River Stream Etiquette

My Grandfather who lived to see over 104 Summers would on many occasions whisper in my young ear, “ Remember Dan, it costs nothing to be a gentleman!”. Though I often failed to exercise this fine advice, in these times of what is deemed sensitive political correctness one can be hard pressed to consistently take the high moral road... In my mind one over riding aspect that absolutely must be observed by all fly fishers is the simple act of common courtesy while on streams, rivers, and afield.

Tears wind down my cheeks when I come upon usually young adult males either on shore, wading, in floating devices or in boats behaving like spoiled children. Alcohol, lack of education or out right ignorance is seemingly the engine behind a kind of pervasive lack of respect. On a recent end of season three day fly trip near the Oregon border, I came upon a party of four young men throwing beer cans and generally making much too much noise in an area sacred to fly fishers. During the three day trip many incidents made me pause and wonder what happened to the world I grew up in? While playing a nice 14 inch Bow in fast chest deep water two of the boys in the group mentioned above actually began wading into my area and while yelling and laughing began throwing flies. When I suggested they remove themselves from an area already occupied one thing led to another and I had no choice but to get into their young faces and explain what common courtesy really means Marine Corps style...

This obvious lack of respect for the natural order that separates educated sportsmen from pack animals has at times ruined fly fishing trips and caused much soul searching in regard to my rapidly encroaching dinosaur status! I easily recall lessons learned as a six year old wanna be sportsmen in the company of accomplished uncles waiting on the beach while the men scoured off shore rocks for Abalone. On one of these West Coast early 1950's trips I was given the task of keeping the large fire stoked and digging and cooking clams for the ice cold Abalone seekers crawling out of the bright white surf freezing to death. I remember suddenly hearing a serious scream and turning around to see one of the Abalone hunters scrambling out of the surf with his entire hand engulfed by a Mora Eel. This man was in real trouble blood pouring down his arm and I was scared to death for him. Suddenly seemingly out of no where came a surf fishermen who happened to be a doctor. With in moments he cut off the body of the beast whose teeth nearly severed three fingers and administered expert first aid. The men in my party attempted to pay this fellow or take him to dinner or something, he smiled told them how to get to the closest hospital and got back to surf casting for California Striped Bass.

Many years later I was on a remote deer hunting trip in an area that was once wild near the Santa Cruz Mountains and while stalking fresh tracks stepped into an old established Hornet’s nest. I then like an idiot ran and was quickly stung perhaps 200 times. Within minutes my breathing became impossible and certain death loomed. My brother Mike found me and raced through the narrow mountain roads to find a doctor. The first doctor we found quickly injected me with anti venom and saved my pathetic life. When I asked for the bill he instead took us both out to his farm and became an old dear friend.

In the early 1990's while wading the mighty Merced River that runs through Yosemite National Park. I lucked into a large Brown Trout in the six pound class, he took me into a series of submerged boulders and I had my hands full! On the shore watching this little drama were three Japanese tourists and several locals yelling and generally freaking out. I climbed onto a large rock and still playing my wily Brown, we both went around the rock several times and like a rank amateur I attempted to lift the trout for release. Of course he broke off and the shore crowd let out a synchronized, “ Oh Man!”. As I walked away feeling as bad as any fly fisher who ever made a fool of himself in public could feel, a little girl maybe five years old handed me a tiny bunch of wild flowers and said, “ Its ok mister I always make stupid mistakes”

This last year while wading a fine section of the Truckee River that runs from up high toward Reno Nevada, I again hooked a pretty nice Rainbow about 7:30 am. He was making his first run just as two rafting boats turned the corner and headed toward me. I took out my digital camera and took several shots of the rafter boys closing in on me as one leader covered his face because he knew he was on the river before 10am breaking the river rules. That photo was republished world wide many times.

Six Absolute Field & Stream Rules To Live By!

1. If you come upon another fly fisher or shooter working a productive area or stream? Turn around and leave without saying a word or disturbing the other fellow who got there first.

2. Never intrude and break the other person’s concentration with your inane asinine questions or comments. Allow that sportsmen to have his or her area in peace.

3. If approached by any law enforcement agent or fish & game warden always show respect and smile cowboy? His or her job is tough enough without having to endure petty complaints or whining.

4. If you find an area where fish or game is abundant, do the other guy a favor and not dominate the place till all the game or fish have been completely spooked.

5. When you have finished fly fishing or shooting police the area very carefully and return it to what it looked like before your arrival. Pieces of cut line, tippits, anything you brought in take with you when you leave.

6. If you encounter any locals who want to bend your ear and maybe educate or ask to guide you. Be polite and take the time for civil conversation. How you behave out there reflects on all of us my friend. Remember it costs nothing to be a gentleman...

BLACK WOLF VARIANT