A Grumpy Old Fly-Fisherman

(though I prefer to be called a traditionalist!)

I am unashamedly a traditionalist although many people might brand me simply a grumpy old man. I can live with that. Grumpiness apart, it is by no means easy to define precisely what I mean by a ‘traditionalist’. What I don’t mean by the term is someone who might insist on fishing with a loop-rod and horse-hair line and would refuse any fly other than the good Dame’s apostolic dozen which made their appearance in 1496. However admirable that might seem to be it does, in all honesty, amount to a peculiar kind of eccentricity. There is no need to impose inordinate restrictions on ourselves and especially in terms of tackle. No, while a traditionalist may well choose to fish with bamboo rods (or split-cane as we Brits used to call them) and oil-dressed silk lines, the traditionalist may equally yield to the comforts of carbon rods and plastic lines without feeling guilty. So it is not so much with tackle that the essence of traditionalism resides.

 

I think that being a traditionalist has much to do with a state of mind and a great deal to do with ethics. It also demands sensitivity to the history of fly-fishing for, if we show humility, there is much we can learn from the great fly-fisherman of past centuries - their flies and techniques were often far from primitive. Yet, when I begin to think about it, there is something of an irony here. In their day many of the great fly-fishermen were iconoclasts; they were innovators and as such their thinking often ran contrary to the accepted traditions of their time. Take, for example, the introduction of nymph fishing to the chalk streams of the south of England – when G.E.M. Skues did that he was in opposition to the accepted dry-fly code of Halford and company. Viewed in this light, Skues could hardly be considered a ‘traditionalist’. On the other hand, what was the Skues nymph but a modified wet-fly and wet-flies had already been in use for centuries. At the same time, it is hard to view the dry-fly code itself as a ‘tradition’ since the dry-fly hadn’t been around for that long when Skues challenged it. Evidence does suggest that James Ogden had definitely fished the dry-fly on the Derbyshire Wye in 1865 and had probably used false casting to dry his flies as early as the 1850’s. Nevertheless, the dry-fly did not gain ascendance until Halford began writing in the 1880’s. Thus, tradition has little to do with choosing to fish the dry-fly, nymph or wet-fly for the perception that one type of fly is more ethical or effective than another is but a matter of fashion.

 

Thus I maintain that supposed ‘traditions’ such as ‘upstream dry-fly only’ are really not traditions at all but whims of fancy.  Viewed in this way, innovators were challenging fashions and received wisdom rather than traditions as such and what they did often made a valuable contribution to the development and evolution of fly-fishing.  That is well and good, for we have learned about entomology, fly-dressing, fishing techniques and tackle development from those who cast their flies upon rivers and lakes before we were born.  This heritage is definitely part of the tradition of fly-fishing for trout and those who have gone before us have enhanced our enjoyment of the sport.  It is to be hoped, however, that we can retain the spirit of fly-fishing upheld by the great writers of the past.  That is perhaps the true essence of tradition, the spirit of the sport that we have a duty to maintain, and yet I fear that the true spirit of fly-fishing is currently in some danger.  It is particularly in danger because innovation, fed by commercialism and selfishness, has gone beyond the point of reasonableness or necessity.  In doing so it begins to blur any acceptable definitions of fly-fishing for trout.  Consider, for example, a line of anglers sitting on plastic tackle boxes and occasionally flicking out teams of buzzers suspended beneath fluorescent orange bungs.  Are they fly-fishing?  Are they nymphing?  No, they are not, for to all intents and purposes they are float fishing with artificial baits.  I certainly have nothing against coarse fishing but I do not think it is valid to introduce coarse fishing techniques into the world of fly-fishing for it is only one remove from fishing for trout with baits such as maggots, worms, bread or sweetcorn.  There are, indeed, any-method fisheries that allow such baits and float fishing for trout, and that is fair enough, but it is not the same thing to introduce elements of coarse fishing techniques onto fly only waters.  Personally, I cannot see the pleasure in fishing a static bung and suspect that effectiveness in hooking trout overrides the element of pleasure; numbers caught seem to be the real motivation for many anglers so that method is of secondary importance, indeed, if it has any significance at all.  We have to draw the line somewhere and that is the real point of having traditions.  Unfortunately, ‘innovation’ is in danger of going too far as individuals push and push at the barriers as they strive to catch more fish and bigger fish than everyone else.

