Why blog about fly-fishing?  Why write about something that few people participate in and even fewer people know about?  I still like to duck and chuck but there is something completely engrossing about creating a fly and out-smarting a fish.  Sure fish are stupid, but only the ones that haven't been caught or are too hungry to care that your bait looks like a '57 Chevy.  I've caught fish on bottle caps, Wrigley's gum foil, and even a properly placed chunk of bark. However; I have never caught a trophy or brag-worthy fish, with anything that didn't look like what was natural to the river or stream.

I decided one day to become a fly-fisherman. I know, I know, one does not just simply go on Ebay,  buy all the appropriate accouterments, and wander off into a river or body of water and expect to be successful?  That is not exactly what I did, but it sure was close.  I went to a tackle outlet and bought a 2 piece,  6 weight Pflueger. I bought an Okuma SLV reel, some cheap fly line, some backing, flies and tippet from Ebay though.  I spent under $150.00 for the whole outfit from pole to fly. I was satisfied but had no idea the addiction and obsession I was unleashing upon myself.  That one week in August of 2008, was a life changing moment.

I bought all that gear for a canoe trip down the Clarion River, in Pennsylvania.  Convinced my girlfriend  (she still is) that canoeing and fishing, for 39 miles was no big deal,and that she would see so much wild-life that she would never view a river the same.  She stuck it out for the duration (sitting shotgun in a canoe for 3 days), although she twitches every time I mention Clarion, Fishing, the number 39 or Trust Me.  I digress and have to get back on point as to why I am writing this blog.  Why oh why, would an apparently normal person just decide one day, in his 30's to become a fly-fisherman?  What could make a reasonably sane person seek out one of the hardest styles of fishing and commit to it fully, to devote a colossal amount of time and resources to the pursuit of fish?  Simply put, I was home-sick.

I had moved to Florida 10+ years prior and missed my home in the hills of Pennsylvania.  I found myself happy in Florida, found myself successful, but there was something lacking and was not sure what it was?  I was missing that connection to what defined me, I was missing my home.  It was not a juvenile, first time at camp, or simply something that can be defined in a few words.  I was missing something physical, within me, that connected me to everything around.  In essence I was disconnected, detatcted from my surroundings.  I chose fly-fishing because it was what my family did, some of my more influential friends did and most importantly it was that connection to the "stuff" around me.  I looked at it as a direct, tangible line to the past, present and future, something that might reinvigorate my soul.  It did.