Bass: Poppers, Porcelain Thrones and Bowling Balls

“I cast a big Near Enough deer hair froggie to the edge of a five-foot-wide pothole of open water, let it sit there for two, three, maybe four minutes and then gave it a twitch. The fly went down in a rise that looked like a toilet flushing. That’s what bass fishers say. It’s not the prettiest analogy in angling, but, I’m sorry, that’s exactly what it looks like.” — John Gierach, “Texas” essay in “Dances with Trout”

“There is just something terribly satisfying about watching the chug-chug of a bass popper get violently interrupted by a falling bowling ball.” — Louis Cahill, “The In-Law’s Bass Pond” essay on GinkandGasoline.com

—–

What is the take of a bass hitting a topwater popper like?

Porcelain thrones and bowling balls.

As in the former flushing and the latter falling from the sky.

This morning, yak fly fishing on one of my local bass waters, I got to experience both methods of take.

Early on, fishing a shad colored Bob’s Banger over a submerged laydown that fell off the end of a main-lake point, the fly was there one minute before totally vanishing the next.

With a commotion and sound that could only be compared to…a toilet flushing.

What’s the take of a popper like as a bass comes calling? It’s like porcelain thrones and bowling balls.

By a big bass.

I’m sad to say that I was so surprised by the sudden turmoil in the water and unexpected absence of my fly that I failed to get a proper hook set.

Which was more than enough for a bass that was probably four to five-pounds or better to dive into the flooded jungle, gain some leverage, and throw the hook.

I won’t lie – it took a while for my jangled nerves to settle down after that furious swing and a miss. It was a big fish, the kind that rattles you for a spell.

But a half-hour later, I had settled down as I plied the shaded waters of a likely looking area – shallow water, a little vegetation, some timber, and a deep-water escape route nearby.

This time, I was more than ready when a bowling ball fell from the heavens and smacked the smithereens out of the black-and-gold popper that I was now tossing.

With a good solid hook-set, I was quickly buttoned-up to this bass no matter how much he protested. He jumped once, then twice, then tried to make my kayak swap ends a couple of times.

All the while as I smiled and remembered yet again why I love playing this grand game of fly fishing for black bass.

The fish showed plenty of courage – especially for one only pushing the scales to just under the three-pound mark - as I battled him to the ‘yaks side.

Once there, I admired him, slipped the hook from his jaw, and then let him slide away from my grip back into the dark oily water surrounding this shady spot.

Not a bad morning of popper fishing.

Complete with flushing toilets and bowling balls falling from the skies.

Which brings to mind a few other memorable takes of bass determined to turn my popper into their next Happy Meal.

Years ago, while fishing Lake Fork with my friend Rob Woodruff, the Orvis endorsed guide who knows the East Texas giant factory like the back of his hand, I tossed a frog-hued popper towards a wall of vegetation standing in three feet of water.

There was a soft plop as the fly found its mark. A brief pause to let the rings ripple away. And then a soft tug on the fly line.

That was followed by a ferocious splash as a solid four-pound bass decided it was breakfast time in the early morning gloom of a cloudy and humid late spring day.

There was a brief but intense fight during which the deep green bass vaulted skyward a couple of times and thrashed around as it desperately tried to throw the #1 hook on the Orvis bug.

On its second leap into the air, the bass flung its head in the direction of Rob’s Skeeter bass rig and  did just that before returning to Fork’s timber-choked depths.

Noticing a pattern here? Wait – it gets worse.

A couple of springs ago, I was kayak fishing on Fork as the evening sun made its way towards the western horizon. I had enjoyed a fair day of bass fishing but had never made contact with the big bruiser I was hoping to hook-up with.

That changed suddenly as I threw a big white popper near some flooded timber next to a small drop-off in the bottom contour. One minute the fly was there, the next minute it was gone as the darkening water swirled around viciously.

I’d like to tell you that I landed this big bass, one that I estimated at eight-pounds or better. Unfortunately, I did not.

But at least I had a good two-minutes of hand-to-fin combat as the big bass pulled this way and that, tried to jump into the air despite its jumbo girth, gave me a pretty good kayak sleigh-ride in the process, and put a deep-bend into my eight-weight.