 

Fly-fishing is being marred by the pursuit of glory and, perhaps understandably, fishery managers are forced to feed the egos of their customers by stocking huge artificially reared,  and sometimes bizarre, strains of trout.  Even rivers have not been immune from this trend.  Eldorado is seemingly a double-figure golden trout but the traditionalist has no interest in catching over-sized goldfish by doubtful methods!  Not for him, or her, such a Faustian temptation.  Still, tradition remains under threat from the competitive urge to be better than every other fly-fisherman, to catch bigger fish and to catch more fish than everyone else.  No longer is it simply enough to compete against the trout and every beginner wants to become an instant ‘expert’ without serving an apprenticeship and really learning the trade.  And the brotherhood of the angle is kicked firmly into touch along with ethical considerations.  After all, good manners don’t often win badges or get your photo in the monthly magazine, so it is seemingly fine to drift your boat close to bank anglers, plough through a pool where someone else has been stalking a trout, or drift your strike indicator across another fellow’s patch.  If you see a trout rise, go get it, because if you don’t someone else will.  Unfortunately, good manners seem to be declining in direct proportion to the enlargement of egos and the traditional spirit of fly-fishing becomes the loser.

 

Ultimately, try as I might, I cannot draw up a precise definition of what I mean by ‘tradition’ yet what I have written so far should give the reader a fair idea.  Tradition is certainly concerned with ethics and good manners and it is concerned with sharing; sharing knowledge and information and sharing the delight of another angler who catches a good trout.  Thus the angler who refuses to divulge his successful fly or methods to a beginner, or who falsifies his fly’s identity in a fishery log, is guilty of selfishness contrary to the spirit of the sport.  Tradition involves learning from the past, gaining knowledge from personal experience, and being willing to pass on this collective wisdom to others.  Traditionalists are not simply rooted in the past, they too are prepared to accept new knowledge and innovations as long as they fit into their concept of fly-fishing.  Anything dubious will be passed over for traditionalists discriminate and are suspicious of those who ‘think outside the box’ (I hate that cliché!); you might even say that the traditionalist thinks imaginatively within the box for he is very aware of the accepted parameters.

 

Your traditionalist is as likely as anyone to be seduced by tackle shop displays and glossy catalogues but he knows what he likes and sticks to it.  He is able therefore to resist the wiles of marketing men who promote the must-have items of the moment for he knows they are but the fads of today and the sale items of tomorrow.  Thus, the traditionalist refuses to wear the latest designer gear, laughs at the latest space-age reel and feels no need to pay over the odds for that new-fangled line that it is claimed will allow the angler to add yards, or metres, to his cast.  Traditionalists rarely feel the need to cast great distances anyway.  Traditionalists are particularly good at resisting the ‘killer’ fly of the season; they prefer traditional flies, flies that resemble the insects trout feed on, and eschew lime green Killer Bunnies and others of that ilk.  They know full well that a new fly will work effectively for a time then fail miserably – make way for the next tarty creation!  No, the traditionalist will stick with traditional flies and add a new fly from time to time if it proves interesting enough but that new fly must fit the accepted concept; almost subconsciously the traditionalist knows where to draw the line.

 

