Two Hammers

The Bro called Friday night.  He had just spent the day fly fishing on the west fork of the San Gabriel River.  (Friday – what about the job and kids, Bro?)  He reported lots of damsel fly action with the typical So Cal dry fly action.  He caught as many 11 inch rainbow trout as his rod arm could handle.  There was some mumbling about breaking off on a monster trout that was trying to pull him in.  I have learned that one brother’s monster is another brother’s typical catch.  We need to get up there one evening and get independent verification of this action.

This year I hit two high water marks in my fishing career.  Several weeks ago, in a high mountain lake in the Eastern Sierras, I caught a 14″ Golden Trout on my House of Hardy fly rod.  I did not believe that Golden Trout grew so large.  Then to beat that experience of a lifetime; I had my 5 year old out on a stream in the Eastern Sierras.  She was jigging a tube skirt under a tree undercut and start yelling “I caught a fish daddy, bring the net.”  A six inch wild Brook Trout, hooked, fought and landed all by herself.  Life just does not get any better.

I talked with my brother for the second day in a row, he was out on the Upper Owens River today and reported another good evening bite.  This time nymphs were the hot ticket.  He was making some noise about high winds and hooking trout too big to land with his net.  Count me in on this pity party bro!

I tried to advise him against a 7 foot 3 weight fly rod on the Owens River; the wind blows too much and the trout grow too big for such a pee shooter.  However, what do I know, he is the one out catching fish, while I am at home writing about it.  There better be some unscarred fish left for us working blokes.

Another Friday and my wayward brother is thinking fish - fly fishing.  Not content with the local fly fishing anymore he is up on Lower Rock Creek in the Eastern Sierra, on a Friday, when the rest of us are at work.  Four and a half months into his new addiction and he is throwing dry flies to wary trout in the Sierras.  And the worst part is that he reported a good evening bite.  Tomorrow he is on his way to Hot Creek, considered the preeminent fly fishing destination in California.  What kind on fishing demon has this mild mannered engineer become?

My brother finally called.  He had been out flyfishing on the San Gabriel on a Friday again; and he starts to relate the story about how many fish he caught on his new 3 weight rod.  “I was standing on this big boulder when I hooked the monster, and the next thing I knew, it had pulled me in.  A swan dive into the river!”  I was surprised that he would admit that to even his own brother; so after a good belly laugh he continues.  “But I still landed the fish!”

Face first into ice water and he still brings the fish to the net.  I would have never thought that my baby brother would grow up to be such a fishing maniac.

Just got reports of some serious action on the lower Owens River over the weekend (up to 3lbs.).  Sadly, the report was also of a very large area below the campground burned.

I feel pretty good about my obsessions now, after listening to the interview on NPR, about the folks in the upper Midwest ice spearing for sturgeon.  Casting a tuft of fur to a rising trout – or, staring down a hole in the ice, waiting to harpoon a passing fish.  To each his own I guess.

I do not get phone calls from my brother anymore.  He is either out fly fishing or getting his gear ready to go - or, occasionally trying to salvage his fading career.  I do get an occassional e-mail from him, penned late at night or during a storm shower.  The last e-mail which I recieved was a lengthy 3 pager itemizing all of his latest acquisitions from Cabela’s.

A new 3 wt. medium fast action 7 foot rod, reel with extra spool, floating and sinking tip lines, waders, etc.  Good job jump starting the economy brother.  I will hire some additional help in anticipation of the trickle down effect.

Every weekend brother dearest is out fly fishing, by mid week the only thing on his mind is going fishing again.  His yard is over grown, the dog is starving, his life is in shambles, and he tweaks when he talks.  Next year for Christmas I think that I will just get him a good book.

(Ed. This is an update on “Another Life Ruined by Fly fishing”)

“My fly rod lost its virginity yesterday”, is how the conversation with my brother started the otherday.  “I caught six trout in an hour on the San Gabriel River.”

In a twisted act of brotherly love I gave my brother a fly rod for Christmas this year.  He was already an accomplished spinning rod angler, actually quite dangerous with his G. Loomis ultra light.  I thought that a little fly fishing frustration might add nicely to his losing battle to balance a job and kids.

His second day on the water with his fly rod and he was already into six trout.  What a Stud!  And on a dry fly.  He probaly can not focus his thoughts on anything else besides fishing.  The long slide down the slope has begun.  Stay tuned for future updates as another life is ruined by fly fishing.