Every November, as fall continues its transition to winter, I begin my yearly migration to my fly-tying desk. It is at times exciting and at other times daunting. You see, the process of tying flies is very pleasant, but the volume of work -completed 1 fly at a time – can seem insurmountable at times.
It all starts with a review of the field notebook from seasons past on the flies we’ve used successfully, and what might be needed for winter. From there, I inventory hooks, beads, and various materials. Bits and bobs to be lashed to iron all in the hopes of convincing a fish it is food. The great value of which is catching these fish on something I’ve fashioned myself, maybe even from a soft-hackled feather of a grey partridge my dog and I have taken during the fall. Occasionally, a blind squirrel finds a nut.
Once my list of flies and housekeeping at my desk has been satisfied, it’s off to the races tying the tried-and-true variations that found success. Filling each box as I go. Once the rhythm of tying is under way, each pattern has its own “mise en place”, I often find myself considering and sometimes making slight adjustments to the patterns based on conversations with friends, feedback from colleagues, and field observations. Sometimes its an act of simplification other times an act of complication. Ultimately, it’s an evolution of thought and practice that manifests beauty in form and function.
My family likes my materials segregated to the basement, but on occasion, I come upstairs with vice, tools, and materials and set up shop at our kitchen table. I like to be around my family, although they look at me sometimes with confusion and remark “you’re going to clean that up tonight, right?” In the end they are great sports about my winter work, even when things don’t get cleaned up straight away and someone finds an olive marabou fiber in their eggs.
As the days get shorter and we slip into the Holiday season, it’s the time in my notebooks and at the vice that begin to stoke the fire of anticipation of the year to come. There is a great sense of satisfaction when a once empty box is finally filled, even more so when those flies get put to good use on the water.
This year I helped Jacquie and Tucker inventory the Fly Shop’s fly selection, it was a bit of work, but ultimately there was so much information to be mined counting the flies in the bin. I often found myself stopped mid count looking at the construction of a fly thinking “Man, Oh Man! I like that!”. Of course, I would lose count and had to start over, but inspiration for the vice is where you find it. The fly-tying material inventory was also insight full: “Oohhh so that’s the hook he likes to use”. It helps to love flies, the unique ways other tyers and designers utilize material, and the technique used in construction when you are counting 1,000’s of them. I do, and only rarely found it monotonous.
I’m excited to be adding new patterns to my list from a very productive 2023 season some shared by guide companions Tucker, Jacquie, Brant, Emily, and Zach. I like to play “save ‘em / trade ‘em ” with the other guides and fly tyers. Just like baseball cards were once traded among enthusiasts. Of course, there is a lot of winter fishing to be done as well, but we’ll work on those flies first. It’s time to dust off the vice and celebrate the process of filling fly boxes and beginning again.
* The Marco Polo Fly Tying System as displayed in the image above is sold at the S|N Fly Shop. This high quality portable fly tying system is the perfect gift for your fly tyer this Christmas.