No better brothers

Do you know what a power snap is? Do you know what a dun is? Do you know which trout tolerates the widest range of temperatures? Have you ever seen a tippet (hint: it's not a bird)? Do you know what a Royal Wullf is? Ever tied a surgeon's knot? A nail knot? Do you know what a ferrule is (hint: it's not a lizard)? Have you ever held a Hardy Zenith? How small is a midge (the one with the nasty hook on it)? Done any tying with deer fur? Where is your Hendrickson? What kind of back cast do you do? Have you ever wanted to shoot line? Flourocarbon or monofilament? Have you used a tie-fast? Did you learn the rule of 11? The rule of 4? Do you know why is there a piece of red yarn tied on the end of my line?

Do you know the sublime feeling that comes from standing in the middle of a lovely stream dappled by sunlight and making a perfect cast to the far side and watching it drift behind the targeted rock?

Well, I did, and I do, and I have. What a transcendent weekend. John and I took an intensive two day and three evening fly fishing course at the Joan Wulff Fly Fishing School at the southern end of the Catskill Park, in a lovely meadow and mountain setting way out of cell phone service (thank goodness for that). It was very intense but also relaxed, about 25 people, most beginners but some better. We had five instructors, and Joan Wullf herself, a legend of fly fishing. She and her late husband just about invented the modern pursuit of fly fishing. She spent a few minutes with me and showed me exactly how to get my cast perfect, and the light went on and I am hooked, as they say. Very nicely organized: lecture with demos, then practice at one of the two ponds outside, another talk, more practice, practice tying knots. Talks about trout and their feeding, and what flies to think about. I thought it was funny that it wasn't until late Sunday afternoon that they told us what to actually do if you hook a fish. And one of the instructors tried to hook one of the stocked fish in one of the ponds, and although they were throwing pellets in and several fish were feeding, none took either of the two lures. Even teachers have bad moments.

This was a birthday present from the three best brothers anyone could ever ask for. It was the real deal, no frolic, worth every minute and sore muscle.

John and I opted out of the pricey Inn accommodations and meals near the school and stayed in a simple cabin about 20 minutes away on a pretty stream. We each brought a home cooked supper – thank you Mary for that great marinara sauce – and ate breakfast at the Roscoe Diner, where they also made sandwiches for our lunches. It rained Saturday afternoon, so I practiced in the rain, but hey, it's fishing. While it would have extravagantly enjoyable if I had gone by myself, it was an added bonus to spend time with John.

So a thousand thanks and more to David, John and Andrew. Talk about a gift that keeps on giving. David, get ready for Mountain Springs to show your two fly "toddlers" more of the lore.