Wolf Tao

My nick name came at a young age after adults all outdoor hunter gatherer types noticed I liked to sit, eat, fish, generally spend most of my time alone reading or playing chess alone in and around running water... Early years learning from masters, hunting, tracking, bird identification, survival skills honed in my Marine Corps years.... “ What’s wrong with that boy, does he have any herd instinct of any kind?” No herd instinct, that phrase has haunted the Wolf since child hood! I have always enjoyed my endless days, weeks, months and now decades throwing flies on secluded waters early morning cold, shadows. Sounds of rising splashing trout are a solitary personal thrill for me. I have never felt the need to share this world with anyone. When I drive by other fly fishers and watch them talking and gesturing and not really becoming at one with the natural order, I keep on driving for sometime of course... Of course the occasional perfect blond has managed to tag along baby...

Then again my fly fisher readers I spend almost all my time all year long either planning, writing, tying, taking photos, researching, inventing new fly patterns, writing my fly fiction serial. I suppose total immersion deep at the bottom of the fly addiction abyss would be almost accurate! An example of extreme addicted fly fisher behavior might be the fact I have driven many hundred miles on three occasions to make early season observations of water speed, snow, level at my favorite streams to determine if I can work the area opening day last Saturday of April when California’s rivers, streams are legal to fish. As these photos show, most waters are running fast with snow on the ground deep in many areas. We have had a late winter and it will effect fly fishers on the higher elevations in the High Sierra’s. My old home in lake Tahoe has much snow on the ground. The American River is running fast and high as is the mighty Merced River that run’s out of Yosemite. When I begin a new trip up north from my home in San Francisco where I live in a desolate part of town near lands end. I begin to feel alive when I smell the foothills out side of Sacramento on the way toward the less populated mountain areas where I chase trout and salmon and solitude. Then I become more at one with nature and forget about everything other then birds, insects, trout, warm sun and the many smells that will seduce me as always.

Morphing Into The Natural Order

Photo: Courtesy of Rok Lustrik - www.lustrik.com

My mind and focus is always on the river or stream I’m following on foot, via boat of some kind, or driving near for miles looking for the first area where I actually get into the water. Now what is left of the outside world, the world of every day external symbols and sounds that press many of my auto pilot consciousness reactions are easily turned off. The only stimuli my body, soul, spirit are reacting to are insect presence, water depth, speed, color, potential casting lanes, exactly what fly patterns I have with me that will make the morning one to remember.... For all intents I cease to exist on any level until around lunch. Then it’s time to decompress and take in all the sights and smells and sip San Francisco Black Tea Baby........ I have heard constant whining when I tell people driving me anywhere, “ Stop the car Dude, that road kill mink is like finding Liz Taylor’s lost jewelry bag sports fan!” Whipping out the plastic baggy, pocket knife, clippers, ever ready for specimen collecting night or day regardless of weather baby... It may be a Mink, Badger, Vulture, road kill whatever!

Early Season Tactics

Many of my brothers and sisters of the Society Of The Long Rod treat me like a pathetic overly focused maniac when they speak in quiet low tones, “You know he always goes regardless of water speed, no hatches, no surface movements, rises, don’t ask or he’ll give you his dissertation on Early Season Streamer work” Absolutely correct sports fans, get off that cozy couch, string up that fly rod and take a hard stare at your streamer collection? Do you have all the standards for your area? The black Matuka’s, Wolly Bugger’s, Mudlers, Sculpins, Darters, Minnows, Leechs of many kinds and colors, any feathered streamer used that imitates a baitfish fits in this category of special fly. These patterns are usually regional in design and worked with great imagination and style. If your working a Black Wolly Bugger or a Leech pattern your going to learn how to move the fly in jerky retrieves to simulate a dying or wounded potential meal!

When early season waters are running high and fast your not quite out of the ball game Cowboy! Learn how to find the slowest running currents and make that Sculpin move like it was born in the area... Your not going to be throwing dry flies and the odds of working any nymph deep enough with enough weight are against you when the early spring currents are strong. If your not sure how to work those new streamers, find a quiet place where you can watch bait fish dart around near river, stream edges always careful to avoid predators! Learning to imitate the baitfish, leeches, dying mice, that exist in every river and stream will make your early season fly fishing much more exciting and successful Pilgrim.

ROAD KILL BADGER VARIANT

( Hair taken from fresh road kill 2006 High Sierra Mountains. Animal then properly buried. I then recite spirit peace chant.) Tied bushy for early season late afternoon hatchs.