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3. Hey Andy, remember me?

Back in the mid “90s” I started a long standing tradition of heading west in the month of March. A very good friend of mine, John, invited me out for a week’s stay, all expenses paid, to his home over looking the Roaring Fork Valley; a week of trout fishing, two days of which included a guide. Far from being new to trout fishing and having fished the state of Colorado for ten years, as a resident back in the “70s” I was looking forward to two days with a guide. Up until this point I had never fished trout with a guide before, as I have always been one most content with solving fly fishing mysteries on my own, with out help from the sidelines. I admit that I had reached a point were I felt comfortable and content with my success so I wasn’t so much looking forward to what I might learn as I was to challenging myself against the guide.

John had set up a meeting at one of the local fly fishermen hangouts, to break the ice over a couple of beers, the night before the outing. Although John had fished with the guide, Andy, (I changed his name just in case he’s lurking and might want to post a rebuttal) before, I had not met him, and it was at Andy’s request that we meet and talk a little fly fishing before spending a day on the water together. I thought that a little strange, but what the heck could a few beers hurt? We met with the usual introductory hand shake and small talk, seated at a small table. With beers in hand and all the perfunctory BS dispensed with, Andy threw me a curve and the drilling started. He wanted to know all about my experience as a trout fisherman, and made it perfectly clear that he was not about to fish with somebody who thought they knew it all. Before I had a chance to finish my first beer he made his point: I was to forget everything I knew and was to follow his lead exactly. OH BOY!!! I couldn’t wait.

The next morning we picked up Andy and headed to the Roaring Fork, to, and I quote, “practice on catching some White Fish”. We headed to a long private stretch, thanks to John, a spot that Andy knew was full of White Fish. While getting set up at the truck Andy examined my equipment and found the rod, reel, and line, totally unacceptable. He then assembled an old beat up Sage (a model I can’t recall) of different length and action to mine and reel handle opposite to my preference, then handed it to me saying that if I broke it I was going to buy it. We then crossed the Roaring Fork at a spot from which I think the Roaring Fork got its name. It was a waist deep maelstrom in which the three of us crossed, locked arm in arm. I’m convinced it was a test to see if I could maintain my footing, and if not, could I swim. We did make it, but I had my doubts. Finally on spot I began to fish with Andy standing at my left shoulder. We were nymphing with a ton of weight in a deep pool, and he was convinced that casting lessons were in order. After he had destroyed a lifetime of not having to think about my casting stroke, I was flogging like a beginner. Thoroughly convinced he had me on the right track I was then allowed to start fishing. He instructed me on were to cast, how to mend and lead, how to hold the rod, what to watch for in the indicator, and when to pick-up and cast again. I might add that he did this all day, and I felt like a robot. The mantra was: cast, mend and lead with the rod tip, pick-up and cast again. OH, and I almost forgot, he also told me when to set the hook. I started snagging White Fish right off the bat every time he said set, but was told that until I caught them in the mouth we were not going to fish for trout. Finally I caught enough White Fish, in the mouth, that I was allowed to graduate to the trout, and so we moved on.

You’re moving too fast, you’re making too much noise, you’re disturbing the water, the fish can see you, on and on it went. I felt like I was standing on needles and pins, everything I did was wrong. The one positive thing I will say is we caught a lot of fish that day and some dandies. On the walk back I slipped on a damn rock, if you can imagine that, and fell on my ass, but I managed to hold his rod high and it came through unscathed. He took his rod away from me and carried it back.

The second day was a repeat of the first, sans the practice on the White Fish, with the constant mantra and critique filling my left ear. So ingrained it is in my memory that I often have to look to see if Andy is there. I did enjoy learning how to fish Andy’s way, but I have since reverted back to my bad habits and am doing quite well thank you.

Fast forward several years.

I had since past on John’s hospitality feeling guilty of taking advantage of my good friend because my stays were extending into four to six week excursions. I was booking myself into the Thunder River Lodge in Carbondale at the time. Unfortunately it has been sold to a ski resort for employee housing last I heard. The rates were very affordable and are sorely missed, which is one of the reasons I have since left the valley for more reasonably priced destinations. The Aspin area surely draws a crowd and offers some fantastic fishing water, but I have a limit to what I will spend on a name. Anyway I digress.

