Fly Tied By:
Rob Knisely Fly Designed by: Rob
Knisely Story By: Rob
Knisely Home: Waynesburg, KY E-mail: Rob@invictaflies.us
Web site:
www.invictaflies.us |
Rob took
up fly-fishing after inheriting his grandfather's fly rod. Disappointed with store-bought flies, he
almost immediately began tying his own. Now a commercial
tier, Rob uses techniques and materials that suit his artistic
preferences and ties patterns that are frequently out of the
ordinary. |
"Can you mix 'em?"
"Hmm." I'd never thought about it or
heard of it. "Sure, I don't see why not."
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Mr. Goode had agreed to show me all
about hunting if I would show him how to fly-fish and tie flies. We
had tied a simple pattern by tying in a clump of marabou, leaving a
portion for a tail, and then winding the rest for a body. I was
explaining that the same technique could be used with many other
materials, including pheasant tail fibers and even fibers from the
wild turkey feathers he'd found on his farm, a conglomeration of
hills sporting hayfields, one horse, one beehive, and long-dead
four-inch tall chestnut trees. Goode himself is a wanna-be farmer, a
weight lifter (obviously... the guy is huge!), polite to a fault,
and is still telling jokes about cows that he must have heard in
Sunday School as a kid. He asks lots of questions (three or four
times each), but is very charismatic. It is almost like conversing
with a very big charming kid. So I answered his questions without a
whole lot of thought at first, chalking it up to his innocent quests
for understanding.
Then I pictured the "mix" in my mind.
Sure, why not? Use ringneck pheasant tail fibers, mix them with
fibers from the wing feather of a wild turkey, and wind them on the
shank similar to a pheasant tail nymph. At the vise, I experimented
with combinations to match the mottled effect of the mixed fibers,
finally arriving at the finished product. I had no idea what to call
it. Looked pretty neat, was all I knew. Had to test it
out.
I took my new size 16 nymphs to the
local tailwaters for trout. I waded out waist-deep in the steady
current; the trout nicking the surface haphazardly as they usually
do while taking the prevalent hatching midges. As the sun pushed up
on the tree-lined hills standing sentinel over the river valley, I
could see the flash of nymphing trout an easy cast out into the
clear water.
I tied on one of the new nymphs, and
just as I was clipping the excess tippet from the knot, a dooming
"clunk" sounded from around the bend upstream, followed by low-pitch
twang speech and rattles. "Oh, no," I thought. Sure enough, here
they came. A couple of good-ol-boys had decided to take the kin out
on the river in their bass boat, spin fishing for trout. Apparently,
the rocky shoals did not agree with their outboard and they were
dead drifting, one bearded fellow in a white tank-top shirt and Merl
Haggard sunglasses fiddling with the motor, the other bearded fellow
in a red T-shirt and Merl Haggard sunglasses searching the boat for
"somethin' ta fix it" but "cain't figger wot." The rest of the
kinfolk were enjoying the day, whizzing what must have been
half-ounce Rooster Tails from the boat and cranking them back in (a
method I refer to as "chuck and pray"). I calculated their drift,
read the current, and backed toward shore just as the boat swung
around, pointing toward shore, and flowed silently over the spot I'd
been standing in. They all looked at me as I watched them pass.
"Sorry," one of the fellows said. "That's alright, no harm." I
replied. "Nice day, isn't it?" They didn't
answer.
I warmed up my casting arm a little when
I'd moved back into position, then stood still while I waited,
smiling at the river otters as they snaked above and below the
water's surface. A large blue heron glided upstream. Nature
continuing despite the presence of man. Ten minutes and the trout
were back to normal. A flash was considerably close and I chose this
as my target. I cast upstream, letting the new nymph sink into place
as it drifted right to the fish. The flash disappeared just as the
fly reached the place, but suddenly came again as the leader
twitched. I raised the rod to set the hook and could now see the
fish, an average rainbow, as the sunlight flashed off the expelled
nymph shooting from it mouth. "Missed it," I thought. The fly had
shot out a couple of feet as I thought this, and the rainbow bolted
forward and took it again ensuring a positive hook-up. A double
take.
Goode's Doubletake took at least a dozen
more trout that day, some on the dead drift, others as I let the fly
swing and retrieved it with short bursting strips. This latter got
me thinking that this nymph might be good in water with little or no
current.
Another day for tests, this time right
at the dam where the current is nil when the generators aren't
running. This is Power Bait country. According to local custom, the
only way to catch trout here is with marshmallows, corn, or the
"purtiest" Power Bait in your box. Got there early and claimed a
spot just before the crowd showed up. A couple dozen bottom
fisherman molding colorful balls of dough connected to weight that
would hold back a small barge, and one fly fisherman. Before I even
started, I got many glances that seemed to say "Wot in tarnation?"
They had just shut the generators down
at dawn, and I tried a few patterns with no luck. A couple folks
down the rocky bank had caught some small trout, lifting them high
and behind them to the rocks so they wouldn't get away before being
sown by a bright yellow stringer. Soon, though, no one was catching
anything, and many comments of "ain't bitin'" flowed over the still
water.
The sunlight hit the water as it entered
the valley and it was time to try the Doubletake. I tied one on,
cast it out, and brought it back in with short strips, something
like I figured a baetis nymph or similar insect might charge the
surface to hatch. Five casts and five trout later I paused to look
around. I had an audience. They didn't gather, but looked from their
balcony seats, apparently deciding I was more interesting than their
static rod tips. I chuckled and cast again. "He got another'n!" I
heard as another rainbow did acrobatics above the water, then I
listened for the gasp as I gingerly released it back into the
water.
This went on for about another hour and
the Power Baiters started packing up. A spot that is always full and
where all the locals rush to get to opened up, so I thought I'd go
see what all the hullabaloo was about. I walked down the bank toward
the spot, when a sudden commotion on the edge of my vision caught my
eye. Roaring down the steep hill to the river, heading for the
coveted "spot" was THE weekend warrior. He was running, arms out to
the side to counterbalance a well-fed belly tucked into waders too
small. Two spinning rods waved menacingly overhead, and a large
metal fish basket chinked and flailed with every massive jolt. I
wondered briefly how the Merl Haggard sunglasses stayed on and how
long a white T-shirt like that stayed clean. He had apparently seen
me heading for "the spot" and was determined to claim it as his own.
No need to worry. The site transfixed me. I couldn't move. There was
a short pause in the tumult when he looked to check my progress and
failed to notice the depression in the hillside in front of him. He
launched….
Have you ever seen those seals that
slide down ramps on their stomachs? Me neither, but I bet it looked
something like this guy! Memo to self: neoprene on grass at high
velocity could be fun.
I went back to my original spot and
caught a few more trout before I left, a few strollers and departing
fisherman stopping by on occasion to watch.
Since then, the Goode's Doubletake has
caught many fish in a variety of situations, and the local Orvis
shop now carries a supply. It has become a standard in my flyboxes,
both for trout and panfish. Give it a try! Fish it many different
ways. Great imitation of a variety of nymphs and it's easier to tie
than it looks!
--Rob Knisely

Hook:
Mustad 3906B,
#14-18 Thread: Danville prewaxed 6/0,
black Tail: Natural guinea hen
fibers Abdomen: Ringneck pheasant tail and
wild turkey wing fibers, mixed Wingcase:
Halographic tinsel or flashabou, pulled forward over thorax
and coated with epoxy Legs: Natural guinea hen
fibers Thorax: Peacock herl
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