Why I Started
Fly-Fishing
By Terry Hellekson
If I had to give a reason why I chose to fly fish over other forms of angling I would be at a loss for words. Certainly my upbringing has had a lot to do with it. I started fly-fishing well before spin fishing was introduced into this country from France after WWII. For the most part, anglers at that time used a fly rod for more than just casting flies. It was not uncommon to see everything from worms to small spinners being dangling from the ends of these rods. These were American fly fishermen, all purest in their own right—they carried a fly rod.
My first fly rod was a hand-me-down 7-½ foot Sewell Dutton bamboo stick. I soon learned to hang it up by the tiptop guide on a nail or other like protrusion for the night. That rod would otherwise take on a set that looked like a dog’s hind leg should it be leaned up against a tree for any extended period of time. I cannot count the number of times that I was counseled about the importance of taking proper care of my equipment. Somewhere around my 10th birthday all of the anguish ended. I was presented with a new Bristol steel rod—it was the latest and the greatest. I could plow through even the heaviest of brush patches and willow thickets without much worry.
In later years I saw the birth of the fiberglass rod and I was off in another direction. I built my first fly rod on a fiberglass blank. What a sweet little rod that was, being light, yet rugged, and by far well ahead of any of the rods I had previously used. Of course my father had his selection of Leonard bamboo rods, but they were hands off.
My father had a guide service and I cannot ever remember not seeing him tying flies in the evening. He supplied all of the flies for his clients to fish with and if they had success with a particular pattern it was not uncommon for them to want to buy a couple of dozen to take with them. We had a large walnut conference table where flies were tied, rods were built, and it served also as a gathering place for friends. When my father settled in at the table for the evening and started tying flies, I would be at the far end trying to make fur and feathers stick to a hook also. I am not sure when this all started, but I was tying fishable flies well before I started school. To me, flies were a more reasonable way to fish. I really didn’t want to dig worms or chase grasshoppers as my friends did before we fished together. I caught just as many or more fish as they did, so why not. We fished some of the small streams in the northern Sierra where we would spend our summer vacations devoted to fishing. This usually meant about 4 hours fishing in the morning and another 4 hours in the evening. Each time out we would catch and keep a limit of 15—we were meat fishermen. This never really did any damage to the fish populations as for the most part all of them were on private land where they received no fishing pressure whatsoever. It’s amazing how young boys can be overlooked, while adults would otherwise be labeled trespassers.
Many years ago I read where fly fishers go through 3 phases. When first starting out anglers have to prove to themselves they have perfected their skills and they measure this by the number of fish they can catch each time they are out. Heavens forbid if they don't come home with the limit. Then they gradually turn to wanting to catch the largest fish they can successfully bring to the shore. Well you can only hang so many big fish on the wall and brag about the taking of it to just so many people. Soon you realize that this is becoming more like work than pleasure, and leisure time fun was what it was all about to begin with. This is when you determine that it is not about how many fish you catch or how big they are, it's the gratification one gets in knowing they are participating. The added pleasures of camaraderie with like-minded individuals and the little fly-fishing rituals such as the exchanging of flies and tips are just an added bonus to the enjoyment of this sport.
Once you are entrenched into fly-fishing there is no turning back. It is very easy to be swept away with it all. There is one challenge after another that gets placed in front of you. I have seen any number of spin fishermen convert to fly-fishing, but I have never known a fly fisherman to stray off in another direction.
So, "Why did I start to fly fish?" I can only say, "because my father did."
