A Journey of Discovery and Renewal with a Fly Rod

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THE LAST SIX YEARS of my life have been a black hole of hunting and fishing. I wake up every day and think about conservation issues, talk to wildlife professionals and pound the ground and water as hard as humanly possible to play catch up on the experience I don’t yet have. One thing I’ve been most intimidated by is fly fishing.

From day one there was always an aura of not only expense, but advanced skill and knowledge that is needed to begin casting a fly. Although not inherently untrue, I’ve found that the same argument could be made for any outdoors pursuit whether it be kayaking, trail running, hunting or bass fishing.

A few weeks ago, my good friend Chester Moore hit me with a proposition, “Come down to me and we will go fly fish Beavers Bend State Park in Big Bend, OK for trout.”

I had bought a fly rod six months ago, and as with most intimidating things, it seemed like an interesting and noble pursuit, which translates into the fly rod sitting unopened in the case in my office. It was time to hit the pavement and figure out how to cast this thing. 

At the same time, he said he needed something about easy access fishing for families for the May/June Texas Fish & Game for the Mother and Father’s Day special section.

Without question, the greatest gift you can give someone is your time, and there is no better time spent than on the water. Don’t worry if you can’t afford to take your father or mother marlin fishing or to some big lodge. You can do it inexpensively and even do it with fly gear.

Here’s my journey.

I went online and ordered a vintage torn up copy of Casting with Lefty Kreh for six dollars and pounded the literature for weeks. “Keep your elbow on the shelf. Ten and two. You’re casting the line not the lure.” You get the idea.

Many days and hours later, I could get my line to shoot out in front of me without bunching up in a pile on the ground. Misery loves company and I decided to see if my good friend Seth Geib had any interest in learning to fly fish as well. Ever since attending the Hunt Fish Podcast Summit with me last year to help with photographing and filming the event, he has shown a growing interest in hunting and fishing.

 I’ve been incredibly lucky to have the outdoors opportunities that have been made available to me through my podcast Aptitude Outdoors and my incessant curiosity about conservation and wildlife.

I have fished, hunted and been able to converse with some of arguably the best on earth in the outdoors arena, and I felt that it was my duty to share that experience and knowledge with someone who was just as interested and curious as myself.

Seth bought a rod, we casted together once and hit the Detroit Airport, bound for Dallas/Fort Worth. 

Chester rolled up, we tossed our gear in the truck and headed straight for Broken Bow, new rods in hand, cheap waders in a bag and no idea what to expect. 

Within minutes of arriving, the three of us were at the Beavers Bend Fly shop getting the intel we needed to catch some trout. “Grab a cup and follow me” said one of the owners as they pointed at flies, explained their purpose and cashed us out. I might as well have just attended a lecture on advanced physics in French because I had no idea what they were talking about, but as with most things, I’ve learned it’s best to dive in headfirst and figure the rest out as it comes. 

Chester, Seth and I practically ran down the steps of the fly shop to hit the water. We casted under bridges, near dams, got hung up in trees, lost flies, and hammered the water hard attempting to track down these supposedly plentiful rainbow trout. As the next seven hours of nonstop fishing commenced, I felt more and more comfortable with my casting, pushing my distances and loving every moment, but still no fish. Chester asked every fisherman that walked back to their car, “Get anything?” And he was hit with a resounding “No.”

As the daylight faded, fish started to rise and still nobody had caught one. All the sudden I heard Chester shout, and we all know what that means, fish on. Seth was filming at the time and like a scene out of a movie, the clouds parted, and the sun spread across the ripples of the small river just as Chester got the fish in hand. We have video proof if it sounds too good to be true. Excited by finally having someone in our crew land one, we all casted hard the remaining 30 minutes of the day but it was one and done. 

I’ve been through plenty of challenging endeavors in my life, Thru-hiking the Appalachian trail, kayaking long distances, hunting and fishing some highly pressured lands and waters so I knew better than to get discouraged on my first try. There was always tomorrow, and I improved my skill in the field. We packed up our gear and headed to the motel to get some sleep and to reset for the day to come. 

None of us are purists, and for good reason. Chester and I wholeheartedly share the belief that if you want people to become interested in hunting or fishing, and by proxy concerned with conservation, it is incredibly important that newcomers are successful and have fun. The method of retrieval is irrelevant (as long as it is legal)

With this in mind, Chester had called up a guide friend and set us up for a high chance of success. He and I have caught plenty of fish in our lives and wanted Seth to walk away successful. We headed out the door before first light and met our guide at the banks of the Lower Mountain Fork River. 

Within minutes of arrival, we were on the rocky banks of some fast-moving water and chucking power baits to see what we could catch. I reeled in my first rainbow trout within fifteen minutes and Chester not long after. We had both limited out within 45 minutes and dropped our poles. Seth was still struggling after not hooking one, so we gave him, as fisherman do, our best advice. “Don’t hold the rod so high so you can get a better hookset. Cast over there into the moving water and it will circle around in that small pool. Make sure as soon as you feel the bite to lift that rod quickly.” 

Whack, Seth had one on. He reeled it in, and Chester and I were both twice as excited as we had been catching our fish. Watching someone new experience the joy of the outdoors is hands down the best feeling I’ve ever experienced. Sure, I love catching fish as much as the next guy, but to see that light in someone else’s eye is infinitely more fulfilling. At the end of the day that’s what it is all about. Taking people to beautiful places, to catch beautiful fish and to enjoy the magic of the great outdoors. 

As we all grow as hunters and anglers, it is important that we give a little of ourselves to share that experience that someone likely had shared with us. Not everyone has a dad or grandfather who took them hunting or fishing growing up. Many outdoorsmen and women nowadays are coming into these sports as adults and are chomping at the bit for someone to help show them the ropes. 

I would not be where I am today if it weren’t for great friends, like Chester, who helped me, under no obligation, when I was most frustrated. If you have the time, maybe dedicate a few trips a year where you don’t bring a rod, a gun or a bow and allow others to experience that joy and share in your success. Conservation dollars and conservationists are needed now more than ever, and it doesn’t take a lot to help them along to becoming the next person who will care about wildlife, wild places and the future of hunting and fishing here in America. 

And during the special days we honor our mothers and fathers, remember good fishing is often easy to access and the gift of time is the most precious gift you can give, especially when it’s on the water.

—story by PAUL FUZINSKI

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