I was fishing the Frying Pan which is a blend of public water littered with vast stretches of private water, (I use the word “littered” tongue in cheek because I’m jealous) hop-scotching my way down pulling into the numerous pull-offs to fish. At the time I was driving a pickup truck where I keep my rod and vest in the bed, but I kept my waders on while I drove to spare myself the hassle of changing. I pulled off into one spot, shut off the motor, pulled the keys, opened the door, got out, locked and closed the door, and headed for the tailgate. From the opposite direction a car flew in and came to a screeching halt parking right in front of my truck. Three guys promptly exited with rods in hand (I sh!t you not) and sprinted to the water. I stood there dumbfounded in disbelief. The only thing that came to mind was my Wisconsin license plates. I sat on the tailgate to collect my composure and decided to mosey over and watch these guys tie into the fish I was sure were there. So I did, and I couldn’t believe my ears. Cast, mend and lead with the rod tip, pick-up and cast again. I stood there several minutes watching Andy ply his trade, but to my satisfaction not a fish was caught. I don’t think Andy recognized me; it had been quite a while, but there was no doubt in my mind that it was Andy.

It didn’t take me long to catch wind of this. I have some friends who spend time on Troutnut.com, and after reading this post put two and two together and figured out who Falsifly is referring to. So let me set the record straight Falsifly.

I got to know John when he purchased the bar and grill which is located right next door to the fly shop I guide out of. It’s a place where we guides usually hang out, after hours, to unwind and relate on the day spent with clients. John was new to trout fishing and some how we just struck a common bond; he wanted to learn how to fly fish. I was more than eager to take John under my wing and he was very willing to accept my instruction. We fished quite a bit together and he was advancing quite rapidly, do to the fact that he had not acquired all the bad habits which I see on an almost daily basis.

It took me a while to refresh my memory but after going over some old entries in my log the sketchy details started to emerge. It was quite a few years ago so I will do my best to recall the events he points out. We probably did meet the night before because, when possible, I like to get a feel for my new clients so I can plan the day according to their skill level. It’s not uncommon for clients to over exaggerate their ability, and I can generally catch on to this pretty quickly. If Falsifly left that meeting feeling as he states then it was because I was probably inferring that if he wanted to learn something new it would be best to heed my instruction.

Now point for point:

As far as the rod, line and reel, a judgment call on my part most likely because I felt your equipment fell short of performing the way my “old beat up Sage” would for the type of fishing I had planned.

That’s right Falsifly, you break it you pay for it, simple as that.

I doubt that we crossed the river in a “waist deep maelstrom” it was more likely an ankle deep riffle.

It was obvious you were having a problem with your casting so blame it on the rod. Typical.

“He instructed me on were to cast, how to mend and lead, how to hold the rod, what to watch for in the indicator, and when to pick-up and cast again.”
That’s right Falsifly, I know where the fish are and how to catch them, that’s what a guide does.

“OH, and I almost forgot, he also told me when to set the hook.”
If I hadn’t you would have caught a lot fewer fish.

“I started snagging White Fish right off the bat every time he said set, but was told that until I caught them in the mouth we were not going to fish for trout. Finally I caught enough White Fish, in the mouth, that I was allowed to graduate to the trout, and so we moved on.”
That’s right Falsifly, now you’re starting to catch on.

“You’re moving too fast, you’re making too much noise, you’re disturbing the water, the fish can see you, on and on it went.”
I had to point out the typical mistakes.

“The one positive thing I will say is we caught a lot of fish that day and some dandies.”
Yep!

“He took his rod away from me and carried it back.”
That’s right, I didn’t want to push my luck.

Falsifly, that whole ending of yours is a bunch of bunk and sounds like sensationalism to me. If that was me that day I’m sure things didn’t unfold as you say. Most likely I pulled into that spot the same way I would with any client intent on fishing. If you hadn’t been sitting on your lazy a$$ drinking coffee and eating cookies we would have moved on. Oh, and you should of stuck around a couple more minutes, you might have witnessed that twenty three inch brown my client caught. I never paid much attention to Wisconsin license plates but I will now, because it’s people like you that ………..well we all know.

So what is your name?

Smallflyguy, no offense or anything, but I've gone out with guides that insist on everything being done exactly their way, and that isn't much fun. In my opinion, it's the job of a guide not only to get their client into fish, but more importantly to make it an enjoyable day. And forcing a fisherman to do it exactly your way just doesn't fit into that for me. Insulting the clients skill and equipment isn't a good way to start out the day.

The thing is, the client pays the guide, and it's not the other way around. So it, in the end, should be the choice of the client how the day goes. And personally I don't hire guides to teach me to fish, cast, and mend (not that I don't appreciate a few tips here and there, but constant critique is annoying and somewhat rude) , but to show me good water and maybe suggest a fly pattern. I'd rather spend a fishless day with a nice, easy-going guide than catch 50 with a hyperactive my way or the highway one.

