To Fly-fishermen Everywhere

This month marks the 10th anniversary of when I began spinner fishing the trout rivers of the American West. Consequently, this month marks the 10th anniversary of the moment I began upsetting fly fishermen everywhere.

I still don't mind, probably because I still don't understand fly fishermen. I had a run-in or two early on when fishing the Provo River that led me to believe that all fly fishermen are arrogant and suppose their manner of fishing to be superior to all others. This was a major turn-off and probably kept me from ever picking up the sport.

My preferred method of fishing a river is to don a pair of cut-offs and old tennish shoes, stick a few spinners in a 35mm film canister, grab a piece of twine (optional for catch-and-release), and my short (4'6") pole. I can see how my white trash approach might have given the appearance that I did not take trout seriously. In all seriousness, I DO take trout seriously--I just don't see the point in getting gussied up to wet my hook. I may only have two or three hours from the time I leave my house until I have to be back. I cannot spend half of it getting ready to fish.

So, to all fly fishermen: I'm not going anywhere. If you happen to flash a dirty look toward a spin-fisherman in a baseball cap and old cut-offs, please know that I wish you the best of luck, but I stopped taking you seriously years ago.