Getting Started in Fly Fishing

            A few days ago, I wrote about my journey as a fisherman, from someone who could barely cast without getting snagged to someone who could at least catch a few fish on an hour’s trip to the lake. This article is something of a part two to that, because as I have learned, fly fishing is almost as different from spin fishing as bowhunting is from rifle hunting. While the last article largely took place in Virginia, this secondary development arc all started after I moved to the Montana/Wyoming border area for work.

            Yellowstone National Park has a unique licensing system for fishing. Unlike most parks and recreation areas, you are not required to have a state fishing license if you are within the bounds of the park. All you need is the park’s fishing permit, and that can come in the form of a 3-day, 7-day, or annual permit. You are also allowed to keep non-native fish in most areas, and in some areas, you are required to keep them – or at least kill them. Since I lived just outside of the park bounds, it only made sense for me to purchase an annual permit there and go fishing when I had some free time.

            I made it one of my first orders of business once I got there to buy a fly rod and a park fishing permit. I went into a local fly shop and a guy about my age hooked me up with a 5 weight Echo Lift, a 9-foot rod. This is pretty much the standard fly rod. It came with a reel and a line, leader, and tippet already attached. I bought a few flies and he referred me to a little lake about a mile’s walk from one of the several employee housing areas. He said it was full of Brook Trout, which I knew were non-native. As it happened, I had a few friends who lived in that employee housing area, so I asked them if I could park in front of their place while I walked down to the lake, and they agreed.

            Before I go on, I need to make a little comment about my experience in that fly shop. First, I need to acknowledge how helpful that guy was in getting me started on this journey. That said, that was, to date, my only good experience in a fly shop anywhere. Maybe I just have bad luck, but my experiences in fly shops after that have ranged from unhelpful to downright condescension from the people I’ve asked for help or advice. I have gotten to a point where, beyond buying a few flies and saying “hello” and “thanks,” I really don’t say or do much of anything when I have to go into fly shops anymore. If you go into a shop and have a better experience than me, that’s great. It has been my experience, however, that fly fishermen are a difficult community to feel welcome in as a newbie – and that’s coming from a bowhunter. Honestly, my experiences with other fly fishermen have been part of what inspired me to create this blog. I don’t want any of you, dear readers, to feel alone in starting out. If you’re uncomfortable breaking into the community as a beginner – and my guess is that you probably are – let’s just learn it together. I’m putting my experiences into writing to let you know that you’re not alone.

It’s also been my experience that many fly fishermen are, more so than other types of fishermen – really hung up on catch-and-release, regardless of what the laws and bag limits say you are allowed to do. I, for one, will keep and eat anything I am legally allowed to keep – I am well within my rights to do so. This makes some folks angry, but fresh-caught trout from some of the cleanest water in America is too good to pass up, and in the area of the park where I was fishing, there is no possession limit on non-native fish. That includes, but is not limited to, Brown Trout, Rainbow Trout, and Brook Trout.

The small lake where the author learned to fly fish.

            Anyway, now that I’m off my soap box, let’s get back to the story. I walked down to the lake with my fly rod in hand, a little box of flies in my pocket, and a filet knife on my hip. I walked out to the edge of the lake, tied on my fly, and started to cast. I reared back and let it rip… and the fly landed at my feet. I reared back again, throwing the end of my fly rod back and forth like a bull whip and then finally letting go… and it landed at my feet, again. I am not exaggerating when I say that I did this for 30 minutes, tinkering slightly with my form here and there until I managed to get the fly out about 10 feet from where I stood. I could see fish swimming about 15-20 feet out, but they weren’t going to waste their time coming in to inspect my fly when there were plenty of other insects out there. I was also getting absolutely wrecked by mosquitoes during these 30 minutes. I learned that day that I should start wearing permethrin shirts when I go out to fish.

            All this time, the guys on the opposite side of the bank had been catching fish. I imagine they’d looked over at me struggling with my tackle, getting it snagged on trees and tangled in my reel for 30 minutes, at least a few times. I was getting embarrassed. I’d pretty much hit rock bottom levels of embarrassment when I saw an older man walking towards me to get back to his truck. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I asked this older guy for some tips if he had a moment. I understand I probably broke a lot of unspoken rules of fly fishermen here, but I was desperate. He apparently did not have a moment, because he told me he didn’t have anything to share, but there was a guide on the other side of the lake who might be able to help.