Just before I reached for my net to land the fish, the bass dove again and the line suddenly went limp as my popper came unbuttoned.

Leaving me to sit there in a trance-like state for several minutes as I soaked in one of the bigger disappointments I’ve had in warmwater fly fishing.

Notice I said one of the bigger disappointments I’ve had.

Because I’m not sure anything will ever top the close-encounter I had with a bass dubbed “Orca,” a big bucketmouth that came calling several years ago while I was fishing on Glass Lake in deep East Texas with Rob Woodruff.

We had already enjoyed a memorable day landing several good bass between us, most on topwater poppers. By mid-afternoon, I was feeling smug as we continued to work poppers along the hard edge of a weed-line.

So I was a bit unprepared for what happened next as I pulled the popper from the water, let it sail behind me on the backcast, and then propelled it forward as the fly line completed its unfurling journey.

In the exact millisecond that the fly touched down upon the water, a huge geyser of erupted to its side as a huge bass leapt out of the water.

Like a Discovery Channel shot of a killer whale arching above the H2O, “Orca the Bass” came up out of the water, turned hard to its right as it sailed up-and-over the popper, and then turned quickly downward as it sledge-hammered its way home to pile-drive the popper well below the lake’s surface.

Remember the old antique Heddon Lures sign of a bass doing exactly the same thing?

Well, as Woodruff looked on in amusement, I got to see the fly fishing equivalent of that tin advertisement.

After the initial shock of that explosive take wore off, I tried a half-second later to set the hook with bug-eyed wonderment. And for the briefest period of time – 10 seconds or less – I actually had the bass on.

Before the line suddenly went limp, leaving me with my jaw gaping wide-open once again.

Notice a pattern here?

I guess I’ll just call it field research as I continue to try to figure out which topwater take I like better.

The porcelain throne flushing.

Or the bowling ball suddenly dropping out of the sky.

I’ve had plenty of practice over the years as I continue my obsession with catching bass on flies. There have been plenty of catches. And more than enough spectacular failures.

So it it’s all the same to you, please excuse me from this space.

Because I think I’ll go back out in the morning and see if I can figure this whole thing out once and for all.

If you hear a big early morning yell from Texas, it will probably be me.

 

Monday Movie: Floating with Tapâm’s Silver Kings

It’s Monday Movie time again on FF365.

This week’s choice is a beautiful and mysterious short film that was the winner of the 2010 Drake Video Awards “Best Fishing” short film category.

Produced by Daniel Göz and Jan Bach Kristensen, it was filmed at an undisclosed location in Central America on a three-week trip in 2010.

Take one view of this film and you’ll understand why these two anglers left it undisclosed.

It’s a beautiful spot quite literally in the middle of nowhere, a place where big triple-digit tarpon greedily eat flies, rip line off fly reels deep into the backing, and give thrilling runs, leaps, and head-shaking fights.

To a couple of guys hooked up to these silver kings while fly fishing out of a float tube.

Yup, you read that right, a float tube.

This might be one of the best tarpon films ever made in my opinion, especially considering the fact that it was filmed almost entirely with Canon DSLR cameras, specifically Canon’s 5DMKII and 7D models.

That fact probably makes this short film one of the few ever shot almost exclusively (except for some underwater Go-Pro video) with digital SLR cameras sporting HD video capabilities.

It’s an extraordinary short film, one with breathtaking jumps of huge tarpon at very close ranges.

Watch it just one time and I think you’ll understand exactly why the tarpon is hailed as the “Silver King.”

Enjoy this week’s Monday Movie!

 

 

 

 

Tim Rajeff: Casting in the Wind

I absolutely love getting my weekly e-mail newsletter from the guys at Deneki Outdoors (www.deneki.com ).

From bonefish tips to salmon and rainbow fishing in Alaska to steelhead fishing in British Columbia to great fly fishing photography tips, the guys at Deneki produce an amazing amount of GREAT content each week.

Ok, so I rarely get to do any of those things mentioned above. But I can live vicariously through a newsletter, right?

And at least I’m prepared if and when the chance does come.

Like this week when the Deneki newsletter contains a sweet little video and summary article on casting in the wind.

