Smart phone, dumb guy and a two handed Spey Rod 3

BY ROBERT STRONG. “How  tough could it be?” I said to myself as I slid my credit card across the counter to the girl at the fly shop.  After all I’ve been fly fishing since the age of 13 and I can double haul a large Wooly Bugger with the best of em.  Every Summer I’ve enjoyed fly fishing trips in Canada with some crazy Canuck friends of mine and I always felt as if my skills were comparable.  However the last couple of trips I’ve felt a bit inferior, something my fragile ego cannot forego for long.  Mi Amigos de Canada have all converted to two handed rods in a big way!  They’ve left me in the dust, making 100 ft casts with ease, working over long runs in half the time and stickn twice as many fish.  So I did what any sensible steelheader would do (Oxymoron alert) and dropped six  bones on a two hander of my own, complete with gel spun backing, Skagit Line, Rio multi shooting heads in variable weights and of course…an instructional video.

Man was I excited to watch that video! I popped it in the DVD player and let the absorption begin.  What I didn’t realize was that all Spey Casting videos feel it’s necessary to play Native American flute music during their casting instruction because apparently Spey casting is highly spiritual. Me, couch, flute music, ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.  So after three unsuccessful attempts to watch this video in it’s entirety I felt that I had enough tools to go out and get’er done.  The entire trip out to the Olympic Peninsula I was imagining all the fancy casts I was going to pull off.  The Single Spey, Double Spey, Snake Roll, underhand casts, the Perry Poke, snap T, the Circle C and of course….the Wombat.

As I drove up the gravel road that followed the river my eyes were keenly searching for perfect swinging water where big Native Steely lie. Then I saw it, 200 yards down river, just past the closest tailout was a long green run. It had everything, good speed, medium depth, broken surface and a structured tailout.  That was big fish water and it was going to be the site of my glory!  I yanked on my waders, jacket and gloves.  I laced up my rod in a rushed excitement, missed an eye and had to repeat the process with a little swear word in between.  I dug into my box of flies and tied on a big nasty hot pink looking chicken.  A stranger drove by and I could tell he wanted to ask for a fishing report but I managed to avoid eye contact, nothing was going to slow me down now!

I approached the head of the run and planned out my attack. I quickly ran through my mind everything I had learned earlier in the video, anchor points, steady acceleration to a one o’clock position, D-loop, forward cast, mend the line, take a step down river and repeat.  I stripped out the proper amount of line, plus forty feet of running line that I was sure would be rocketing out into the river as planned.  For the next forty five minutes I managed to hook my waders, my backpack, my stocking cap, some logs lying on the shore, but definitely no steelhead.  I was ready to give up, take the walk of shame back to my truck where I left my pride.  I decided to take a break on a rather large fallen tree lying on the shore. My hands were a little numb from being flailed around in sub freezing temperatures and could use a little time in the pockets.  When I reached my right hand into my pocket I felt my Android phone. Now usually I would have left my phone in the truck for fear of dunking it in the river.  But this time in my haste I forgot to pull it out.  Suddenly a light bulb went off in my head!  I could quite possibly get streamside instruction via you tube on my phone.  I looked at my phone and had no service, “figures” I said aloud, but what if I climbed atop this downed tree I thought? 

A few well placed branches made safe foot holds as I made my ascent.  I was in business, two bars of service!  My cold numb corn dog sized fingers struggled to type out the words Spey Casting in the search bar.  Up popped a video from local legend Mike Kinney.  I closely studied his hand movements, timing and rod angles.  After several views I made my way back to the water, stripped out the proper length of line again, this time with only a humbling ten feet of running line.  I swirled the line around and let it fly…Zip.  To my surprise the line screamed out the rod, the running line shot out the tip, even jerking on the reel a bit. “Holy Cow! What did I do?”  I feverishly stripped the line back in, not even waiting for it to fish out.  I tried to remember every movement I just made so I could mimic it once again.  I swung the line around once more and it piled up at my feet a short distance in front of me.  A few more attempts had similar results; however the line was making its way out into the river.  I climbed up the tree several more times, each time resulting in small improvements, each time my confidence was gaining. This went on for two hours until my phone battery was finally dead.  My casting ratio improved greatly, about one out of three casts had positive results.  The line was laying out straight and I was getting a respectable 60 to 70ft lengths.

I wish this story had an amazingly happy ending, with me hooking a monster buck steelhead in the tailout, having to pull a River Runs Through it maneuver down to the next hole and having a smiling Kodak moment to share with you all.  But it ends with me strolling back to the truck, not with my head hung down low doing the walk of shame, but feeling pretty good, like I had won some small victory.  Maybe Spey Casting is spiritual after all.

The End

Robert Strong
Ruckus Outfitters