Clark: Fly Fishing Tests Patience

A river of emotions ran through me on Sunday. Foolishness. Humiliation. Shame. That about covers them. My return to fly fishing after a 30-year absence wasn’t what anyone would describe as triumphant. “It looks like bait,” exclaimed my lovely wife, Sherry, between gasps of laughter at my catch of the day. I can’t understand it. The movie in my head had me hauling a monster trout out of Black Lake after a prolonged, Hemmingwayesque battle. Reality, as you can see from the photograph, turned out to be a sardine that, judging by its stunted growth, was probably a smoker. True, it probably didn’t help for me to yell “Fish ON!!” like an excited little girl/ Doug Clark , SR. More here.

DFO: The first and last time I flyfished was during the first week after my arrival in Kalispell, Mont., a guest of the last newspaper publisher C. Patrick King. We did so behind the Hungry Horse reservoir in Northwest Montana. Fun day. Got in some huckleberrying, too.

Question: When did you last flyfish?