There is something magical about taking a young person fishing for the first time and watching their expression reflect pure excitement, especially if they get lucky and hook their first fish of a lifetime.
The opportunity to teach and accompany over 1200 students flyfishing during the last twenty years and witness many of these first-hand experiences have been epic. It also reflects the importance of teaching young people to fish and introduce them to a hobby that will last a lifetime.
Teaching the sport of fly fishing part-time at Clemson University in the Leisure Skill Department offered through the College of Behavioral, Social, and Health Sciences has been nothing short of a blessing. Those of us passionate about fly fishing and other types of fishing, in general, owe it to the sport to introduce it to others, especially young people who have never had the opportunity to fish. After all, we are entrusting them to be tomorrow’s conservationists and protectors of the resource.
I vividly remember walking into my first classroom with 50 pairs of eyes staring at me, probably waiting for something profoundly fishy to be said. Class began with a few slightly embellished flyfishing stories, of which I have many. As we went around the room for introductions, it became apparent almost half of tomorrow’s leaders had never fished. Most had never felt the adrenaline rush of catching a fish. My assumptions about everyone having had the opportunity to catch a bream with a drowned cricket quickly vanished.
As it was an elective class, most students wanted an opportunity to catch a fish and learn how to catch one while waving a fly rod. I was entrusted with uncovering the secrets and revealing the hidden treasures of fly fishing. This responsibility was a challenge taken seriously. Even now, the percentage of students who never felt the rod tip bend and the pull of a fish has consistently remained at 30-40%.
Students would learn how to cast a fly rod during the semester. They also became proficient with knot-tying and different leader configurations. This was an outdoor class. On rainy days, they had the opportunity to tie flies with fur and feathers. The class was held around the different ponds on campus, except for a field trip to a river to experience wade fishing. Meanwhile, fish were caught, which brought on smiles and pictures during this outdoor experience.
Through the years, we created a fly fishing culture at the University that extends well beyond the classroom. In 2011, eleven students, with me as the administrator, organized and chartered a fly fishing club officially recognized by Clemson. The club offers a platform outside of class to promote fly fishing synergies among the students. From meager beginnings, this program’s foundation and building blocks continue to flourish and be successful. Today, the club boasts more than 147 students. These milestones reflect the impact of fly fishing and fishing in general. Stating confidently, a group of Clemson students are fly fishing somewhere every day of the school year.
College class status allowed seniors to register first; most classes consisted of juniors and seniors. After-class discussions led to career discussions, resume reviews, and mock interviews. Listening to students discuss and challenge themselves as they prepare for today’s world is important. Letters of reference were written for internships and job opportunities.
It was a marvelous experience introducing this sport to young people and introducing them to a new hobby. Over the years, I have been lucky to make lifelong friends with many students, dating back to their early beginnings. This friendship included attending socials, weddings, funerals, and many fishing trips. I have watched students graduate, become nurses, doctors, dentists, and most of all, succeed while continuing to enhance the skills learned in class. The rewards for me are much greater than just fishing.
There are many stories about the fun adventures the class endured trying to catch a fish on the fly. The students caught snapping turtles, snakes, bream, crappie, bass, each other, and trout. I can still picture them trying to climb bushes and small trees and breaking a few rod tips while attempting to retrieve a fly from an errant cast. Eye protection was mandatory.
I remember a warm spring semester afternoon during my first school year teaching when I took the class to a particular Clemson pond to fish for bass and bream, throwing topwater flies and popping bugs. The students had scattered around the pond edge, and I was making my usual rounds to assist everyone.
My attention was directed across the pond, where one student was hollering my name at the top of his voice with excitement and frustration. He had just hooked what appeared to be a seven-to-eight-pound bass. Being on the other side of the pond, I could only coax his dogged determination from across the water.
