Monday, April 30, 2012
On Being Ready
I’d tied a hundred flies for this trip. Mostly clousers - 2s thru 6s. Chartreuse and white. Pink and white. Olive and white. Grey and white. Tan and white. White and white. Pink and chartreuse. Olive and grey. Orange and brown. Two big bugger barns. Slam full.
I’d tied rust and tan Borski sliders. I'd ravaged my bass boxes for poppers, gummy and gulley fish, gurglers - flies of all configurations and colors that I thought might, just might, come in handy. I'd even nicked some candy-colored spoon flies (I'm sorry, I’m weak) from Todd’s box as he slept.
I was loaded. I was ready.
I didn’t have black.
The damn fish wanted black.
Luckily, any good fish camp has a central, vital, station - the tying table - and Austin, Brandon and Jen were on the job. Need black? Have a seat.
And, honestly, how could I think I was prepared? Saltwater boxes look nothing like what I'm used to. More Victoria's Secret than Bob's Fly Shop. Even my outrageous largemouth box is drab by comparison.
So while the salt mavens were better prepared, not even Austin was ready with black.
But it didn't take long to fix that.
Please pass the marabou.