A Doctor's Wife Who Refused to Fish So, I received a phone call from my longtime fishing client, Harold. He was a good fly-fisher by passion, a doctor by trade. He told me he wanted something easy; he wanted to get his wife, Sheila, into fly-fishing. It sounded OK to me. Most guides will tell you they quite enjoy teaching lady anglers. Why? They have no bad habits to overcome and they listen. I can't tell you the number of times "he" brought "her" out to "get her into fly-fishing" and by the end of the day, "she" was catching all of the fish.
Anyway, I chose the fall salmon for Pinks as our target. Septembers are beautiful on the Skagit River in Washington State with warm, dry days, the trees turning color and fish…lots of fish. The morning of our appointed day promised to be warm and sunny. The Pink salmon were showing up in good numbers and I had guarded optimism. Harold drove up in his new Mercedes and Sheila and he climbed out for introductions. Harold was doing all of the talking. Now, I should tell you, there are two trademarks of a good guide: finding fish that anglers can catch and reading people. People have a vast array of agendas when they come fishing. Sometimes it's to catch that first steelhead, others it's to simply mellow out from the intensity of the workplace. In this case, Dr. Harold had a mission: hook his wife on fly-fishing trips so he could spend more of his leisure time doing it without having to justify or feel badly about it. Sometimes the new angler looks anxious, others excited, and others, "Well, I'm here, I might as well try it." Not Sheila Her eyes told me "Under no circumstances will you get me to participate…don't even try." I swallowed hard. We ended up at the mouth of a Skagit tributary. The salmon were rolling like popcorn. Harold pointed out the fish excitedly. Sheila's eyes were dead. I will tell you, that was the only thing dead about her. She was medium height and by the way she carried herself, she worked out. In a nutshell, she wasn't pretty she was stunning! Her fishing apparel consisted of Danner wading shoes and socks, little Bermuda shorts and a halter top that was borderline small. You get the picture. My suspicions about the day were confirmed when Harold brought out two rods and Sheila took the second rod apart and put it back in the trunk. Harold stared at her. She stared right back. I reached for a Tums. While the doctor was stringing up his rod, I busied myself doing the same with one of mine. After demonstrating presentation and technique to him, it wasn't long before Harold was into his first fish. His thoughts were long past Sheila; he was fishing. I walked back up to the shore where Mrs. Doctor was standing. We just watched him fishing in silence. I think she was a little surprised that I didn't at least attempt to get her fishing. Surely this guide would at least strike up a conversation. Nothing. We just stood there watching. Harold was really starting to get the hang of catching these Pinks on a floating line. Sheila didn't even flinch as he chased down another fish on his four-weight I am not sure what I was thinking, but I walked over to the rod I had leaning up against a tree. Sheila was watching me through the back of my head. I could feel her. I waded out a short distance from shore and a few casts later a salmon rose up and took the fly. I set the hook as he surged away. The little five-weight was in full flex. As the fish started to settle down into the flight, I backpedaled toward shore. In a few moments I was standing right next to Sheila while my little Hardy was cranking off every time the fish took line. I finally turned to her and very nonchalantly said, "Could you take this for a moment, I have to pee." With that, I put the rod in her hands and walked off. At first, she was all-thumbs, trying to figure out this bucking and throbbing fly rod, but it wasn't long before she had it under control. She gave line when the salmon took it and she reeled it in when it didn't. Sheila suddenly realized I was watching her while standing ten feet to her rear. She had been duped, but she didn't care, this was fun! (Was that a faint of a smile?) I showed her how to land the Pink salmon. She admired and released it. I didn't say a word but put the fly back on the keeper and leaned the rod back up against the tree. We went back to silently watching. Harold didn't even know about his wife and the fish, he was into another one. I noticed Sheila was watching her hubby, but every once in a while she would glance at the rod by the tree. After a few minutes, I turned to her and said simply, "Want to try it?" She turned and said, "Yes." I showed her the cast and presentation. She obviously knew more about this fly-fishing than she let on because she picked it right up. Before long, she was playing her first fish. She almost squealed as the salmon powered away. "Does this reel have to be so loud?" She questioned. "Oh, you will learn to love that sound," I said. She shook her head and said, "Men". Anyway, she was smiling, Harold was busy and life was good... for a while, anyway. Sheila was starting to get a little more courageous in her wading, and it wasn't long before the river currents were tugging at her Bermudas. Everything was going well until she hooked this really bright, strong fish on a short cast. As she set the hook, the Humpy shot straight out into the currents, turned abruptly and ran right back toward her. "Look out!" I laughed. The salmon didn't hear and went right between her legs. Before Sheila could even react the salmon had hit the shallows, realized it was wrong and shot back out into the river again. Unfortunately, Sheila knew that slack line meant lost fish so she had been reeling like mad, not knowing that the line was actually between her legs. When the line came up tight, it was wrapped around her leg, only she was wading so deep there was no way she could clear it. The spunky fish was tethered on this human pole (her leg) so it did the only thing it could do; it ran round and round. Only, as he wasn't strong enough to break the tippet, the round and round was around her legs. Now, I should tell you, all salmon carry a protective coating on their bodies that we call slime. To say the Humpy salmon has this membrane is an understatement. They are more like the aqua equivalent of a giant underwater slug. You get the picture. So Sheila was now hog-tied and slimed in mid-current by this bucking and thrashing water slug. She screamed and bolted for shore, breaking the line and releasing herself and the salmon. She must have washed her legs for twenty minutes. I would love to tell you she went back out fishing... she didn't. I would love to tell you Dr. Harold came back to fish with me again... he hasn't. Oh well, it was worth a shot. ARTICLE EXCERPT COURTESY OF DENNIS DICKSON, FLY-FISHING STEELHEAD GUIDE (www.flyfishsteelhead.com) -- Rob Blomquist Kirkland, WA
