The Little Things

A change of pace, some thoughts I wrote in my journal during the spring of 2005.




“The past week was stressful.” I stated as a matter of fact to myself while sitting on the edge on my bed. The demands of work upon my free time had taken a toll. I was mentally and physically tired. Several twelve hour shifts during the week and one on the weekend had left me numb. Cradling my head in my hands as if I had been on a three day drunk, I knew I had to do something different. I had to break the cycle of waking up, showering and heading to work. So, I sat on the edge of the bed. “There” I said, “I’m in charge now.” I had nine hours to kill before going to work, hmmm. Reading material was in short supply, there had not been enough time to go by the library for a book or a magazine. Watching television was out of the question, I was sure there was nothing on worth looking at. I mean isn’t that always the case when you have limited time. Ah….. a thought materialized in my mind. I would do something simple, yet productive. I would tie some fly fishing lures.

Like most normal fly fishermen, if there is such a thing, I can’t dedicate an entire room to the art of fly- tying like the professional fishermen in Fly Fishing Monthly. Neither do I own custom-made oak cabinets to store my materials. Nope, I simply reached under my bed and pulled out a wide shallow cardboard box and proceeded to spread out the contents of my fly-tying box upon my desk.

My desk, a particle board unit I caught on sale at Home Depot. Now what fly to tie? More bluegill flies? Some mayfly patterns for the coming mayfly hatchings? Naw, let’s be bold and tie that crazy looking bass fly that I had seen online, “The Gartside Gurgler”. Repeating the name of the fly over and over in my head I realized there is only one other hobby that has names for it’s tools as shameless as fishing. That would be bowling. I have seen bowling balls with names like the hammer, switchblade, oh and the ever popular barbed wire. I was starting to suspect that the fly tiers and the bowling ball manufacturers were one in the same.


The Gartside Gurgler, when tied properly, irritates the hell out of largemouth bass. It makes a sound that can only be described as a gurgling noise. Mr. Gartside lacking a fertile imagination , but possessing a above average ego , simply called the fly” The Gartside Gurgler”. I reviewed the tying instructions, “The Recipe” as they say in the fly tying world, and got right down to business. Twenty minutes later three Gartside Gurglers lay on my desk staring at me with animated eyes. That’s right, prismatic doll eyes are called for to tie this monstrosity. I just happened to have some. All in all the Gartside Gurgler is a very easy fly to tie, ugly, but easy. It had rained most of the day, but as I looked out of the window I saw that it had stopped. At that moment I decided to go give the Gartside Gurgler a little field test, make sure I had followed the instructions properly, and to get out and get some fresh air.


I arrived at the local county reservoir within ten minutes and a few minutes later a Gartside Gurgler was tied onto the end of my 8 weight flyrod’s leader. A couple of false casts and the Gartside gurgler was doing it’s thing. My goodness, it worked as advertised. My hat off to Mr. Gartside , expanded ego and all. For the next thirty minutes I cast and retrieved my newly tied fly, slowly falling into the effortless rhythm that has captured fly fisherman all over the world. For the first time in over two weeks all was well in the world. I was shedding stress layer by layer.


The wet, rainy day had transformed into a calm, peaceful evening. The lake smoothed out and became a mirror reflecting the setting sun, a sight I never tire of seeing. But like most peaceful moments it didn’t last. Splash!! Mr. Largemouth exploded up from the depths in a attempt to destroy the Gartside Gurgler- in mid gurgle. I raised the rod tip and set the hook. Adrenaline raced through both our systems, there would be no quarter given by man nor fish. Mr. Largemouth made a run for deep water but I managed to take up the slack and he went air-borne. There are few thrills in life like having a outraged largemouth bass on the end of your line that decides to jump. Time seems to slow down. There is a clarity of vision that is surreal. You are alive.


Mr. Largemouth made two more jumps and succumbed to my skill. That and the technology of the Three River Forks rod makers. Mostly the technology. These days fast action graphite fly rods in the hands of a half decent angler can be very effective. As I lifted Mr. Largemouth out up out of the water I realized, it’s the little things that really matter.

Later'