Fly Anglers are typically found outdoors when the sun is shining or about to be.
The exploits that happen before and after the sun makes its trek from east to west are the stuff that brings it full circle and creates the basis of the lifestyle.
You know you’ve shot beer out both nose holes at the campfire, thats what I’m talking about. Unedited, raw and no volume button in sight.
You can find that fly fishing vibe here: Fly Fishing After Dark
From stories being recount from a day on the water, to analysis of the latest fad sweeping Instagram, you’ll get a fresh new perspective that hasn’t seen the desk of an industry insider before the publish button is clicked.
A stiff north breeze was blowing a couple of days ago, so I opted to pond hop for bass in the neighborhood rather than launch the skiff and contend with wind.
It was a decent bite, but thats not unusual for our little utopia of interconnected retention ponds.
While taking a break, perched on the (pond hopping assault vehicle) golf cart & talking to a friend on the phone, I heard the joyful sounds of multiple radial engines approaching.
There she was, a B-24 Liberator, bearing down on me from the north at around 1600 feet.
I mentioned it to my friend as he too appreciates such things & held the phone skyward as it passed overhead in an attempt to share the sweet sounds of WWII heavy iron passing by on wing.
The aircraft is part of the Collings Foundation collection. It is the only flying example of its exact type, the J model.
Check Here to view a schedule of where you can see it up close over the next couple of months.
As luck would have it, they had James Stafford aboard filming the flight from New Smyrna Beach to Stuart, FL.
Seeing the fly-by from their perspective was a cool reprise.
I wonder if they noticed me standing there, mouth agape, phone held high?
The more time I spend on the water, the more I get it. Even though I’m standing there with a fly rod in hand, its the total immersion into the environment that impresses upon me the essence of why I’m there.
After pulling on the rope to start up my faithful 25 HP outboard a simple twist of the tiller washes away the daily grind of the day job and my soul is set free to roam unabated.
I used to think these adventures were about stalking and catching fish. Now I simply let it happen along the periphery of the overall adventure and where it might lead.
I always have my head on swivel, searching for the next target that happens to be swimming by, but it is the macro view of the environment that brings the most joy.
I’ve seen a bobcat standing some 20 feet away along the mangrove sprinkled shoreline as curious and startled by my presence as I am of it. I’ve watched in awe as a bobcat swam between two islands carefully watching me as I passed by on plane, gawking.
The myriad of shore birds that ignore my presence as I slide by silently until I’m within a stone’s throw give me pause.
Seeing the ground appear to move as hundreds of fiddler crabs retreat from the waters edge in unison mesmerizes me.
I cherish this thing we call fly fishing. Not because of the fish I’ll hold for a moment or two to admire, but for the experiences that will form my fondest memories, for it is every time I go forth, I reinforce the notion that anything happens, everyday.
A lot has been said recently about an Arctic Grayling’s voracious appetite for rodents. No doubt about it, when you’re throwing a mouse pattern in Western Alaska for rainbow trout, you’re going to see your fair share of this:
Fly Out Media got out the camera recently when the rainbows were more than happy to oblige.
The Summer of 2014 will forever be seared into my memory thanks to the time I spent in the wilds of Western Alaska. Two weeks of self-reliance with a small group of fellow riverine fly fishing nomads was filled with memories that have crept into my mind everyday since my return. It was epic.
The salmon we sought were old salts, making their way back to the waters from which they had sprung. Theirs was a one way journey, undertaken to sustain their family lineage.
Up the coast from Florida, one of the great storytellers of the Lowcountry made a similar trip. His lens captured the essence and minutia of it in fine fashion.
Half the fun of any DIY adventure is getting there:
The past few weeks have been filled with days of building anticipation for the good times and fishing that is to come. Three intrepid angling souls will pack up flies, rods and reels in just two days and retract the landing gear to head southeast into the archipelago of The Bahamas.
The unknown challenges of going it alone is the greatest appeal for “Do It Yourself” in a far flung location, but the rewards are epic when they come.
The entire experience is an adventure. Beyond the simplicity of making a call to any of the fine bonefish lodges that dot the island nation, the search for shelter is just the beginning in a DIY adventure. Scouring Google Maps for potential flats that will be both accessible and productive consumes hours of time as the date approaches.
For now, its back to packing and double checking gear…