Orvis Fly Tying Sale

Not sure why I've taken 21 days to post this, but if you're looking for tying material this is about as good a sale as you're likely to find. Orvis is offering twenty percent off all tying materials and tools -  excluding those from Renzetti and Whiting - for the entire month of February. Bobbins, hooks, feathers and fur ... you'll buy it eventually ... may as well save yourself some scratch. Now might even be a good time to get that Regal or HMH vise you've been lusting after. The link below will take you directly to the tying section of Orvis' online store. I receive no compensation from the company (unfortunately); I just thought some of you might like to save a few dollars. The hooks - most of which are rebranded Daiichi or Gamakatsu - are an especially good deal.

http://www.orvis.com/store/shop.aspx?dir_id=1273&shop_id=1448

Project Healing Waters: Josh Williams - Redux

This past Wednesday, I was fortunate to help manage a fly tying class, which was given for disabled veterans at the local VA hospital. The class came together nicely - my hat is off to Robin Hill of The Angler's Net for making arrangements and getting us all to come together. Thanks go out to Shawn Brillon of the Orvis company and Doug (last name forgotten ... very sorry Doug) of Goldstock's Sporting Goods, both of whom lent their knowledge and skills as instructors to our class. Everyone at the hospital was enthusiastic and accommodating, and the veterans with whom we worked were - for lack of better words - just a great bunch of people.

I have to admit that I was - at least at first - intimidated by one of the veterans who attended the class. Don't misunderstand ... he was affable, funny ... just a great guy to be around. I'll buy him a beer if ever the opportunity presents itself. But he was also an amputee. His left arm had been removed just below the shoulder, and I have to admit - with some shame - that I was at first terrified of working with him because I had no idea how he was going to accomplish the most basic movements required of a fly tyer. Perhaps more to the point, I had no idea how we were going to teach him.

I should not have been concerned; he may have been an amputee, but he was also a soldier. He adapted to the nuances of tying as I am sure he has had to adapt in most every other aspect of his life. His Woolly Bugger was tied at least as well as any other in the class, and I learned a very valuable lesson as a result. I'll never again underestimate the strength of will and of character that most people possess.

What I should have done - from the very beginning of the class - was remember an interview I conducted some 18 months ago, with another wounded veteran. Staff Sergeant Josh Williams is a good man - a soldier, a husband, a father - and his story is an inspiration. What follows is the piece I wrote all those months ago, including my interview with Sergeant Williams and some video of Josh in action.

Project Healing Waters: Josh Williams

As I've mentioned several times in the nearly two years that I've maintained this blog, I count Shawn Brillon as one of my closest friends and fishing partners. Shawn is one of the fly fishing product developers for the Orvis company; he is generally responsible for the flies and fly tying material we see in the catalog every year.

Recently, Shawn and I were discussing such mundane things as line choice for certain two-handed rods, and the crop of new flies Orvis is likely to offer this year. At the end of that discussion, Shawn spoke of a gentleman from Virginia whose acquaintance he was happy to have made. 

I was intrigued by Josh Williams' story not only because he's both a fly flinger and a tyer, but also because he was a soldier. Staff Sergeant Williams carried his country's banner into combat, and like so many of our nation's warriors, he served with distinction. This is not, however, what what makes Sergeant Williams unique.

What makes Josh unique is his tenacity (think of how frustrating it might be to tie goose biots onto a nymph with only one hand). This stubborn refusal to allow life to pass him by was made manifest after he and I exchanged a few emails, and Josh very graciously agreed to be interviewed for The Rusty Spinner.

TRS: Josh, for how long were you in the Army? With what unit did you serve, and in what capacity? To where were you deployed, and for how long?

Williams: Joined the Army right out of high school (Roanoke, VA) on 31 July 2002 as an infantryman. After basic, I was put on orders to 2-7 CAV, 1CD at Fort Hood, TX. I was the automatic rifleman in my squad, so I carried the SAW (M249) and the 240B. In February of 2004, my unit was deployed to Iraq. We fought in Al Najaf, Baghdad, Sadir City, Fallujah, and Taji. Came back in March of 2005. Became a squad leader and eventually a Staff Sergeant on my 4 year service mark. I had full intentions of becoming a career soldier. God had other plans for me…

TRS: Let's address the 800 pound gorilla in the room ... How did you lose your arm, and how has that injury affected your life?

Williams: I was riding my motorcycle to guard duty on 6 April 2006, when a kid in a car ran a stop sign. I had no time to stop. I went through his window, and out the windshield. I then super-manned 171 feet in the air before finally falling. I was air lifted to a local hospital. My injuries included a severed right arm a couple inches above the elbow, a broken ankle with a nasty scar, a huge gash in my right thigh that got a skin graph, a shattered right femur that now has a titanium rod throughout, 3 broken bones in my back, and random road rash scars. Naturally, God graced me with being the only person in my family that is left handed. So that’s awesome! But I still needed to learn how to do every single thing I’d ever learned all over again. To say the least, depression set in quickly.

