FLYMPH FORUM

This is getting good...........

The rangers approach was less than stealthy, he had no reason to be otherwise as he rarely encountered many anglers in this area and poaching was non existent. He was actually quite startled when he seen a figure wading in the river. ‘Hi there he shouted while some thirty yards away’. ‘ Howdy, you startled me, I never heard you coming ‘, Hank grinned as he turned and faced the ranger, hoping his lie was not obvious. Rascal eyed the ranger suspiciously, always nervous at men in uniforms ever since his days in the dog pound.

’Nice looking dog you got there, did you catch anything’. Hank emerged from the river and laid the sampling net on the grass. ‘Caught a few all right’; said Hank, ‘there is a lot more life in the river than you would think. The ranger glanced around but could not see any rod and this seemed to confuse him somewhat. ‘My name is Joe, I am the River Ranger, where is your fishing rod? ’ Hank guffawed loudly, ‘ names Hank and this here is Rascal. Oh I ain’t got no fishing rod, me and Rascal are catching bugs. Nice to meet you Joe, are you chasing down poachers ?’. ‘Not really said Joe, just checking that fishing folk have their licenses, ain’t had a poaching problem on this river since old Thomas Tucker died, crafty beggar, I could never catch him, not that I really wanted to anyways. Did you know old Tom?’

‘Nah’; replied Hank. ‘ I’m not from around these parts. That’s why we are checking out the bug life in the river, I’m aiming to tie up some flies to match the bugs, some folks reckon that’s a good way to fooling a few trout. Was meaning to fish, but I cannot afford to pay a full years the license just to fish for a few weeks, so its bug hunting for the next few weeks. Mighty strange that the licence don’t simply run for a year from the day you buy it, what do ya think Joe ?’



Taking off his neatly ironed Ranger hat, Joe scratched his balding head. ‘ Darn it Hank, never really thought about it, I just follow the rules . Seems to me that you may have a point, might just mention it to the desk people next meeting. Funny old thing that, all seems perfect until some one points out the obvious. My old papa used to say , Joe, they say if it ain’t broken don’t fix it, but Joe that don’t mean that its perfect just because it ain’t broken’. A splash mid stream caught their attention. ‘ There Hank , a fine trout, shame you have no rod and no license, seemed like a fine trout judging by the splash’; Joe pointed at the dissipating rings mid stream.

‘Sounds like your papa was a clever man. When I get legal in a few weeks I’ll try that trout with one of my new flies and I’ll be sure to let you know if it’s a good one’; a few days more like, thought Hank as he stiffled a grin. ‘Be sure to tell me if you see any more trout on this stretch, being a stranger to this river I need all the help I can get’.

‘Okay Hank, I’ll remember to do that. Hope you catch plenty of them bugs and tie them flies good, the trout are pretty choosey around here, a few of them are wild as well, but that’s a secret and keep it to yourself. See ya soon’. With that Joe put on his hat and continued on his way.

Hank watched him disappear into the distance, turned to Rascal, ‘ Rascal, this is going to be way easier than I thought’. He unfolded the net and returned it to the pouch and they made their way back to the RV.

TBC

Otter, Howdy;

Yep, ... gettin' interesting .... curiouser, an curiouser.....

hank

question is.........................who's got the best binnoculars????????? ...........and "maybe"............the biggest dog??????????? .......... .......course we know bout the size of the dog in the fight as opposed to the size of the fight in the dog......................DE DIFF!

Willow, theres no such thing as a straight road

Hank hummed all the way back to the trailer park. If there was one thing Hank had learned from his years of Naval service to his country, it was the value of good planning. He had planned carefully and playing by the book he purposefully overestimated his enemy resulting in day one being a greater success than he would have thought possible. He had assumed that the ranger would be a suspicious type but Joe was the complete opposite, friendly, easy going and amiable. After a quick lunch and a long carefree nap Hank set to tidying up his tools. He washed his waders and the sampling net in fresh water and hung both outside to dry.

Sipping a coffee he logged onto Flymphforum and perused the latest posts. He had an overwhelming urge to share his exploits with his online friends but knew that to do so would be plain silly. Laughing out loud, he wondered what they would say were he to let them know of what was afoot. ‘Betchya Rascal that a few of them would spill their coffee if they knew we were going poaching, goddammm wish I could post a few lines’. Spotting a nicely tied fly by his buddy tie2fish Hank remembered the bugs in the canister. ‘Oh crap, them things will smell up the place if I don’t get rid of them’.

He was about to toss the contents in the garbage, then thought, what the hell, I may as well take a good look at the critters. Taking a white shallow plastic dish he emptied the contents onto it. ‘Wow Rascal, there sure is a lot of bugs in here. Now where did I put that magnifying glass, gotta be around here somewhere’. He searched his tying desk, under the desk, over the desk, the box of tying tools and then after scratching his head for a few minutes he searched the same places for a second time. ‘ Darn it Rascal we will have to buy a new one. I do not know where its gone, I am so careful with keeping everything tidy’. That’s when the penny dropped, ‘ Eureka Rascal, the tidying up box’. Hank had a special box into which went mislaid and mislabelled and misbehaving fly tying stuff. Every so often he would go through it and find for each item its rightful place. Sure enough, sitting proudly between a crumpled packet of loose partridge feathers and a snipe wing was the magnifying glass.

