brown-trout

Casting Through Time: The Enduring Spirit of Fly Fishing

| Glenn Smith

In the quiet moments on a brisk Colorado morning, ready to place my wading boot in the Frying Pan River, I often reflect on the profound legacy of fly fishing. This isn’t just a sport; it’s a timeless pursuit that connects us to nature, history, and a community of like-minded souls seeking solace and sustainability.

Ancient Origins: Threads from the Past

Fly fishing’s roots trace back to ancient civilizations. Roman author Claudius Aelianus, in the 2nd century, described Macedonian anglers using artificial flies to catch fish on the Astraeus River.  Meanwhile, in 12th-century Japan, the method of Tenkara emerged, where fishermen used long rods and simple flies to harvest trout and char in mountain streams.

These early techniques laid the groundwork for modern fly fishing, emphasizing skill, observation, and a deep connection to the aquatic environment.

Evolution of Technique and Technology

Over the centuries, fly fishing evolved significantly. The publication of “The Compleat Angler” by Izaak Walton in 1653 marked a pivotal moment, offering insights into the art and philosophy of angling. Advancements continued with the development of specialized rods, reels, and lines, enhancing the angler’s ability to present flies with precision.

Despite technological progress, the essence of fly fishing remains unchanged: a harmonious dance between angler and fish, guided by patience and respect.

Catch and Release: A Conservation Ethic

The practice of catch and release, now integral to fly fishing, has its origins in 19th-century Britain, aimed at preserving fish populations.  In North America, conservationist Lee Wulff championed this ethic, famously stating, “A gamefish is too valuable to be caught only once.”

Today, catch and release is more than a technique; it’s a commitment to sustaining healthy fisheries for future generations.

Seeking Solitude and Connection

Beyond the mechanics, fly fishing offers a sanctuary from the noise of modern life. Standing in a river, surrounded by nature’s chorus, one finds a meditative rhythm in casting and retrieving. It’s in these moments that anglers connect deeply with the environment, finding peace and clarity.

A Legacy of Stewardship

Fly fishing’s history is rich with individuals dedicated to conservation. In 1939, Roderick Haig-Brown penned the first code of fly-fishing ethics, emphasizing the angler’s role in protecting aquatic ecosystems.  Organizations like Fly Fishers International continue this legacy, promoting sustainable practices and environmental education.

Conclusion: Embracing the Timeless Journey

Fly fishing is more than a pastime; it’s a journey through history, nature, and personal growth. As we cast our lines, we join a lineage of anglers who value not just the catch, but the experience, the environment, and the enduring lessons the river imparts.

Until next time, may your casts be true and your reflections deep.

⸻

If you’re interested in exploring specific fly fishing techniques, gear recommendations, or conservation initiatives, feel free to ask!

Guide Glenn Smith

The Legend: An unlikely true story about personal change and a fresh pair of eyes

| Glenn Smith

The Legend had been guiding on the Frying Pan River for over thirty years, though few people knew his real name. Everyone just called him “The Legend.” His reputation stretched across the Rockies like the river itself—strong, steady, and impossible to rival. He knew the Frying Pan as if it were an extension of himself, every eddy, every riffle imprinted in his mind like a map. Anglers traveled from all over, hoping to catch even a fraction of the trout he seemed to entice on any given day.

That morning, as the light fog lifted from the river, The Legend sized up his new client. Derek was a typical novice—his gear mismatched, his waders still too clean, and his boots clumsy against the rocks. The Legend had seen a hundred Dereks in his day, all eager to impress, all about to be schooled by the river’s subtle demands. So the day began.

They waded into the river, the cool water pressing against their legs, and The Legend led Derek to a deep pool, affectionately known as M1, a prime spot for trout. He figured he’d spend most of the morning untangling lines and showing Derek the proper way to cast. He had his usual speech prepared about committed backcasts and the art of reading the water. But before he could offer a single word of advice, Derek did something that made The Legend pause and mumble, “WTF”?

Instead of lifting his rod in the traditional way, Derek swung it low, almost as if he were side-arming the cast. His line unfurled in a sweeping arc just above the water, not cutting through the air, but gliding along the surface. The fly settled with such delicate precision that The Legend had to blink. The trout must’ve thought it was the real thing because, before The Legend could process what he was seeing, Derek hooked a fish.

“What was that?” The Legend asked, genuinely puzzled.

