Sparse_Grey_Hack
Member
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2008
- Messages
- 72
I returned to the Loyalhanna to test my mettle in some decent cool weather (and some unexpected frustrations). I put on a big, weighted streamer for a fairly deep hole in which I suspected were trout significantly above average. By "I suspected were trout significantly above average", I mean someone once told me there was a 20 incher in there. He was a fisherman so I believed him.
My eyes and fine-hand coordination do not permit me to tie flies right now. So I buy them, mostly online, unseen (except for a tiny picture). This streamer was called a bandit leech. When it arrived, I started drooling. It looked good-real good-all furry and substantial. It was dark brown with a black splotch around the middle. Whoever tied it put some serious lead under that fur. I really wanted to try it out. I did not know how hefty it was until it got wet. I could have cast that thing with my old bait casting outfit. I could not cast it with a fly outfit--not fly-cast it. It would be like trying to cast a quarter ounce jig and pig and I would have to get air clearance for the back-casts.
So I came up with a scheme. I used physics. Not force equals mass times acceleration physics. That was way too frightening to summon. More like Newtonian pendulum physics. First, I'd let it hang down about a rod-length and begin swinging it back and forth, pinching the line tightly in my free hand. On a good fore-swing, I’d quickly flip my rod forward to load it and whip that streamer around in a big loop, letting go of the linea at just the right moment, and send it on its way. My line would shoot out with that plastic slithering scream and that streamer would go flying in a high parabolic arc, splatting into the water near the far shore. It was a new technique for me and good science.
Accuracy didn't enter into it. Not that I couldn't get good at it with extensive practice far from any no-fly zones. It's just that it wasn't needed. It was a long hole and that 20 incher could be anywhere. I worked it in slowly and it hugged the bottom like it was part of the stream eco-system. When I could see it, I couldn't decide what it looked like but it looked good slithering here and there as it appeared to be searching for a hidey-hole.
At one point, mid-swing, my eye caught another fly angler upstream watching me. This completely interrupted the precise timing of this new, experimental casting technique, and sent the streamer high into the sky above me. Ever shoot an arrow straight up to see if you could dodge it on the way back down? Yep, that was me. And if that was you, upstream, watching, well, all I can say is on one of those casts, something hit that beast on the end of my line with a good, deep thump. And, no, it wasn't a plane coming in for a landing at the Latrobe Airport. That section of stream is NOT in the flight path.
My eyes and fine-hand coordination do not permit me to tie flies right now. So I buy them, mostly online, unseen (except for a tiny picture). This streamer was called a bandit leech. When it arrived, I started drooling. It looked good-real good-all furry and substantial. It was dark brown with a black splotch around the middle. Whoever tied it put some serious lead under that fur. I really wanted to try it out. I did not know how hefty it was until it got wet. I could have cast that thing with my old bait casting outfit. I could not cast it with a fly outfit--not fly-cast it. It would be like trying to cast a quarter ounce jig and pig and I would have to get air clearance for the back-casts.
So I came up with a scheme. I used physics. Not force equals mass times acceleration physics. That was way too frightening to summon. More like Newtonian pendulum physics. First, I'd let it hang down about a rod-length and begin swinging it back and forth, pinching the line tightly in my free hand. On a good fore-swing, I’d quickly flip my rod forward to load it and whip that streamer around in a big loop, letting go of the linea at just the right moment, and send it on its way. My line would shoot out with that plastic slithering scream and that streamer would go flying in a high parabolic arc, splatting into the water near the far shore. It was a new technique for me and good science.
Accuracy didn't enter into it. Not that I couldn't get good at it with extensive practice far from any no-fly zones. It's just that it wasn't needed. It was a long hole and that 20 incher could be anywhere. I worked it in slowly and it hugged the bottom like it was part of the stream eco-system. When I could see it, I couldn't decide what it looked like but it looked good slithering here and there as it appeared to be searching for a hidey-hole.
At one point, mid-swing, my eye caught another fly angler upstream watching me. This completely interrupted the precise timing of this new, experimental casting technique, and sent the streamer high into the sky above me. Ever shoot an arrow straight up to see if you could dodge it on the way back down? Yep, that was me. And if that was you, upstream, watching, well, all I can say is on one of those casts, something hit that beast on the end of my line with a good, deep thump. And, no, it wasn't a plane coming in for a landing at the Latrobe Airport. That section of stream is NOT in the flight path.