My, What Fond Memories  #46

The other day, I was reminiscing about my younger years, and it made me stop and think about some of the adventures I had while growing up. Now, my dad was a Maine Game Warden and he began his career in Dacquam on the Quebec border. I confess, I was too young to remember, but he does show me pictures so it must have been true. He tells me that my first adventures as a fisherman were not the best. As a matter of fact, his story goes like this. He had some time off so he decided to go down and fish the river and he brought me along. While he was trying to catch fish, I was trying to preserve the fish population by throwing rocks into the water where his line was. It suffices to say that he did not bring me the next time he wanted to really bring some trout home.      

I also recall the time when he took me to Dead Brook fishing. We drove up and met the warden there, Phil Dumond and off we went. To fish this brook, you needed to wade in and cast into the water downstream. That didn’t seem very hard to me so off I went into the cold clear blue water with my pole. At some point, I decided that it would be nice to see for myself what was under the water I was wading in, and yes, I lost my footing and in I went. I was totally submerged in the water and like Rambo popping up out of the stream behind his attackers, and because the water was so cold, I quickly found my footing and jumped back up with my pole in hand. I was soaked from head to toe. I recall the ride home in those wet clothes and my father laughing at me as exhaustion set in and I went to sleep. The moral of this story is if you want to go swimming while you are fishing, bring an extra change of clothes.

 Then, there was the time when I came home from school during hunting season, and dad asked if I wanted to take a ride up the Sly Brook Rd in Soldier Pond to see if we could find any deer. It wasn’t long before we came to an old potato field and at the edge of that field by the tree line stood two nice deer. We both jumped out of the car and I took that 30-30 Dad had bought for me and pointed it at one of them, fired and down it went. The other one just stood there looking at me. In the heat of the moment, I decided that I was going to run down and claim my prize. And away I went with the only gun we had at the time in hand. I remember dad yelling to me “come back with that gun so I can shoot the other one.” I was about half way down the field when I decided I had better come back and give him the gun. When I did, and as he was aiming, that deer ran off as he took the shot. No, he did not get it and I bet you know that story has kind of haunted me for years.

Then there was the time when he and I decided to go deer hunting and we drove through St. Francis and Allagash toward what was then the Musquacook four corners gate in the North Maine Woods. It had just snowed that morning and the deer tracks were really showing up well. As we were traveling, I saw a real nice doe in the middle of the road. I jumped out of the truck, aimed and fired. The deer went down and we loaded it on the truck and onward we went. Shortly thereafter, dad spotted a real fresh track in the road, and told me he was going to take it. He left me in the truck and off he went. It wasn’t long before he walked out of the woods with a big smile on his face. He had shot a real nice buck and needed help to drag it out. As he told the story, he saw the buck running and brought the gun up against a tree and fired in front of it to accommodate for its movement. The bullet hit the deer and down it went. I mention this because as we got to the Musquacook gate, we met dad’s boss, Curtis Cooper. Now, anyone who knew Curtis would tell you that he was a gruff old guy who told you like it was. Curtis had been staying in the Umsaskis Lake warden camp all week on a hunting expedition. When we got to the gate, Curtis asked us if we had had any luck. We both pointed to the two deer in the back of the truck and I wish I could have taken a picture of his face. In his gruff tone and cleaning up his response a bit, he said, ****### I have been in here all week hunting and have not seen one deer. You leave home and shot two before lunch…… I never forgot that and every time I think about it, I find myself cracking a smile.

Yeah, things change over time, and we often forget about all the good times we had while growing up. All my early years spent in Fort Kent were special. My Facebook page has a place where many of my friends post fond memories of growing up there. There are examples like the old drive in, the Century Theatre, summers at Birch Haven, Mikes ice cream stand and Rock’s hot dogs to name a few.  Those all bring back fond memories, but, many of my special memories were with my dad who taught me about the woods. As I look back, times have changed, but I will never forget those special times. Thanks Dad

As I prepare for hunting season coming in just a few short days, Dad and I are going back into the woods for a couple of days. It has been some time since we have done so and I am looking forward to it. I also think he will enjoy seeing some of the old areas he used to patrol. Much of it has changed, I am sure, but the names remain the same. I know that as we drive through some of the spots, he will have a lot of stories to tell about the time he spent there and what he encountered. Yeah, time marches forward, but it is always good to stop for a minute and think about the good things from the past. They just might make you crack a smile.

