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 Tropical Preparation.
It is 4 degrees Celcius and the cold catches me. My shoes stand to dry on my balcony, all things in which I rather not wanted to step in have been carefully removed with some warm soapy water. I cleaned my flyline from grass and other stuff that it collected and picked up along the hours. While casting small branches and leafs transform into forked tails,.the pale green, dull brown grass slowly changes into a spectrum from light grey to deep blue.In my mind I see a forked tail cutting trough the surface behind me and with a minimum of movement I cast some 70 feet flyline, 12 foot of leader and a lead split-shot into the slow breeze.
What I'm doing?
I'm practicing.
I'm practicing for my next tropical adventure and I hope that tomorrow I'll find a stiffer breeze to refine my casting, not to be able to cast 100 feet plus distances but to be able to cope with the situation in wich I'll soon be.
Too bad that the small branches and leafs don't move, the species on wich I have set my mind to really do move. My split-shot is landing within range of the leaf, it doesn't need to sink down to the bottom to be noticed as prey or food. Leafs are patient, they don't scare easily, they aren't spooked by a uncarefully placed fly, the just lie there, patiently. Also, the sun isn't shining, not in a way like it wants to rapidly transform my skin into a something that looks and feels like a dry piece of leather, or the sweat mixed with sunblock that slowly creeps into your eyes, no small wounds made by the penetrating sand in your shoes, no worn fingers from stripping a salty wet flyline. It may sound like a torture, like something that you don't do for pleasure yet there's always the need to go to that other world, that warm world. It's cold here now, warm over there, maybe, when I'm over there and it gets too hot I want to feel the cold again, however…
The announcement of the man walking his dog and telling me that there aren't any fish here on this piece of grass lets the leaf be a leaf again, the branch a branch. I'm standing on grass in my own country it's February and it's cold.
After warming up I'm crawling behind my vice,I cranked up the heater and the dream continues. Expierence of the previous trips (2 so far red.) learned wich patterns can be succesfull, while trying to visualise every possible situation or surrounding my tying adapts to those situations.
My flyboxes are getting filled to the max. After all, tying is a fun way to spend time. They are filled with patterns and adaptions on patterns wich I think will work over there. This trip we will be heading towards a fairly unknown surrounding, therefore I'll make sure I'll have a variety on patterns, hooksizes, weights and colours, I'm trying to fill my flyboxes with patterns that will cover the most waters; sandy bottoms, turtle-grass, grey coral flats, deep and shallow creeks and after box number 2 has been filled I ask myself a tyers question; When will it ever be enough?
In between dreaming, drooling and thinking about fast unwinding and screaming reels wich start to show the blinking of my spool's core in surf across the internet.I am in search of islands wich are placed on those longitude and lattitude's wich are known to hold bonefish. Google Earth is such a perfect program, perfect to search the waters around an island and during my searches I'm concentrated on sandy colours surounding islands, the best islands start with a white line around the island (reef) followed by a blue colour that eventually ends in light brown (sand, flats).
Oh yes! There are lots of places that perfectly fill in these items or standards but unfortunately those places are mostly crowded with guides who would rather see the Do It Yourselvers leave ..
The DIY-ers don't bring in the cash. I would absolutely miss the feeling of freedom when fishing with a guide although there's something to say about fishing with a guide. He can show you places wich hold fish, learn you about what pattern to use, but I strongly reject the fact that with every sentence or word the guide produces you can hear your wallet shrink. The airfare and the hotel, food and equipment did already shrink my wallet sofar…but hey, after a day or 2 your selfconfidence starts to grow, that;s worth the price. More than the price at times.
Lets be hounest; What is it that the flyfisher is in search of?
1. Months of preparation,tying flies, searching locations,making travel scheduals, boarding, at Schiphol (Amsterdam that is), getting out of the plane, rushing to get your equipment rigged up, searching water, tying on that fly with your knees trembeling, dropping your fly, tying it on again, cast, damn- too short, cast again-too far, spooked fish, wondering, searching again, take it easy on the casting now, fish is coming towards your fly, strip, strip once more, one more strip-strip, fish takes fly, heart rate and adrenaline levels burst to level compared to bankrobber being chased by police, fish decides to leave with the same motivation…
2. reading travel catalogue, pick trip, pay humoungous amount of money, board at Shiphol (Amsterdam that is), getting out in a place you only know out of the catalogue, taxi to hotel, take beauty nap, breakfast, call your guide, guides takes you away in boat, guide picks fly and ties it on, guide tells you wherer the fish is, cast, catch fish..(a dry "yahoo" follows)
Limpe Flickr
Some weeks later...check out the photos. (thank you Limpe!!)
    
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