While drawing the line has much to do with ethics, aesthetics plays no small part in the process.  Fly-fishing is an aesthetic pastime, or should be.  While there is obvious beauty in the fish we catch, and beauty in the flies held in our boxes, there is also beauty and grace in the casting of a trout fly to a rising fish.  The traditionalist recognises the beauty of a fine rod and the engineering of a classic reel so that tackle becomes part of the holistic pleasure of the sport.  Of course, there is the beauty of nature all around us when we go fishing and the traditionalist takes time off to view the Mayfly for its intrinsic worth, not just as an item on the trout’s menu, he studies the bankside flowers, watches the dipper nodding into the stream after caddis larvae and laughs at the messy nest of a kingfisher.  How is it that such a beautiful bird has disgusting domestic habits?  In short, the traditionalist is a bit of an aesthete and as such offers a sharp contrast to the utilitarian fisherman hell-bent on taking a double limit.  Just watch him, rod stuck under an arm pit, hand-over-handing his lure back at enormous speed and quite oblivious of the curlew’s spectacular mating aerobatics over his head – and, perhaps, oblivious of everyone else.  He is Ahab intent on his pursuit of Moby Dick.  He will forsake the ship, himself and all in his manic pursuit of the biggest fish in the pond.  Call me Ishmael - Ishmael was the Pequod’s only survivor! 

 

Now, I am willing to bare my soul and to point out what, as a traditionalist, I am not too keen on.  Yes, we traditionalists are generally considered to be prejudiced old farts, grumpy old men at the least, but that doesn’t bother me a bit so here goes:

• I am not too keen on competition, overt or otherwise, for it does not seem to be in tune with the traditional spirit of fly-fishing.  Should the capture of a trout be a means to an end or an end in itself?

• A guy was telling me the other day that he had caught sixty trout in a single day from our local reservoir.  Personally, I can’t see the pleasure in that and it’s certainly not that I am jealous of his success.

• I would rather catch a one pound wild trout from a stream than a twenty pounder from a commercial lake fishery.  Why are so many anglers desperate to catch big fish in order to send photographs to monthly magazines?

• I do not appreciate fly vests festooned with badges.  Enough said!

• I don’t mind looking a bit battered and time-worn when I go fishing and cannot understand the current craze for the latest designer gear.

• Rods are bending all along the dam wall.  It seems as if that’s where the fish are and it’s certainly where all the fishermen are gathered.  I would rather fish far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife even if it meant catching fewer fish.

• Perhaps I simply lack a competitive nature for when I see others catching fish all around me it does not drive me to do likewise.  I like to relax when I am fishing.

• I just do not appreciate the need for fluorescent strike indicators and bungs.  Did we not catch trout before they were invented?  How many aids to success do we legitimately require?

• Blank days are good for the soul; they are part of the game.  When the going is tough, and all my reliable old patterns fail to produce a fish, I refuse to resort to a Lime Green Bunny, Orange Fritz or Egg Fly.

• Are you interested in the origins and histories of trout flies or do you simply fish a particular pattern of fly because it works?  Fly-fishing has a rich culture and history and it should be part of the holistic pleasure of the sport but, unfortunately, the trend it magazines seems to be focused only on the latest techniques and flies.  Given a choice, I would rather read books by writers such as Edmonds and Lee, F.M. Halford, Preston Jennings, James Leisenring, Vince Marinaro, T.E. Pritt, Frank Sawyer, Ernie Schweibert, G.E.M. Skues or W.C. Stewart than current periodicals.

• Do you know all the latest names for fancy casts or are you a more intuitive caster, simply adapting your technique to the circumstances you find yourself in?  I think fly-fishing is becoming too technical and it is far better to just make it up as you go along.

• I don’t think that rods are simply a means to an end and take delight in a rod with a classy look to it.  I am not a lover of the modern stiff and tip-actioned rod designed for distance casting and much prefer a rod with an easy all-through action.  It’s more relaxing to fish.

• I love classic reels and prefer them to modern large arbour (arbor) models whatever their supposed advantages.  I am not driven to buy the latest rods, reels and lines because everyone else seems to be using them and care little for that promised improved performance.

• Congratulations, you have won the lottery!  Do you treat yourself to a top-of-the-range carbon model or commission a bamboo rod from a renowned maker (you may have to wait some time for the bamboo rod)?  Well, I am not the most patient of men but I would definitely go for the bamboo rod.  The trouble is, I rarely buy a lottery ticket!

• I do occasionally use weight-forward lines but believe that double-tapered lines still have a lot to offer.  They definitely present a fly more delicately and are economical because you simply reverse them on the reel when one end is worn.  Incidentally, the notion that double-tapered lines are useless for distance casting is a myth.

