Fly Fishing: Year One

Where to even begin? Photography just wasn’t cutting it anymore. I don’t even know why it happened. Blame instagram or the feeling that was clearly lacking every time I made the shutter click. I knew I just needed to be back outside. I spent too many evenings, morning’s, days, sitting on the couch watching some show when in reality I was on my phone either playing games or researching different random thoughts that popped into my head. Then I started looking up New Zealand. I’ve never been but I have always wanted to travel there. It seemingly has everything I could ever want on a trip. And up popped fly fishing for trophy trout.

Now being born and raised in New England, growing up in southern RI surrounded by friends who loved the outdoors, also being from the generation where we couldn’t really play inside, I was no stranger to fishing. However I never really targeted anything. I just wanted to catch a fish. I found going for largemouth most enjoyable when I had the opportunity although I would catch anything I could, and I never saw the purpose of fly fishing. My first introduction to it was my friend Aaron who brought his fly rod on opening day and as I watched him and his younger brother Austin masterfully whip this line back and forth my initial thought was, I could never do that. However, 13 years later, I was now subscribing to every fly fishing channel I could find to learn more about the reasons for doing it. 

One reason being that every stream that had these beautiful fish, seemingly was in an even better location. Some of these are thankfully up in the north east as well and not too far from home. So I reached out to my friends Aaron, Austin, and Devon to get some information and ideas as to what I could possibly do. Another friend Ben M. reached out to me and upon learning of my interest in fly fishing he told me to go to a fly shop, let them know I don’t know what I’m doing and to get some equipment they suggest. After buying a dozen flies, some leader, an indicator, and overnighting a beginner outfit to my house, I was on my way to the Swift River for my first outing. Needless to say it did not go well. 

Being a fisherman already I assumed I’d catch a fish, I did not. Not only that but the laughter from Ben as I snapped my line and fly back and forth still haunts me to this day. I really had NO idea what I was doing. That was in February though, arguably not the best time to get into the sport. Over the next few months however, things changed.

I practiced my casting at a lake near my job. It’s close to work and teaming with sunfish, bass, and many other species. Trout included but I still haven’t caught one of those in that lake. Over the next few months I spent every moment planning out where I could fish next. I learned I had  a native brookie stream 15 minutes from my house, and that I have an appreciation for what is not seen. What I mean by that is, this life, this beautiful little 6 inch fish, has some of the coolest patterns, some of the most vibrant colors, and walking past this tea colored water you’d never know. 

I ended up missing the spring stocking and 2022 was a terrible year for fishing in the north east with the drought and how low the water got. So fast forward to fall when I found myself subscribed to Tight Loops. Another gem of a recommendation from my boy Aaron. The beauty in their storytelling, the history behind it, and the videography had me falling in love with filming all over again. They were special though, being from the North East, in fact the same small state as I, it felt special. There was a connection. So I focused more on native fish. Whether it's knowing they’ve always been there, the tight loops connection, or because I am Native American, I was fascinated with pursuing native species.

Fly fishing, although incredibly relaxing and fun alone, is also a blast with your friends. Aaron, Austin, and  Devon are 3 of my brothers. Not actually related, we just grew up together and couldn’t be closer. We shared a lot of interests and I look up to all of them for different reasons. Aaron is just naturally gifted. If anyone was going to catch a fish on an off day, it’s always going to be him. Austin is known far and wide as one who never backs down from a challenge. NO MATTER WHAT. Devon thinks outside the box. So far in fact, on one of our adventures, he ran out of saltwater lures and used a hula popper to catch one of the biggest bluefish I’ve seen. Naturally, I wanted to go with them. To learn from them and enjoy the camaraderie on the water. 

September 2022, I’m fishing in Rehoboth one morning and get a call from Aaron saying Austin was rushed to the hospital. None of us were strangers to the ER but this just felt off. I went to the office that day and just couldn’t think of anything else. So after getting everyone set up I rushed to CT to be with my family. A few days later, Austin sadly didn’t make it. He was 28. 

My time alone on the water since then has become…silent chaos. I use each step in the river or ocean to break up the madness in my mind. The sound of water sloshing interrupts my thoughts of us when we were younger, my thoughts of my friends now, my family. Have I done enough? Have I told them I loved them enough? Am I taking too much time to fish and not spending enough with my loving, supportive wife? Each fish brought close enough to admire is rejoiced and regrettable at the same time. I never got to fly fish with Austin. I won’t be able to. I’ve watched him, but never had him look at me and say “nice dude you got it”. We texted, we talked about it over the course of my first few months of it and tried making plans but I let life get in the way. I say I because he was down to do anything, whenever. I was reminded when I walked in his room after his passing. I saw he had his fly box out and gear ready to go. So without getting too preachy in this, just remember, MAKE TIME for the people who matter. 

A month later I went to Arizona for the first time, traveling with my wife and some friends on vacation. Our destinations were the Grand Canyon, Sedona, Nogales, Tucson, Zion, and of course being out there I had to try for a native cutthroat. I was  able to locate a small stream one morning and after some research I confirmed there were in fact native fish in it. After climbing down into a canyon, dodging skunks, cacti, and a mountain lion I had my best day of fly fishing with some gorgeous Southern Bonneville Cutthroat. A triumphant moment, immediately followed by, “I wish he was here”.

Finally feeling like I’ve figured some stuff out I wanted to keep growing, keep pursuing and overcoming other challenges. With the drought though, it was not easy. Fall fishing and going into the winter was more than challenging. It started off humbling, then turned into beating me down at every turn. Fall stocking is only ponds near me and I just don’t know how to fish ponds for whatever reason. I struck out every time I went out. Winter I’m considering skipping this year because over 3 months last year, and over a dozen outings, I caught 2 fish and while I am happy to be outside at any occasion, this was rough. I also may have to tie my own flies because these things are expensive. Especially saltwater. Up until this point I had only focused on freshwater. 

