Every fishing trip is an adventure filled with memories to be fondly recalled at a later time. Exploring new locations or even revisiting old ones that haven’t been explored in years brings excitement. Our fly fishing group has fished together since the late 1970’s and the many trips taken have created unforgettable memories, lots of laughter, and the occasional fish.
Our fishing trips are sometimes called explorations into the unknown. Even with months of planning, what we expect to happen during a trip doesn’t always happen as expected. Extenuating factors beyond anyone’s control always occur, making the trips enjoyable and defining adventure. These unknown variables lend to wonderful stories never embellished afterward. There’s no reason to “dress up” a non-fiction story anyway.
The difficulty with most fishing trips is the strategic three to six-month planning period, knowing things are subject to change, especially the weather. To be clear, my definition of a fishing trip is a journey at least ten hours from home to a river our group doesn’t fish regularly. Usually, our group starts the conversation on a riverbank while sipping on a libation and discussing important matters, such as that day’s fly choice or why we didn’t go fishing yesterday. It may begin with an innocent question; “Have any of y’all been thinking about fishing the White River in Arkansas, or let’s head back to New York?”
Following the question are the usual noncommittal nods, grunts, and maybes. But from that first innocent sentence, a seed of a new fishing adventure is planted. The original destination and time frame may change several times but the yearning to fish somewhere different besides our local waters has begun.
Once a destination is chosen, the real fun begins. For preparation purposes, consistent local fishing trips are needed to discuss the practicalities and finer points of planning. These trips allow time to chat and work out the details. Discussions near water ignite clarity to the trip.
These riverbank discussions also answer the critical questions of where, how and when.
“Did we decide on where we are going?”
“What other rivers can we fish while there?”
“Is there a fly shop nearby? Seems we can tie flies for six months and never have the right fly.”
“How do we get there, drive or fly?
“Do we want to rent a van and drive straight through?”
“Twelve hours in a rented van is the longest we can stand.”
“Is there a central point with nearby accommodations that provides easy river access?”
“Accommodations?”
“How many nights will we have to sleep in the car?”
After determining all the minor details of where to fish and when to leave, a list of more critical questions is discussed.
“Should we take any food, or do y’all think we can still live off beer for a week?”
“Are we certain the trip is at the peak time for dry fly fishing? Did anyone look at a hatch chart to see what bugs will be hatching?”
“If we’re going to drive, can we please ensure the rental car company gives us a coach-style van with five bench seats this time, instead of a bus van?”
“Do we need to limit the Yeti coolers to three on this trip? You’ll know they do sell beer there. Remember the last time we took a trip? We couldn’t see out the back window because the coolers were stacked so high.”
“Remember, this is a fishing trip, and you can wear clothes for up to four days before changing them, so pack light.”
“The last hotel towels were stained, so bring one extra towel for emergencies if you decide to clean up.”
“Only the first two drivers can take Benadryl or Melatonin after their turn driving. The last driver will have to suffer and not be allowed to take any meds for sleeping on the way out. He can drive first on the way back and medicate afterward.”
“Let’s limit the fly rods to two per person. There is no reason to have fifteen fly rods and six gear bags between four people. Though it may look like it after loading, this van ain’t a fly shop on wheels. Besides, we need room for the coolers and anything we buy from a local fly shop.”
“Let’s double-check the confirmation dates of our reservations, as there will not be enough room for all of us to sleep in the van for a couple of nights if we screw up the check-in date again.”
“We’ll have to pay more attention to some of the parking areas near the river as they are locked at certain times, and picnic tables are hard to sleep on. Seems their definition of locking the gate at dusk and our definition of fishing until dark is different.” “If we get tired and need to pull over and sleep, let’s pull the vehicle into the closest car dealership like before, but back into the service area parking spaces, not the new car section.”
It’s absolutely fine to plan a budget-friendly fly-fishing trip. Through trial and error, we’ve learned the distinction between budget-friendly and cheap.
I vividly recollect a trip over thirty years ago to the White River in Arkansas with my buddy Dave. The budget was quite thin with lodging cuts made to help offset the guide cost. The internet and modern technology would have proved useful, but we weren’t afforded this luxury. Finding accommodations near a river was like throwing darts and hoping for the best. Recommendations and word of mouth helped us discover inexpensive lodging. The keyword we used wrong in the sentence when searching was “inexpensive.”
We talked with our fishing guide, who suggested a particular hotel based on our description of where and what we were looking for and how much we wanted to spend. He said it was cheap, so we booked it on blind faith. Besides, what could go wrong? The rooms were only twenty-five dollars a night, including taxes.
When checking in, the clerk said our room was poolside, and we were the only guest booked for the next three days. Lucky for us, we were upgraded at no additional charge with a room on the first floor which opened up to the pool and lounging area.
Grabbing the luggage and fly rods, we walked down the hill and around the corner to our plush room. There it was, the only door with a fresh coat of paint. Between the active railroad track and the hotel lay the pool, thirty feet from our hotel door. It was a disgustingly dark green body of water littered with frogs, some dead and others struggling. With nowhere else to go except sleep in the car, we decided this was a minor speed bump since we weren’t planning on swimming anyway, and the stench wasn’t too bad. The train passed in front of the hotel every four hours.
Entering the room, a large sign in bold letters over the sink read: “Please do not clean fish in the sink.” There was a long moment of silence. I told Dave we would be better off buying water, brushing our teeth outside, and spitting in the pool. Thoughts of rising fish during a caddis hatch helped us swallow the accommodations. After all, this was a fishing trip. We caught plenty of fish during the next two days and were so tired by evening that it didn’t matter if the interior walls had a black film. We had learned a good lesson, the true meaning of cheap.
When planning a trip, funny memories of past adventures come to mind. Since 2002, several of us have embarked on twelve-hour road trips to fish the West Branch of the Delaware River in New York. One particular trip was educational and consistently sparked laughter when discussed.
A local fly shop informed us of a particular access point off the beaten path. They mentioned the sulfur mayflies were hatching so thick in the evening they resembled flying buttered popcorn. Naturally, with this kind of information, a thorough investigation was necessary. We got directions and drove around until we found the pull-off. It was midafternoon and with no other cars around, we felt no rush to “wader up.”
We pulled out three lounge chairs and sat beside the old gravel pull-off facing the river. Each of us needed to slow down and unwind from the stress of worrying about how many fish we were about to catch. It was time to practice drinking a cold beer. Suddenly, five or six police cars with flashing lights and a large SWAT van pulled up and parked directly behind us so quickly we didn’t have time to stash open containers. We couldn’t have driven off if we had wanted to with the cop cars blocking us. Our first thoughts were related to counting how much bail money in cash we had between us. Paying no attention to us, several law enforcement officers quickly surrounded an old farmhouse directly across the road from where we sat.
Our anxiety was on a pucker-factor level and we didn’t fully grasp the seriousness of the situation at hand. We were in awe as the chaos unfolded rapidly. We grabbed another beer and watched the entire spectacle play out before us. Apparently, they had received a tip about a felon living there, but it turned out to be false. Several friendly officers noticed our South Carolina license plates and chatted. We tried but failed to gather insight about more local hidden fishing spots. Besides having a front-row seat to a SWAT show, the fishing was fabulous that evening.
Fishing trips are indeed adventures to be remembered for the camaraderie, the people met along the way, and their fascinating personalities. It’s not the fish that compose the most laughs but the other small things that make us forget the fish we didn’t catch.