The bona fide fly casting expert showing how it’s done is none other than Tim Rajeff, who in my opinion, is simply one of the world’s greatest fly casters in any conditions.

Rajeff – a retired competitive caster who has hosted the L.L. Bean “Guide to the Outdoors” television show and owns ECHO Fly Rods – gives a great lesson on Deneki Outdoors’ “You Tube Channel” on how to deal with and how to cast successfully in the wind.

Regardless of what direction it is blowing from.

If you’re chasing bonefish in the Bahamas; out for tarpon in the Keys; looking for permit in Belize; casting to carp on Lake Michigan; or heading to the Texas Gulf Coast for redfish; then you’ve simply got to watch this video.

It’s good stuff, trust me.

Better yet, trust Tim Rajeff and the staff at Deneki Outdoors.

 

By the way, here’s a cool little excerpt from this week’s Deneki Outdoors newsletter that summarizes what Tim is teaching in the video:

“Here’s the summary of what Tim covers in the video.

• For a right-handed caster, the easiest situation is when the wind blows left to right – the line is being blown away from you.  All you have to do is change your aim.
• When casting into the wind, use an easy, open back cast and a hard forward cast.  On the forward cast throw a tight loop, generate high linespeed, and aim your cast down so the fly turns over just at the water.
• With the wind at your back, consider a rollcast!  Otherwise use a quick, tight backcast and open up your forward cast.
• The hardest situation is when the wind is blowing your line into you.  Cast sidearm if the wind is modest.  If the wind is stiff, cast with the line off your other shoulder, or present the fly on your backcast.”

Like what you see?

Then go to Deneki’s Web site at www.deneki.com and subscribe to their weekly newsletter. Or go to their Facebook page and like them. Or follow them on Twitter at @deneki .

 

 

Tenkara…in Oklahoma!

Orvis endorsed guide Rob Woodruff is fishing Tenkara style.

On Oklahoma’s Lower Mountain Fork River.

And he’s guiding customers to experiences like this one:

“Nice looking brown trout I caught on Spillway Creek in Southeast Oklahoma using a Tenkara rod and traditional Sakasa Kebari style fly,” says Woodruff.

Interested in trying out the Tenkara style of fly fishing?

Then give Woodruff a call at (903) 967-2665. Or e-mail him at WGSFlyfish@aol.com . Or visit his Web site at www.flyfishingfork.com . Or do all three.

But just be sure that you get in touch with him soon.

The Lower Mountain Fork is fishing red-hot these days for both brown trout and rainbow trout.

And having given the Japanese method of fly fishing a try myself, I can all but guarantee that you’ll have a blast trying out the Tenkara style of flinging a fly,

Orvis endorsed fly guide Rob Woodruff is guiding Lower Mountain Fork River clients to brown trout like this one with the Tenkara rod.

 

Bowman: Belize’s Mangrove Magic for the Silver King

Editor’s Note: Looking through some old files again this evening and I found this ESPNOutdoors.com story that I had written a few years back.

It was written to preview an ESPN Outdoors television episode when Conway Bowman – the current host of “Fly Fishing the World” on the Outdoor Channel and the former host of ESPN2′s “In Search of Flywater” – traveled to Belize for some epic tarpon action. 

Conway Bowman, host of Fly Fishing the World on the Outdoor Channel, offers some insight to tarpon fishing in Belize.

Ironically enough, Bowman – the undisputed king of San Diego mako shark fly fishing – is back in Belize as we speak fly fishing for the silver king as he films a new episode of “FFTW.”

But my primary reason for posting this tale is that it’s tarpon season in many parts of the saltwater fly fishing world. And for many who fish the fly, there is simply nothing better than spending a late spring day on a Hells Bay skiff looking for a laid-up tarpon willing to eat a fly.

Because of that, I thought I would dredge this old story back to the surface, let it gulp some air, and allow it to live once again.

It’s hardly the stuff of Thomas McGuane and his timeless tarpon fishing tales in “The Longest Silence” but maybe you’ll find a little something to enjoy here nonetheless.

