You see, this all started when Fly Fisherman, Fisheries Biologists, Entomologists, and well, to be honest, Trout, began exploring rivers all over the world, and noticed me.  I like to summer in the Hampton’s, and overwinter in the Rocky Mountains; nothing too fancy, but I do like to stretch out, you know.  Good for the soul.  The trout just wanted a nice meal, can’t blame them.  The others, however, wanted to make something a little bit more out of me, the simple Stonefly.  Oh, I have many names, like Plecoptera if you want to get scientific – but for a while now, I’ve been known cordially as “Pat’s Stone.”

Here’s a picture of me back in ’74.

Mustaches were really in that year.

I mentioned that I travel, right?  Recently, I’ve been spending a lot of time out on the river, getting a little fly fishing in.  You know, getting all snug packed into a plastic little box, or hooked onto a sheepskin patch to travel.  Loop a strand of thin fluorocarbon tippet around the ‘ol noggin, just to keep the wind off a little and to keep things straight.  Wait – don’t forget to latch on my buddy, WT.  WT – oh, that’s Wiggle Tail, but this is my story, not his.  The fun really begins with we get to swim and check out the underwater scenery.  Mossy rocks, downed trees, a few other smaller buggy looking buddies in that film up there.  They sure can’t make their mind up – am I gonna leave the shuck or not?  Whoa, did you see that rainbow back there, checking us out?  Let’s keep swimming, he looked a little hungry.

It's nice to see you again, gotta go!

I’ve really become used to that Thingamabobber up there, it sure does take a little strain off the ‘ol elbows.  Now I can just drift right above those rocks and logs, skipping along.  Nothing like it, it’s a pure rush – maybe bungee jumping.  Yeah, bungee jumping is a good way to put it.  I’m not sure what the heck’s been happening lately, but I’ve spent a lot more time up in the “friendly skies” than usual.  Normally, WT and me like to stay real low-profile like, and just hang out in the water.  Some body’s up to something.

I like to dabble in paranormal investigations, nothing real serious, but more than just the “UFO’s invade Pueblo’s night skies” stuff.  Pretty curious by nature, I guess.  Good to try new things.  But I get this feeling that I’m supposed to be on this “no fly” list of some kind (trust me, I get the irony in that one).  Why in the heck would WT, Thingamabobber, and me want to be up there in all that air?  The last time, I nearly got beheaded by that tin weight flying by.  Enough already!

We’ve decided that we’re going to settle down a little bit; maybe find some nice detritus out in the country, under a nice log home, and just hang out.  It’s awfully demanding to do all that travel – it seems like I remember the job posting describing “no travel is required” and we’re rather looking forward to starting a family, instead of all this air travel.  We’re going to take it easy, maybe look up our old buddy Roll Cast.  Roll Cast has gotten a little trickier in her old age, she’ll run at you from last Tuesday if you’re not watching, but the pace is right.  Smooth, drawing motion in a determined back cast, a pause to catch our breath when we’re as tall and light as that fly rod, then just enough of a rush and we’re head over heels headed right back in.  Thingamabobber lost his legs last week, but we got a new guy in, younger. Yellow size Medium I think his name is, good shoulders.  Water’s up, hadn’t seen a tin weight for a while but there’s more of them around lately, and it’s a little warmer too.

That’s better.  Who needs all that air travel anyways, when that sweet roll cast is all that you really need.  Well, but I’m just Pat’s Stone, and that’s my opinion.

The Good Life.

- Pat

I was inspired on a float down the river yesterday, when arriving at the confluence of my focusing thought and the humming of one of my favorite drinking songs – start a beer when the first guitar plucks start, what is that note – sounds like a warm E, but my guitar lessons are long overdue anyways and I’m looking forward to some instruction from a potential client. You’re supposed to finish your drink before the song ends, but somehow I seem to forget where I am, and end up, well, I digress. Led Zeppelin seems to be good river music, along with the whispering trees and the slurping fish, so that’s what got me thinking about the workhorse cast, the Roll Cast.

The truth is, you got to do those things the best you can. The Roll Cast is a work horse cast because it’s so commonly used, especially on a drift boat. It’s one of the basics; when times are tight, the seam is calling; you’ve got to get those double-bead flies and indicator over that faster water and the wind is blowing at you, and the overhead cast just won’t work, because at this point you’ve already fouled two new leaders and eight flies, and your patience is as thin as that 6x tippet – whew, it’s time for the roll cast.

The key to the roll cast is the anchor – being patient enough to slowly build that loop of line, hanging below your rod tip and laying on the water, and be purposeful with your motions. Too often, anglers try to roll cast with too much line on the water, and unless the end of your line is moving, those flies aren’t going anywhere. On a side note, see Steelheading.

When I’m guiding clients on the Clackacraft, it’s easy to tell who really likes to cast, and who doesn’t. Often, the people who love to cast will do it so frequently, that there is no way they’re going to catch fish. In a previous blog, I discussed presentation, and how that’s key to catching fish. Keeping those flies in the water gives them a chance to “fish” the water you’re in, and guides specialize in instructing you on the where, when, how long, and why – but there comes a time “and it’s whispered that soon, if we all call the tune, then the piper will lead us to reason” to cast and a time to drift. Experienced anglers understand the delicacies of overhand casting with nymph rigs, and often adapt their casting technique over time to counter for the difficulties; I tend to side-arm my roll casts, or across my chest sometimes, but in time, what holds true is the anchor. Prepare for it, move with purpose, be patient, then watch how those heavily-beaded “truck and trailer” rigs that your guide so artfully tied up for you arc through the air, landing at the top of that prime water, a quick mend, strike, play, and release.

Take those steps, and you’re on the Stairway to Heaven.