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Fishing Mentors

2K views 26 replies 26 participants last post by  Richard E 
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#1 ·
I don’t remember catching my first fish. My Dad had a photo of me that I hated. It was taken from behind. I was holding a fishing pole with a red/white bobber. I had on a cowboy hat, cowboy boots, and a load in my diaper.

He loved that photo and carried it in his wallet. We’d be at a gas station and the uniformed Texaco attendant would look into the truck bed and see our fishing gear. He’d ask something innocent like, “Goin’ fishin’?” My Dad would pull out “The photo”. I’d moan and get embarrassed.

He wore out the photo and my Mom spent hours looking for the negative. I really wish I had it now.

My Dad and Grandpa were my mentors. They taught me how to read water way before I ever heard that term. They taught me about drag, holding lies vs feeding lies, how to keep a low profile, how it was impossible to catch a spooked trout, and many, many other things.

I’ve always been pretty generous about sharing what I know about fly fishing. None of my kids have had any interest in it. I’ve shared flies on the river and answered questions while trout were rising behind to guy asking the question. I’ve written on the subject with the purpose of helping people get over plateaus or solve puzzles. Most of my guiding was instructional with the intent to make my clients not need me any more.

Last week I fished with a man I have fished with for over 20 years. He told me something that took me completely by surprise.

I met Rick back in the 1990s when his wife told me he was frustrated from catching nothing but whitefish on the Missouri. I took him on a float and liked him right away. He was a quick study and an information sponge. We made some presentation adjustments and his production soared.

Over the years I introduced him to streamer chucking and the art of catching >20” trout on <#20 dry flies. I brought him over to the dark side.

Rick is a devout Christian. I am not. Maybe a Deist/Agnostic. I left the confines of the Catholic Church decades ago and never looked back. He was in his weekly bible study class and the subject of role models and mentors came up. He told his class I was his greatest role model/mentor.

It floored me when he said this to me last week. I never even considered myself his mentor; just a guy who gave him a few pointers and taught him how to row a driftboat. I certainly didn’t think my name would come up in a bible study, especially in this sort of context.

Do others have mentor memories?
 
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#3 ·
I guess that I was my own mentor. Nobody in my family fished, all I learned was by my lonesome. I probably have a shitty casting stroke, but I didn't have anybody to teach me better. But I'm happy the way I cast. My loops are tight and I can sling out enough line to hit the other side of what river I'm fishing at. Except the Madison. That river is to wide for me to hit the other bank.
I even doubt that Mad Matt Burke could hit the other bank even with his Spey rod and line. He's the only person I saw cast a spey rod like a single hander.
 
#5 ·
I guess that I was my own mentor. Nobody in my family fished, all I learned was by my lonesome. I probably have a shitty casting stroke, but I didn't have anybody to teach me better. But I'm happy the way I cast. My loops are tight and I can sling out enough line to hit the other side of what river I'm fishing at. Except the Madison. That river is to wide for me to hit the other bank.
I even doubt that Mad Matt Burke could hit the other bank even with his Spey rod and line. He's the only person I saw cast a spey rod like a single hander.
Pretty much the same here, but if I had a mentor it was actually my younger brother that got me fly fishing, and it was a fly ,and a bubble if you want to call that fly fishing , I guess we did back then , and then evolved from there .
 
#4 · (Edited)
My pops for sure.
I was maybe three years old or so when he started taking me fishing out on the Sound.
I can still remember being in the old red & white boat my grandpa kept at the Pt Defiance boathouse.

Besides salmon, he loved all the other stuff Puget Sound offered, crabs, geoducks, oysters, clams......
I can remember many feasts we had on the beach on Hood Canal with all those ingredients.
SF
 
#27 · (Edited)
My paternal grandfather. His son - my dad - never had the 'outdoor' bug so my grandfather would take me. My grandfather would take me fishing with him before I was 5. He would let me drive his (homemade) boat while we trolled. I remember catching oodles of bluegills and brook trout. I remember going with him out to the lake, where he would meet up with some buddies, and they would back their station wagons to the lake, pop open the gallon jugs of Gallo rose and the packages of sardines and crackers, fire up the Coleman lanterns, set up the chairs, and hang out all night hoping catfish would bite. I would listen to their stories and sleep in the car. It was just fun hanging out with these crusty cusses, listening to their raucous laughter and bullshit stories.

He would take me hunting, as well, but I mostly sat in the car - I was 10 - 11. He taught me to drive when I was about 8 or 9, which I later found out was useful when I would drive a tractor or a small Caterpillar plowing fields around his property. I raised rabbits at a young age, and he taught me the rabbits were cute, but they were also yummy and were for eating; he taught me how to dispatch and skin them. He taught me how to shoot a rifle. The first time I shot a shotgun, I shot his double bareel at some ducks across a small meadow. I got a fat lip out of it from getting popped by the stock, but I got a second shot off (double barreled shotgun). I missed both shots, and he was upset I didn't get one duck. The ducks were on the ground on my first shot, and in those instances my grandfather would often get two with one shot. I might note that neither one of us had a license...