Everybody in the Pool, the Water is Nice  #45

I know you have heard the words," just when I thought I had seen it all", but truly, this time I did say it. Maybe a small explanation may help you understand why I say what I say. Let me start from the beginning. TC and I decided that we were going to take an afternoon off and do a little fishing in the North Maine Woods. We packed up the Toyota and off we went. Our destination was one of two ponds spread out a bit, but equally as good. As we entered the confines of the woods, we quickly decided to go to Ragged Mountain Pond, because I was aware of the truck traffic on the Jack Mountain Road. Now, between the six mile gate and the Machias River Bridge, we met no less than four fully loaded trucks. Let me tell you that when you meet one of them, your heart finds its way up to your throat and your truck takes a very quick turn to the side of the road. That does not even take into account the dust that is following, and the minutes that feel like hours where you cannot see the road in front or in back of you due to the heavy dust the truck has kicked up. Most of the time you just hope that there is nothing coming behind or in front of you until the dust settles and you can see again.

Well, as I said, we made our mind up after the second truck that we were going to stay away from the Jack Mountain Road and go up the Pinkham Road, over to the Pelletier and Pelletier Road and up to Ragged Pond. Our travels went fine with the exception of one truck that we met and we eventually made it to our destination. We parked at the camp site and put the canoe in the water. We unpacked our gear and out we went. It wasn't long before we felt like we were being watched. You know, that eerie feeling that someone is watching your every move. As we looked to the left side of the pond, we noticed a female moose standing on the edge of the pond just as still as could be with her ears up and her gaze turned squarely upon us. I’ll call her Rita. Then out of thin air came another one to the edge of the water and she stood there as the first one entered the water. This one will be Louise. In the next hour, Rita went from the edge of the pond to the middle with much of her time being spent under water eating. All the while, she would come up for air and give us that gaze again. Now, Louise stood absolutely still for the whole time and kept watching us for her friend. At some point, I made the decision that Rita was making her way closer to us and I pulled up the anchor and moved away. Mind you, this pond is not very big, but there was enough room for us all, as long as TC and I stayed where we were and the moose stayed where she was. Eventually Rita made her way to shore and Louise decided to show us that she was more than a statue. Then, the roles reversed and Rita stood on shore and Louise entered the pool. This time, there was no feeding as Louise decided that she was just going to stand in the water and cool off. For over an hour, Louise stayed in one spot in the pool and did not move, again all the while keeping a close eye on TC and me. Now Rita decided that she was finally going to move and she made her way to our landing spot on shore. She stood sideways to the pond and there was no way that we were going to be able to land with her there. After another hour, Rita finally moved off and we lost sight of her. It was at that point that we decided to call it a day and we made our way to shore. As we came to the landing spot, we looked just inside the launching area and Rita jumped up from where she had been laying down and walked into the trail. Startled, TC and I got out of the boat with Rita no more than ten to twenty feet from us and we pulled the canoe on shore a bit. When we did that, Rita looked at us and off she went in a flash through the woods. Now all this time, Louise was still in the same spot in the pool.

As we packed up, and I went down to the water’s edge to get the rest of our gear, Louise was still there. She looked at me, snorted and did not move.

             TC and I had never seen anything like it. We will always remember that day as the time when we had to share the pool with two moose who had one thing on their mind, cooling down and feeding. And they could have cared less about us as long as we left them alone. As I left the pond, I took a few photos and said goodbye, and Louise looked at me and blurted out a loud snort. I took it as thanks for sharing the pool with us, they really appreciated it.

On another note, I was sent a photo of Sammy Kidder by his dad. Sammy has taken up fly fishing and he caught his first fish on a fly rod in the Magalloway River in Western Maine. Nice job Sammy and welcome to the club.

Life just does not seem to be fair  #44

It often takes a life altering event to snap you back to reality and make you realize that little things really don’t matter. Those events can take any sort of shape or form, but when they happen, it makes you stop and think that you really don’t have it so bad.

This week, TC’s brother Andre Cyr passed after a long battle. Andre was a kind and gentle man who loved his family with all his heart. His dog, Two Spots was his companion; Andre seldom went anywhere unless he was at his side.  Andre would do anything for you and do it with a smile. No matter what was on his plate, he would push that aside to help you. He loved his daughter and son and spoke of them often. When he did, you could always detect a smile on his face and you had the sense that he was very proud of them.