—–

In his role as co-host of the popular ESPN Outdoors show, “In Search of Fly Water presented by Chevrolet,” fly guide Conway Bowman has seen some of the world’s best locations to cast a fly line.

But as viewers will see on this “Saltwater Sunday” at7 a.m. ET on ESPN2, there may be no better place to fly fish the brine than the Caribbean paradise of Belize.

While there might be places that offer bigger bonefish or more tarpon, few places in the saltwater angling world can top the sheer variety of fly fishing opportunity that this member of the British Commonwealth offers.

“There are other places to go for better bonefish,” Bowman said. “But with better bonefish, you will not get as many shots at other things like permit, tarpon, and snook.

“For multiple species, Belize is about as good as it gets.”

Conway Bowman has fly fished all over the world for everything from tiny trout to triple-digit sharks. But from the looks of the smile on Bowman’s face above, tarpon fishing must rank high on his list!

Take Bowman’s quest for a Belize tarpon for instance.

While the saltwater fly fishing guide has caught plenty of big mako sharks on the blue-water fly near his San Diego home, he had never done battle with Megalops atlanticus.

Until, that is, he visited the beautiful Belize River Lodge, just a few miles down the road from Belize City.

“On the first day I got one that went about 90 pounds,” Bowman said. “That was the first time I’d ever caught a tarpon.”

On that first morning out, it didn’t take long before Bowman and his guide spotted the Megalops cruising along the edge of an eel grass bed on the sandy flat.

“We tracked him and I got a 60 foot cast out there,” Bowman said. “I started stripping the fly, he turned, and I saw the whole thing happen.”

With a mouth as big as a “five gallon bucket,” the angler described the take of the fly as akin to watching “somebody flushing the toilet.”

“He jumped four or five times – it was awesome,” Bowman said. “The fight took about 30 minutes. He was much stronger than the (world record) redfish I caught.”

Such brute strength requires, in addition to stout fly tackle, a couple of key elements in fighting the fish to the boat: applying plenty of constant side pressure and “bowing to the king” when they leap from the water.

“The thing about a tarpon is that once you hook them, they make an incredible first run and will jump several times and tail walk,” Bowman said. “Then it gets down and dirty.”

“They can gulp air and regain energy and the fight can be on again, so (once I hooked him) I didn’t let up and put as much heat on that fish as I could get away with all the time.”

“They’re the toughest fish I think I’ve ever caught.”

Lest you think that Bowman’s catch was simply a case of beginners luck, think again. So good is the fly fishing found around the Belize River Lodge area that before his stay was complete, Bowman was a tarpon catching veteran.

“Most clients go 2 for 10 (on tarpon hook-ups versus opportunities), but I hooked a bunch of fish after that,” Bowman said. “I think I got 15 tarpon on that trip and we really didn’t fish for them that hard.”

“We had lots of shots at tarpon in the 80 plus pound range. We also went back into the mangroves and took plenty of shots at baby tarpon, which was pretty cool.”

In fact, while Bowman was mighty proud of his 90-pound tarpon – caught on a 12-weight fly rod, a floating fly line, a nine-foot leader with a 20-pound tippet, and a 2/0 grizzly fly pattern, by the way – he admits that he may have enjoyed catching baby tarpon up to 25-pounds most of all.

“I’d prefer catching them on a day-to-day basis,” Bowman said. “They’re fun, they jump really high some three to four feet out of the water, and you can get them in quickly.”

“That allows you to get multiple shots at them,” he added. “Plus, you get to use lighter equipment like a nine weight or a ten weight and you’re fishing in the mangroves, so you can get out of wind.”

Not to be forgotten in this saltwater paradise – perhaps best known for its incredible permit fishing action – is the opportunity to hook up with a drag-melting bonefish.

Using eight-weight rods, a floating fly line, a 12-foot leader with an eight-pound tippet, and either a Crazy Charlie or Gotcha bonefish fly, Bowman got into a dozen or so bonefish up to five pounds.

But it isn’t any of the bonefish that he actually landed that he’ll remember most.

“I saw a couple of them about 80 feet in front of me (one day),” Bowman said. “They blend in so well and once I saw the fish, I thought there were four or five of them (in total).”

