Lords of the Flies

Fly-fishing has been an irresistible passion for so many men for such a long time that it is hard to think of it as being trendy. But there is an increased interest in this timeless sport. All sorts of people are slipping into a pair of waders and stepping into a cold stream to cast for trout. Clean running water and elegantly colored fish, finely made tackle and exquisite technique-- these things appeal as strongly to the hard-pressed, fast-lane brokers of the late 20th Century as they did to leisured sporting gentlemen of another age.

Fly-fishing is not especially demanding physically and it is not a competitive activity. Brute strength does not count for much. Technique and touch are far more important. Success, which is hard to measure, depends on observation and detached inquiry. Aggressiveness is less important than patience and persistence. Fly-fishing is, in many ways, a contemplative enterprise that seems to appeal most profoundly to men of action.

We all know that Hemingway was a passionate fly-fisherman. Chuck Yeager, the supreme fighter pilot, is a fly-fisherman. So were Presidents Herbert Hoover and Dwight Eisenhower. Fly-fishing is a calling among spies. General Walter Bedell Smith, a director of the CIA, was a fly-fisherman. So was James Jesus Angleton, head of counterintelligence for many years.

The appeal of this simple sport is various. On the most fundamental level, it surrounds you, by necessity, in beauty. Trout require clean water, and the best trout streams are those that are unpolluted and in something close to their natural state. Even the most hardened spirit will be refreshed after some time on a cold, achingly clear stream flowing through a stand of fragile aspen.

Then there are the fish. All trout are beautifully colored. Bright but never gaudy, they invite admiration and wonder. Just looking at them gives you pleasure. And while they are not smart, they are wary, fastidious and unpredictable. Few trout are easy to catch, and some, such as the browns in Vermont's Battenkill River or the rainbows in Silver Creek, outside Ketchum, Idaho, are damned difficult. They are a challenge to anglers who have been at it for a lifetime and who have come to honestly love and respect these challenging fish.

The tools of fly-fishing account for another part of its appeal. During the last century, when fly rods were made from cane that was split into sections that were mitered down according to private formulas and glued together for strength, the best came out of the shops of gunsmiths and violinmakers. The craftsmanship in those rods was of the highest order. There was honest pride in mere ownership, but the rods were built for use and some are still in use today, though most rate as collector's items at fantastic prices.

Although cane is still available, still beautiful and still preferred by some traditionalists, most rods today are made from a graphite composite that was derived from space research. These rods are not as warm as their ancestors, but they are made well and they breathe with function. There is something irresistible about a good fly rod. Your hands want it, the way they do a well-used ax.

The other implements of the sport also have something of this property. They are tools but not just tools. An English fly box with the small covered compartments suggests a kind of precision and order that you seldom find in ordinary life. There is not the bulk that you associate with some of the passions. You can pack what you need for a weekend of fishing in the trunk of a small sports car or, in a pinch, in a carry-on bag.

For many anglers, it would not be fly-fishing if it weren't for the flies and the fly tying. The fly consists of some fur and feathers tied to a hook in any of thousands of proven patterns.

The fly is the thing that fools the fish, and it can be tied with care and precision or not. While fly tying is not an art, there is much art in it, and some tiers have built reputations and their work is collected and exhibited. Usually, the angler who ties his own flies does so because it gives him pleasure. And there's always the hope that one day, he will fool a five-pound rainbow with a fly he tied himself.

Casting that fly is the thing for many anglers. It requires a combination of timing and touch, so that when they do it right, it just plain feels good. Many anglers find that if the fish are not biting, they still enjoy themselves, taking their satisfaction from the sweet, repetitive rhythm of their casting. Lifting the line from the water and turning it over with a crisp backcast, (continued on page 153)Lords of the Flies(continued from page 86) letting it straighten out, then driving it forward at just the right moment with a slight haul so that slack line will shoot effortlessly out over the water to land in a straight line some 60 or 70 feet long. After a short drift and mend, the angler will pick up the line and do it again. When it is right, it feels the way it does when you drive a golf ball perfectly, catching it with the sweet spot on the club so that you are almost unaware of the impact.

After the beauty of the rivers and the fish, the satisfactions of the equipment and the flies and the pleasurable activity of casting, it does not seem that there could be much more. But that is all merely the fishing, and, as an eminent angler once said, paraphrasing Izaak Walton, "The least important thing about fishing is fishing."

There are other pleasures in fly-fishing that are as vivid as lunch on the bank of a stream, with a bottle of chilled white wine. There are companions, some of them lifelong, with whom you share only angling. There are hours spent in shops or with catalogs during the off season or evenings spent reading from the considerable literature on the sport.

Anglers look upon their sport as something more than a pastime or a hobby. To them, it is a calling. And they make a record of their progress, their findings and their growth. To be a fly-fisherman, you don't have to be prepared to write a book, merely to risk trying something that you may find irresistible. In the end, as Arnold Gingrich once said, "Fly-fishing is just about the most fun you can have standing up."

