Nat Greene Flyfishers    March 2009

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Dreaming at the Tying Vice

There are times when I am sitting at my tying desk with a hook locked in the jaws of the vice and my mind starts to wander. The thread is attached to the hook, but my bobbin hangs taught and motionless from the hook shank. My wife, Robin, tells me that my eyes get that far-off-look and she can tell that in that moment my mind and spirit are somewhere else.

Robin knows me well after almost 16 years of marriage and she is right. My mind is not there for those few wonderful moments as I extract a gold nugget or remembrance from the treasure chest of my fly fishing memory bank. As I begin to tie a fly, especially an old favorite pattern, my mind will often take a side trip to a place on the waters of my memory. Some of those memories are from long ago and some are from the recent past. All of them are memories of past fishing trips elicited by the fly I am intending to tie at that moment. Usually those extracted memories replay not only the fish I caught and lost, but more importantly the people with which I was blessed to share those moments. Those memories always warm the heart and produce a new hope as I finish the fly and admire it one last time before I place it in the box.

As an example of this memory trip, on Thanksgiving day I was tying some small size eight white zonkers in anticipation of a Saturday fishing trip for largemouth bass on Lake Tillery. It reminded me of a beautiful November Sunday afternoon shared with my friend Jim Brady on Lake Tillery. Largemouth bass were schooling all around us in the back of a cove. They were crashing shad on top, but they would not touch our 3-inch long Clouser minnows or poppers. After casting into several boiling schools of bass and receiving nary a hit we were switching flies often and getting more and more frustrated. Finally, Jim solved the mystery of why our flies were not being eaten with an inadvertent catch. Jim snagged a shad minnow that was less than 2-inches long. Our flies were too big to match the hatch and were subsequently being ignored by the bass. Jim pulled out a couple of size eight white zonkers he had tied that perfectly matched the size and color of the snagged shad. We each tied the zonkers to our tippets and from there it was pure fish catching nirvana as we were both into largemouth and white bass on almost every cast for the next 2 hours. We had several double hookups and were enjoying fast and furious fishing. Jim hooked and lost a very large bass that threw the hook right beside the boat. That was a day that will warm the fires of my memory bank for a long time.

While tying some size 18 beadhead zebra midges on January 1st of this year for a Saturday delayed harvest trout fishing trip I was reminded of a fantastic October day Robin and I shared on the White River in Missouri. That day a zebra midge fished three feet under a foam strike indicator produced fast action for rainbow and brown trout all afternoon. Robin caught an honest 20 inch rainbow and I got a twenty-two inch beauty. We ended up catching over thirty trout each in the 3 hours we fished from the rented boat, but it is the big ones that stick in my memory.

As I was tying some size eight blue foam bass poppers this fall I was reminded of a day on the James River in Virginia with my friend Tom Parshley. We were fishing for smallmouth bass, but Tom hooked a surprise lunker largemouth on the blue popper. He had cast the blue popper next to a downed sycamore tree in a slow pool. The bass shot out from under the downed tree and annihilated the small fly. Tom set the hook and fought the bass expertly away from the tree only to have it come off right at the side of the canoe. The hook had been stuck in the soft tissue at the corner of the mouth and just tore loose before we could land the bass. That bass was at least six pounds.

Tying the blue popper also reminded me of a very selfless act by Tom on one of our Shenandoah River trips. We were fishing with friends Jerry Harrison, Dick Fuelner, Tim Pastoor and Jim Brady from canoes. The other canoes had headed down river while Tom and I slowed our boat to fish a fast run where smallmouth bass were heavily feeding on damsel flies. When Tom and I saw the topwater feeding smallies he immediately jumped out of the back of the canoe into the shallow water. He told me to just fish and he held the canoe to allow me to make cast after cast of the blue popper to those marauding bass. I quickly caught a dozen 10-14 inch smallmouths on the blue popper before the frenzy subsided. Tom caught his share of fish that day too. It was one of those enchanted fishing days when everyone caught more than their share of fish. But I will always appreciate Tom’s gift of letting me cast in that run while he held the boat, cheering me each time a smallmouth bass clobbered the popper.

Tying a Clouser minnow reminds me of excellent fly fishing trips with dear friends John Slack, and Tom Gale, That fly produced a lot of bass for us on fishing trips.

Tying the Clouser Minnow also reminds me of a fishing trip I was blessed to share on Lake Tillery with Linda Heller and Bob Clouser. Linda and I were enjoying constant action from a large bed of hand sized spawning bluegills, but Bob wanted to catch a largemouth bass. A nice largemouth bass had been making feeding charges into the spawning bluegills until Bob finally caught it on his chartreuse/yellow Clouser Minnow. That bass was seventeen inches long and very fat. After a photograph the bass was released to continue harassing the bluegills.

Another memory side trip occurred when I was tying some size 16 CDC sulfurs to replenish my dwindling supply. Jeff Wilkins had shown me how to tie this fly, but it was Joe Craig who demonstrated its effectiveness. Joe and I shared a fish filled late April afternoon enjoying the sulfur hatch on the Smith River. The brown trout were rising everywhere to the natural sulfurs and also taking our CDC sulfur fakes. We each caught more than twenty trout in the last two hours of daylight. It was the best day I have ever had on the Smith which can often be a very challenging river to fish. Joe caught an honest fourteen inch long brown trout, the largest brown I have seen taken out of the special regulation section of the Smith. On this trip Joe also demonstrated to me the use of Frog Fanny drying agent to re-prep our CDC flies to float.

Tying my own Hipps’ Helcraw nymph reminds me of a wonderful fall day enjoying a canoe float trip with Robin on the Little Tennessee River near Franklin, North Carolina. I caught the largest smallmouth bass, 22 inches long, that I have ever caught on the fly. That bass nailed the rust colored hellcraw as I dead-drifted the nymph over a ledge into a pool under an overhanging tree. It took me over 5 minutes to land this magnificent bass which tore up the river with its runs and jumps. When I landed the fish, Robin’s jaw dropped wide open as she had never seen a smallmouth bass that big. We both had excellent fishing for the rest of the day on the hellcraw and the Shenk’s white minnow with Robin losing a very large bass right before our takeout.
So many flies over so many years have taken me back to a times and places where all was right with the world. These special and wonderful times were shared with so many wonderful people who are lifelong friends.

“Precious memories, how they linger.” I think for fly tiers, if we admit it, sitting at the vice and tying an old favorite fly will often elicit a memory, an emotion, a tug at the heart that brings a smile to our lips and renewed hope to our heart. These memories touch us as we celebrate the gift of friendships we have made and shared through fishing. They may even occasionally bring a tear to our eyes as we remember old fishing buddies who are no longer with us. That is okay as those memories of fishing with friends passed on are especially precious. The Good Lord has mightily blessed me to have shared these wonderful times with so many wonderful people. To recall these treasured moments up from the memory bank as I tie an old favorite fly is certainly a blessing.

God Bless and Tight Lines,
Anthony Hipps

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