I am a impatient man. Most who know me have accepted this about me long ago or else they simply avoid me. Last Saturday my wife, Heather, decided she would like to join me on the water for some Clinch River fly fishing. Since the grandparents were in town to watch over our children there was no better opportunity to spend some time on the water. We arrived in the parking lot to find it as full as I've ever seen it. Recent storms in the Smokies had blocked access to the park and like ants scrambling from approaching rain, apparently all of those fishermen made their way to the Clinch to get a line in the water.
We waded down to my normal hole and all the while I was silently thinking "there are so many people that we won't even be able to find a spot to fish." When we arrived at our hole sure enough two guys were already fishing the prime spot. I further examined the profiles and saw that it was Matt and Tim from work and I felt very comfortable sliding in. I tried not to encroach on their water, while allowing enough room for Heather and I to cast.
I tied on a wet fly for Heather and set her up in an area that wouldn't require much by way of casting and should yield fish on the dead drift. I set up just below her down stream and we began to fish. Fishing started very slow. I'm not sure if it was due to the pressure of so many lines in the water or technique but either way the fish were not very cooperative. I watched Heather and gave her pointers on where to cast but as she whipped the rod back and forth it appeared more like a child with a streamer in the wind than the eloquent cast reminiscent of " A River Runs Through It." I reeled in my line, laid my rod on the side of the bank, and committed myself to helping my wife catch her first fish on a fly rod.
I spent the majority of our time assisting her with her cast and showing her where she should be directing her efforts. My patience was never tested and this didn't at any time feel like a inconvenience. I enjoyed spending this time teaching my wife about the hobby that has evolved into an obsession. As the sun burned off the cool mist hovering above the water and she could literally see the fish swimming her focus became razor sharp. We switched to a Sulphur dry fly and interest in our offering quickly picked up. Several fish struck at the fly but Heather was slow to set the hook. Once she felt comfortable I picked my own rod back up and resumed to my spot fishing. It was only about ten minutes later that with surprise in her voice I head Heather exclaim "I got one" and at that she reeled in her first trout on a fly rod. She set the hook and brought the fish to hand on her own with no help from anyone. Each cast that day showed improvement and she was able to hook at least one other fish. On the way out she told me that she thinks she likes dry fly fishing more than wet fly fishing. That's my girl! I've been married to this woman for 16 years and each day there are new things to love about her.