This young man had never caught a fish before, and his first fish was a trophy bass. He screamed at me, stating that I had taught him how to cast well, but he didn’t know how to land a fish, much less one that size. As the fish continued to get airborne with several jumps, the student immediately entered the water and began wading after the fish. I instructed another student nearby to run over and grab him, but it was too late. He stood chest-deep in the pond, holding the rod high and tight, trying to fight this enormous fish. The bass finally broke off, and my student didn’t drown. He couldn’t explain why or what possessed him to wade into the water. I mentally noted my error to explain, in great detail, how to play a fish from that class forward. After the entire class saw the acrobatics of the big bass jump, it was after dark before I could drag them away from the pond.
On another outing to wade a river in North Carolina, I left one group of students fishing and headed upstream when I heard a voice that sounded like someone crying. Rounding the bend in the river, I discovered a young lady sitting on the riverbank, totally devasted. She explained how important this outing was to her. She thought it might be her only chance to experience the thrill of hooking and landing a trout, but she had no luck and was discouraged. This was her first true outdoor experience and an opportunity to catch her first fish. She and I fished together, hooking and landing several nice trout. Pictures were immediately taken and sent to Mom and Dad. I will never forget her smile when I netted her first fish. Catching fish always makes a person smile radiantly.
I reminded students to bring a rain jacket during one rainy field trip to the Chattanooga River next to the North Carolina, Georgia, and South Carolina border. As he readied his fishing gear to hike up the trail, one student explained how his tight-woven, 100% cotton sweatshirt was water-repellent and he would be fine. For five hours, it rained a steady, soaking drizzle. Back at the van, I noticed this student’s water, saturated sweatshirt sleeves were now stretched almost to his knees, and he was chilled and completely soaked. With his head down, he walked up and apologized for not listening. I had brought extra clothes, gave him a shirt to wear back to campus, and kept the van heater vent pointed to him. What a great life lesson in humility.
The stories are endless. Though we had several wet students test the water temperature after wade-fishing a river each semester, I am the only person to have submerged entirely after falling into the river. The problem occurred as I leaned too far over a spillway in a North Carolina river. A young lady’s trout was on the other side while my arm and net weren’t quite long enough. Between unsteadiness caused by the contour of the bottom and the currents washing over the concrete wall, I lost my balance. I quickly regained my footing and walked up the riverbank, successfully netting her 20” rainbow trout. I was completely soaked and carrying at least five gallons of water inside my waders, but I managed to secure the fish. We all laughed at this spectacle of a water-logged and dripping instructor; even my hat was wet. She hugged and thanked me for risking my life to net her fish. The next week, I received a wonderful email.
Several years ago, I watched one class rally around a student with some learning disabilities catching his first fish on the fly. The class encircled him, clapped, and cheered as he brought a nice bream to the bank. Pictures and high-fives erupted as he reached down to pick up his fish. The camaraderie, caring, and sharing of the sport among the students became contagious. It happens every semester; I have watched those with some fly fishing experience reach out also to assist those with less.
These experiences reminded me why I enjoyed these students so much. Everything was new for most of them, and I was lucky to be part of it. It’s hard to explain to a student the feeling of the rod tugging away from you, watching the tip bounce back and forth, moving left to right as the fish surges for an escape. Once they discover for themselves, they become hooked for life.
All these wonderful moments and memories throughout the years for everyone began with one simple act of teaching a young person how to catch a fish with a fly rod. Over the years, everyone has benefited from this elementary task. I gained new friends and acquaintances to last my lifetime while they learned a new skill that would last theirs, along with the importance of passing the fishing torch forward.
I remember one student standing in the river with waders on for the first time, feeling the river’s soul as it moved by. Like many others, he looked up at me and said, “I can feel why you love it so much.” The type of fishing we prefer is unimportant; we owe it to the sport to introduce it to young people so they can potentially “feel it, too.”
This story originally appeared in the January-February 2025 South Carolina Wildlife Magazine issue.
Mike Watts is the publisher of riversandfeathers.com, also a freelance writer and Author of “Riverbank Memories” and a children’s book, “Pond Fishing with Papa.” Both books can be purchased on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.