TC and I visited Andre roughly a month ago. At that time, it was evident that his health was deteriorating and he knew it. But during our visit, Andre had that smile and engaged me on his latest best fly for catching fish. See, Andre was an outdoors man. He loved to hunt and fish, and he was very good at it. During our visit, he told me that the gray ghost was really working for him at Honeywell Lake in Saint John. He told me that he was having a real hard time finding them and he was almost out. I promised to tie him some and took a picture of the one he had so I could copy the pattern for him. Well, when I got home and looked at the material needed to tie the fly, I found that I did not have a lot of the things I needed. So, I quickly made an order. As I write this, the photo is still on my IPhone and the material is on my work bench.  I expect I will tie a few up and the next time I go to Honeywell, I plan to let one go on the water, just in case Andre needs it.

I also recall a hunting trip many years ago when I lived in Fort Kent. Andre and I set out for St. Francis to hunt deer. It was a nice morning and a dusting of snow had fallen earlier. As we got to First Pelletier Pond, Andre parked his truck and we got out. He told me about the lay of the land and where I should go and we split up for the day. Now, Andre’s knowledge and expertise of the woods and outdoor recreation was very admirable indeed. As an example, he was his own natural compass when hunting in the woods. His father, Rosaire, would always comment as to how remarkable he was with his compass, but he must have possessed great instincts too. He could maneuver around the woods like any wild animal. He knew where he needed to be and where he was at all times.   Anyway, it wasn’t too long before I came upon a nice buck track that took me all over the mountain and valley. At some point, as the sun was beginning to fade, I decided to track back to the truck. Well, mistake number one was that I was using a pin on bobber compass that had somehow stopped working.  Mistake number two, was that I did not have a replacement. I started back and came to what I thought was First Pelletier Pond. I thought that the truck was on the other side, so I began to make my way around the water. I quickly determined that it was not the same pond and that is when reality set in. I began to sweat and quickly decided to calm myself down. I knew Andre was somewhere in the area, so I let a few shots off thinking he would hear them and come to where I was. I sat down remembering that my training was to stay in one place. Well, it wasn’t long before I heard some stirring in the woods and through the trees came Andre. His first comment was to ask where the deer I had shot was, saying, I heard shots.  I quickly explained what had happened and he said ok, let’s go, it’s getting dark. He worked his way out of that area and guided us back to the truck in no time. After that, I never heard a word from him about that day and my misfortune. He just knew that I was ever indebted to him. Oh, and Andre always had a real interesting greeting when he talked to you. He would say, “Hey there feller.” If he was speaking to his nieces or nephews, he would address them as “Hey there young feller.”   Those sayings and his voice are ringing through my mind right now.

Andre was also the king of the scratch tickets. Each Christmas, we would all gather at the Cyr home where all the family members, spouses and grandchildren would spread love and cheer. As the gifts were being handed out, Andre would get up and give each nuclear family member a Christmas card envelope. That envelope was full of scratch tickets. He loved doing that and was always around while you checked them out to see if you won. If you did, he would beam from ear to ear with pleasure. If for some reason, you were not able to make it, when you did get there, you knew that there was an envelope waiting for you with your name on it.

Andre does not need a compass anymore. He does not need guides or a waypoint either. TC and I keep comfort that he is in a far better place where there is no more sickness and hurt. He probably has his fishing pole out and is not far away from wetting his hook. Andre, I will get that fly tied for you and know that we love you and will miss you. May you now rest in peace, feller.

No Outside Intervention Needed  #43

How many of you remember the slogan, “Maine, the way life should be.” I believe that was a saying the Maine Tourism Bureau used to attract people to enjoy our great state.  I am a Mainer through and through. I was born here, I was raised here and I chose to live here because of all the things available to me. Back when I was younger, I learned to hunt and fish and enjoyed every minute of it. I was taught at an early age to only take what you need and do not take any more. Obey the laws and understand that they are put in place for a reason. We also always heard, “preserve for others in years to come.”  I recall a Maine Inland Fisheries and Wildlife poster, that incidentally I still have, that shows a fisherman with a whole mess of fish and a young boy standing next to him saying, “Gee Mister, will there be any left for me?” As a sportsman, it is my responsibility to protect the resources for people in years to come. I always put my trust in people who assess our wildlife and determine the best way to make sure that the balance is appropriate. Maine employs a number of biologists and they are responsible to provide solid information and evidence as to how that can be done. Although, I don’t always agree with them, their track record has been pretty darn solid.

