Article by Ivan Zoot
Having arrived at an ideal spot, you survey the water and decide on the proper fly for the situation. You reach for your fly box. Your thumb pops the lid, like it has a thousand times before. A fast glance and you spot the perfect fly. Really, it is perfect. Beautifully made, exquisitely tied. Shape, balance, form, all textbook. Maybe you tied this one yourself after countless lesser attempts. Maybe it was a treasured gift from a friend or older relative. It might even be a store-bought, mass-produced gem you picked up in a great fly shop on a memorable trip.
Your hand hovers over this tiny representation of entomological perfection. Then, in an instant, you drop your fingers down a row and pluck out of the foam a lesser bug that will be “good enough” for this situation. You tie it on, cast it out, and all is well. Or is it?
What are you saving that fly for? Why isn’t that fly, or any of the other “special” flies in your box, getting the call to action? What if my special fly gets snagged in a tree? What if it hooks a monster and the fish snaps the tippet? What if it wedges under a rock and I have to cut the line? What if I catch ten fish with it and it gets chewed up and is no longer pristine?
Grampa’s fly rod sits in its case in the basement. You go down and pull it out every once in a while. You slide the sections out gently. You put them together lovingly, carefully, with the reverence they deserve. You wiggle it lightly. Maybe even false cast it a few times to feel it load and unload. You wipe it down and place it back in the case. The case goes back on the shelf until the next respectful visit.
But what if you actually fished it? What if that rod had more fish to catch and more stories to tell? Sure, you might break it. You might slam it in the tailgate. You might snap it on the fish of a lifetime. It might get stolen out of the truck when you stop for lunch. But what if none of that happened? What if you had a great day on the water? What if you caught the fish of a lifetime? What if you fished all day and caught nothing? What if you got one more day with Grampa, just you and his rod, and actually catching something didn’t really matter? I think Grampa would prefer any and all of those what-ifs over treating his rod like a museum piece.
Grampa fished that rod. The fishing is what made it worth having. You wouldn’t hold back on casting to a fish just because you knew it was the prettiest one in the lake. Cast to it. Land it respectfully and send it off to be caught another day. That’s what Grampa did with his rod. Grampa cast the special fly. For you to do anything less would be missing the point.
Flies are not forever, but they are for now. For right now. For this trip. For that fish. For a memory created in this place. Cast the fly. Fish the rod. Rig up the good reel. The next day of fishing and the next catch are never guaranteed. Today is the day to use the good stuff.
Ivan Zoot is a tenkara angler recently relocated to Cincinnati, Ohio. He is learning to fish moving water as he has departed the ponds and lakes of Lake County, Illinois.
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