The New American Angler

My dad really likes to fly fish. Really, really likes to fish. In fact, I feel safe in saying it’s one of his very favorite things to do. In the past I have mentioned that I would like to learn how to fish. My dad has zero recollection of this. He’s made a fly rod for each of my brothers and brothers-in-law. I have mentioned that I would like one, along with lessons. He has zero recollection of this as well. That’s okay. Fly fishing may not appear to be something that most girls would enjoy. And sometimes my dad has selective hearing (what parent doesn’t?).

So, a couple of weeks ago, my dad made another comment about making a fly rod, this time for someone not in the family. I was nearby and, again, commented that I would like a rod and lessons. This time he listened. He asked me if I was serious (of course I’m serious!) and if I would want to go with him to learn. And from there, we moved forward.

There is a lot more involved than just going fishing—learning how to cast (or in my case finding out if I’m coordinated enough to cast—I am, barely), getting kitted out, and finding the right spot for the situation. Dad helped me learn to cast, get some rental waders and boots from his favorite place on earth (Fish Tech), and chose Thistle Creek as our location.

Thistle Creek - Location for my initiation

The next morning we headed down. The creek is just off of Spanish Fork Canyon, on the way to Manti. It was a beautiful, sunny morning. Dad chose this particular spot because it’s a small creek, which he thought would make for easier practice. However, the creek was actually running pretty high and pretty fast. In some of the deeper parts the water came up to mid-thigh on me (and haha, brothers, I know you’re thinking ‘that’s only about a foot high’—it was at least a foot and a half). It made moving around a bit difficult at times, and it gave the fish more water to hide in.

It was hard putting everything together—casting correctly, thinking about where the fish would be, staying upright in the water—but I did okay after some practice. The biggest problem I had was getting the line and/or fly stuck in a tree or bush--like every fourth or fifth cast. Dad didn’t realize he would be the number one snag untangler along with being the instructor.

Although I saw a couple of fish in the creek, plus the two Dad caught (plus a muskrat!), I didn’t catch anything. I know, major bummer to the max. I was a tad frustrated but had to remind myself that it was my very first time. Luckily, Dad wasn’t too frustrated with me to agree to go again. I think he was even a little surprised that I had enjoyed it. So, hopefully, I’ll have another lesson in a couple of weeks, which will end in success. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Look at me--I'm doing it!