So, it really irks me when I hear that someone or some group, most often not even from Maine, is trying to tell us how we should do things. Some of these people come to Maine and have a huge capital backing from outside influences that have a set agenda and their job is to change our state to conform to their beliefs. You could say their theme is, “Maine, the way we think it should be.” They don’t listen to the biologists or the people in Maine that have been close to the ground on these issues, no sire re Bob, they just have an agenda and they don’t care to understand anything but what they believe is best for them.

In the coming months, I have no doubt that you will see a lot of information on the television, mail and newsprint supporting one of their causes.  Back in 2003, they did the same thing and the people of Maine saw through it and voted it down. I’m speaking about the Maine Black Bear and the attempt to stop the hunting of them. They will tell you that they support the humane hunting of these animals, but their definition of humane hunting will do little to help keep the population down. The Maine Inland Fisheries and Wildlife Department estimates that there are currently 30,000 bears in the Maine Woods. Hunting them like you hunt other animals will not help. Bears are elusive animals, and if you see a bear, it is for a very short period of time and they are usually on the run to get out of there. They have a very keen smell and know when you are around. When was the last time you were walking through the woods and saw a bear standing there looking at you? Or when was the last time you were driving down the road and saw a bear and it stood there while you got out and took photos. Although that does occasionally happen, I would submit that it does not happen frequently enough. The Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife Department maintains that if we do not keep the bear population in check, we will have what we call great unforeseen consequences. Bear will continue to populate and their need for food will drive them into populated communities. That, my friends is not good.

So, if you are asked to sign a petition to put the bear referendum back on the ballot this fall, think long and hard before you do so. If they are successful in getting their agenda passed, I am very concerned about what will come next. Will they move to stop hunting and fishing altogether? Will they take away the freedoms we have had in Maine forever?  Do you believe they know more about wildlife habitat and how best to protect that for future generations than the people who do it for a living? Ask yourself, have they ever spent any time in the woods themselves? Will they try to change the great Maine heritage and the way life has been for many years before them?

There is also one more part of this that deserves to be brought up. If you talk to many of the sporting camp owners, they will tell you that one of their best seasons, monetarily, is bear season. Although that season does not take a very big number of bears each year, it does help the economy and our sporting camp industry.

Let’s let Mainers that know about the woods and the animal population decide how best to keep the population in check and not out of state interests with deep pockets. Don’t succumb to the ads that will run because much of the content in those ads cannot be substantiated. They will try to play on your emotions and tell you that they know what is best for us Mainers.  Let’s tell them that we are Mainers and we know what is best for our state, and we don’t need any outside help, thank you. Let’s preserve the way Maine should be. I like it just the way it is, no outside help needed.

Here is a metric from the SAM website.

In the last ten years, the black bear population has increased by 67% to over 30,000 bears. Just last year nuisance bear complaints increased from 396 in 2011 to 828 in 2012.  To read the entire article, you can check out the Sportsmans Alliance of Maine website by going to: www.sportsmansallianceofmaine.org

Our Second Annual Fishing Trip  #42

I always look forward to this time of year when many of my friends come to Northern Maine and we spend three days in the North Maine Woods fishing. We are fortunate that two of the guys in the group have a camp that we use as our jumping off point.

Now, the cast of characters includes a guy from Minnesota, another from Pennsylvania and some from central and southern Maine. It is always good to have them here and to catch up on their stories from the year gone by.

To set the stage for this weekend, if you watch the Voice or listen to country music, you know who Blake Shelton is. Blake Shelton just happens to have a song out right now, and the lyrics just seem to fit and tell the story of our group once we get to camp. It starts like, “Well the boys round here, drinking that ice cold……. “Then if you don’t know the rest, it goes like this. “Chew tobacco, Chew tobacco, Chew tobacco, spit…. And there you have it. You should now have a mental picture in your mind of nine guys on a fishing trip.              

It’s one thing to find a weekend that we can all commit to. It’s another to find a weekend where the weather will cooperate. During this trip, the entire weekend was fraught with rain, heavy at times. I dare say that we must have gotten at least three inches in the three days. Did that hamper our fishing trip, heck no; we braved the rain and cold and fished from daylight until dark.  We hit a number of ponds in the area and did remarkably well with some of the trout measuring upward to 14”. We also walked down through the woods to a thoroughfare between two lakes, waded in and caught some salmon, which we released instantly. If you have never caught a salmon, you are in for a treat. Once you hook them, they jump right out of the water a number of times before you can get them reeled in and released. It is just good fun.

As always, we did have an educational component to our trip. Here are a few highlights of what we leaned.