We quit fishing together when my parents split up. My dad took off to live somewhere else, and my mom remarried and we stayed in the same itty bitty town where my grandfolks lived. Even though my folks divorced, my mom loved her ex-parents, and my grandfather and grandmother stayed tight with us and 'adopted' my stepfather. I recall my grandfather once introducing my stepfather (remember, this is the guy who is now married to my grandfather's son's ex-wife), and my grandfather stumbling around trying to come up with something to describe their relationship finally just said "aw, hell, he's my son-in-law". He and my grandmother included my half-brother (child my mom, their son's ex, and their new "son-in-law", my stepfather) in their Will, treated just like the rest of the 4 grandchildren. Special guy and folks.

While on my grandfather story, his first heart attack, he had to stay in the hospital for a couple of days. He didn't want to be there, and wanted to go out to his 'homestead' (he lived out in the boonies), but the hospital staff made him stay a couple of extra days for observartion. A neighbor called the hospital asking if they were missing a patient. My grandfather, because he couldn't leave through the front door, exited out his window using a construction hose to rappel down the hospital exterior (he was on the second floor). He knocked at the neighbor's house to ask if he could use their phone so he could call someone to pick him up. Apparently the backless hospital gown gave him away. He never disclosed to the hospital staff how he got out. A few months later a second stroke caused a return trip to the same hospital, the nurses gave him the nickname "Spiderman".

They just don't make 'em like they used to.
 
#6 ·
To be honest,

For me a lot of the men on this page acted as a mentor of mine years ago as I do not have a father figure in my life who likes to fish. I was a young man who loved to fish. Fish for any fish with any gear any time type of mentality. I cut my teeth in the fly world with information given to me here and than applied that information to my newly found addiction of fly angling. Now that it is essentially 10 years later I have to give all the credit to WFF and the members here as i would never have never caught a fish without all of you degenerates :)

It makes me wish we were still doing the get togethers like we did years ago. So much fun...Like the radish bash and the like.

CCW
 
#7 ·
My mentor was a kid fresh out of the Navy that worked for me at Boeing. Tracy and I talking one day about fishing led to meeting up at a local lake for trout...with spinning rods. Neither of us knew how to fly fish. So one day Tracy says that a neighbor of his was putting on a fly rod casting lesson in Mount Vernon. The neighbor was Dec Hogan. Next thing I know I'm headed to Chopaka to meet Tracy and his buddy Mike for my first fly fishing experience. I had cobbled together some canvas shoes, neoprene waders and a used rod, reel, and Caddis float tube. The rest as they say is history...
 
#8 ·
For the love of fishing, in general, it was my father. We were lucky to both grow up on a wonderful lake in the Finger Lakes region of Western New York. He didn't fly fish but what he passed on to me was the passion of water and fish. In fly fishing my mentor was Carl Coleman, who has been a mentor to hundreds of budding fly fishermen in the Rochester, NY area. I used to visit his fly shop constantly where I bought my early equipment and took fly tying lessons.

I tried my best to pass on what I learned by teaching fly fishing at the museum in Rochester and sharing pointers with beginners on the water. Now I find sharing information with younger folks as satisfying as the fishing itself. Watching someone successfully work a stretch of water after you've shared a tidbit of info or THE fly is a joy to behold.
 
#9 ·
My friend's father became my adopted father when I was about 14. He taught me how fish, tie flies, hunt and other life skills. Unfortunately he passed away way too soon. I can only imagine how I would have turned out if I he had not cared enough to take me under his wing.

I recall fishing for SRC on an "S" river decades ago. There was a small branch in a side channel. The water was less than 2 feet deep. He asked if I had fished around the branch. I said no because the water was too shallow. He made 2 casts and hooked a SRC. I remember looking at him in disbelief. We then laughed about it and it became joke for years. Did you fish that spot?

I really miss him.
 
#10 ·
Cool topic

My love for fishing in general was set forth by my grandpa in particular. He took us grandkids fishing all the time. It shaped my childhood.
I dabbled in fly fishing a bit but never took it seriously. As a young adult I fell in love with central Oregon. And after moving there decided that I needed to get serious bout fly fishing. I stumbled around basically self taught.

I then walked into a new fly shop that was by my work. The shop had moved to bend from madras. It’s name was numb butt fly co.

They had a signup sheet for beginner fly tying class. I had went to one before at a different shop. But I didn’t like the teacher very well. And didn’t feel like I learned alot

This guy at the new shop. Older hippy guy. Super nice. He assured me a would learn a lot and have a good time.

