Creating Monsters - by Clay Gill

Returning to the warmth of an oak fire in the metal fire ring at camp, we emptied White Bass from stringers and sat down for lunch. The chill of the morning coupled with wet wading below in the Colorado River made the glow of the fire real nice. The reason to return to camp was the rumbling in our stomachs but another task would soon cross our paths.

Our trusty rods had been placed in a safe cradle against the truck mirror out by the road and caught the attention of two young brothers from San Angelo. They were on the river for spring break and loving it all. These guys were maybe six and ten years old and typical boys.

The smaller one was no introvert. His chubby brother followed him up to me and the little guy says-heeyyyyy, whaaaaatttttts that? He was referring to our lightweight fly rods. They were looking at them as if they were UFO’s. I looked up from my Tupperware breakfast bowl and realized that the two newest monsters were standing in front of me.

Never to miss a chance to play Frankenstein, I got up to show these little guys the new contraptions. They told me they had been watching “us guys” on the river and it looked neat! I somehow knew these guys were selected by someone higher in organizational planning than me to maintain continuity in the fishing world. It was indoctrination day.

After a quick lesson on the roll cast and basic flat casting, they both caught on quick like kids do. Kids don't think too much, -they just get the job done and have an open mind. Now was the time to set the hook I always sink into kids or adults alike.

A good close in casting lessons is to “catch a fish.” I allow beginners to feel what it is like to catch a fish on a fly rod. If you end retrieve-stripping instruction by telling them they suddenly have a fish on and I leave quickly at an angle with line in hand, tugging like the head jerk of a fish, most all students react the same. Little mercy is given here, and the student immediately goes into a new mode. Adults and kids alike react the same way. They get real serious and make faces. It becomes real.

The little guy bit his bottom lip, wrinkled his nose and went to work. Eventually on his own he went to the reel, and caught me. With the chubby brother, he started to talk to himself-a self help technique I guess, and kept saying wow-wow-Wow! When he brought the rod back to me bug eyed, with sweat beads on his brow, he said,-thaaaaat was Coooool!

Hopefully, two more monsters were created that day. Two new fly fishing addicts will advance to the world’s rivers, lakes and oceans. The transformation is a graduation to a place you cannot come back from. They had progressed to the style and romance of a sport that you cannot shake. It imbeds in your soul and goes on forever. The only reprieve you get is tying flies to pass time when you cannot fish.

The San Angelo Dad was watching from his camp and came up to thank us. He was sure from their reaction that he would be buying two new rigs soon and asked for advice on where and how. I simply told him you can’t place a price on recreation. It would be money well spent considering the family time purchased with each rod. He smiled real big -and I knew it was meant to be. Now, -it was three more monsters. You see it in their eyes.

I am sure the boys went to sleep that night watching the fly line flatten out on each back cast and then land on the dirt spot in the campground grass. Somewhere in some Perch infested creek or ranch lake near San Angelo, two brothers will pretend to cast like Brad Pitt in the “River Runs Through It” movie, and reel in “Nile Perch” weighing hundreds of pounds.

It is great fun to be Dr Frankenstein. Maybe Santa will be one of my helpers. The world needs more of these kinds of monsters. It would be a much better place.

Top of the day to you, tight lines, and see you at the campfire.