Wow, I never imagined this would happen so I will start here. My recollection is most accurate because I only fished with you two times, but you on the other hand have probably fished with God only knows how many people over the years since. I doubt that your log contains vivid detail on the events of those two days other than the typical fishing report. My post was nothing more then what I considered to be humorous take on a snobby guide who’s mind set is “I’m the best and the hell with the rest”. I don’t know what it was about our first meeting but that was my impression and it remained that way for two days. As a matter of fact the only reason I relayed this story is because of my last encounter at the pull-off on the Pan. I knew right then and there that you weren’t going to let some out of state jerk infringe upon your sacred water.

Falsifly you’re an idiot. If humor was your intent that is just fine and dandy, but you made a few mistakes. You twisted and spun an untrue story about a true encounter, and you left little doubt about who you were attacking. I’m sure you felt far removed from me on your Troutnut.com site with its heavy eastern subscribers but the fly fishing community is a bit more tightly wound than you thought. Like I said I received a couple of E-mails from friends who put two and two together. So now that I have called you out you have no choice but to back peddle and spin your way out of this to save face.

Oh how contrary. And while we’re at it why don’t you just call me Allan………..Bill. You have one thing right; I never expected that anyone would make the connection. But now that the truth has been exposed it is you who is trying to save face. Now why don’t you quit on your measly two posts and disappear.

You’d like that wouldn’t you. I get a kick out of guys like you who sit behind a computer and type in their tripe pretending to know what they’re talking about. You couldn’t catch a trout if your life depended on it. Yeah it must be tough fishing that Wisconsin girly water with cheese balls huh? Oh and my memory of that time you tried to fish with me, it’s coming back. The reason I lent you the Sage was because that old antiquated Garcia eight weight fiberglass pole of yours was a piece of s#!t. And you’re right, crossing the Fork must’ve forced a bowl movement because you headed for the brush as soon as we got to the other side. I’ve fished with ten year olds who could at least get the line out past the tip of the rod. I’ve got to hand it to you though in the one and only area of your expertise, you sure know how to snag White Fish. Have you caught a trout you haven’t snagged? I doubt it. Right again, my log only contains the “typical fishing report” and according to my entries on those two days we fished John and I were the only ones who caught fish. That rod of mine you claimed to have saved when you tripped over your own two feet, I found out about a week afterward that the reel frame was smashed into the spool. Yeah that encounter on the Pan is even coming back to me now. I came around the corner and saw that Wisconsin plate and it reminded me of you. I wasn’t going to let some damn flatlander like you get in my way. Hey Falsifly or Allan or what ever your dumb a$$ name is, next time you think about coming out west do us a favor………..STAY HOME!!!!!!!!!

What a witty title “Caught or Naught”, I say NAUGHT as in you big ZERO. I knew the only way you could catch a trout was to snag it. At least the other people posting realize that you didn’t catch diddly squat.

Hey Smallflyguy I’ll be out in March, how about we get together and do some fishing. I’ll bring my piece of s#!t “old antiquated Garcia eight weight fiberglass pole” and you bring your “old beat up Sage” and we’ll see who comes out the winner. And by the way Small FLY guy that name is very telling.

Bring it on Falsifly. I’ll be waiting on the Pan, you know the spot. Oh, and your name FALSI fly is even more telling.

Smallflyguy I got to tell you I love you man.

Falsifly I love you to. I always enjoy fishing with you and look forward to this spring.

Merry Christmas.

You see Christmas is a time of miracles.

MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY NEW YEAR to you all!!!!!!!!

what a freak-me-out love fest!
allan - you had a shitty experience with a guide.
great story. loved it. don't use him again.
bill - you had a shitty experience with a client. great rebuttal story. loved it. it is what you get paid to do. get over it.
i'm just sayin'...
when you hear two sides of a story, the truth lies somewhere in between
gut

"I came around the corner and saw that Wisconsin plate and it reminded me of you. I wasn’t going to let some damn flatlander like you get in my way. Hey Falsifly or Allan or what ever your dumb a$$ name is, next time you think about coming out west do us a favor………..STAY HOME!!!!!!!!!"

Smallflyguy, I will stay home.... in the sense that I would never dream of hiring you as a guide (or fishing with you even if I didn't have to waste a couple hundred bucks for the privilege).

"Yeah it must be tough fishing that Wisconsin girly water with cheese balls huh?"
And as for calling mid-western streams "girly" water, why don't you come fish some of the wild trout spring creeks out this way. I think you might find that some of those "girly" trout streams would send you home fishless. But I suppose any river short of the holy Fryingpan or Roaring Fork just wouldn't do for you, would it?

And a very merry Christmas to ya'.