A dry fly and bubble combo on an ultra-light spinning rod is a fine piece of equipment to use when fishing the pristine lakes of the Eastern Sierras. It's an inexpensive bit of gear that's guaranteed to catch Big Fish. Just ask my husband. He'll tell you all about it.
I bet you're thinking my story will describe to you the weight and length of the biggest, most colorful rainbow and Alper's trout ever to be pulled from the depths of the Mammoth Lakes by my husband. Not. I catch the Big Fish.
My husband taught me everything I know about fishing. He taught me how to rig up a pole, select the proper test (weight) of leader line, attach a swivel, tie a bolin knot and pick the most tempting pattern (dry fly) for the lake I'm fishing. He taught me just the right way to cast that dry fly and bubble (bobber) out across the lake so the line will travel smoothly off the reel without tangling. He taught me when when to flip the bail on the reel at just the right time so the line will go taught and the fly and bubble will land in the water with just a little splash so as not to frighten the fish. I learned how to set the hook and to keep the line in front of me when reeling in the fish, and the great importance of keeping the tip of the rod up and the fish in the water until you have your net ready to scoop him up.
All of this I learned from him. The great fly-fisherman. The man who has spent thousands of dollars on the finest fly-fishing rods, reels and various accoutrement including a five-foot long pontoon fly-fishing "vessel." I have stood endless times in tackle shops listening to my husband debate the fine points of sinking vs floating line, rod length, fly patterns, hook size, etc., etc. I have witnessed the nearly excrutiating amount of time it takes him to don his fly-fishing garments and rig up his rod (tying a fly on tippet is like tying a hook on the end of a spider web). I have listened to him tell me how wonderful he feels to be bobbing like a cork on the water, in the great outdoors, dancing the line and tippet and the fly in a barrel-roll cast above his head. Oh, and the fight of the fish on the line. The diving and jumping and pulling of the fish and the winding and coaxing of the reel - the glory of it all! That is, until, the fish gives the hook the "spits", the line goes slack, and the hook gets caught on the bottom of his waders...
When he does land a fish (and he does catch a lot of them), they're normally pretty itty-bitty compared to the whoppers I've hooked up! You should've see him this one day when he rowed into shore, bragging about all the fish he'd caught on his fly rod only to lay eyes on the most beautiful three pound Alper's trout you've ever seen! On my stringer. I can still remember him shuffling out of the water with his head down, dejected, muttering to himself.
So, guys - if you're going to teach your wife to fish, you gotta be able to take it when she reels in the big ones!