TRS: How did you come to fly fishing?

Williams: I was flown to Walter Reed Medical Hospital about a month after the wreck. These guys, John Bass and Ed Nicholson, came in to the hospital one day and introduced themselves to me. They were part of a non-profit called Project Healing Waters. Ed had started this to give a way for disabled vets, mentally and physically, a way of healing and therapy unlike anything else. I wanted no part of it. I was always a huge hunter and fisherman. But fly fishing looked impossible with two arms so why would I try with one? I certainly wasn’t gonna embarrass myself trying this with one arm! But after some persistence, thanks to John Bass (a paraplegic fly fisherman mind you), I gave in. I adapted fast and quickly became obsessed with the sport. Through the obstacles accomplished with fly fishing, I was able to tackle others like tying my own shoes and shooting one-armed.

TRS: When did you start fly tying?

Williams: I was retired from the Army and left Walter Reed in February of 2007. Shortly after, PHW was taking off like a wildfire. They decided to start one where I lived in Roanoke, VA. I was partnered with some guys to start it off, and it caught on pretty quickly. One evening, we had our first tying class with the vets at the Salem VAMC we volunteered at. I decided to try so I couldn’t give the vets there an excuse not to. And when it was all said and done, I tied the ugliest most pathetic woolly bugger ever tied! But I TIED IT!!! I took one of our kits home and it was all over. I was hooked.

TRS: How much time do you spend per day / per week at the vise or on the river?

Williams: I am married to my best friend, Lisa Williams. She is the best therapy I have. She knows firsthand how therapeutic fishing/tying is to me and has never batted an eye any time I’ve ever done either. I even got the chance to spend 8 days in Canada and she was totally supportive! I am also a student at Old Dominion University via satellite classes, while working full time at an architectural/engineering firm in Roanoke called Aecom. I stay busy! However, I still manage to fish almost every weekend. During Spring and Summer, I will even fish after work for a couple hours once or twice a week. I tie at least an hour almost every single evening. It is that enjoyable to me. All this fishing is definitely going to be reduced though, in the near future. Lisa and I are expecting our first child, 28 May. We find out the sex in two days and I’m as anxious as I’ve ever been! I have a feeling I’ll be taking our child out fishing before he/she can walk though ha ha.

TRS: Can you give examples of what you do differently from those anglers and tyers who have use of both hands?

Williams: When I fish, I have to tie all my knots with one hand. I don’t ever use a prosthetic. I strip the line out with my teeth. I also bring the line in with my teeth as well. I am definitely a fan of roll casting. I try to manipulate all the line I have out, so I don’t have to keep stripping in and out with my teeth. Tying is actually much more challenging to me. I can’t spin hair as easily as one with two hands. I have to kind of separate my hand into two hands when tying one parts. A few fingers are wrapping the thread, while a couple others are attempting to hold the material in place. I taught myself to whip finish by using my index finger to twirl the line around because a whip finisher scares me to death to try to use!

TRS: When did you learn that Orvis was going to offer your fly in the company's catalog, and what was your reaction?

Williams: A friend that works for Orvis, Leigh Oliva, told me I should submit my pattern “Josh’s White Lightning” to Orvis after seeing me catch a bunch of trout with it at a PHW tournament. I said what the heck. At that time, I had just started an online business of tying patterns from home. I figured what better way to improve my patterns than tying for others. You see, I didn’t want to send someone a sloppy fly, so I strived to improve the quality of my flies. It has definitely worked. I found out last fall from Shawn Brillon, the guy that makes or breaks the deal of fly submissions, that my pattern had passed the board and would be in the 2011 catalogue. What a feeling of accomplishment!!! I still can’t believe it, so periodically throughout the day I go to the website to see my pattern ha ha.


TRS: Have you any other "secret" flies in your arsenal that might someday be offered for sale?

Williams: I have a stonefly pattern that I’m trying to perfect because I just love using them and they’re so abundant in the healthy streams I fish. I also have a dry fly version of my purple white lightning that works great on wild brookies, but looks weak. I just don’t like how it looks. I’ll eventually find the right combination of materials. There’s another killer nymph I tie, but for the life of me I can’t remember anything about it ……….. Oh well …….

TRS: Finally, have you any advice or words of wisdom that you might offer not only to other fly anglers, but also to men and women who - like yourself - find themselves face to face with seemingly overwhelming injuries and obstacles?

Williams: As far as advice, I believe that we must teach our youth the things that are so important to us. We can’t expect them to pick up on fly fishing if we don’t take them out. It may be frustrating, but just remember that you too were that bad at first! If you’re a disabled soldier or civilian, don’t be so discouraged to not even try. That’s not the way to live. Be stubborn. It’s because of our Lord giving me a whole bunch of it that I’m able to get out there without embarrassing myself too much! And remember, there is always always always someone out there who’s got it worst than you! You can do it, you just have to learn how to do it your own special way.




