028: Casting the first fly Indoctrination on the Bighorn River - burst 5
I quickly untangle the mess and try it again. This time, the Heavier Green Line began shooting out from the tip of the Rod and the leader and double back like a bull whip I strip more line like I'd seen them do. The line went further and I stripped more. Out At went. I. Let it go in the fly settled softly onto the water surface. I did it. I found myself grinning from ear to ear. ACT Like you've been here before I. Reminded Myself. quickly. Took on a contempt of countenance as I fished. I ventured back out into the water stepping with care through the border of Slimy Moss. The fly drifted down toward a pool where trout were surfacing to nip insects. Suddenly a wave of panic swept over. What do I do if one bites? I. Had absolutely no idea of how to step a hook or land a fish with this contraption. I snapped the line back into the air again. The process of casting back and forth gave me time to formulate a plan. None came. So I decided to make it up as I went. Again, I managed to propel the little white fly onto the river surface at a respectable distance. It drifted, down. In, was. By the trout. This went on for some thirty minutes and I felt that I was getting the hang of the mechanics though nothing was accepting my offering. I really couldn't blame them. I pictured the trout in a little group pointing their fins at me and snickering. Who Does this Tennessee? Hick think he is trying to catch us with a fly rod like that. As if sensing my trepidation Jerry shouted words of encouragement. Edit there's always dumb. It seem like encouragement anyway. A boat containing a young man and woman approached US drifting past with the current. The woman called out those guys upstream said to tell you that there's a bear on the trail behind you just want to let you know have a good day. In that moment, I forgot anything I've learned about fly fishing. Now I. had bears to contend with there were never any bears on the new. I was about a dozen feet out into the water appear back toward the bank and could only see tall brush. The marauding bear certainly, a grizzly could be just on the other side ready to charge. A History Jerry. What do we do? Nothing. He replied casually whipping his fly exactly where he wanted it to go. That bears known we were here for the past hour. He doesn't care about us he fishing so we did. But now I stood slightly sideways. So I could use my ride I to watch the riverbank in my left eye to fish. Like Marty, Feldman from young Frankenstein probably would have done. The trout, even the dumb ones continue to ignore my fly.