Learning

The traditional way to learn how to fly-fish is to grow up with it, being taught a little more each season by your father or some other figure of authority. Lacking that, there is commercial help. Twenty years ago, the first formal fly-fishing school was organized by The Orvis Company to attract fishermen from New York and Boston to Manchester, Vermont, home of the company's retail store. The school was a tremendous success. "It took us all by surprise," says Leigh Perkins, president of Orvis.

Now the Orvis schools are an institution. Drive through Manchester on an afternoon in late spring or early fall, and you will see the students out on the lawn, next to the store, waving their rods and sending their lines out over the ponds that are stocked with trout. Before graduating, the students will fish the Battenkill, perhaps the toughest river in the East. For information, call Orvis at 802-362-3900.

There are many fishing schools in the West, but if you had to choose one, it should be the school Mike Lawson runs for one week out of Elk Creek Ranch, near the Henry's Fork of the Snake River in Idaho. Lawson is a large, friendly man who has guided many prominent fishermen on the Henry's Fork and has taught some celebrated novices, including Don Johnson and Harrison Ford. His shop, Henry's Fork Anglers in Last Chance, Idaho, is a meeting place for anglers.

Lawson's one-week program includes instruction by himself and Mel Krieger, arguably the world's foremost casting coach. There are float trips on the local rivers, including the Henry's Fork and the Madison. The instruction covers everything and the fishing water is the finest in North America. Lawson can be reached at 208-558-7525.

Lee and Joan Wulff's school in Lew Beach, New York, is another first-rate clinic. Wulff is one of the grand figures in American angling and his wife, Joan, is a tournament caster. They can be reached at 914-439-4060.

L.L. Bean, Inc., conducts clinics in Maine and elsewhere. These schools are under the supervision of Dave Whitlock, an innovative flytier and angler. The L.L. Bean number is 800-341-4341.

Also, the Fenwick Company, maker of an excellent line of rods, conducts The Fenwick Western Fly-Fishing Schools not far from Yellowstone Park. Call 714-897-1066 for information.

Any of these schools will get you over the initial awkwardness of trying to simultaneously wade a stream, spot a fish, check for insect activity and make a delicate, accurate cast with a nine-foot graphite rod.

Sublime Streams

Thousands of miles of rivers, creeks and streams in North America hold trout--and salmon--but some hold more and are easier to fish or have more tradition associated with them. These are considered special by anglers. Here are some of America's premiere streams.

The Beaverkill (and Willowemoc Creek) in the Catskills of New York. Only a two-and-a-half-hour drive from Manhattan, these are quality fishing waters and the birthplace of much of the American angling heritage. Theodore Gordon--the godfather of American trout fishing--once cast over these waters. The fishing is still very good because of regulations that prohibit the killing of trout or fishing with live bait. There are lovely, small Eastern waters that suffer only from crowds and the proximity of a major highway. With a little work, you can get away from both, fish out the evening May-fly hatch on Sunday and still make it back to the city for some Chinese food before bed and work in the a.m.

The Ausable in the Adirondacks of New York. Another fine freestone river, this one in more rugged, distant and less-populated country than the Beaverkill.

The Au Sable in Michigan. A gentle, fertile stream that flows out of the low cedar country of Michigan through the old timberland and into Lake Huron. The Au Sable has a gravel bottom with weed growth and a heavy population of aquatic insects and trout. The river flows through Grayling, a picturesque town founded during the logging days.

The White River in the Ozarks of Arkansas. This is probably the southernmost quality trout stream before you reach the Andes. The water in the river remains constantly near the optimum for trout, since it is all dam-released. That means you can fish for trout in Arkansas when the streams elsewhere are covered with ice.

The Firehole in Wyoming. If Dante had been a fly-fisherman, this would have been his favorite stream. Fed by the same geothermal system that accounts for Old Faithful, this Yellowstone Park river remains warm very late in the year. In October, it is common for insects and snowflakes to mingle in the air. The trout feed hungrily on the insects.

The South Platte in Colorado. Despite the fact that it is near Denver, the South Platte is one of the best big trout streams in the country.

The Spring Creeks of Paradise Valley. Just outside Livingston, Montana, you can find severall ethargic-looking streams meandering through the mountains. They are fed by underground sources, so they maintain a near-constant flow and temperature that are good for the insect populations and, hence, the trout. Ultimately, that is good for the fisherman. He can spend a wonderfullyproductive and relaxing day in the shadow of the Absarokas, fishing Armstrong, Nelson or DePuy creeks.

There are, of course, dozens of other streams. The Green in Wyoming. Hat Creek in California. The Big Hole in Montana. The Umpqua in Oregon. Silver Creek in Idaho. The Alaskanrivers. The rivers of the Canadian Maritimes for Atlantic salmon. And then, as the angler raises his sights, he will see the rivers of Patagonia, New Zealand, Norway and Scotland. So many rivers and so little time.