I don't know that there's much TRS might add to anything Josh had to say. I would just like to take the opportunity to thank Sergeant Williams for taking the time to talk fishing with us. I'd also like to congratulate he and his wife on the upcoming birth of their first child. I hope that in between diaper changes and teething rings, fate gives Josh and I the opportunity to wet a line together. He has an open invitation to the river.

 Garry Owen 

Milestones

*** Disclaimer ... All that follows is very personal in nature, and probably not worth your time. If you're looking for fishing photos, casting videos, or a fly tying how-to article then this post will not be for you. Go get your car's oil changed or yourself a piece of pie ... if I were you then cherry or apple would be my first choices, but I suppose Key-lime or chocolate cream would suffice. ***

I remember the first time I ever recognized the pride my father felt at witnessing one of my accomplishments. I was nineteen years old, and for much of my adolescent life I had been something of a prodigal son. Throughout high school I was a poor student, but not because I couldn't handle the work. Rather, I lacked focus and ambition, and like so many of my peers I was more concerned with girls than grades. I drank alcohol to excess, came home far past curfew most nights of the week, and even had a brush or two with the law. My parents tried, but the more they tried the less inclined was I to do the same.

Even twenty odd years after the fact, the reminiscence is tinged with regret. My mother and father deserved better, and I was too stubborn, too juvenile to understand a son's duty to his family. Fortunately, time has a way of healing the rifts between parents and their children, and I think this is especially true of fathers and their sons.

For my father and I, the process of reconciliation began one chilly November morning on the red-clay parade fields of Fort Benning, Georgia. On that day, I stopped being a delinquent child, and started being a man. On that cold November day, so many miles from home, my mother pinned a blue cord on the right shoulder of my uniform, a cord that signified my status as an infantry soldier in the United States Army. My father shook my hand, looked straight into my eyes, and told me that he was proud. I felt - both in the steel of his eyes and the stone of his grip - that he meant what he said. He was proud, truly and genuinely proud.

That moment was for me a rite of passage. My parents, my father in particular, saw me differently on that day. Even though my path was so often uncertain, on that day I managed to navigate my way out of the morass of my youth, and become the person Mom and Dad had known I could be and had so hoped I would be. After my service was fulfilled and I returned home, my father treated me not so much as his child but as his peer. We talked as men talk, and together we did the things that fathers and their grown sons do.

These memories were refreshed on a recent trip to the river as a friend and I drove along a country road that parallels the river's course. As we navigated its many twists and turns, we passed a young boy of maybe 10 or 12 years and a man that was almost certainly his father. The boy was seated behind the wheel of a well worn, emerald green John Deer lawn tractor. His father was explaining - quite vigorously explaining - the purpose behind each pedal, button and lever. Next to the tractor, seemingly discarded in favor of the larger piece of machinery, was a walk-behind push mower. To my eye, the scene had the appearance of a graduation. The boy had reached some sort of landscaping benchmark, and was being rewarded with the tractor and his father's guarded trust.

Accompanied by thoughts of the boy, his father, and memories of my own passage into manhood, I quickly settled into a cast-step rythym, flailing the water as best I could. Before long I was into a good fish, which I quickly played, photographed, and released.

My eyes followed the brown as it swam off into the current, eventually losing itself amongst the cobble. I waded downstream a stretch, and spent the rest of the afternoon watching my friend - who had been learning to double-haul - cast to rising fish. I thought of the pain I endured while learning the same cast. I thought of the years I spent on the bends and twists of the river. I thought about that last fish, and I thought about my first fish. I thought about the milestones I've passed as an angler; milestones that have made me - at least as much as having been a soldier or a son - the person I am today.

That is - perhaps more than anything else - what those folks who don't fish may never understand about those of us who do. The milestones we encounter as fishermen are sometimes as significant as any other we might experience in the various facets of our lives. Learning to cast and then learning to cast well, tying that first perfectly proportioned fly, hooking our first fish and landing the last: we learn something from each of these and myriad other moments. Not only do they make us better anglers, but oftentimes they makes us better people.

Yes ... the river is both instructive and redemptive. She teaches us patience, and the need to sometimes move more slowly. She teaches us to forgive ourselves of our failings, and to see past our partners' peccadilloes. She shows us triumph and disappointment alike - often in the same afternoon - and we learn to smile regardless. Perhaps more than anything else, the river teaches us hope. Hope for that next fish. Hope for a better day. Hope that we'll recognize the importance of the moment when the moment happens.

And it may just be that hope is the very best of things.