Actually, the southern California fly guide soon found himself casting at the lead fish in a school of some 300 bonefish.

When that bonefish felt the sting of the hook, it made a sizzling run through the school causing a virtual piscatorial explosion on the shallow flat!

Perhaps the greatest measure of how good any fly fishing trip really was is how strong the pull is to go back once an angler returns home again.

In Bowman’s case, that pull is as strong as a 90 pound tarpon.

“I’d like to go (back) there in April when they have giant 200 pound tarpon at the mouth of the Belize River,” Bowman said.

“They’re sitting in three or four feet of water and you’re sight casting to them,” he laughed. “Man, wouldn’t that be insane to cast to a 200 pound tarpon in three-feet of water?”

Not if you’re fly fishing in the Caribbean angling paradise of Belize.

 

Monday Movie: A River North with Andy Mill

Today’s “Monday Movie” brings four levels of greatness together in one remarkable short film.

First up is the incomparable wilderness of British Columbia, one of the greatest of all brushstrokes on the Creator’s grand canvas.

Next is the great Andy Mill, champion U.S. skier and one of the world’s most enthusiastic tarpon fly fishers.

Follow up that one-two punch by throwing into the mix the talents of superb fly fishing film-maker Jamie Howard (Chasing Silver, Bass: The Movie, etc.) and this MM installment promises to be a special one.

But it all comes together into a glorious mix of angling greatness when you add in the final ingredient.

And that’s the steelhead, the fish species that many call THE greatest of all piscatorial critters.

Partly because this chrome ocean goer is remarkably strong. Not to mention breathtakingly beautiful. And without a doubt because it is a wonderfully mysterious creature that inhabits some of the world’s cleanest, coldest, and greatest rivers.

Add it all together and you’ve got an incredible short film to start out a new week of fly fishing.

Enjoy!

 

Cardenas: Leave Emotions in the Tackle Bag

On a kayak fly fishing trip the other day, the fishing was unusually tough on my home water.

A little frontal passage. A bit of an east wind. And a barometer moving onward and upward.

Great spring weather conditions with a high, thin overcast above screening out much of the sun and pleasant morning temperatures in the 70s.

When you experience a tough day on the water, keep your emotions tucked away safely in the tackle bag.

But few – if any – fish willing to eat anything that I threw their way.

Which led to the full gamut of emotions.

A little steam occasionally threatening to escape the vents.

An occasional flare up of disgust.

The pathetic whine of “Why me, why today?” rolling around in the noggin.

And finally, the pure resignation of defeat and simply going through the motions.

By morning’s end I was beat and a little frazzled. Defeated by my piscatorial adversaries with a brain half the size of a bean.

Bottom line is that I forgot a very important lesson.

The one that reminds to keep your emotions in check to win the day.

The same one that Jeffrey Cardenas writes of so well in his superb fly fishing tome ”Sea Level.”

The one he describes below:

“Saltwater anglers and guides react to difficult fishing conditions in various ways. Some become determined. Others sulk. There are guides who rant and rave (nobody we know) and anglers who become crybabies and start feeling sorry for themselves when things aren’t going their way. Those who leave their emotions in the tackle bag and start thinking about the fish are the ones who ultimately catch fish.” (excerpted from Cardenas’ essay “When Saltwater Fish Eat,” emphasis mine)

Which brings this stern memo to self.

Next time tough conditions threaten to scuttle a day on the water, don’t give in. Stick and stay and make them pay. Stay focused. Keep thinking. Believe in every cast. Persevere.

And above all else, keep your emotions tucked safely away where they belong.

In the tackle bag.

Just like Mr. Cardenas says.

 

Wejebe: Making Piscatorial Lemonade

While looking through some old files today from my days spent working for the popular outdoors Website www.ESPNOutdoors.com, I stumbled across a story that I had written several years back about the late great Jose Wejebe.

As most of you know, the popular saltwater angler and longtime television outdoor show host tragically lost his life last month when the kit-plane that he was piloting crashed in his home state of Florida.

