My Flyfishing Mentor

     I've been meaning to do an entry to clarify a few misunderstandings in regard to my flyfishing, and since chatting about something pleasant sounds like a good plan, I'm on a mission to do just that tonight.
        I received several emails congratulating me on my essay about my Father and a few of them mentioned how wonderful it was he taught me flyfishing. I corrected a few people via email response, but thought maybe that general assumption was out there. So here's......clarification for my own piece of mind, or maybe just an excuse to relive good times, neither here nor there, one must follow where the mind leads..................
       My Father did teach me the fine art of fishing. We used things like Mepps #2, which was his all time favorite, spinners, salmon eggs and whatever found it's way into the tackle box.
        There was another item used in the family forte of fishing enticement. I hate to even type it, I hate to admit such a phobia, but here goes <I might add, my skin is already crawling> the most awful, mindboggling, horrendous creatures on this earth. Worms.......yes my friends, I know you all must be quaking in your seat as much as I. Worms, I hate. I don't use the word hate often, seldom, basically never, but HATE is the word for these nasty little things.
       Now I've been told this is a wee bit irrational. I've been told it's down right ridiculous. I know what I know, and these things are the stuff nightmares come from. Ask me if I had childhood nightmares, and I'll tell you horror stories that all involved worms. Now, before you reduce me to some sort of wimpy, prissy, can't handle a worm kinda gal. I'd like to add I have no problem with any other insect out there. Toss a tick on me, I'd toss it right back at ya, I am forever the "remover" of spiders in my home, I pick them up, toss them out, bee's you might ask.....no problem, I'd grab one from the air if need be, but toss a worm at me and I will very likely kill you.  It would be a lesson you would only learn once.  
       Having gotten that admission off my chest < I know, my stock just plummeted lol> I can say it was rather tough growing up afraid of these things. Ridicule was abound. Salmon eggs were my best friends and I prevailed as a fisherman.
       When I first got AOL way back when, I believe it was AOL 2, I found a chat room called the Great Outdoors, of course it was filled with frivolous chat, but occasionally I got lucky and could chat some good old outdoors stuff.
        This is when I met Thomas, AKA Tom. I'm not sure who IMed who first, but if my mind isn't playing tricks on me, I believe he did, and I believe he insulted me right off the bat. I understand our minds can play tricks on us, to play a time out like we would like to remember it, so I could be wrong, but I believe he basically commented about my profile claiming I fished. I of course said yes, and he asked me if I flyfished, I had to reply no. At this point he insulted me and typed something to the effect that I wasn't a real fisherman then. And that began my conversion to the real world of fishing. Real being subjective here.    
       I began to study the possibilities. My first discovery was the cost could be wildly expensive. This was a time when something like money was nonexistent, nadda, zilch. I was the manager of a business, on salary, who worked from dawn till dusk, and brought home the same pathetic paycheck every two weeks. My hopes were dashed to try this new level of fishing. But fate would have it, that I was driving a company car and got hit by another motorist, rear-ended. I honestly didn't think it was a big deal, a tinge of whiplash and I was back to work in two days. I didn't give it another thought. About 2 months later I got a call from an insurance company, saying things like "settlement" "take care of your needs" blah blah, will you take 500 bucks and never look back? I kinda stuttered an all right, hung up the phone and sat in amazement.
       The check arrived and I sat back, holding it in my hands wondering what I could do with such fortune. No one knew I had it. It was like my little secret, all mine. I did the unthinkable, I forked out $250 dollars for a flyfishing rod setup. The first one I told was Thomas. He congratulated me, and began instructions. He sent me emails, describing how to do things, sent me to websites with pictures, I riddled him with questions. Then in the mail arrived one of the best gifts I ever received. Flies, tiny little flies handmade just for me. There was even a fly in this batch I could adore, a worm! This was a match made in heaven.
       I started out slowly, I imagine if anyone was watching from the side of the mountain they got quite a laugh. Me hooking myself in the forehead, hooking the tree's behind me, dodging incoming flies and flyline tangling in my hair, choking my neck. I was a mess. But perseverance is something ingrained in me and slowly I began to figure it out.
       It's almost humiliating how my first fish was caught on a flyrod. Imagine me standing there on the side of the river, my flyline is rolled completely out, laying in a mesh of pattern, a mess, just out in the water. A complete mess I'm trying to unravel and realign. It was then I notice alittle further out my flyline is moving around, out towards the current. I began to frantically pull my line in my hand and yes, a little trout had picked up the end of my mess and caught himself. That was not my ideal moment.
       But all summer I practiced, and practiced and came home at nights for guidance from my mentor. I started to catch fish, I started to understand ecosystems and underwater habitats. I learned things about bugs I never thought I'd want to know.
       I eventually got the chance to meet Thomas, flyfish with him. I was so unbelievably nervous, for so many reasons, but most of all I was so afraid to fish in front of my mentor. So I watched him, for hours, marveled at how each cast was truly an art form. He kept looking at me, sitting on the bank, waders on, flyrod laying beside me, encouraging me to join him and all I could do was smile. Eventually I did get the courage to fish next to him. Honestly, I can't even remember if I caught a fish that first time, all I remember is how nervous and excited I was. He could probably remember, he carries memories with him like no other. 
       There were a lot more fishing trips and more to the story, for the two of us, and time took us places I'm sure I'll relive here in my journal. His gift is another that I will carry with me forever.......... But those will be saved for another entry. (Have I hit the limited total of 25,000 characters??)  
       The nice little caveat, is since then, I have taught my Father the fine art of flyfishing and can safely say, he no longer teases me about my worm phobia.......................