Favorite Flies Volume #1: The Bou Bou

I did something a few moments ago, that I haven't done since this blog's inception. I reread a few of my past posts, and having done so, I realize that my long diatribes offer little in the way of useful information. Nearly all my posts are particularly personal and some are entirely anecdotal. More than a few are verbose to the point where I imagine readers, lonely bug-chuckers all, falling asleep at their keyboards with puddles of drool spreading out across their chests. Even though I began this blog strictly for my own sake, I would like those few readers who occasionally visit to take something away they might genuinely use. As such, I've decided to run a weekly (bi-weekly, tri-weekly, whenever) fly tying column, which I've ostensibly titled, Favorite Flies. I realize that neither the idea nor the title is particularly original, but Favorite Flies does get to the point.

Once every so often I'll post the recipe and instructions for one of my favorite flies. If I can get a grip on the photography, I'll post photos as well (I'm new to macro-photography, and I must admit that I am struggling). The flies I'll showcase won't likely be anything particularly innovative, but you won't usually find replicates in an Umpqua or Montana Fly catalog.

To the fly ...

I first saw this week's submission in the streamer box of Shawn Brillon, a good friend and the fly-tying product developer for Orvis. As best I can tell, the pattern draws on the work of Jack Gartside, the Heron series frequently found on the streams of New England, and various Pacific Northwest steelhead patterns. It is relatively easy to tie, but can be a little tricky to tie well (don't crowd the head). In white and barred-white, it is one of my top two streamers. When fishing this fly, remember that it is meant to be stripped ... like freakin' crazy. Of all the streamers I fish, this one provides the most visual experience in that it runs fairly shallow, and often draws charges from some very large fish.

Enjoy the tying. Good luck with the fishing.

The Bou Bou (aka: Das Big Bou, DatsalottaBou, Mayor McBou)

Hook: #6-#2 Tiemco 9395 (a vicious streamer hook)
Weight: Lead or lead-free wire covering the rear 2/3 of the hook shank
Thread: 8/0 color to match body (fine thread helps reduce bulk and make a neat head)
Tail: SLF Hank color to match wing and cut to the length of the hook shank
Body: SLF Hank dubbed or wrapped 2/3 the length of the shank
Wing: Two or three marabou blood quills, tied in tip first and wrapped forward like hackle with the natural curve to the rear
Veil: Gadwall flank, either folded or stripped on one side and flared back over the marabou
Eyes: Jungle Cock (optional, but boy do they ever look good)

The key to forming a nice small head on this fly is to leave plenty of space for the gadwall, and to wrap only the thinnest stems near the eye of the hook. The fine thread is a real help. I also strip the fibers from one side of the gadwall, both to reduce bulk on the head and give the fly a slightly sparser appearance.

Congratulations!

Tonight, I have to offer my congratulations to two close friends. Each made a milestone in terms of fly fishing, and both deserve some recognition.

Four or five nights ago, I began to teach Ben to tie flies. We started simply, with this blog's namesake, the rusty spinner. I think my friend will admit that he thought his first attempts at wrapping thread and dubbing on a hook were amateurish and unworthy of some of the fish we chase. His spinner didn't quite look like mine, but understand that I am hardly a world class tyer and Ben has an artist's touch. His flies were as good as any I've seen, and were far better than the first few I tied so many years ago. To try to give him a little confidence, I told him that which I've told every fly tying student to sit with me at the bench. I'm sure every fly tying tutor has suggested something similar to his or her students. "Ugly flies catch fish. In fact, they very often catch more fish."

Two days after completing his first whip-finish, Ben proved this little quip true and did so in grand style. He took a twenty-one inch brown; a twenty-one inch brown on the first fly he ever tied. Dear God, my flies didn't even take bluegills. I flogged the water for over twenty years before I finally took a twenty-inch trout on a fly I tied. Well done Ben! For making my night, I owe you yet another six-pack of that hate-strong, 12% beer you drink (actually, it's so hip and trendy a foo-foo brew that it's only sold in four-packs).

A second congratulations goes to Adam. Precisely one year to the day after having lost an enormous fish on a relatively remote section of the river, he returned and stung a similarly large fish. Adam has been fishing for over thirty years, and for twenty years or so he's been chasing a twenty-four inch trout. Today, for the first time in his life, he met the mark he set for himself so many years ago. At 7:00 p.m. I received a phone call from a giddy and seemingly intoxicated, 37 year-old man who today took a 24.5" hen brown. Only moments later he landed a 23" male, with a kype so out-sized that the animal could not fully close its jaw. Wow! You've got to love those honkin' big streamers.

I have to admit that some small part of me is jealous. Who wouldn't be though? I don't know that I have ever had a day to equal what Adam experienced today. I've taken precisely one fish that big, just one, and I caught it years ago. More than anything else though, I wish I had been there to see a friend do so well. Well done sir. I think you owe both Ben and I matching four-packs of that 12% sludge we drink.