I’m a lucky guy for a lot of reasons. One of the most important ones, to me, is that I grew up in a family that loves the outdoors. That means that, among other things, I started fly fishing at a very young age. In those younger years, my adventures were limited mostly to the waters of northern Arizona.
For readers who don’t know, Arizona offers excellent fly fishing opportunities and has for a very long time. Those opportunities are somewhat different today, and not all the changes have been positive. Not for someone who remembers when we could spend a day on the stream without encountering other people.
For example, when my family would fish Chevelon Canyon, we hiked a deer trail that zigzagged down the steep wall of the canyon to get to reach the stream that ran for 17 miles at the bottom. It was important to remember that, after a day fishing upstream or down, we’d need to make it back to that trail with enough daylight left to follow it back up. The hike back out was slow and difficult, due mostly to the effects of gravity.
That beautiful, steep canyon was lost to a dam and is now a 22-mile long lake that’s extremely accessible, with a campground, toilets and easy slopes to the water’s edge. The fishing is good, but the experience is definitely not the same.
Canyon Creek was another favorite spot, though it took much less effort to access. My favorite memories of fishing there always involved choosing to head upstream, although downstream always meant bigger fish. Why? Because you could hike all the way up to the spring where the creek originated by lunchtime.
There was always watercress to pluck and enjoy in the saturated earth around the spring, and at the right time of year, you could pick wild strawberries, too. Along with a packed-in sandwich and the treats Mother Nature provided, we’d help ourselves to plenty of cold, clear water from the horizontal pipe that the Forest Service had driven in under a boulder to help maintain the flow. It was the perfect pause to refresh before heading back downstream.
Canyon Creek is now a renowned Trout Unlimited stream and you can get daily fishing reports online that will even tell you what flies to tie on and how to fish them. When I learned to fish there, we used our eyes and a lot of guesswork, but we got it right, eventually.
In my youth, my delivery method was often a 5-foot spin cast pole, rigged with a clear plastic bubble and a long leader of straight, small-diameter mono. It was still fly fishing and if you don’t think it presents challenges of its own, please, give it a try. Meanwhile, I learned to read water, stalk, approach, make a proper delivery and even how to fish the hatch.
Naturally, I grew into using a “real” fly rod and after more years than most have spent waving that 9-foot stick around, I carry several rods for different water. I can empty the spool to the backing on any of them and keep it all in the air if I have enough room for the back cast. I’ve caught fish in some very interesting places because of that, but I don’t do it just to show off. Unless, of course, someone asks me to show them how.
I’ve cast my flies in trophy waters and unknown spots in Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Oregon, New Mexico, Texas and California. I’ve fished headwaters, tailwaters, and pretty much everything in between. Interestingly enough, one thing that’s never changed is that it’s always more about the experience than the success. On the other hand, success is nice, and I’ve had my share.
My head is full of hundreds of stories and each adventure has its own special meaning. Many of them include family, wives (one at a time), kids, friends and dogs. I hope to create more in the years I have left on this beautiful planet. This year will include a permanent return to Wyoming, where my heart is at home. If you find yourself on a stream in that state, and you run across an old guy who looks like he’s right where he belongs, say hello. Maybe I’ll tell you a tale of “back in the day”.
