A Conversation With A Gentleman

There are a few endeavors in the outdoor world that I can put into a category…one whereby men of class just seem to be better at that specific sport. First on my list is quail hunting; I have known some good quail hunters and they all seem to move in a classic manner, they speak easy and are cordial to their dogs and those around them. Second on my list is a good golfer…I am proud to have raised two of them and through the years I have noticed that those who can control themselves on a golf course…who know when to put a bad shot behind them, well, those are usually folks that both do well and exude an air of swagger that helps them at many levels of life. Now third on my list…but first in importance is that of a good fly fisher. It is no secret that I spend and have spent a lot of hours on and in water. I have seen both ends of the spectrum, from young boys with foul mouths to older gents who often move about with leisure…they look like they are in control, taking in and consuming all that the experience of fly fishing has to offer.

This past 4^th of July week I was privileged to get to fish some good Missouri water for both smallmouth bass as well as rainbow trout. I found myself in some of the most pristine environs that Missouri (and anywhere for that matter) has to offer. I consider this a privilege because I know that not everyone gets this chance; due to these feelings I tend to savor my moments and choose not to listen to or partake in much conversation…not because I feel better or because I feel any such way, no, simply because I don’t want to miss the sounds and sights that go with these noble places. Through the years I have had an occasion to throw out this logic, to participate in a conversation; rare as they are…I usually come away much better off in the long run!

I rose early on Independence Day this year; by 5:15am I slowly walked into Taneycomo…I was about half a mile below the dam and could see that I had the place all to myself. I unleashed a cream colored trout candy, stripped out about 40 foot of line and made a soft cast down and across the foggy water that lay before me. Strip, strip, strip…then the feeling that keeps me coming back, a bang on the other end and seconds later I dipped my net under an Ozark Rainbow; it would be the first of about 40 on the day, but this is not the story…for you see later in the afternoon, I made my way back down to the same patch of water and decided to fish for a couple hours before Vickie and I made our way to Table Rock Lake to watch the fireworks. There was only one other fisherman on the water and he was a ways downstream…so, I continued to casts, strip and occasionally catch a fish. As I drew closer I could see this chap a bit better; he had a stylish fishing hat, nice vest…all the amenities of someone that knows the sport-he even was smoking a pipe. I glanced from time to time and could see that not only did he look the part but his fluid motion with a fly rod gave it away…this gentleman knew his stuff.

There is always a point…when one fisherman arrives at that invisible boundary-between him and another chap…I won’t say it is uncomfortable, but at times it can be. As luck would have it at about this point I hooked, then lost what was clearly the best fish of my week…I was a bit disappointed. It was then that my stream mate looked up from tying on a new fly and gave me a smile, and then a nod…then he said, “That one appeared to have made quite a boil on the water”.  It was a subtle gesture that spoke volumes…what it said was that I am not a snob…and it opened up a conversation between the two of us that continued over the next hour.

John, as I later came to know, was indeed a Missouri native who lived between Rolla and Springfield…I found out several other interesting facts, as did he about me…but the most relevant was the fact that John was a nymph fly guy! I on the other hand I am a streamer or strip fisherman… and while this might not sound like a big deal…well, at times it can be. There is clearly a line drawn and most won’t cross it; either you use a float indicator with a nymph pattern, or you use sinking or partially sinking line with some type of fly that is stripped or retrieved back to you. Rarely does one type of fisherman indulge…or cross the line, in fact most don’t care to understand or in some cases…have any sympathy or concern for the other man’s choice of direction. This was not the case with John; we both asked questions and I could honestly see that while both of us were pretty good at our craft…we both wanted to get better.

As the night progressed it turned out to be one of those special times when a bunch of factors all came together, a fly fishing synergy so to speak…the world around us was aglow with the falling sun, the water was clear and cold, the fish were in a mood to cooperate and were eating eagerly and the conversation was splendid. Truth is I wish I could bottle moments like this, simply keep them in a box and open it at frustrating times to steal away just a bit of the flavor!

Yes, I had had a special week…but my conversation with a true gentleman here on this Ozark stream…it was the icing on my outdoor cake. It proved that good men come in all sorts of shapes, sizes and ideas of how to catch fish! Nature continues to open my mind…I am amazed at the good men and women that are out there pursuing and sharing the great times that are available to all of us. I hope that you too can have a conversation with a gentleman…somewhere along the way as we all Enjoy the Great Outdoors.