Mishaps in fly-fishing - part II

This is the second of a two-part contribution on “Mishaps in Fly-Fishing” authored by Carl Ochnio, an avid freshwater fly angler who lives in central Connecticut.  Carl is a former higher education professional who now finds as much time as he can wading in moving water. All photo credits belong to Carl. carl.ochnio@gmail.com

Early in the season, I decided to walk along a favorite river to test out a new fly rod and look for rising fish. I wasn't optimistic about any surface activity, but at least it would be a pleasant stroll, allowing me to see how the high spring flows had affected some of the pools. After venturing about a mile downstream, I spotted a fish feeding at the surface.

As I tried to string up my four-piece rod, I suddenly realized it was now a three-piece. I remembered snagging the rod tip on some brush earlier, and I must have pulled on it without thinking as I walked away, not bothering to look back.

I spent the rest of the morning retracing my steps, searching for the missing tip. This was complicated because the color of the missing section perfectly blended into the surroundings. It took some effort, but I eventually found it. The experience reinforced a key lesson: always string up your rod before heading into the woods. 

There was a time when I was sitting on the riverbank, rebuilding my leader. I had my sun hat on, with a much-needed magnifier attached to its brim. By sheer luck, I noticed that the powerful midday sun in New Mexico was shining through my magnifier and was about to burn a hole in my waders. I managed to sidestep that mishap and felt very fortunate.

How about the day I was fishing on a river in the southern Rockies? I had been out on the water since early morning, and the hatches had slowed by mid-day. Instead of returning to the cabin for lunch and a nap, I decided to stay out and wait for the fish to resurface later in the afternoon. Due to either rushing or being a bit lazy, I neglected to pinch the barb on my #14 Parachute Ant. After netting a fish, I felt a sharp prick as I unhooked and released it. Looking down at the palm of my left hand, I saw the fly embedded quite deep. It was my first experience impaling myself and I was amazed at how painlessly the hook penetrated my skin.

I stood in the middle of the river and began to review my options. I decided to head back to the bank and then to my SUV. During this trek, per usual, a few anglers stopped me to ask how things were going and what was working. As we spoke, I remember deftly closing the palm of my left hand. I was too embarrassed and unwilling to give anyone visual confirmation that I was some bozo. My choice was to suffer in silence. When I arrived back at the parking area, I found a picnic table and began reviewing all the hook removal tactics I had read about, but none of these options appealed to me. So, I laid down on a picnic table with my forceps, gave the hook a quick pull, and waited for the moment of pain to arrive. Luckily, the hook popped out as painlessly as it went in—another very fortunate ending. Now, I am fully committed to taking the time to de-barb all my flies.

I must discuss a topic that will eventually affect nearly every angler: falling into the water during a fishing trip. This mishap is most likely to occur on the day you forget to pack an emergency "fall-in" bag. This bag should contain a complete set of dry clothes. Let's face it – you will take a swim at some point.

When it happens, it often starts with a stumble, followed by a slow-motion struggle, complete with flailing arms in a futile attempt to regain your balance. This awkward water dance will eventually lead to gravity taking over, during which the cursing begins, and you slide in. Once you surface, you'll likely curse again and then check your physical condition. After that, you'll want to examine your fishing rod. If it seems fine, your instinct will be to glance around to see if anyone witnessed your "baptism."

Falling into the water is bad luck, even worse when you have an audience. If you've planned and packed a "fall-in" bag, you can take a quick break, change into those nice, dry clothes, and get back to casting. If you didn't pack a bag, well, your day just got a lot worse. Additionally, consider investing in a wading staff. The person who observed that a tripod is much steadier than a bipod was correct.

These are just a few of the mishaps I've experienced. Anglers who fish long enough will likely develop their collection of stories. Each experience is unique, and finding a way to navigate them is important. A good sense of humor can be a big help. I hope to help others avoid similar situations by sharing some of my moments.

Fly fishing is not a pursuit where one can expect to achieve constant perfection. Learning to adapt to challenges like wind, changing water flows, hatches, and, of course, selective fish are common obstacles. When you add the unpredictable nature of mishaps, you complete the authentic fishing trip recipe.

Remember, "The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry" Robert Burns, November 1785.