News from Blue Ribbon Flies

2012 Catalog Entries.
An Article from Rich Miller

We could not fit all the entries that we received into our 2012 catalog, so we thought that for the weeks ahead we would put these fine entries into our news letter. Thanks to all of you who sent these entries they are very much appreciated.Photo by Kelly G. Glissmeyer

Article by Rich Miller

Only A Moment (They'll Stone You When You're Walking In A Stream)

Standing atop the high left bank looking into the thick forest of pine branches leading down to water's edge, the English professor fidgeted with his single action reel while waiting for the moment to move down to the river while the others donned their waders. They were covered by the afternoon shade as the sun crept behind the towering forest across the road and the coolness of the autumn mountain air felt good.

It had been several years since he retired from active academic life, but sharing life experiences with his daughter's husband and their eldest son in Yellowstone Park far exceeded those enriching moments on campus. Besides, he was able to draw upon earlier research for his published work on the fish of the Park, though such study had little to do with the art of beguiling a finned inhabitant to bite.

The walk down the slope through the forest was enjoyable. He thought about his late morning spent beneath a lodge pole along the Firehole River watching a swarm of White Millers mate in a mid air frenzy of fluttering fornication. There was so much to do in so little time for the tiny beauties. Now he could hear the water as it tumbled and turned over the rock and rubble of LeHardy Rapids just down river from their descent. The small hairs on the nape of his neck rose together with his spirits and hope. All memory of lecturing students and publishing to please others, if not himself, was absent from his thoughts. Instincts finely honed by years of angling and reading the water where trout reside would take over from here. The anticipated tug at the end of the line would be the pay-off, with just a few more steps to go to reach the water's edge.

The river at this point is broad and deceptively powerful due to its narrowing above as it exits the slow moving estuary and then further reducing itself at the source of the rapids below. Looking out he could see dimples and surface rolls where trout were feeding in a seam of the current. He knew they were cutthroats . The rock strewn stream bed was uneven and difficult requiring careful movement with each tentative step. He could see a large ledge and lifted his downstream leg to seek balance on its surface, causing his right leg to begin sliding on the slippery stones beneath. Pushing his wading staff firmly into the small area of soft streambed beside the ledge he regained himself and was able to get settled before wading deeper into the river until he could feel the pressure of the current against his mid thigh. It was here he stopped and positioned his feet preparing to cast.

Stripping enough line off into the current to enable its weight to carry his back cast behind him, he quickly lifted the rod to just past vertical and then as the line unfurled in a perfect ending loop behind him, he brought the rod forward to an abrupt stop and the line and fly straightened across and above him in the river. He quickly mended his line to permit t a longer drag-free drift as the fly slipped into the surface film while moving downstream. Just then, the professor's concentration was interrupted by a shout from behind him "Grandpa! I've got one!" The creases at the corners of his eyes lifted and deepened with the rise of a very contented smile. He was happy and his lanky lean form became upright in the stream. It was like watching Anthony Bourdain lunching on black truffles and goat marrow along some beautiful mountain stream. To him, time now seemed endless and yet, it was only a moment.