The late Jose Wejebe shows off a 41-pound striped bass caught off the New England coast as he tested the new G. Loomis NRX fly rod. (Photo courtesy of www.SpanishFlyTV.com )

As I read the contents of that long-ago story aimed at driving viewers to ESPN2 that particular weekend to watch Wejebe’s latest adventure on the H2O, the thought came to me that some of that story was worth pulling out of the mothballs.

Not because of my writing ability or the lack thereof but because of the timeless truth that Wejebe passed along to me during the course of our interview.

Truth that includes: when it comes to fishing, don’t take yourself too seriously. Don’t ever give up hope while you are out on the water. Learn to take what creation is giving you on any given day. Let the story tell itself. And of course, learn how to make lemonade.

So without further adieu, here is a reprisal of sorts for “ESPN2 TV: Making Saltwater Lemonade”:

—–

“Forrest Gump once said that life is like a box of chocolates: You never know what you’re going to get.

While that may have been true for the character Tom Hanks portrayed in the movie by the same name, life has been a bit more like a lemonade stand for captain Jose Wejebe, the weekly host of the “Spanish Fly” and “Vida Del Mar” television programs on ESPN2′s Saltwater Sunday programming block.

During the course of his angling career, Wejebe has learned a lot about taking the lemons of life — and the ocean — and turning them into something sweet. 

Born in Havana, Cuba, in 1958, Jose’s family fled Fidel Castro’s communist revolution, settling in the Miami area.

That’s where Wejebe’s love for the sea sprang into life through the rich angling, snorkeling and diving environments found all along the south Florida coastline.

Today, Wejebe is a light-tackle angling pioneer who delights in exploring relatively untouched saltwater flats and blue-water venues for hard-fighting fish that can challenge the outer limits of gear design.

But while Wejebe is perhaps one of the most recognizable saltwater anglers in the world — his “Spanish Fly” began airing on ESPN2 in 1995 and he now is the host of Saltwater Sunday who is seen between show and introduces each segment — he has always stayed true to his roots.

If life, or the sea, gives you lemons on any given day, turn around and make some lemonade.

Take for instance a recent airing of “Spanish Fly.”

Originally slated as an episode where Wejebe would target tough-warring baby tarpon in the upper Florida Key’s Florida Bay, the final product turned out somewhat different than originally intended.

“It panned out that we caught one or two that morning, but that was it,” Wejebe said. “So, we went with the flow, let nature have her way and caught some black drum and some redfish to finish the show.”

And that, according to Wejebe, is the whole concept of the show.

“When you’re fishing, go along with what nature throws your way,” Wejebe said. “We were looking for baby tarpon, but we also found some black drum muddling around in the water.”

When Wejebe and his crew shifted gears from tarpon to drum, what they found was some epic sightcasting action with light spinning gear and shrimp.

“The cool thing about (those black drum) was that they were literally in water so shallow that the weeds were laying over on surface,” Wejebe said.

“They were in these little tiny potholes, so the shrimp had to cross a spot in front of their nose that was maybe four or five inches in diameter.

“We probably caught half a dozen of them,” he continued. “It was fun — they would turn one way and the five-inch spot would change, then they would turn that way, and that five-inch spot would change again.”

Later that day, the tactic of turning sour lemons sweet proved useful, yet again, when the tide changed.

“We changed zip codes that afternoon because the water wasn’t there (in the location where they started),” Wejebe said.

“When we got to the other place, we could see stingrays, mullet and porpoises, so you could just tell that there was some life there.”

Life to the tune of four or five good red drum, or redfish, including one solid fish.

But that particular episode of “Spanish Fly” isn’t the only place where Wejebe’s “lemonade” approach to life and fishing can be seen.

It can also be seen on another airing of the show when Wejebe and Steve Yerrid (the famed Florida lawyer who won a landmark case against the tobacco industry) travel to the Bahamas for some sizzling angling action before the ESPN Outdoors cameras.

Thing is, once again, it didn’t turn out exactly as planned — where’s that lemonade recipe when you need it?

“We went looking for the grouper spawn that happens over there on Crooked Island, but it didn’t happen,” Wejebe said.

“You can’t script any of these actors, you can’t script the fish. And that’s the main focus for me, you go out there, and have a good time catching whatever fish comes your way,” he added.

