![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
| Your account | Today's news index | Weather | Traffic | Movies | Restaurants | Today's events | ||||||||
|
|
Thursday, May 27, 2004 - Page updated at 12:00 A.M. Still casting about? Lessons can help beginners, veterans By Connie McDougall
"Now, when you get that line out there, just give it a whomp!" This describes a decisive move that plops the line into the water without having to sling it behind your back, a handy trick when avoiding snags on bushes and trees. "Now check that thumb," Van Natter adds. "It should be straight up, then come down with your whole arm. Make that rod-tip work!" The students try, and at first it's more wimp than whomp. Everyone grins at their listless lines, but no one is much surprised. Fly fishing is all about patience. Guaranteed, if you don't have patience to begin with, you'll develop some. Dockside, Karen Kunde of Redmond stands next to Sharalyn Williams of Kirkland. They carefully sling their rods forward, and on one effort, manage to tangle lines. As they puzzle through the matrix, they laugh at the inevitable hazards of learning to fly fish. Both beginner and veteran can learn something through this eight-week class. Sponsored every spring by Northwest Fly Anglers, a family fishing-club founded 30 years ago, the course appeals to a broad range of skills. Bruce Farwell of Sammamish says he came to bone up on his casting because it's been a while since he caught an actual fish. "That's why I'm here!" he says. "I want to catch something!" Kunde, unraveling her line from her neighbor's, once did some fly fishing when she lived in Colorado, but finds her attempts at Green Lake a bit clumsy. "It's an awkward movement at first," she says, "kind of unnatural, but with practice, it gets better." Patience, practice required Take note of the other p-word in this sport: first patience, then practice.
LeMert owns Seattle's venerable Patrick's Fly Shop, and offers different levels of instruction, including novice two hours indoors to learn equipment, knots and basic entomology (the bugs that fish like to eat), followed by an outdoor class for casting. "Almost anybody can cast beautifully at the end of class, but that's just the beginning," he says. "I tell people they can't learn to fly fish in four hours, but I can get them started." While traditionally male-dominated, fly fishing increasingly attracts women. "It doesn't take that much power to do this, to get the line out there," says Stacy Stratton, president of the Northwest Women Flyfishers club. "Most fish are within 30 feet of you anyway, so accuracy is at least as important as distance." While many women get into the sport via dads or husbands, women have their own reasons. "I think the aesthetics of fly fishing is a big part of this," Stratton says. "It's peaceful, something you can do with a group or alone." Like most fishing groups, the NWF sponsors special outings, including to Montana and Canada, but most trips are local to lakes, streams, rivers and beaches. "On a lot of these outings, women bring their spouses and kids." With parents competing with a raucous world, "the quiet of fly fishing is a great thing to share with a son or daughter," she says. Learning to fly right Back at Green Lake, Peg Van Natter leads another cast, calling for people to pull out more line. Looking on is her husband, Bill Van Natter, a retired attorney who introduced her to the sport in the 1980s. Before too long, she was at least as good as Bill. "She holds her own," he agrees with a smile.
An entire subculture of anglers makes its own flies, constructed from exotica like yarn, animal hair and feathers. "Some people only want to catch fish with a fly they make," Bill Van Natter says, "and I'm one of them. I tie flies as a safety factor. If I had a two-dollar fly caught on a bush across the river, I'm liable to get in trouble going across to get it," he laughs. Like any sport, it's easy to spend hundreds of dollars on equipment, but to begin, anglers say you can get a decent rod and reel for between $75 and $150. And do take a couple of classes to learn that essential "whomp." From there, it's a lifelong lesson in patience, practice and poetry. "Fly fishing is a total experience physically and intellectually," says Bill Van Natter. "The surroundings, the line hovering overhead then dropping down into the water; someone said that it's like a dance with a line, and that's just what it is. Beautiful." Connie McDougall is a free-lance writer who lives in Seattle. Copyright © 2004 The Seattle Times Company
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
seattletimes.com home
Home delivery
| Contact us
| Search archive
| Site map
| Low-graphic
NWclassifieds
| NWsource
| Advertising info
| The Seattle Times Company