Project Healing Waters ESPN

Not much to say really ... a good organization doing good - and necessary - work.

Strangers

There was a time when I would walk for miles to avoid other anglers. If - when driving along the river - I came across another car in a parking area then chances are good I would just keep on going. I even tried to mask my movements bank side; at times hopping from rock to rock - like some sort of wader wearing ninja - to avoid leaving footprints in the mud. On the rare occasion when I did encounter another angler, I did my best to avoid conversation, feigning ignorance of the river and answering questions with the usual, "Don't know. It's my first time here." In simplest terms, I was about as antisocial a bug chucker as ever there was. Then two things happened to make me realize my foolishness: I rediscovered steelhead and I joined the ranks of the morbidly obese.

I wasn't always a fat man, although at no point in my life have I ever been skinny, slender, scrawny or svelte. Even when I was a soldier and possessed several clearly identifiable abdominal muscles, I weighed in at 225 pounds on my best days and a little more than that on my worst. I can only trace my family tree back a few generations, but I'm fairly certain that if I followed it to its source I'd discover my forbears hailed from someplace very cold and that they needed every bit of God's natural insulation.

 

While I am grateful for the extra warmth as I stand hip deep in a February cold river, I find the weight does tend to slow me down during the warmer months of the year. I'll still hike as far as I must to get to whatever piece of river I fancy fishing, but I'm not getting there quite as quickly, I'm not hopping along rocks like an outsized frog, and I'm not nearly as likely to go out of my way to avoid other anglers. Some days I'll even pause for a little while and strike up a conversation, and much to my surprise, I've enjoyed the overwhelming majority of those discussions. With few notable exceptions, the other anglers I've met streamside are men and women with whom I would enjoy spending a day on the water. Ironically, these conversations most often occur along the banks of the Salmon River - a stream with a reputation for combat fishing and rudeness amongst the anglers who chase its trout and salmon.

I've said it more times than I count, both on this blog and elsewhere, that steelhead are a special gamefish. They're eager to take a fly, they're big, and they're fast - ridiculously fast. They're also accessible, and within a day's drive of many of the country's major metropolitan areas. This puts an excess of pressure on the most popular rivers as throngs of people embark on a great annual migration to steelhead choked water. The Salmon River likely sees as many anglers as any other steelhead water on either the east or west coast; in all likelihood she absorbs more bug chuckers, gear heads, pinners, and bait dunkers than most any other comparable piece of water. As a consequence, finding privacy on the Salmon River is sometimes a difficult endeavor. So what is a metalhead-loving bug chucker to do?

To my way of thinking, we have two choices. We can accept that the best water on the river is likely occupied, and try to get away from the crowd by fishing less prolific beats, or we can introduce ourselves to the other anglers who frequent the most popular runs. As I've said, there was a time when the second option wasn't even a choice for me. I couldn't bear being anywhere near an angler who wasn't part of my group. My attitude began to change, however, as I realized that the few people I met stream side all seemed to be good people who felt exactly as I did about steelhead - regardless of the method they employed in the pursuit.

I'm reminded of Leon. Leon was an older fella', perhaps in his mid seventies, who I encountered some years ago on a November trip to the river. Leon was nearby when I hooked one especially hot hen that took me into my backing several times before I was able to land her about 200 yards downstream of the run in which she was hooked. Unsolicited, the old fella did his best to follow me downstream - recording on a Flip video camera my attempt to subdue one the hardest fighting fish I've ever hooked. He later asked my email address and sent me both the file and his congratulations. He and I still correspond from time to time.

Then there was Utica. Utica was a 16 year old kid who fished alongside us on one of the rare days when we just didn't have it in us to hike a mile through the snow or pay $50.00 to fish water less traveled. As it turned out, Utica and I were both guilty of the same crime - truancy. He was a student at a local high school, and he was skipping class to hook a steelie. I was a teacher, and I was doing exactly the same. Utica was cordial, funny, and eager to learn. More to the point, he reminded me of the best qualities young people possess, and at the end of the day I was eager to get back in the classroom with my students.

Of course, I couldn't write this piece if I didn't mention Lou. I met Lou in one of the river's many parking areas when I overheard him berating himself for leaving his fly boxes at home; the poor guy had made a long drive and had no flies with which to fish. I opened my boxes and gifted him a dozen or so different bugs and then went on my way. Later that day, I again encountered Lou - this time grinning wide as he had just caught his first steelhead on one of the flies I had given him. We exchanged information and some time later I received a walnut turkey box call, hand made by Lou (who is the owner of Boss Tom Turkey Calls) and inscribed to "The Rusty Spinner."

It may very well be impossible to fish one popular section of the river without running into Char, Dick, Dave or Kenny. They're good guys, regulars on the Salmon who are happy to help the uninitiated if the uninitiated just take the time to ask. The only payment they'll expect is the opportunity to engage in some good natured ribbing every time the initiate loses a fish. I know this first hand.