Derek shrugged. “Just seemed easier than what I usually see.”

The Legend shook his head, sure it was a fluke. But then Derek did it again. And again. Fish after fish. Each time, he made that strange, low-flicking cast, and each time the trout responded. It was like watching someone break every rule of fly fishing… and somehow perfecting the art in the process.

By mid-morning, The Legend was in awe. He prided himself on mastering every casting technique there was, but this—this was something new. Something that seemed impossible, and yet, the results were undeniable.

Finally, The Legend couldn’t resist. “Mind if I give it a try?”

Derek handed over his rod, and The Legend mimicked the cast as best he could, the movement feeling foreign in his hands. It took a few attempts, but eventually, he found the rhythm—the subtle, horizontal flick, the way the line danced just above the water. It was like discovering a secret he hadn’t known was there, hidden just below the surface all these years.

For the rest of the day, The Legend practiced the technique, refining it, testing it in different parts of the river. The fish responded with the same enthusiasm for his fly as they had for Derek’s. By the time the sun dipped low behind the mountains, The Legend knew he had witnessed something that would change fly-fishing forever.

They called it the “Frying Pan Never, Ever Do that Flick,” a name that stuck as more and more anglers noticed The Legend’s new method. He taught it to his clients, and word spread quickly. Soon, other guides were asking him about it, trying to understand what made it so effective. Within a year, it was being used on rivers across the country, revolutionizing the sport.

Though the “FPNEDTF” or the “Legendary Flick” for short was associated with The Legend, he never forgot where it had come from. Derek, the rank amateur for somewhere The Legend can’t recall, had introduced it without even knowing what he’d stumbled upon. In the end, The Legend’s mastery of the river had been challenged by something as simple as a fresh pair of eyes—and it was a lesson he carried with him for the rest of his days on the water.

Mastering the Drift: The Key to Successful Trout Fly Fishing

| Glenn Smith

It is a morning like every morning during the end of summer, the beginning of fall. The air is brisk and the temperature is cool, almost cold, but a fine welcome. I meet my clients for the day, eager to get out there and catch a fish… but it is never that easy for the leisure, once a year angler to do. I say right from the get go, “Fly fishing for trout is not an easier way to catch a trout. It’s the most difficult way to catch a trout”.

Why do I say that? It is because those of you out there with years under your belt, know I am right. What we do is a process, not a shortcut. We have to look at everything. We first look at the weather, the outside temperature. Then we look if there is any cloud cover or not. Next we watch for birds, do we see them or not? If they are flying high or low, or on the water. Next, we look closely for the insect life on, in or above the water. We ask ourselves, what kind of hatch is it? Or if there is any hatch at all? All this takes place well before we even cast a line.

With all that said, what is the most important thing above and beyond the aforementioned you must master? Is it the choice of flies? Is it how well you can cast a dry? Roll cast a nymph? Is it recognizing a strike? Is it the drift? Is it how gentle or how hard you set the hook?

These are all valid questions. Every guide has their own opinions about which one is most important. But to me, there is only really one answer, it is always the drift.

Having a proper drift separates the pros from the rookies. I can attest to this. Even the wrong fly drifted properly will interest more fish. Better than the right fly, drifted terribly. This has proved to be true more often than not.

Is the cast and presentation important? Yes and no. A great cast is wasted if the drift is terrible. What is the point of throwing 50 feet of line across the current? It won’t work if you can’t get the fly to drift naturally.

When it comes to recognizing a strike, the drift still matters. A fast moving drift with tons of line in the water is near impossible to set the hook. If you’re “nymphing”, the strike indicator will never give you an honest read, a missed opportunity. If you’re throwing dries, a bad drift never will give your fly a natural, buggy look. You’ll miss another opportunity.

With all this said, how should you move ahead and always achieve a perfect drift? It is simple. Line management. keep these things in mind;

-High stick whenever you can. Alleviate a problem before it becomes a problem.

-Keep the line you’re casting within your comfort zone.

-Fish to the fish in-front of you. Your target isn’t always on the other side of the river.

-Drop the ego casting and get that fly in the water.

-Stop over mending. Do one or two quality big mends and stop messing around.

-Last of all, none of this applies if you’re ripping streamers.

Do me a solid. Please remember that the insects in the river move at the pace of the water they are in or on. Always copy nature.

Tight Lines

Glenn on the Fly