Signing up for that class changed my life in a lot of ways. His name was Merrill hummer. I did learn a ton from that class. And ended up spending a couple hrs there at least 4 days a week tying and talking fishing with him after work for yrs.

He set me on the course of becoming the angler I am today. He was a great angler. Great tyer. And a great friend.
 
#12 ·
My Uncle, Marty. Growing up, he was the GM at Warshall's. I think he retired with 30+/- years there...
Annual fishing trips to Wannacut are a 40 year old memory.
When I graduated college, and was back home, I took him fly fishing...so he could teach me.
That summer he passed to me a fly tying kit, several fiberglass rods and a few Pfleugers, and not long after, he passed away.
I miss that guys infectious laugh...
 
#13 ·
Man, this is a great topic :) I've had a number of fishing mentors over the years.

For me, the love of fishing, in general, came from my Dad when I was maybe 4. I grew up in Southwest KS and it was not fly fishing country but there were some good county and state lakes as well as a sand pit a half mile away that was loaded with Crappie, and other warm water species. Even though this is a fly fishing thread I did want to share that our love of fishing really took off when my Dad brought home a tiny ultralight Zebco triggerspin with 4lb test. We caught crappie, walleye, white bass, stripers, carp you name it on those little combos. For you parents with little ones out there, an equivalent is Bass Pro Shops Tiny Lite. Hit almost any dock on Lake WA in the summer with a Tiny Lite and small jigs and they will get hooked. They will lose the occasional 4lb Smallie but will hook way more fish!

Back to flyfishing :) My first fly fishing mentor was my friend Scott in AZ. We were at a lake near Flagstaff one day and I was fishing rooster tails from shore while he was fly fishing in a float tube. The score was fly fishing 30+ Roostertail 3! I immediately purchased a round Caddis tube, waders, and cheap setup. The lakes in the White Mountains of AZ are amazing and that started a 30 year addiction. What is funny about this mentor is he loves to fly fish and he does quite well but he has never been one of those guys to care about learning every facet like the majority of us do. He will just ask the fly shops what is working and fish. Strikes me as funny. I guess you could say he was my fly fishing lake mentor.

Now for rivers, I had only fished Lees Ferry and the San Juan, which don't necessarily teach you much beyond the basics to help you fish a freestone. Well in 97 I visited Seattle and I was tired of driving 4.5 hours every weekend to fish the lakes in AZ. Once I saw all this water out here that was it. I was fishing every piece of water I could in my float tube guided by that gear black and white sensationalized magazine Fishing and Hunting News..lol. Well, I was super lucky to get hired by a fly shop and I made my first friend in WA state. He took me out the first time together below the falls where he promptly hooked and landed 2 Steelhead! I had never even seen a creature so magnificent. After that, he taught me pretty much everything I know about fishing rivers. This guy has been flyfishing since he was a toddler and we have had many great adventures together.

Over the years I have met many fly fisherman at all levels. Some have given me flies and pointers, others I have given flies to along with my advice. I love that about fly fishing.

Sorry to be long winded but I often think about this topic and get sentimental :)
 
#14 ·
Many, many years growing up fishing with my dad and an uncle together as mentors. They both learned from their dads who were avid fly fishermen going back to pre-WWII days.
Each one of them favored a totally different technique. I was able to pick up both approaches mainly through osmosis after many days each season on the river. Dad preferred "wet" flys most of the time, uncle almost always fished dries. Both were incredibly talented and always caught fish. We fished the mountains of New Mexico where a trophy fish would run 18". It was catch and keep for dinner back then.
Funny how times have changed. We NEVER even thought about using any kind of indicator for fishing sub surface. What we called wet flys are now called soft hackles. I might keep one fish a year for a breakfast meal while camping on a river.
I miss them both dearly and wish they could have experienced the kind of fly fishing I've grown into, that has in many ways defined who I've become as an adult. They would have absolutely loved chasing northwest steelhead and big trout every day on a river provides shots at 20"+ trout or 15#+ steelhead..
Gosh, those days were 50+ years ago now.
Coincidentally, I've got my last trip of the season coming up Tuesday. I'll think of this thread and the days growing up on the river with my dad and uncle mentors.
 
#16 · (Edited)
Though we had a contentious relationship through most of his life (especially during my teenage years) the one venue in which we got along was hunting and flyfishing.

Though my grandfather (who I got along with all my life) was an avid fisherman in his early years, he totally lost interest when the dams ended the huge salmon and steelhead runs on the Spokane.....long before my birth.
 
#17 ·
I think the chain of mentors started with Granny Floyd. it continued directly down her blood line to include my father and brothers.

Walls walls circa 1972, two years before I was even born.
Plant Smile Tree Gesture Black-and-white


That tenacious little broad is slaying the chrome and smallmouth in hell, like nobody's business! I can't wait to see her again.
 
