the third guide it slipped out of my fingers and back down and out of the first two guides. I tried it again - same thing. Tried it once more and actually made it to the fourth guide before the inevitable happened. Now this being a nine-foot pole with eleven guides - each one getting smaller, I figured I may be here all morning just trying to get my poled rigged. Seeing my dilemma, Jeff quietly walked over and suggested I take the fly line and leader at the same time and string it through the guides and even if it did slip out of my not-so-nimble fingers it would only go back to one guide. A bit of advice that hadn't made its way to the video.

Our little quintet of fly fishing neophytes with poles at the ready, dutifully followed Jeff across the rocky shore to the edge of the river in eager anticipation. Jeff demonstrated a few quick casts of the fly line laying it softy across the water surface with the yarn fly gently kissing the water. Looked pretty easy. But I remembered how County Fair hucksters could make the "Handy Dandy Super Duper Food Chopper" do just about anything. Even though once I got it home it didn't even qualify as a boat anchor. But Jeff was no carny.

He next explained how to hold the pole, looked sort of like a golf grip and began breaking down the casting stroke, with a few suggestions on what not to do thrown in for good measure (knowing that was what most of us would probably end up doing). Even though he was clear and articulate, the information came at me with the blinding speed of a Wall Street ticker tape running out of control. I began thinking maybe bocce ball might be a saner hobby for me.

The five of us spread out along the bank to give each of us plenty of casting room. The river, cool and green, flowed smoothly in front of us. It was difficult to believe such a peaceful place was just a few miles from California's hectic state capitol. I was ready, I knew I could do this - back cast, forward cast but the line fell in a wiggly mess ten feet in front of me. At least it was optic yellow so that I and - unfortunately, every other fisherman on the river - would not miss it. Again, back cast, forward cast, same results. I tried a third time and it looked like I had already developed some of those bad habits Jeff was going to have to fix. Jeff ambled over and, looking for something positive to say, commented on how well I was holding my pole, and I don't even play golf. He then offered a couple of suggestions. I tried again - back cast, control the wrist action, not so far back, wait for the line to come back, forward cast, stop at ten o'clock. Yeah! The line shot out nice and straight, landing my little orange yarn fly effortlessly on the water's surface. Jeff smiled. I was amazed.

I continued practicing my cast and later Jeff showed us how to strip the line and opened up our cast to increase the distance. I was pleased. Sometimes my cast was erratic and other times the fly line streamed out of my pole as it sweetly laid the soggy orange yarn fly on the water - not a threat to the fish today but with a little more practice I would be back with the real deal.

This first day of continuous casting, trying to fling the fly line with grace and coordination to gently land across the water and naturally drop the fly, left my arm feeling like it had done a dozen one-arm pushups - ignoring the fact that even doing a dozen regular pushups would be quite a feat for me. But there was a definite sense of accomplishment: the exhilaration when everything just clicked, when my timing was right and my form was pretty good for a first timer and the fly line flew with ease. I knew I was finally hooked - on fly fishing, that is.

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