Fathers and the Gift of Fly Fishing
Awhile back I asked my brother and sister what they remembered about fishing with our dad. Although my dad occasionally fly fished, we mainly fished with spinning rods and reels. Lessons from fishing are some sort of a universal learning, though, right? As we approach Father’s Day, here are some memories — and memories in the making — in recognition of fathers and fishing.
After some laughs about bologna sandwiches on white Wonder bread, bags of pork rinds, and Coca-Colas, my siblings and I talked about the lessons learned. Deb remembered and appreciated learning one of the very basic elements: tying a clinch knot. “Who knew that all these years later, I’d still be using it.”
Phil remembered tying Renegades with my dad in the basement of our house on Cascade Avenue. He remembered sitting on the shore of Monument Lake on a chilly evening “passing one rod back and forth for each cast. We were shoulder to shoulder warming in the delight of the anticipation of the fish to rise.”
I remembered the late afternoons at Rainbow Falls in the late 1960’s. The wind would whip up. After the afternoon rain, my dad, Phil, Deb, and I would resume our family battle to catch the most fish. (Phil usually won — much to the chagrin of both my dad and me.)
So a few years ago, I asked our Facebook followers to share father-child stories about fishing.
Fathers Creating Memories
Rick sent in a couple of photos of Penelope — his three year old daughter — “learning the finer points of fishing.”
As he said, “she is going to grow up to be serious and avid angler! We spent the day catching perch and a few bass out of Monument Lake. We discussed the need to release all the fish unharmed so they could return to their mommy and daddy fish. Penelope understood that it was important to be very gentle with all the fishes.”
Jon Easdon, our Director of Services, shared a picture from a “monumental day” with his daughter, Madi.
The last day of their family trip to visit some friends, Madeline wanted to go fishing. “We drove to a small lake and I made a few casts. It didn’t take long and we were hooked up. I knelt down behind her and helped her hold the rod. We fought it and eventually landed it. She was so excited, making little squeaky noises and laughing. I caught my first fish at age 3. Madi was 2 in this picture. She named this fish “Guido” and frequently talks about him. I feel blessed to be able to pass these experiences down to my daughter. They are lifelong memories, for all of us.”
Fathers living the lessons
Brad Kilgoe was unable to send a picture — but he sent in this story.
“When I was about 15 years old, I got the bug to switch from the “bubble and fly” to an 8 wt. Fenwick Featherlight.
I sought out my father’s knowledge. The problem, though, was my father was in the stages of MS. He didn’t have the physical ability to demonstrate any technique due to balance issues. Luckily for me, he was able to explain to me the do’s and don’ts of casting. After showing me the correct setup, he watched me “cast” ghost flies in the front yard. After a couple of minutes, he was laughing at the sound of those tiny sonic booms on every backcast. He made me tie kleenex to the end of the leader telling me that every time it cracks off imagine lighting $2 on fire. Needless to say, I learned how to cast!
In addition, my dad fostered my interest in tying my own flies. Days before he passed, he had no physical abilities to do anything for himself. He wanted me to set up my vise and tie patterns that he loved to fish: grey hackle yellows, renegades, black ants, hairs ears, scuds, etc! I’m so blessed that I was able to receive these lessons of a lifetime. Happy Father’s Day!”
Finding the Light
Stacia works for Ramble House, a historic fly shop in Creede, CO. Ramble House is owned by Shane and Susan Birdsey, and their children, Cole and Kaitlin. “Cole has inherited Shane’s passion for fishing.”
“This photo — Cole, mid-cast, and his proud father and family lab — was taken during the West Fork Complex fire, which understandably devastated business. This was a very stressful, scary time for Creede and the Ramble House. This photo symbolizes Shane and Cole finding the light in the situation. The image accentuates the fact that nothing can stop the love for fishing!”
Maybe It Is Genetic
Rachel Leinweber, whose dad is familiar to most (if not all of us!): “Since the beginning of fly fishing, fathers have been teaching their sons to fish. It is an art that gains importance and meaning by being passed down from generation to generation. A special manly bond is created between father and son when they can share the thrill of the “hunt” for the perfect run, the perfect pig of a brown trout, the relentless pursuit of bigger and better fish.
However, something special happens when a father teaches a daughter to fish. It takes a special man to develop a love of fly fishing in his daughter and to encourage her in such a male-dominated sport. As a daughter, I know how much patience it sometimes takes to teach a little girl to fish. We can often be more interested in the nearby wildflowers than any potential fish, no matter how big. We can have a tendency to talk more about friendships and feelings than the caddis hatch we are about to miss. Our feelings can be fragile, getting hurt by a missed set or fishless day.
It takes a special father to be able to take his daughter fishing and give guidance while at the same time giving her the independence she needs to become a confident fly fisher. It takes strength to help her trust her own instincts by letting her choose when it comes to fly patterns, locations, and casting when he already knows the right answer.
As a fly shop owner, my dad is no novice fly fisher. Despite having a wealth of knowledge and experience to share, he has never forced it. Instead, he has let me make my own mistakes, on the water and in life, and learn from them. I developed my own love for fly fishing not because he made me, but because he let me. Since I was a little girl, he has invited me into the sport and had patience with my wandering focus and endless talking to, from, and on the river.
He has never winced when I call a trout “adorable,” pick a fly simply because it’s pretty, or almost cry when a released trout doesn’t make it. He taught me that fishing isn’t about the size or the number of fish you catch, but the experience as a whole.
Some of my most treasured fishing memories have been with my dad, and honestly, I don’t even remember the fish.”