            Now, I’m not the smartest guy on the planet. I had no clue about the unspoken rules of the fly fishing community. However, I know enough to know that you don’t try to horn in on a guided fishing trip. So, possessing a semi-functional brain, I did not go over and speak to the guide. My embarrassment level heightened, however. I didn’t want to be seen in public anymore at that point.

            I don’t regret that first fly fishing trip at all, looking back. In fact, after permethrin shirts, that was the second lesson I learned that day; don’t get embarrassed when you’re still learning. It’s okay to be new to something and making mistakes. Plus, I would bet my bottom dollar that those guys on the opposite bank haven’t thought about me since then, nor would they recognize me in public. It was that trip that sparked my philosophy that there is no such thing as an unsuccessful hunting or fishing trip. Even if you make a fool out of yourself for an hour and a half, that’s 90 minutes worth of experience that you didn’t have before. Cherish the lessons you learn.

            I made it my mission to go down to that lake and catch a trout on a fly. I would work until about 5pm every day and then make the 10-minute trip down to the lake, and I’d fish until sundown. Usually, all that time would be spent just working on my fundamentals; casting, retrieving, mending, and so on. On one particular day I finally saw a Brook Trout within my very small casting distance and thought “okay, let’s finally get this done.” I went back to cast and the fly caught on a tree behind me. “Fuck,” I thought, “there goes my fish.” Fortunately, the fish didn’t go anywhere, and I had another shot at him. I tried to cast again, and this time the fly went whizzing out over the water and landed wildly off target, at least 10 feet away from where the fish was. I watched the fish start to swim off, spooked by the line hitting the water above it. I started to retrieve my fly to try and intercept its path when suddenly I felt the line tighten, and I set the hook instinctively. I had a fish on! A different fish I hadn’t seen before was giving me a fight. My adrenaline immediately kicked in. This was the sensation I had been looking for all this time. It was a little trout, but having never fought a fish on a fly rod before, this thing might as well have been an 8lb Largemouth to me. I got it into the shore and almost didn’t even know what to do with it when it hit the bank and started flopping around. I grabbed it around the body and double checked to make sure it was a non-native Brook Trout before dispatching it. I unbuttoned my filet knife and drove the knife between the fish’s eyes and into its brain, quickly and painlessly killing it. I stared at it in disbelief. I felt like I had finally gotten over the hump. It was the same feeling I had gotten when I’d caught that Largemouth in Virginia a few months prior.

The author’s first fish ever caught on a fly, with his fly rod in the background.

            I went home almost immediately, excited to try this fish. With the help of a few YouTube videos, I fileted the fish. It wasn’t the best filet job I’ve ever done, but wasn’t the worst either, and I got pretty much all the meat off the fish. It was also a female brookie, so I pulled out the roe sacks as well. I heated some butter in a cast iron skillet and minced a little garlic to throw in there. Then, I lightly salted and peppered both filets and threw them in the skillet. They cooked quickly on account of being so small, and they were so tender and flaky that I could hardly get them out of the skillet in one piece. I floured the roe sack and threw it in for a few seconds as well. I ate the fish over some leftover rice with a local IPA. It was one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten. I was determined to start catching as many of these things as I could and feeding myself and my young family with them.

            The main lesson I have learned through all of this is that you are very unlikely to see success early on, and the learning curve is even steeper when you’re self-taught. Getting someone to teach you, whether that’s a friend or a professional guide, can drastically shorten that learning curve, but you will still have a learning curve that you need to take on. Let yourself suck at fishing for a little while. It’s not something anyone is naturally skilled at, it’s something you have to learn and get comfortable with to see any real success. Don’t walk away from a lake after spending an hour not catching anything and let yourself believe that you’re not a good fisherman. You are an excellent fisherman, because you got off your ass and went out to the lake to practice today. Lots of other people didn’t do that. That puts you a step ahead. Be proud of that.

            Since that day, I have progressed significantly as a fly fisherman. I’m still a novice, but I’ve branched out and tried to fish in different areas using different techniques. I’ll write about some of those experiences another time. Now that I’ve got this project up and running, I plan to start filming and photographing these little fishing expeditions more frequently and sharing the experiences and lessons with readers. That, dear readers, is my new mission. Maybe, if you’re in the position I was as a newcomer to the fly fishing game, it’ll inspire you to go out and catch some of your own meals, too. Have fun, and share the knowledge you gain.