Evenings at the Bat Cave

As spring approaches and the days get longer, I find my evenings filled with fly tying. It's a ritual of sorts. I enjoy the care and precision of fly tying and the almost intoxicating giddiness I get each time I fool a trout with one of my creations. Now I'm no master at the tying vise. My flies aren't complicated or gaudy. They're more of the workman type... elegantly simple and deadly effective. I've got about a dozen patterns that get me through most situations here in western Pennsylvania. I tend to tweak the patterns a bit from year to year as I restock my fly box. Sometimes the tweaks work and sometimes they end up being too much and fall flat. The little devil in the photo is my own variation of a variation of the old standby prince nymph. I've caught hundreds of fish on prince nymphs, but I'm hopeful this fly in various color combinations will end up being a solid all around fish catcher. It will get some rigorous testing this spring.

Now I need some serious work on my miserable casting technique!

Therapy for a Tormented Mind

Not everyone's mind works this way. I'm sure of it. There are too many happy folks out there drifting along through life without a care. They can't all be putting on an act. My mind races almost constantly grinding through a seemingly random kaleidoscope of ideas and concerns. There are times, however, when I'm truly at peace. One of the reasons I love to paint is the relative calm it brings to my brain. I find that same relief on the days I spend afield... gathering reference photos, sketching field studies, or just fishing.

Early this spring, I decided to dust off my old fly tying bin and put together a few flies for the upcoming trout season. It had been 10 years or more since I last tied a fly, so I found it surprising when the skills came back so quickly. Feather and fur bound to and wrapped around a hook shank began to take on a "buggy" appearance while not really mimicking anything specific... and I was happy.

Several evenings passed as I leisurely created my tiny offerings, working on a dozen or so rather than sitting in front of the TV. I found myself looking forward to these nightly sessions and that's when I realized that it made me happy. There is a simple joy of carefully crafting something with my own hands... no matter how small or simple it may be... and those demons of daily life that swirl in my head are silent.

For now at least, my fly tying bin has gathered very little dust. As the weather turns toward winter's ice and snow, I can take comfort in knowing my tying vise will be there each evening... like an old friend.