The Purist

Many people have, over my years of fishing, asked me my favorite technique to use while fly-fishing. My answers have varied based on the technique that has brought me the most success in the recent past. Nymphing usually seems to be the answer during the winter. Dry-fly fishing takes the cake in the late summer. Streamer fishing is a blast during high water events or during stormy weather when the predatory instincts of the fish are in overdrive. They each have their perks and their challenges.

The conversation then usually morphs into what form of fly-fishing is the most "pure". The implication is that fly-fishermen are purists (read: elitists) and they should enjoy the technique that is therefore most pure, meaning most natural, elegant, even showy. This question used to really perplex me. Is it most pure to look at fly-fishing from a historical perspective, leading one to answer that dry-fly fishing is the purest because that is how it started, two centuries ago? Or is it more pure to fish the technique that represents more than 90% of a trout's daily diet throughout the year, nymphing and wet-fly fishing? On the other hand, is it most pure to fish the method that taps into a trout's natural predatory instincits, representing flashy wounded minnows with large and often gaudy streamers?

The more I fly-fish, however, the more I realize that the method really doesn't matter. Of course I have my personal favorite method. But I have spent far too much time trying to force the fish to take a certain fly when they clearly were not interested, all in the name of being pure. No matter how hard you want to, you can't induce a dry-fly hatch if the fish aren't looking up. Trust me, I've tried; it's only the rare opportunist that will take a random fly on the surface when no other surface activity has been occurring. There are forces of nature, rhythms of feeding and seasonal patterns and lunar cycles and water flows and air temperatures and an entire host of variables that are at work here, which are much larger and more complex than any one of us can imagine. And the perfect size #16 elk hair caddis float down a slick that you know is a prime feeding lane for trout because you've seen them there before can't overcome these forces. The trout isn't even in charge, much less the fisherman. It is nature herself calling the shots, with her grand perspective and infinite wisdom of what constitutes the cycles of life. We fly-fishermen are left to try and unravel the puzzle. And believe me, it is much easier to unravel that puzzle of what the fish are eating with a flexible mindset, one based on adapting and overcoming and a willingness to try new flies and new techniques.

Which brings us full circle, back to the original question. What is the purest form of fly-fishing? The technique that catches fish and that brings you joy. For we shouldn't fly-fish if we're not enjoying it, after all. And who is my mentor that captures the essence of this flexibility, purism, overcoming, and a willingness to do what it takes? I present Mr. Osprey, the purest fisher of us all.