When i first started tying flies, i used the patterns which i cut out from the anglers mail and pasted into a scrap book.
I still have the scrap book and all the cut-outs. Which is interesting as anyone who knows me, knows i am very rarely sentimental about anything, if something is not being used then it should be moved on. However it seems fly-tying is my one sentimental indulgence
So this post got me thinking and it didn't take long to identify my favourite fly.
This one of a pair of flies i tied when i was 11. It was tied entirely from fibres from a tawny owl wing feather, that i found while walking along the river with my Grandad. The other fly had a full Blue dun collar hackle as it was a dry fly but they both had a blue dun cock hackle tail. I had picked up the feather because it was pretty, however this was my first season of river fly fishing and it was very frustrating trying all sorts of flies that i had tied based on the patterns i had been collecting ( i had previously tried fly-fishing on resevoirs with my cousin, but never caught anything). Other than the odd suicidal parr i was not doing that great.
Anyway one day i had been trying without success to catch a couple of rising fish, so i stopped fishing and just watched for a while to see what they were eating, i can not remember the fly they were feeding on but i think it may have been an olive of some desciption. Anyway when i returned home i sat at my flytying vice with my box of bits and tried to copy what i had seen, the fly above, was the first one i tied, then i thought i needed the hackle to make it float so tied the other with a Blue dun cock hackle, it otherwise looked very similar to the photo.
The following weekend i returned to the river with Grandad and he turned a blind eye while i waded out as far as my wellies would let me
. Then i could reach the rising fish, i tied on my dryfly dressed it with liquid muscilin (i can still smell it now
) )and drifted it over the fish. she rose and took the fly straight away, a few minutes later Grandad and I landed an 11" stocked rainbow trout, the biggest fish i'd ever caught and my first one off the river that was over 6" it was Magic
i can still remember that feeling now.
Now there was still a fish rising under the same trees, so with my prize safely tucked in my fishing bag i waded back out to try again, this time the fish was beyond my range so i waded out a bit further and filled my wellies with water
however i was now able to let the fly drift down in the current to reach the fish, so i payed out the line and let the fly drift, up came the fish and again i was hooked up into a decent size fish
when i got back to the bank we landed a lovely 11" Grayling, it was by far the prettiest thing i had ever seen and i have had a major soft spot for the lady of the stream ever since.
I remember my mum trying to be cross with me for being soaking wet, i remember Grandad hanging around just long enough for me to produce my prize and enjoy my excitement when Mum couldn't be cross with me anymore.
I even remember eating them for my tea
My heart is pounding now as i write this
.
I have over the years managed to loose the Dryfly, i don't remember where or when but the wet fly is still in my flybox and even still gets used from time to time although it has spent the last few years in my Master box and now i do have a sentimental attachment to it
I now realise this was Me starting on my own journey and that fly and day have set the precedent for whole fishing life.
Looking at it, i can see why it worked, when Red tags and Coachmans were failing but to an 11 year old boy it was just Magic
Sandy