Fishing Flies Company

Back to our story at Fishing Flies – Uncle Bob Part 2.

Uncle Bob had a gentle, quiet nature to him, although from what others have told me, he could be tough as nails when he needed to be. This may have come from working his way up to being a captain in the San Bernardino fire department. He loved fly fishing — he would fish whenever he got a chance. He was never one to spend a lot of money on his equipment or his fly-tying materials, but what he spent his money on always got the job done. After he died, dad gave me one of my uncle’s favorite fly rod and reels.

The rod was a 9’ fiberglass handmade Saber by California Tackle Company out of Bell, California. The reel is an old reliable Pflueger 1494 ½ made around 1972. Nothing special, but well maintained. We are a fishing family — it has set our course in life many times. I have learned one thing: treat your equipment well and you will have a catch of fish for dinner.

One of the things that amazed me about this fisherman was the way he fished after he retired. He and his wife traveled the United States by travel trailer from state to state. To reduce the cost of his fishing he would get his local license and talk with the local sporting goods owner to find out where to go fly fishing and what the local fish liked.

They would set up camp nearby and he would set out for the stream, river, or lake. He would skim the tributary for the local insects, then take his samples back to the camp and start tying flies that looked like them. He would tie flies until he had enough for the next day. My aunt and her friends would say that most days he would return to camp with one or more bass or trout in his creel. For the next twenty years following his retirement, when a new profession did not interfere, they would travel and fly fish.

Most of the record fish he caught were for dinner. He was not a man prone to keeping records. The past was dinner and he was always moving forward to the next catch.

He taught us much: That fly-fishing truly is an enjoyable sport. That grace was not in the line suspended in the air above you, but in the nature around you. That the sounds of the water around you were only broken with the sound of birds in the air, or the rustle of the bushes when an animal would suddenly break and run. That nothing was better than feeling the cold of the rivers that surrounded you as you fished for the ever-elusive one.

Finally, that fly fishing was a quiet honest sport; one where well-maintained equipment, good research, proper fly tying, skill, and a well-placed fly brought forth fish.

Fishing Flies – Michael

Here’s a great article on how to fly fish.

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I cannot think of a better way of starting the Fishing Flies website than with an old family story. I have a large family on my Dad’s side, with most of us born in California. Currently we have around 80 or so family members. Dad’s uncle, Uncle Bob was one of my favorite uncles. When not fishing or rock collecting he would show me around the Arizona desert in ways that only someone who loved it could. Most people would think it was just rock and sand. He educated me on the inner beauty of the desert; from the deposits of turquoise just lying on the ground, to adventuring down new trails. One of the other life lessons he taught me was to respect wild animal life. For example, we had a trailer for vacations on the California side of the Colorado River. About twilight, just when the bats would come out in the hundreds to get their fill of insects, Uncle Bob and Dad would send us out collecting mesquite beans. We would spread the beans out around the trailer for the wild donkeys to eat as they passed by on their way to the river sometime around midnight.

Uncle Bob and Dad were avid freshwater fishermen. My Dad preferred the casting rods and reels; my uncle liked those too, but preferred his fly fishing equipment. Together they helped me catch my first fish on the Colorado River on top of a floating boat dock in front of the house they called the Rock House. Uncle Bob had built this house completely from rocks years before.

Like most fly fishermen, he was passionate about his sport. When he wasn’t collecting rocks or entertaining family (he drove the ski boat), Uncle Bob would be tying flies, checking his equipment or making necessary repairs. Some of the flies would be from a pattern he had created on his last vacation or new ones he wanted to try. He did not like store-bought flies. He always tied his own from patterns that he sampled from the river or lake he was camping near that year. (Your artificial flies need to look like the local insects if you want to catch fish with them). I was told that he would never travel anywhere without his insect net, a fly fishing rod and some hand tied fishing flies. It was said that he stored his equipment in the jeep even when rock hunting, just in case he got the urge to throw a line in the river on the way home.

I am out of time,

Fishing Flies – Michael

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