Like many others I started fishing when I was very young. My first rig was a Shakespeare glass casting rod and a Zebco spin-cast reel. That rig and its successors, after an appropriate learning period, have caught lots of bluegills, catfish, and bass. When I moved to the west coast and was first learning to catch trout, it was my spin-cast outfit that I relied upon most. I think it’s probably fair to say that a spin cast rig has caught me thousands of fish. Over time, I began to use a fly rod, various spinning and bait casting rigs for steelhead and salmon, and trolling & mooching rigs for ocean fishing. Further, Im probably as much of a fishing equipment junkie as the next guy and guilty of always searching for the next new thing. But, how many times have we turned away from something that works just because someone mentions that some “new” thing worked for him?

Last weekend I targeted a northern California river in search of salmon. It was early August and the “in-between” time for runs. The spring run was at its end and the fall run had not quite started. As always, nature’s timing isn’t exact, and reports on the Internet and sporting news journals indicated that fishing was still “respectable”. I translated this to mean: “you better know what you are doing because there aren’t many fish around, and those that are, have become quite wily”. As I always like a challenge, figured that I have developed a little experience and knowledge about salmon fishing, and decided I was willing to take the bet. Odds were stacked even more towards the fish because I had only fished this river twice before with no guides so all I knew was what I picked up by trial and error.

With fewer fish spread out along greater stretches of gin clear water, a change in tactics is necessary. First, the salmon look for more security and begin to hide in unusual places, usually faster water and shelter from the sun. Next, lighter line and smaller terminal tackle are mandatory. I have begun to rely more on finesse and my reel drag and have started using four and six pound test leaders in these conditions. For you fly fishing-only types, it’s like going after large browns using 7X tippet. Imagine catching a 15lb+ salmon in fast moving water, that decides it doesn’t like that thing in its mouth that is impeding it freedom, so decides to head back to the ocean, quickly.

And finally, fishing times become contracted. Most fishing is over by 8AM and doesn’t pick up again until evening. Which brings us to this story. I left home at midday for a four-hour drive, in part through the California central valley. Entering a town about an hour from my destination, a merchant sign was showing the temperature to be 114 degrees. Despite the fact that this particular river is fed by a dam, I knew the heat would affect both the fish and me. With a little time to kill before the start of evening fishing, I assembled my fly rod and thought I would give it a try. Pushing through the brambles and grass on the way to the river I noticed that, in addition to the bear scat, there were several grasshoppers jumping. I thought to myself that a few years ago I probably wouldn’t have noticed this at all, or at the very least not identified it as a fishing tip.

Further I probably would have turned around upon seeing fresh bear droppings. Maybe all those how-to books had begun to finally sink in. I was feeling quite proud of my fishing prowess. When I arrived at the water’s edge I stood for a while looking for indications. There was an intermittent caddis hatch but they were very small. There was one fish rising to them in an eddy at the edge of the fast moving current. I didn’t have anything to match so tried a #18 caddis, the smallest fly in my box. As you’ll see in a moment, it didn’t matter much.

I need to make a clarification here. I consider myself to be a very novice fly fisherman. Usually the fly gets out onto the water without snapping off the fly or getting caught in a branch on the back cast, and sometimes I actually catch a few. I tried to figure out a likely drift opportunity, (protruding rocks, eddies and current speeds all presented challenges), and waded out into the stream. To make matters worse, this stretch river had trees forming a canopy overhead that reached out into the area where the fish was feeding. I tried for 15 minutes to get something even resembling a natural drift --- to no avail. The fish I had been targeting had long since been spooked away and I was now just trying to get some real-life practice. My ego had been sufficiently deflated. I should have known better – each time I think that Im beginning to learn something, Nature quickly puts me back in my place. For the next half hour I tried, again and again to get a good drift. I tried different angles, longer and shorter casts, and different leader lengths. On this day, nothing worked so the score was river 1 and John 0. Humbled sufficiently, I walked away saying to myself: “Self you need to leave that ego at home, especially when fly fishing, and practice more.”

Then, just for kicks, I thought I would try something else. I went back to my truck and exchanged weapons. The fly rod was neatly stowed, and in its place, came out my trusty spin-cast rig. Yep, after more than 40 years, I still haven’t given it up. For some reason, (probably familiarity and confidence), I have never stopped using it. While Ive moved up a step from the Zebco/Shakespeare days to Abu Garcia/Lamiglas, Ive never found a suitable replacement. There is something about how easy it is to use, how quickly you can complete one cast and move to the next, how flexible it is with a variety of presentations, and most importantly, if fished correctly, catches fish. I know that some readers will consider me boorish, missing a few too many gray cells, or even a step or two back on the evolution chart, but for me, it works. There, I’ve said it. I use a spin-cast rig gear on occasion and thoroughly enjoy it. My only defense is that it’s fun and it works and that’s why I go fishing in the first place.

Rigged with a seven foot very light action graphite rod, two pound line, and a variety of small spinners I went back to the same spot. I snapped on a classic small Panther Martin with a black body and yellow spots and pitched it out into the current. I usually cast a little upstream and let the lure swing downstream and towards me at the same time. My lure passed by the area that I had seen the feeding fish earlier, and guess what? The familiar, but always exciting tug came. After several minutes and multiple runs up and down the river, a healthy 16-inch brown trout came to the water’s edge. As I released it, a sense of warm satisfaction came through me like the reassuring feeling of familiar surroundings and good friends. That first fish was followed by two more over the next hour.

That evening and the following morning I caught and released two nice salmon. I was particularly pleased because I caught the salmon using a lure/float that I had designed myself and built by hand. On the long drive home, however, recollection of the three browns brought me just as much pleasure.

Maybe the moral to this story is the ‘old dogs and new tricks’ parable. For me, as much as fishing is an obsession, it’s also fun. I wonder how many fishermen have given up the gear they first successfully used because it’s considered for children or novices? Maybe fly fishing, and for that matter, many other types of fishing, will give me that same sense of confidence and joy over time, and I hope they do. I will continue to work at it. In the meantime, Im more than happy to fall back upon the techniques and equipment that I first learned to fish on, and have worked for me for a long time. There’s nothing wrong in my book with keeping that “yippee” feeling we used to get as a kid right at the top of mind.