On The Fly

Sometimes the greatest discoveries aren't found on the water. They're found in the pockets of an old fishing vest. Sorting through my gear this week, I unearthed a 1996 Michigan trout stamp and an Al Caucci fly-fishing course booklet for the Delaware River. Thirty years of evidence that I’ve always been afflicted with the same beautiful disease: the desire to get better at things. Apparently, retirement hasn't offered a cure. I pulled my Orvis 5-weight rod into the backyard, tied a ribbon to the tippet, and started casting. Something wonderful happened: my muscle memory was still there. The rod loaded, the line rolled out, and the ribbon settled onto the patio as gently as a feather. The casting still worked. My eyesight, however, had apparently retired. My next project—attaching a new 6X leader to my fly line—was considerably less graceful. Thirty years ago, tying that tiny loop was a minor task. Today, it was a profound test of character. Fortunately, we have modern techn...