So far I’ve managed to catch native brookies, salters, some wild brown trout, and a wild rainbow. My friends Aaron and Timmy wanted to go out and catch a few fish as well so we set our sights on the Farmington River. I had gone out once previously with Aaron and it was an absolutely brutal day of fishing. Aaron was the only one who had caught a small brookie, and I managed to lose a few flies and get fish to rise all around my fly without touching it or going after it. I feel like that deserves an award in itself. So on take two of the Farmington River, I was prepared. Hours of research, I called local fly shops, I kept saying I didn’t have my hopes up  but I did.

Aaron of course in the first hour hooked up to a 17” brown on his 3wt and what a beautiful fish it was! Tim was hooked up shortly after and almost managed to bring a gorgeous brown in but Aaron had his net and the fish flopped off. Tim and I still think that was done purposefully by Aaron. The rest of the day was more of what I remembered on the first outing, plenty of fish rising everywhere and none wanting my fly. We got to one spot on the river that Aaron stumbled across and it looked perfect. Aaron was going to let me fish it but became impatient and hooked up on a good rainbow. He had a nymph on and I was being stubborn, refusing to use a nymph. So after his fourth fish in that spot I finally tied one on. First drift, a take and I botched the set so I lost it just as fast as I felt it. I lost my mind! The rest of the day for me was garbage, I didn’t care what happened I just focused on drinking and forgetting about the Farmington River. 

Fly fishing for me has had many ups and downs. As is most fishing, but there is so much more work and effort that can go into fly fishing. My experience so far has been amazing, however the more work you put into something the worse it can feel when you fail. If you view failure as a bad thing. One huge failure for me was my second trip back to AZ. The first time around we didn’t have time to go to the White Mountains and chase the Apache trout. A species endemic to this specific  wilderness.

A few months later my time was coming. To see this rare trout up close was something I’d been dreaming about. Which truthfully, is an understatement. It consumed me. Another challenge I’d conquer. We rented a camper van and got permits to stay on the Apache Tribes reservation. Fishing was amazing but I was downstream of where the apaches were at first. The first day I ventured out to fish their native waters was tough. I had caught a couple brown trout which was extremely disappointing given the location I was fishing. They were supposed to be downstream more, not up in a section where only Apache’s should have resided. Barriers were in place and I was upstream of them. The excitement of hooking a fish thinking it's an Apache, this fish I've been dreaming of seeing up close for a year now, followed by the disappointment of pulling in a wild brown trout, not even a native fish, was disheartening. The second day was more of the same. The third and fourth  day of fishing we had left the reservation and found ourselves on some public land. The third night I had some of the best rainbow trout fishing of my life, and on a pond at that. These fish schooled up and catching one after the other to the point of losing count was something I had never experienced before. The final day going for Apache trout was a bust. As soon as we got to the river thunder roared and lightning cracked as I stood in a meadow waving this 3 weight. Then came the hail and we had to pack it up after 5 casts. The water was high everywhere we went, thunderstorms and passing showers every day and the final day of hail made it very difficult to stay positive. I felt defeated, lost, and worthless. Truthfully, I lost sight. I was in some remote land, with my best friend, my wife, fishing and exploring. Younger Allan dreamed of times like this. The natural world around me is just achingly beautiful. That is what this was about. As for the Apache trout. I don’t think of them every day, but I refuse to forget the lesson they’ve taught me and I know eventually I’ll be back to settle the score. 

Spring 2023 I dove into following the stockers. I loved just catching fish! There was a solid mix of streamer eats, some nymphs, dry flies! It was a blast! However it was also our first opening day in RI without Austin. Opening day had been a tradition for Aaron, Austin, and Devon that I joined in on years ago. There were big stockers in RI this year but there weren’t many, and even less wanted to bite. Devon on regular tackle got one pretty quick but that was it for him for the day. At a small stream later in the day I pulled in a micro brookie, my only fish of the day, euro nymphing of all things. Last but definitely not least, Aaron, on Austin's pole, reeled in one of the biggest rainbows I’ve ever seen in person and in the river we pulled it from. From that day on, after discussions with the boys, and just the feelings on the water I decided to change my thinking. Instead of saying “I wish he was here” to every moment I think about Austin, I say “He’d be proud”.

After putting months into researching the native fish of AZ I was devastated to not catch one. Fishing however took a turn for me back at home. Living in MA the stripers were coming in. While I’ve done minimal saltwater fishing from shore and been on a boat a few times fishing, the world of saltwater fly fishing quickly overshadowed and overpowered everything else.

I was determined to have a win this year and striper  fishing has been amazing. Hours of research turned into hours of exploring flats, areas I could wade to try and find some life. Typically some areas seemed lifeless, or at least the fish did not want what I was offering. There have however been a handful of times I’ve been able to go out and consistently catch some schoolies. Nothing over 22” but for my first few months of saltwater fly fishing it has been spectacular. 

I’ve fallen in love with the seven stripes! My wife the other day asked me when it will stop. In reference to the firsts, the hours of research, the chasing of specific things. I’ve already looked into fishing tarpon, maybe one day I’ll take a shot at a permit. However right now, I’m content, chasing more native fish near me, or even branching out into other states. I know I’ll catch an Apache trout one day if it's this year or next, it will happen. I just have to make sure I stay focused on what matters most. Fly fishing has helped me to fall in love with the outdoors again, but I don’t need to have a rod in my hand to enjoy it. The beauty in the scenery and the friends and family I have to share it all with are what’s important. Forever learning from all that is around and hoping to end every journey with “He’d be proud”.