The Creek is notorious for lots of overhanging brush, grass, and other assorted obstacles. Not an easy place for a beginner, but Emmet was game to try. As we arrived we donned our waders--Emmett's boots were about a size and a half too small, but we managed to wedge his feet into them and then hiked down into the canyon. The wind was moving down canyon which meant we'd be casting into the wind.
We decided that for ease of visibility Emmett would use a Dave's Hopper and I'd use the usual--a Renegade. Casting was challenging because the wind was blowing right in our faces, making it quite difficult to lay out the leader for a good fly presentation and drift. Emmett found quite a few of the trees and shrubs that surround the creek--or better said, compose most of the riparian vegetation along the creek. He also now knows how to say "wind knot".
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| Emmett with the wind knot wrap-around the rod move--he wasn't thrilled with this one |
We fished several nice holes. Emmett could see the fly--good. Emmett could see the fish eat his fly--better. Emmett could set the hook and then play and land the fish--not quite, at least not at first. Eventually he said he'd like to simply watch me for a few minutes and see what he could learn--I guess my verbal instruction wasn't quite like the great guides at Red's. And I didn't mind catching a few fish in the interest of the educating my great-nephew (or is it grand-nephew?)
When he finally connected and was able to hook and land one on his own, he gave it the customary kiss and thank-you before releasing it in keeping with family tradition. He was feeling the rhythm and getting the fly where it needed to be.
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| Happy boy with the first fish on his own |
He caught on pretty fast. It must be hereditary. We were alternating fish except for the really tight quarters where rather than have him snag up in the grass or trees, I thought I'd show him how I snag up in the brush and trees. Near the end of our afternoon trip, there was a really small flat about three feet by three feet that was surrounded by grass with a stick across the river at the end where it dropped into the next rapid. I helped Emmett position himself and told him to cast to the point where the water dropped into the hole and then be ready to pull the fly up to avoid the stick at the end. First cast was right on target and just before the stick as he was starting to lift, the fish below hammered his hopper, he lifted perfectly and then fought him in the rapid below. A great fish!
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| Happier boy with a bigger fish on his own. |
1 comment:
If it is hereditary, it must be one of those traits that sometimes skips generations (from Kristi to her grandchildren...). Nice going Emmett. Did Uncle Rob make you tie on his flies for him when he broke off in the trees? I want to know if he is just taking advantage of us when we are out together.
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