10 years has passed since a Fish Tale has been published on FliesAndFins.com. Time has an interesting way of expressing itself, many moments seem quite linear, others often feel fully tethered to progression and movement. However, one fact holds true and remains indisputable, the very nature of time is intangible. One of several reasons it can be such an arduous task to reflect on the passage of it. Over a decade has lapsed since I shared a “Fish Tale” with this conclave of kindred spirits, fastened through a sturdy devotion to pursuing a fish, with a fly.
A certain course of events, synchronicity if you will, transpired in June of 2018. Little did I know at the time, a perfect storm, epic in proportion was brewing beneath the surface of a local lake. A deep, glacier scoured waterbody that hosts a generous emergence of mayflies during the summer months, mainly June and July, with a Hexagenia overlap during the latter part of July, well into August.
This particular summer the hatch began modestly, often the case during humid, mid-june evenings. As the week progressed the quantity increased dramatically. With curiosity fully peaked, I found myself drawn to the shoreline with increasing frequency and ultimately, a sense of urgency. Now my evening shore visits were accompanied with that unmistakable swirl of anticipation directly in my core. I also became aware that there was also a level of emotional elation that had eluded me, for too long a time. Unbeknownst to me, I was standing on the precipice of a life changing moment, a Brown Drake hatch that anyone, anywhere in the world, would stop to take notice.
Knowing full well events of this magnitude typically involve a narrow window, with a short shelf life. I forwarded Jeremy a few video snippets of the recent emergence. A couple brief chats and we were on the shoreline together the following evening, covered in a swarm of Brown Drake spinners, literally. Every fish in the lake was looking up. Rainbows, LL Salmon, Lake Trout and Smallmouth Bass. All of them looking up, finning, tailing and swirling. Refusing our flies, inhaling them and everything in between. Catching during such a rare occurrence has a way of taking the back seat, truly becoming secondary. We had four, maybe five days of total dry fly nirvana. Not only was the lake on fire, the local streams and creeks erupted with heavy hatches as well. One of the most precipitous spring seasons on record provided generous water levels and optimal water temps well into July, a very rare occurrence. The ideal conditions opened up endless miles of prime trout habitat. Fish that otherwise would have been pooled up seeking thermal refuge, in deep spring fed pools had spread out accordingly and strapped the feed bag on!
Writing a new story has proved to be a very cathartic experience. The number and strength of the lifelong bonds created as a direct result of Flies and Fins is astounding. The fact that these bonds continue to be forged daily is its very legacy. This community is so intricately woven into the fabric of my existence and virtuality has become my reality. I firmly believe this is the very soul and essence of Flies and Fins and what has elevated it to evergreen status. We’re back!