Dream vs. Reality: Fly Tying
Is fly tying as glorious as it seems?
Fly fishing: possibly the ultimate outdoor pursuit when it comes to connecting with nature. Not only can one foster a relationship with the fish, but also with the river itself, the surrounding forest, and all the creatures that inhabit both. It’s complex and masterful while retaining a simple purity. But to some, catching fish just isn’t enough. They must take it one step further, studying aquatic insects and their lifecycles, then sitting down to tie their own intricate imitations with fur and feathers. Only then can a true angler reach the top of his craft. But is fly tying really as illustrious as it seems? Let’s find out.
After taking a few casts with nothing to show for it, the frustration starts to kick in. A couple more casts and you watch your Frankenfly disintegrate into the stream.
Dream
You’ve just finished reading A River Runs Through It and have an epiphany: you’re going to tie your own flies. It’s the only way to become closer to the aquatic world that you so intimately cherish. One quick stop by the local fly shop is all it takes to pick up the materials needed for a pheasant-tail nymph. “Everything is 50 percent off today!” the shop employee happily informs you. Might as well grab feathers for a few more patterns, too. Back home, after a few YouTube videos, you slide a hook into the vice and before long have a pretty darn good fly whipped up. You even add a few extra flourishes for authenticity—a soft-hackle collar and a couple flashy red thread wraps on the head—ain’t nothin’ in the shop bins looks like this! Next, a parachute Adams and a few caddis dries, all tied using hackles from the neighbor’s chickens and dubbing from a sheepherder you met at the farmer’s market. A full box and you’re on the river before you know it. Right away, you hook into a monster trout and fight it for what feels like hours. It’s dragging you upstream, your line enveloped in a white glow and leading you toward a new level of understanding. Suddenly the whole world makes sense—you’ve been reborn by the river. All the while, a pretty gal named Eddie is lounging on the bank, watching longingly as you unwittingly woo her with your strong, yet delicate touch on the rod. You’ll have to chase her for a few years, but deep down you know you’ll live happily ever after. No question about it.
Reality
The fish have gotten smart on the Madison and Gallatin, and store-bought flies just aren’t cutting it anymore. Besides, you want more fulfillment in life—you need more. The only logical progression is to start tying flies to heighten your dominance as an aquatic overlord. Off to your local fly shop for materials. What you thought would only require a few things here and there turns into a shopping cart full of feathers, hackles, bobbins, and things you didn’t even know existed! “Don’t forget a vise,” the shop guy interjects just when you think you have it all. “See you again soon!” he chirps, as you struggle to your car with a 30-pound box. At least your wallet is a lot lighter to help with the load. When you finally get home, you realize you forgot hooks. Back to the shop. Okay, now you’re ready. Let’s start with a Kelly Galloup classic, the Sex Dungeon streamer. Oops, the hackles aren’t staying—maybe another glob of glue and a few more thread wraps. The end result is a monstrosity that would have Bud Lilly rolling in his grave. But might as well give it a try. After taking a few casts with nothing to show for it, the frustration starts to kick in. A couple more casts and you watch your Frankenfly disintegrate into the stream. You return home with your tail between your legs, only to find that your wife has misconstrued the intentions behind your erotic YouTube search history—you’re on the couch, buster. Lonely and lost, you turn to the only place you can think of—fly-tying night at the local fly shop, where you drown your sorrows in IPAs and try not to embarrass yourself.