Hank surveyed the contents of the dish aided by the magnifying glass. ‘ Whey heeeey, these critters sure are impressive when you see them up close, dang if I know what they are, maybe I just try and sort them into groups’. Getting another dish and a tweezers, yep the tweezers was also hiding, under the greenwell’s cape; He separated the bugs into the two dishes, big in one , small in the other. Looking at the big un’s he then got another few dishes. Shrimp like bugs in one, mean looking hombres in another ( he suspected them to be stoneflies ), caddis in another, a few red wormy things in another finally nymphs in the last one. Looking at the smaller stuff he decided he needed to re-grade the nymphs into a series of sizes. Soon he realised he had a big problem, there were so many nymphs of different shapes and sizes and colours he soon ran out of dishes and room on the table. ‘ bugger it Rascal, bug man calling Houston……, Houston we got a problem’. Hank tipped all the bugs into the canister, washed all the dishes, sat back and took stock of the situation. ‘Rascal , we ought to learn about bugs, oh crap what am I getting us into ?, come boy, lets take a walk down to the dollar shop and see if we can find anything suitable’.

follow the yellow brick road............

For some reason Rascal always had to stop at the lamppost outside the dollar shop, cocked his leg and proceeded to take ownership of the post. Try as he might to tug on the dog lead, Hank would not deter Rascal so he no longer bothered and learned to ignore the dirty looks from passers by. Entering the shop Hank turned to Rascal, ‘behave yourself in here ‘. No matter how many dollars are stuffed into your wallet, no matter that you know that most of the contents therein are utter rubbish there is something about a dollar shop that brings out the childish greed in everyone. Simply because everything is cheap, nothing dearer than two bucks, you look at stuff trying to find a use and a reason to pop it into the basket. Hank usually took his time as he walked along, always spotting some knick knack that would make his life aboard the RV more organised. To-day however he was on a mission and quite focussed.

Hank headed straight to the back corner where the plastic pill boxes were kept. The shelf was full of containers of every conceivable size, shape and colour. Nestled away on the bottom corner Hank spied some stacks of circular containers about two and a half inch diamaeter, white bottoms, clear lids and stackable, one on top of another, 10 pack $2 each. Hank grabbed two packs and placed them in the basket, ‘hmmm be good for dubbing too’, so he grabbed another two packs. Next stop was the section for envelopes and pads, here he picked up a selection of sticky coloured labels , $1. That’s when he spotted the childrens math’s pads. Sectioned into 5mm squares, Hank thought, ‘ wonderful, I can place the bugs on this , write the name of the bug and take a picture and be able to identify the size from the little squares, 5 pack $1. Plastic tweezers were hard to find but eventually located , selection pack $1.

Well satisfied with his collection, Hank raced to the checkout and almost fell as Rascal suddenly stopped , dragging heavily on the lead. ‘Crap, why did I go this way’. Hank had made a cardinal error, he had done down past the pet stuff and Rascal simply loved plastic doggie bones. By the time Hank had regained his balance, Rascal had a lovely $2 yellow one planted firmly between his teeth, his tail wagging and a defiant grin on his face.’ Ok Rascal, but this is the last time you get one of these”. The checkout attendant quickly relieved Hank of $13. On the way back to the RV Hank did a quick calculation, Telescopic Fly rod, $17 delivered, $13 at the dollar shop, ‘ oh crap Rascal, $30 and still no fishing. Deja bloody Vu , been here before with the fly tying, you take it up to save on the cost of flies’.

Back at the RV Hank decided that it was enough entertainment for one day and set to tying a few flies. Rascal sat quietly chewing his new bone, ignoring the cussing from Hank as the thread broke for the umpteenth time. ‘ dang diddly thread, wish I could go fishing. To-morrow is Tuesday Rascal, we are going to get a good collection of bugs, do a ghost run on the fishing, come home , sort the bugs , indentify them , find suitable patterns to match , tie the flies and on Thursday we are going to catch Joe’s trout.’

Tuesday morning, Hank drove to the river getting there around 7AM. Another glorious sunrise greeted their arrival and Hank relaxed over a nice coffee after a hearty breakfast. Rascal was in fine fettle, the bacon treats were most welcome and once again he scuttled out the door and marked his territory, well pleased that no other canines had dared to trespass since their previous visit.

Contemplating life, Hank wondered how non anglers get through life so blissfully unaware of the complexities that a fly angler must endure. The incessant quest for knowledge, the ability to embrace each new season with the joy of a child, the enduring spirit that takes positives from failure and above all, allowing the flow of the stream and changing seasons to dictate their lives. All that effort to merely catch a fish.

Is it a dream
daily life left far behind
the warming pleasure of wading deep
sensing the hand of something greater
the incessant call of the bubbling stream.

Is it a deam
the trailing willow, reaching down
unfurling flyline, scuttling caddis
dancing mayfly, balling midge
the incessant call of the bubbling stream.

Is it a dream
the rising trout
a little sip that breaks the calm
shimmering rings of a gentle rise
the incessant call of the bubbling stream.

Is it a dream
that at the vice
a turn of hackle, a twist of fate
natures glory I strive to imitate
the incessant call of the bubbling stream.


Is it a dream
that my hackled fly
drifts the currents with eternal hope
and drifts and drifts and drifts
the incessant call of the bubbling stream.

Is it a dream
when all seems lost
a ghostlike shadow leaves his lie
with flaring gills it takes my fly
the incessant call of the bubbling stream.



‘ Rascal, We are surely mad.’ Accepting that he was mad, if not totally insane but not alone in his insanity, Hank readied himself, whistled for Rascal and they made their way down to the river.

TBC