    

Cameras do not float

Black bears can come out of nowhere and are faster than a speeding truck

Trees don’t move, even when a fly rod is pushing them

Beavers are not always man’s best friend. If you break their dam to get to a pond, they will come and rebuild

Ear plugs don’t always prevent the sounds of snoring. Especially when the snorer wears them

You should always put your rain gear on in a rain storm. It is no good in your fishing basket. HOWEVER, if you forget to wear it, it can serve as a set of dry clothes for the ride back to the camp.

Always have a backup power plan because generators are not invincible

When it comes to food, you cannot possible eat everything you think you should and do bring.

Float tubes are a valuable commodity to have. They do not go as fast as a canoe in the event of a lightning storm no matter how big the flippers or how hard you kick.

And as our trip came to a close, we were happy that we had all gotten together and we promised to do it again next year. I sensed a bit of sadness that it was over and we were again going our separate ways. The fishing had been great, the group time was excellent, and the stories told and new ones made will last until we do it again next year. To all of you on that trip, Roger, Mark, Scott, Corey, Doug, Matt, Jeff and Jon, thanks for another memorable weekend. Until next year.

One afternoon, we split up and a group of guys went to a certain pond. On the way to the pond they ran into a bunch of pesky beavers who had dammed up the road. The guys decided to teach the beavers a lesson, so they began breaking out the dam so the water would drop so they could go through to the pond. As they were doing that, they noticed that the beaver came out of his house to investigate. That darn beaver kept his eye on them the entire time they were there. Eventually, the guys dropped the water enough so they could drive through. When they were done fishing, they started up the road and came to the beaver dam. That beaver had dropped a tree over the area they had broken out. More than likely, he was not wasting any time in getting his house in order. Beavers are true engineering marvels. I remember watching an episode with TC called “North American Beaver” on Nat Geo. If you get a chance to watch it, it is definitely worth your time. We could take a lesson from them because, they never give up, no matter what they are facing.

 

When the rubber meets the road #41

Late spring is one of the better fishing times of the year. The trout are still on or near the top of the water and they are taking both dry and wet flies. As summer comes around and the water begins to warm up, they tend to go to the bottom and that is a whole different type of fishing.

Late spring is also the time when the woods crews start to fire up their equipment and the trucks begin to haul the wood to the yards and that means that the woods roads, abused by the spring mud and frost are in need of some TLC. Road graders are everywhere, and you can tell where the cutting and hauling will be taking place, because those are the first roads they hit. Usually the cutters and frequent travelers, have geared their vehicles up to accommodate the road surface. But, if you are running four ply tires that come on most vehicles, you could be in for a treat.

Woods roads are constructed to withstand extremely heavy loads and traffic. They have been built with something called, shale. Now, shale is rock that has been split. It can be very sharp and ruthless on rubber tires, especially on four ply tires. In the spring, road crews fix areas that need new culverts or need the water diverted in another direction. After they are done, they lay a layer of shale over the affected area and voila, you have an instant tire cutter.TC and I have tried every which way to lower our chances of cutting tires. That includes, but is not limited to, going very slowly over the shale to try to avoid having the tires get punctured.

Well, first, my trucks have always been outfitted with tires with either 6 or 10 ply and I have never had any problems. Unfortunately, my new truck has 4 ply and I just had not gotten around to changing them yet. So, when TC and I headed up into the woods this past weekend, I knew I could be in for trouble when I got to my first repaired culvert, one of many that we crossed over. We made it safely to our destination pond and had a great time fishing. When we returned to the truck, I noticed that the low tire pressure indicator was on. Now, that indicator never tells you which tire is going down. I guess they just think that it should be evident. Well, I am here to tell you that is not always the case. I walked around the truck looking at all four tires and not one of them looked differently or low on air. So, we took off for home. On our way there, we must have gone over 5 or more repaired culverts, all with a nice coating of shale. After going through the 6 mile gate, we stopped to take another look. It was at that moment that I noticed the right rear tire was down significantly on air. I told TC that we would try to make it into Ashland and find some air. Now, mind you it was now close to 9 pm and the streets were beginning to roll up for the night.  We stopped at the Shell station on Main Street and I asked the lady there where I could get some air. She informed me that she had some and was happy to put the hose back out for me to use. I was able to fill the tire up to 32 lbs. and then we headed for home. I am happy to report that we made it all the way and the indicator light never came on. The next morning when I got up, I went out to get some things out of the truck and the tire was still in good shape. You can bet that I will have it checked and most likely replaced, before I go into the woods again, but we had survived our day on the shale roads.