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Places Along the Way

Except when in the stream, fly-fishermen like to hang around with other fly-fishermen.(In the stream, they become misanthropic.) In the old days, Manhattan editors, account executives, bankers and brokers who were obsessed with fly-fishing would spend their lunch hours at the old--and now defunct--Abercrombie & Fitch store, where they would commiserate over the flies and the rods, occasionally taking one of the latter up to the roof, where they would practice in the 50-foot casting pool.

If you fish, you will want to stop by such places as these along the way.

Antrim Lodge in Roscoe, New York, near the junction of the Beaverkill and Willowemoc. This small country inn established in 1890, where anglers ate, drank and slept, is worth a stop for the memories.

Judith Bowman's rare-book business specializes in angling titles, including first editions and signed copies. Her latest catalog covers angling, hunting and natural history. You can write for it in care of Judith Bowman, Bedford Village, New York 10506.

Martin Keane deals in classic cane rods and other collectibles. You can reach him at P.O. Box 888, Stockbridge, Massachusetts 01262.

The American Museum of Fly Fishing in Manchester, Vermont, has on display such items of interest as rods owned by Hemingway and Eisenhower. They also have a large collection of good art. Winslow Homer, among other artists, found the trout a challenging subject.

There is almost certain to be a tackle shop near most major trout streams. Some are better than others. At the better ones, there will likely be a fly-tying bench, a telephone you can use, a place to sit and read a magazine, abundant free advice and things for sale. The Gates' Lodge in Grayling, Michigan, is such a place. So are George Anderson's Yellowstone Angler just outside Livingston, Montana, and Craig Mathew's Blue Ribbon Flies in West Yellowstone. In Jackson, Wyoming, you should stop in at the Jack Dennis Outdoor Shop, which features sporting goods of all sorts and an extensive collection of excellent contemporary art.

Finally, the fly-fisherman who wants to put some distance--physical and spiritual--between himself and the daily routine will want to commit himself to one of the many lodges designed for that. The air will be clean, the nights quiet and full of stars. The food will be good and hearty, and there will be something stronger than white wine when he is thirsty. There will be a big fireplace and wool blankets on the bed. Good fishing and good talk.

There are many such places, but any short list should include the following:

Steamboat Inn on the North Umpqua River in Steamboat, Oregon, is Valhalla for steelhead fishermen.

Lone Mountain Ranch in Big Sky, Montana, is a year-round operation that features cross-country skiing in the winter and horseback riding and fishing in the summer. Its proximity to Yellowstone and several first-class trout streams account for much of its appeal. The food accounts for the balance.

Falcon's Spencer Lake Lodge outside Bangor, Maine, may be the pinnacle of haute sport. This is the old fly-in sort of arrangement brought up to late--20th Century standards of comfort and service. It is the sort of place Charles Ritz (a famous fly-fisherman) would have established in the Maine wilderness if he had not been busy running his own hotel in Paris.

One final recommendation for fly-fishing for trout. It seems to make conservationists out of those who are passionate about it. You cannot wade in a clear, untainted stream, catching fish and returning them to the water, and be indifferent to the possibility that it may be poisoned for some dubious economic advantage or by simple indifference. For all of its immediate payoffs and the many ways in which it satisfies the senses, fly-fishing for trout has a way of making the angler consider the future and commit himself to the oldest and best hope of all--renewal.

You can't ask more than that of any sport.

Blue Trout la Norman

While most trout are not caught for food these days, it is still permissible to eat one, provided it comes from a stream where it's legal to keep them and provided you kill only as many fish as you intend to eat immediately. A trout loses any claim as a delicacy once it has been frozen.

The best way to limit the eating of trout is to make your meals at streamside. A delicious dish called blue trout requires very fresh fish. Its color results from the presence of the lubricating agent that makes the fish slippery to the touch.

The restaurant method of preparation calls for scalding the fish in a mixture of boiling vinegar and water, then simmering it an additional 15 or 20 minutes in a court bouillon that is made from white wine, salt, pepper, onion, celery, thyme and carrots, among other ingredients. The finished trout is served with hollandaise sauce, which is something like serving straight bourbon with a strawberry. Also, it is more trouble than you want to go to at streamside.

You can make a wonderful blue trout merely by boiling some water and adding two tablespoons of acid--vinegar or lemon juice--per fish. Clean your trout and add it to the water. When it comes to a boil, cover the pan and remove it from the heat. Allow it to stand for about five minutes. Drain the fish carefully and serve it with some baby potatoes you have already boiled, butter the fiddlehead ferns that you have picked and open a bottle of Pouilly-Fuiss that you have chilled in the stream. Before you lie down in the sun to nap, be thankful that we live in a world that has learned to get along without heavy sauces.