And as I sit here at the keyboard, I find myself thinking of the fellas from Virginia - whose names I now forget - who inquired about the spey rod I was fishing, and then asked me to photograph them with the fish I caught so that they could impress their wives and friends. We fished together for the better part of the afternoon; I still laugh when I think of them showing off my fish to their sweethearts.

Most recently, I had the good fortune of meeting Sergeant First Class Trent Myer. Sergeant Myer is stationed at Fort Drum with the Army's 10th Mountain Division where he is the program leader of the post's branch of Project Healing Waters. He and I found ourselves fishing within seventy-five feet of each other when I hooked a 20lb king salmon that I was forced to chase right through the water Sergeant Myer's group was fishing. After I brought the king to hand, Sergeant Myer introduced himself, his son Hunter, and their friend Jim - a PHW volunteer who shares my penchant for Orvis Odyssey reels. We talked and fished together the remainder of the day.

My point here is not to be anecdotal, but rather to demonstrate the quality of people we may meet if only we're open to the experience. Solitude certainly has it's place, but if fishing brings us some of the best moments in our lives then I have to wonder how much better those moments might be if we shared them with someone. After all, we're all strangers until we've been properly introduced, and if we're meeting on the banks of a river then chances are we have more in common than not.

Gunner, Missile ... Hopper

Stay with me here ...

The TOW missile has been one of the U.S. military's standard anti-tank weapons since first being introduced in the late 1960s. When I was a soldier (many years and several pant sizes ago) TOWs were just about the biggest and baddest piece of ordinance that an average grunt like myself was ever trusted to handle. It's probably a good thing too because I was foolish in all the ways young men are often foolish, and I really enjoyed making things go "Boom!" - perhaps a bit too much.

TOW is an acronym for "Tube launched, Optically tracked, Wire guided." As the name implies, TOWs are tethered to their firing tubes and guidance apparatus via a ridiculously thin and strong wire that spools out for a maximum distance of 3750 meters. Think about how many pheasant tails a bug chucker could tie with that much wire. Assume the average tyer uses three inches of wire per fly, and understand that one meter equals just over 39 inches. That means one meter gets us roughly 13 flies.  Multiply 13 by 3750 and we discover that one TOW fired to its maximum range will give us a yield of 48750 pheasant tails.

Make flies, not war.

Anyway ... I remember wanting a memento of the first TOW missile I ever fired (on a live fire range in the California desert). Unfortunately, once a round is expended, little remains but the aforementioned wire - draped across the landscape from launcher to smouldering target. With no other option, I did what any fly-tying infantry soldier would do, and I scooped up as much of Uncle Sam's wire as I could retrieve and fit into the cargo pockets of my uniform. For half a decade, the First Infantry Division and the Raytheon company provided the ribbing for nearly every nymph I tied.

All of this brings us to Sergeant Shaun Gruner, a fly tyer and Army veteran who is a little more creative than was I in applying military surplus to his piscatorial pursuits.

Shaun began his military career many years after mine had ended. He went through basic training at Fort Benning, Georgia in 2007, and first deployed to Afghanistan in January of 2009. Gruner survived that deployment and another in 2010, only to be felled by a golf-ball sized rock while on a run along the dusty roads of Fort Bliss, Texas. Torn ligaments in his right foot prevented Sergeant Gruner from continuing to serve, and in January of this year he was given a medical retirement from the Army. He and his wife have now settled in Arizona.

As is the case with so many bug chuckers, Sergeant Gruner began fishing as a young boy but didn't pick up a fly rod until later in life. Gruner's first trout on a fly was hooked entirely by accident (incidentally, most of the trout I've caught in 30 years of fly fishing have been hooked accidentally). That first fish took Gruner's bug when Shaun dropped his backcast a little too low, and the trout found the sergeant's misplaced fly too good to ignore. 

After a long hiatus, Sergeant Gruner now hopes to return to fishing with the long rod. He has started (or rather re-started) tying his own flies, but lacks a collection of that materials that many of us consider essential. True to his military training, however, Shaun has adapted to the situation. He ties a grasshopper pattern that uses materials taken from items that are common to any soldier serving at any post in the world.

Shaun first shared this fly with the world via the Project Healing Waters Facebook page, and he has graciously agreed to do likewise here on The Rusty Spinner.

Shaun Gruner's "Commando Hopper"

Hook: Any appropriately sized such as the Orvis 2x Dry-Fly
Rib: Copper Wire
Body and Head: Closed cell foam cut from a military issue sleeping mat
Legs: Knotted waxed-thread taken from a uniform repair kit
Eyes: 550 cord - burned and melted at each end (a brilliant idea)
Hackle: Olive grizzly

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