Don't get me wrong, fixing the roads is an important part of the process in what goes on in the woods each day. Without the repairs, the roads would not be at the level we are accustomed to for the remainder of the year, and the road crews do a fine job of keeping them in top notch condition.  If you plan accordingly, you will be much better off in the long run. At the least, have a very good spare. I have two just in case and when you are 70 or 80 miles back in the woods, you need all the help you can get.

On a different note, TC stated while on our way to the pond, “If we don’t catch any fish, I hope we can see some wildlife, especially a black bear. Low and behold, she got what she wished for. On our ride out, we were treated to views of four moose, numerous rabbits, a yearling deer and our favorite, two Maine black bears. One was so fast, that we just saw the hind end go off the road. The other was a year old bear that was in the middle of the road about 25 yards from us when we drove around a corner. The bear started running to the side and stopped, looking straight at us. It checked us out, got part way up on its hind legs and then decided that it was time to vamoose, disappearing into the trees.

All of these things make this little corner of the world so enjoyable to be a part of. It also inspires me to share it with whomever will read my blogs. It's just good stuff!

The Systematic Approach to Tying Flies #40

A week or so has passed since I was involved in a meeting at work where we took a sort of test to evaluate our personality style. It was no surprise to me that I was rated as Systematic. Now, a systematic personality is a person who needs a lot of information to evaluate things before they make a decision. Information such as data and metrics help me make decisions. The lack of that sort of information drives me to ask questions and seek more information so that I can process it in my mind, and then make an informed decision. I also need to see, in my mind, the finished product in some form or I have to research it until it makes sense.

Well, it should be no surprise to you that when I was asked by some folks to tie a certain fly for them, first I had to look at it, think about it, and then go to you tube for some more information. Unfortunately, that did not satisfy me. So, I sought information from a reliable source, and I knew that he would help me through it.

Let me start from the beginning. While at fourth Musquacook Lake, I was asked to tie some flies for the people there. The fly looked rather simple to make. It was made with two components, chenille and marabou. It seemed quite easy, but there was one thing that concerned me. I had never used marabou before and I was not sure how to transform it from the package to the finished product. My first stop in trying to understand it was You Tube. I watched a video on how to use it, but it really did not give me what I needed. So, I decided that it was time to ask the expert.

So, Saturday, I decided to head to my old stomping grounds, Fort Kent. TC and I headed up RT 161 to one of my most favorite places on earth. We both grew up in Fort Kent and have a lot of special memories of that place. The people there are so friendly, and I always enjoy going back, although many of my friends are now gone, some of my old friends still live there. Once in Fort Kent, we headed for the home of my 87 year old fishing partner, Rosaire. Now, if you have been reading my blogs, you know about Rosaire. You should remember that there are three rules in play when dealing with Rosaire. They are:

1.) Rosaire is always right

2.) When you know Rosaire is wrong, he is still right

3.) Rosaire always catches the biggest fish each year.

We stopped at Rosaire’s place and I told him that I needed a lesson in how to use Marabou. Of course, first, I had to listen to him tell me that he had been fishing that week and he had caught a lot of fish. I asked him where they were, and he said that he had let them all go. Right away, I remembered rule #3. Now at 87, you can imagine that he does not get around as well as he used to. I have known Rosaire for well over 35 years and have been fortunate to have fished with him. I don’t recall too many times when he caught the biggest fish but, again, I remembered rule #1. Rosaire took me down to his fly tying room and I told him what the fly looked like. He pulled out some gray chenille and some marabou, and we proceeded to experiment with the pattern in my head. Rosaire gave me the skinny on how to use marabou, and talked me through it until it made sense. After about an hour, we had copied the fly to the tee and I had a much better understanding of the use of marabou. From the systematic point of view, I had what I needed and was ready to tie some myself when I got home. Once again, Rosaire had helped me when You Tube could not.

As I left, it saddened me that he was having a bit of a hard time getting around. Slowly, his fishing was taking a back seat to his aging and that was unfortunate, but beyond control. Still, it made me happy that I could take some of his vast knowledge and put it to good use. I know for sure when I am stuck, Rosaire will be there to help me and get me through the systematic way of thinking that drives me. The results are far better than any computer video.

Oh, and as for rule #2, you can tell I am processing when I have a smile on my face on certain things he is saying while he is talking to me.