Of bamboo rods and trout

The evening of August 8, I wanted to test the new eight-and-one-half-foot, five-weight rod that our Japanese friend Kuma had made for me. Kuma felt that this new rod would cast much better than last year’s model.

Casting this rod on the grass at the Catskill Fly Fishing Center seemed to prove him right. The new rod felt crisper and lighter in the hand. Kuma explained that the butt section of this rod was “hollow built.” With the new rod, a flick of the wrist and the fly line is off and running, sliding through the guides like greased lightning. When Barb had a chance to try the rod, she felt it was a bit heavy compared to the little seven-foot, two-inch rod Kuma had made for her. However, when she began putting line out she exclaimed, “Wow, it casts with no effort at all.”

The pool I fished that evening is fairly long, with a good riffle at its head. Riffles are the food pantry of a trout stream. The left-hand bank consisted of a bluestone ledge along its entire length. (Stream banks are described as being left or right when facing downstream.) Directly behind the bluestone, the ridge rose abruptly at a near vertical angle. Such a configuration causes a steady seepage of cool water flowing underground down the slope, which then passes through fractures in the bluestone into the stream. This makes for excellent trout habitat. This would be a perfect pool if only it had a section of deeper water within it.

With dusk approaching I waded down toward the tail of the pool. I took a seat on a tussock of bank-side grass. From this vantage point, I could view the entire pool. At 8:00 p.m., on the far bank, a fish rose. Would this be a onetime riser or a steady feeder? Aha, there it is again, that magical ring appearing on the surface of the flow, trailing a bubble.

The little bubble indicates the trout is truly taking a fly from the surface. It seems this fish has pulled up a chair and is seated at the dinner table. Very slowly, I rise. Ha, at my age is there any other way? I remove the little #16 yellow-bodied fly from the butt guide. Line is pulled from the reel until a foot of the double-taper silk fly line slides through the tiptop guide. The fish, which I intend to introduce myself to, is feeding exuberantly. Flick, flick and the fly is presented. Oops, a bit too far. No matter, he is too busy to take note of the tippet as it slides past him. Shorten up and cast again. Perfect. Shucks, I’d eat that fly myself if I were a trout. This fish does and shortly I am releasing a pretty brook trout. There seems to be a brook trout or two in every pool on this stretch of water. Another reason perhaps, for a special regulation along this section of stream.

I squeeze the fly in an amadou patch and rub in a little Red Label Mucilin into the hackle and tail fibers. The fly is cast and disappears. Well now, doesn’t this chunky little brown trout look a bit silly wearing my fly in his nose? The de-barbed hook comes out easily and back into the water the trout goes. A bit frightened, but none the worse for wear.

A third trout is now rising fearlessly. In the gathering gloom, several floats pass directly over where he feeds. Hmm, this fish is quite discriminating when it comes to what he eats. He politely refuses to take my fly while picking off one natural after another. When darkness completely cloaks the pool, I am forced to admit defeat. Lord willing, there will be another evening. I know where this fish makes his living. I’ll come knocking on his door once more.