“You let the story tell itself, you do not force a story.”

Case in point is this particular Crooked Island episode of “Spanish Fly” airing this weekend.

“We caught a fair number of grouper and snappers, but it was kind of sporadic and spread out,” Wejebe said.

“So what was cool is that we did a time montage on the show and told about the evolution of the Crooked Island (fishery),” he added.

“I’ve been going fishing there for eight or nine years, but before, it was just a bonefish fishery. Now, when you go, there is fishing for things like mutton snappers, yellow fin tuna, and Wahoo.”

What can the weekend warrior — both freshwater and salt — learn from Wejebe’s approach?

Simple.

If a largemouth bass outing turns sour, there are always bluegills. If the walleye aren’t cooperating, don’t forget the crappie. If the redfish are leaving you red-faced, don’t founder; try for flounder. If … well, you get the picture.

“I’ve always fished this way,” Wejebe said. “I may be targeting tarpon on a flat, but I will have various other rigs ready nearby.”

“If you tool on down the flats and see a shark or a barracuda, then, boom, throw it out to him. If you see a permit or a bonefish, then throw it out to them.”

“Learn to take advantage of what comes your way,” he added. “I just think it’s more fun to catch fish and have a bent rod.”

“I’m all for fishing for a target species if they’re there and they’re biting; but if not, why not have some fun while you’re fishing for your target species?”

And while you’re doing just that, why not kick back and take a big swig on a glass of sweet lemonade, Saltwater Sunday-style, of course.”

—–

Rest in peace Jose Wejebe. You’ll be missed greatly.

And thanks for the great memories, televisions shows, and lessons on how to live life and catch fish.

And not necessarily in that order.

 

Monday Movie: R.A. Beattie’s “Off the Grid”

Getting back into the swing of things, blogging about fly-fishing.

And that includes a return of Monday Movie time here on Fly Fishing 365.

Here’s all you need to know about today’s short film:

R.A. Beattie, one of North America’s epic fly fishing film makers.

A project that was some two years in the making.

One that was shot at 12 different locations targeting the kind of fishing most of us can only dream of.

Being “Off the Grid” and on the fly.

Enjoy today’s Monday Movie offering!

 

John Gierach on a Texas 10-Pound Fly Rod Bass

In keeping with my primary blogging topic of this week, I turned to the great John Gierach today for a little perspective on landing a 10-pound bass in Texas.

Here’s an excerpt from his essay “Texas” pulled from the book “Dances with Trout:”

John Gierach provides insight into landing – and losing – a 10-pound largemouth on the fly in Texas.

“I never did land the ten-pound bass on a fly rod — which you can do in south Texas — but I had one on. At least that’s what a gentleman named Dan said from the seat next to me in the big red bass boat one day. I was fishing some kind of a streamer on a sink-tip line and had gotten a little lazy, as you can do on a hot day fishing from a plush seat, roll casting with your right hand and holding a cold Lone Star in your left.

The fish hit, I struck and had him on for about as long as it took for him to come to the surface, jump and throw the hook. “That would have gone about ten,” Dan said casually. “You should have set up harder.”

I was trying to fix in my mind that fleeting glimpse of the biggest largemouth bass I’d ever seen alive and I almost said, “How the hell am I supposed to set up harder with a beer in my hand? but of course the answer was obvious. You can fish and drink at the same time, but you can’t do both well.

Later I told Ed about the big bass that had gotten off. He said, “Well, that’s another one you can think about for the rest of your life.“

Losing a 10-pound bass on the fly rod? Yep, I’d think about that for the rest of my life too.

Morals gleaned from this Gierach story?

1. Fly fish in Texas – 10-pound largemouth bass do exist here and can be hooked on the fly.

2.. Don’t get lazy when you fly fish because that will be the moment that a fish of a lifetime will strike your fly.

3. Leave the beer cooler back in camp. You can’t catch the fish of a lifetime and guzzle Lone Star at the same time.

4. Set up harder.

5. Have a fly fishing friend named Ed Engle who can help provide a little perspective when the fish of a lifetime strikes your fly, gets hooked, leaps into the air so you get a good visual image of how big the bass really was, and then gets off by throwing he hook.