#18 ·
My father started me down my fishing path with an assist from my Grandfather. However until my teen age years my fishing with either was limited to family vacations.

In many ways my true mentor was my Aunt. Had many fishing adventures with my cousin and his mother. Thankfully I grew up in a different time and by the time I was in grade school fishing expeditions to local small creeks (literally step across streams) where he harassed those streams tiny cutthroat were regular summer time activities. As we grew our fishing horizons expanded with Aunt Alice dropping us off to some lake on opening day, she kept a small pram on a small oxbow lake that provided wonderful access to some exceptional cutthroat and brookies.

Our fishing adventures expanded to the back country as soon as my cousin and myself could carry a small pack. Our first hikes were over-night trips to some high lake. As we cousins grew the range of lakes to visit and the length of the trips expanded. Still think fondly of some of those high lake trips where typically my cousin and I were charged with establishing camp and picking an adequate supply of blue berries. Once done our time was ours to explore and fish. Those blue berries went in daily blue berry pancakes and pies (she would pack in a small reflective oven). When I was 11 or 12 it was that aunt and her girlfriend that started the path of steelhead fishing. They would drag me along plunking on the Snoqualmie. My job was to pack the gear to the river and get the fired started; my reward was day on the river, hot chocolate, and fire roast hot dogs. The second year I even caught my first steelhead on the first trip after X-mas with a new steelhead rod.

Yeah Aunt Alice was my fishing mentor.

When it came to fly fishing and fly tying like many here I was self taught. A satisfy part of my evolution as a fly angler was the opportunity to play the role of mentor to my father. Starting while in high school for a decade or so we shared many evenings on the forks of the Snoqualmie were I passed on what I was learning. Fun evenings with many fish caught!

Curt
 
#19 ·
Growing up in Minnesota, my Dad was my fishing mentor.
Walleyes, Northerns, Bass, Crappie, Bluegill.
I then stepped away from the sport from age 15-25 and moved to the NW.

My Buddy Brian taught me how to catch Trout, Salmon, Steelhead, Fly Fish and Crab.
I thank him often.
 
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#20 ·
Not one in the flesh, but when I decided to get serious about fly fishing I turned to the works of Gary LaFontaine.Don't recall exactly what pointed me in his direction, but his overall philosophy (especially his sense of humor) connected with me.He still informs 80% of what I do and a lot of my most memorable fish were caught on flies he designed.Wish he was still with us so I could thank him.
 
#21 ·
Great topic! It's impossible to pick one mentor because so many have given me so much. My father started taking me fishing when I was 5 years old. Met my oldest fishing friend, Pat Wood, on the Elwah River when we were 11 and we learned together. Haig-Brown gave me "tradition, ethics and restraint". Fred Wolfe gave me "a fish is too valuable to catch only once". Denny Rickards, Brian Chan and Philip Rowley taught me entomology and how to fish lakes. Pat O'Keefe (team leader for NZ international fly fishing team) drew maps, shared meals and taught me NZ patterns. And most of all Harry Lemire showed me the beauty of cane rods, the magic of a well tied fly, the passion of "doing it right" even if it didn't catch you as many fish and the joy of companionship and friendship we are all lucky to experience a few times in our lives. Sure miss that man.
 
#22 ·
From my father I learned preparation, from my mother I learned patience, from older brother I learned dogged determination. Seldom a day goes by without a memory of time spent either on the ocean or in the mountains with them. I count myself blessed to have had such wonderful teachers.
 
#23 ·
Aside from one or two occasions, I've always fished alone. When my father-in-law passed, my mother-in-law agreed to give me his fly rod as long as I made a concerted effort to learn how to use it. I took the "101" course at Red's in Yakima, then spent a lot of time fishing from shore and catching nothing. Then I finally caught one, then another, then I invested in boots and waders and from there got hopelessly addicted to it. I never got to fish with my father-in-law but it was his stories and joy of being on the water that got me started.
 
#24 ·
Mentors, Life is full of them. Sometimes we don’t think of them as mentors. Some mentor us for a moment some for a life time. I have had many mentors through the years. One mentor showed me the way I didn’t want to be. Most showed me the way to a wonderful life. I think most of us mentor without realizing it. I was fishing a couple of days ago on the Hat Creek in California and spent an hour or so whit a guy named Bob. He didn’t know what I had been going through the last few days. All I needed was someone to talk to and take the pressure off for a few minutes. We exchanged information and maybe I will have him build me bamboo fly rod.
 
#25 ·
I would have to say Mark Noble RIP at the Greased Line Fly Shoppe...first graphite St Croix rod, tying lessons...30 years ago-ish...spent a lot of time talking to Mark...Loved his stories of the Dean River...and others...I sort of called him friend.
 
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