I am an addict
Watching the line unfurl, right in the perfect spot, maybe tucked delicately under an overhang along the bank, or bombing 90 footers to hogs like Northern Pike, or even salty critters like Tarpon. You know what I’m talking about. Fly fishing is an art, a solace, and to some(including moi) a way of life. My first fly rod was a gift from gramps on my 10th birthday. Casting small plugs, and poppers to bluegill and bass was about the limits of my ability and to say I looked awkward is undoubtedly an understatement.
Nowadays (pushing 30 years old) taking trips to northern Ontario, Yellowstone or even the Middle Provo is not just a pastime, it is necessary to maintain sanity. My most recent significant fishing adventure was a hop, skip and a jump up to the Chapleau Game Preserve. For the second time I went to Lake Wabatongushi, chasing Esox Lucious. Landing a 33” Northern Pike on a 9ft BII MX Winston 8wt. is certainly a highlight in my fishing excursions. Ripping the line out, reel screaming and taking me into the last few yards of my backing was incredible.
As any Angler would say, it’s not the size of the fish in the fight, but the size of the fight in the fish. Locally a 15” Cutthroat can have the same effects on a rod. Granted I don’t typically throw the 8wt. on small streams(unless it’s early spring streamer fishing). The cutties on the Weber are definitely pound for pound as formidable an opponent as any, and will take your 5wt. into the backing.
Eat, fish, sleep, repeat.