I've been fortunate enough to have fished with many professional athletes in recent years. You'd be surprised by how many actually gravitate to fly fishing as a release from the rigors of playing sports under bright lights for a living.
I'll be honest though—some are way better than others when they put on waders, and I think that has to do with the dynamics of their professions. Golfers, for example, are usually really good fly anglers. After all, one could argue that fly fishing and golf are kindred pastimes, both born in Scotland centuries ago. It's all about planning the next move, and adapting to the current situation. The way the wheels spin in golfers' and anglers' minds are very similar, so it's not surprising to know that Tiger Woods, Mark O'Meara, Nick Price, and Davis Love III (among many others) are all avid anglers.
The other day I got a phone call from my credit card company asking for feedback on customer service. Thing is, it was an automated call, as in "press 1 if you are happy with our customer service." I'm not kidding, although at the time I thought, "you must be joking," and simply hung up. I don't think it takes an MBA to figure out that having customers talk to a recording is probably not the best way to assess customer service satisfaction, but I may be wrong.
I don't think I'm wrong, however, when I say that customer service is the key to a successful fly shop. I've been covering the business of fly fishing for many years now, and during that time I've seen a number of fly shops close their doors throughout the country.
My trip to the Key West last week was a nutty one: two rods broken, three falls by one guy off the bow, a destroyed rental car, night fishing for tarpon, and a few new species in the bag.
Last weekend I had the pleasure of getting out and sticking my first largemouth of the season. It was one of our first really warm days here and the fish were going bonkers even though water temps we're still in the 40s. I wasn't one to argue.
Cicadas might be annoyingly loud, but I know they bring huge trout to the surface on rivers like the Green in Utah and the Colorado at Lees Ferry in shadow of the Grand Canyon in Arizona. Bass also love them and I'm sure they suck them down all over the east coast. And now there's a way to see realtime info on when cicadas will start flying around—using data provided by you.
WNYC, a public radio station in New York, is promoting a crowdsourcing project call the Cicada Tracker, where people can create a temperature sensor and report their findings to the station when things start to warm up. WNYC will then map this data on the cicada hatch in the Northeast and share it online.
Aloha from the Garden Island of Kaua'i in the Hawaiian Islands. I'm on a much-anticipated family vacation, where my wife, Sarah, and son, Paul, and I are enjoying some spectacular scuba diving (along with my brother, Drew, who took this photograph of a sea turtle we encountered Saturday). When I'm not fishing, diving is my favorite pastime. I enjoy watching fish when I'm not actually casting at them, sometimes for reasons explained in one of last week's Fly Talk posts. I'll admit, however, that I much prefer the clear, warm tropical waters over the icy swirling currents of trout rivers.
Last night, I took my rod to cast off a point of lava rocks. I was casting a Clouser minnow at nothing in particular, and truth be told, I didn't catch anything. But I did see another giant green turtle swim up near the shoreline, poke its head above the surface to check me out for several minutes, then vanish under the foam.
Today's Fly Talk entry is a guest post from our friend Chris Santella. You might know Chris from from his "Fifty Places" series of books, his work in The New York Times, Forbes.com, The New Yorker, Golf, Travel & Leisure, …and many others.
Chris and I were chatting the other day about the portrayal fishing on TV and in advertising, which as I'm sure you know is just god awful 99 percent of the time. To make a long story short, during the course of the conversation we both admitted to watching the season finale of Downton Abbey and were aghast at the sight of such horrible spey casting. Anyway, I'll stop trying to explain and let Chris take it from here. Warning: Spoilers ahead.
Just after the new year I headed to Argentina for two weeks to chase sea run brown trout at Kau Tuapen lodge and to shoot dove at La Dormida with my partner-in-crime Kirk Deeter and a few other colleagues.
While some of us have the luxury of being able to fish like we always do during this time of the year, most of our fisheries are shut down, frozen over, or simply too slow to make a day worth while.
My friends over at Fly Fishing Film Tour will kick off their season right here in Denver this Saturday. I do believe both shows tomorrow are sold out, but the show will head out on the road and run through May to a multitude of cities all over the country; big and small—almost 100 cities in all. So do yourself a favor, check the schedule, buy some tickets, and head on out for an evening of fish porn and tall tales on the big screen.
For starters, I have to admit that I'm stealing this idea from my friend Brennan Sang, who posed that question on Facebook a few days ago, prompting a string of responses I find very interesting.
I wanted to throw it out there for the Fly Talk nation, because fishing, to me, is as much about the people with whom you share the experience as it is about the fish themselves. It strikes me that so many people respond to this question by saying that they'd like to fish one more time with a family member or friend who has passed away. I feel the same way.