• Which fly-line would you choose, a highly visible pink line or a dark olive line that is rather more difficult to see on the water?  As a traditionalist I would go for the olive line without hesitation even though it may not be as visible; it reminds me of the old silk lines.  I doubt whether olive lines are less obvious to trout but they do seem more ‘natural’ for river fishing.

• I do not use high-density sinking lines and feel that fishing with most sinking lines is pretty boring.  It may limit my catches but so what!  I think that most traditionalists will prefer floating lines.

• Can you tell a blue-winged olive (Ephemerella ignita) from a large spurwing (Centroptilum pennulatum)?  How much attention do you give to the insects that trout feed on?  I think there is a trend away from entomology and that is a great shame; it’s part of the pleasure of fly-fishing.  You don’t need to know all the fancy Latin names but it helps to be able to identify insects that trout feed on so that an appropriate artificial fly may be selected.

• Would you fish a dry-fly, nymph or soft-hackled wet-fly if each stood an equal chance of success?  Whatever you may think traditionalists do not only use dry-flies and the snobbish hierarchy that trout flies are subconsciously put into is just arrant nonsense.  Why should a split-winged Greenwell’s Glory dry-fly be though more worthy than a Waterhen Bloa wet-fly?  Just because you like to use dry-flies it doesn’t make you a traditionalist nor in some way better than the nymph or wet-fly fisherman.

I can guarantee that traditionalists, or old farts, will have responded in the same way to the majority of issues cited above and I take comfort in believing that I am not alone in my views.  I read an article recently in which the columnist sought to defend the use of garish lures, bungs and strike indicators among newcomers to the sport arguing that once they had caught a few fish, and gained confidence, they would then learn to fish in other ways.  I don’t think so, once they have caught a few fish they will believe that bungs and lures are the only things to use in order to achieve success.  The columnist’s argument, it seems to me, is as fallacious as the argument that so-called ‘crossover’ music is good because it gets people into appreciating classical music.  No it doesn’t.  Unfortunately it makes them believe that Blake, Katherine Jenkins, Faryl Smith et al are classical artists which they most certainly are not.  And, while I am about it, how on earth do a bunch of priests and the Scots Dragoon Guards end up in a list of supposedly best selling classical albums?  You see, it is all part of an unfortunate dumbing-down process that seems to be invading every aspect of modern day life and culture in particular.  My great fear is that fly-fishing too is suffering from the same syndrome.  What do you think?

 

I have little doubt that many anglers who read what I have written will laugh mockingly and consider me a bit of a crank.  That doesn’t bother me over much because I take comfort in the fact that there are many fly-fishermen who share my views.  Are they mainly of my generation?  Possibly, and if so that is a little worrying because it may mean that the nature of the sport of fly-fishing may change irrevocably as our generation makes its way gradually to the rivers in the sky.  You don’t think so?  Well, consider this, I have not been coarse fishing for many years and it was forty years ago that I last set out to catch a carp and did so on a lump of bread paste.  Everything was so simple then.  There were no bivvies, camouflaged clothing, multiple rods named after lethal weaponry, exotically flavoured boilies, bolt rigs or radio-controlled bait boats to make the capture of a named fish a relatively easy proposition.  Carp fishing has changed dramatically over those forty years and I don’t think it has changed for the better.  There is, I am afraid, some congruency with what is happening in fly-fishing and there is little difference between stocking huge artificially reared carp and huge artificially reared rainbow, blue and golden trout.  ‘Have you caught Jane yet, I took her last week at twenty-one pounds on an Egg Fly’; good for you!  When you begin to think about it, casting a trout fly is a pretty inefficient way to go about things and repeated casting may easily lead to a damaged wrist or elbow.  There are health and safety issues to consider there.  Standing for long periods of time may also lead to back ache and dodgy knees if the terrain is uneven.  Far better then to sit comfortably on a padded chair and use one of the new bait boats to carry the flies out for you.  After all, it will go far beyond your casting range, right out to where the trout are currently rising – or, of course, you could waddle down the bank in a float tube.  Hmm!