You know the types.... you know about them before you ever meet them.

They are known for their adventures and mis-adventures, their fishing prowess, their knowledge of their own rivers, their niceness, their surliness, their salt, their vinegar.

Such are a couple of my fishing buddies. See, they kindly adopted me, took pity on me, took care of me, and took me fishing. I was more than a little nervous, too having only met one of them before the day they decided to take me under their wings. They are the Three Amigos of the Caney Fork River.

I couldn’t tell you who the leader really is. There’s “Grumpy”, who is the most eloquent writer of e-mails and posts on the various online fly fishing message boards. Then there’s WDR, less wordy, but always to the point. And finally, the Admiral. Salty, sometimes profane, competitive, surly, and opinionated.

I learned to cast from e-mails Grumpy and others sent me in response to a plea for help I posted on a fly shop message board. Then met WDR at a Middle Tennessee Fly Fishing Association meeting. I read the Admiral’s posts on the aforementioned boards with interest. Then one day, got an e-mail from Grumpy, telling me to call him, he’d get me out on the water where he could really help me. I leapt at the opportunity.

I caught my first trout on a fly rod that day, in the first five minutes. My boyfriend was in the drift boat with Grumpy and Mrs. Grumpy. I was on board with the Admiral and WDR, trying to remain cool and calm, while the boyfriend was telling the Grumpys that it was my first landed fish on a long rod.

Caught a few more in short time, casting into and across gusts of wind that tried to take the drift boats back to the dam. That was when the niceties stopped, and the Admiral informed me that though I’d caught some fish, even a blind hog could find an acorn, and I was going to have to cast better and watch a strike indicator better if I was going to fish out of HIS boat. And that was when “Flyfishing the Caney with the Three Amigos, 101” began.

WDR made a couple of suggestions about my casting rhythm being a little too quick, and the Admiral told me I set my hook like a sissy. If I commented on a fish’s color or girth, the Admiral told me to stop loving on the fish and get back to fishing. And he put me on fish. And he taught me how to “read” an strike indicator.

Later in the day, WDR and I got into some Buffalo carp, after seeing Rusty, (the boyfriend) hook into one by mistake. Out came the little beadheads, and he and I battled a few, broke off a few, and when I got one close enough to net, we spooked it right off the hook. Says the Admiral, ”If you hook another one of those things, can I play with it?” A quarter mile further down, I handed him my rod with one on, and he fought it 20 minutes, I netted it, and a now infamous photo was taken of Admiral Blume and RedHead with a Buffalo carp.

We told stories, we howled at each other’s jokes, we admired many fine trout, and I made some wonderful new friends and fishing buddies that day. More tales of their lessons and adventures to follow.... got to hit the river tomorrow.... may run into some of the Amigos there.... one never knows.

May your flyrod bend, and your reel sing!
Juni RedHead Fisher