A three-day weekend with two days that present the possibility to fish. How great that sounds, but the reality of it is that if I can pull five hours out of the whole weekend, I’ll be doing well.

Five hours. To those who don’t fish mid stream, five hours is a long time to be doing anything; but to those like myself who find so much joy in the angling sport, five hours could be likened to stretching before a 25K marathon.

I am a slow angler. As a rule, I take my time, never get in a hurry, and prefer to work an area hard before moving on. Methodical in my approach, but for some reason the clock never seems to slow down with me. Sure, there have been those “time stands still” moments, but for the most part, hours while I am on the water have the uncanny knack of evaporating at a rate that seems almost surreal.

This is the season of the tiny fly. The tail waters I fish require cold weather bugs that are best tied using an electron microscope and fiber optics. Calling one of my favorite fly shops yesterday, I was amazed to find out that I could actually buy size 30 midge hooks. Size 30! To put that in perspective, that would be like tying a fly with a hook that is not much different in size from the lower case letters of this report. I seriously doubt that I will ever feel the need to tie something that small. These eyes have a hard enough time with the 22’s, and 24’s that I attempt from time to time.

These microscopic bugs, or midges, are the ticket in winter and I have a fly box that is actually an old metal aspirin box with a thin magnet glued to the inside. These bugs are so small and light that a simple refrigerator magnet will hold them all day. Now imagine trying to tie one of these on 6 or 7X tippet while standing in a 45 degree river with a thirty degree air temperature. That is why God made threaders!

In any event, this weekend at some point I will grab my little aspirin box of flies, face the brisk November wind, and glean my five or so hours, which will only seem like minutes. And the day will be spectacular. It always is………………..

Isn’t it odd? Even if you have three or four fly boxes full of stuff, just before a big trip you feel as though you must tie some more? It is almost as if you are seeking some magic combination that will bring the mother load of trout that hasn’t been equaled since Christ told his Apostles to cast on the other side of the boat.

That is where I find myself right now. I have a one day trip planned for next week and even though I know that in one of my boxes is the right size and type of fly I will need, I am still thinking about when I will have time to tie some up for the trip.

The funny thing is…as always, I will wind up using one of three flies that seem to wind up on my tippet before the day is through. Bead Head Pheasant Tail, Hairs Ear Nymph, and a Parachute Adams. I have every variety of scud, sow bug, midge, caddis, and stone fly in my boxes, but I always return to those three. I have always heard that you should “dance with the one that brung ya”, and in fly selection I am no different. There may be slight variations to the patterns. A little soft hackle here, a little flash there, but the big three are always what I turn to.

I guess it is a lot like life. We are most drawn to the things that make us comfortable, things that we can count on. Even though the temptation or allure of something new excites our imaginations, it is the stability found in choices that take no effort that keep us on track.

There are those hard core fly fishermen who are dead set on matching the hatch, but how many times in a years worth of angling do you encounter a magic hatch? I can personally only recall two or maybe three times when the choice of fly was actually dictated by a massive hatch or the real thing emerging from the water. And even then I probably tied on an Adams with a Hares Ear Dropper. Stubborn to the highest, I cling to my comfort and hope that the trout are not nearly as dead set on the specific as I am.