Pregame

It is mid March in Eastern Alberta meaning the weather is becoming milder and with it thoughts of casting flies over open water. I have come to develop a ritual this time of year that helps me get through the agonizing month and a half leading up to opening day. It is a slow process, one that I have gone through almost every season since I took up fly-fishing almost 20 years ago. I look forward to it if only because it means I have a whole season still ahead and I haven't missed out on anything. I often find myself daydreaming of various trips and the ensuing success I will have only to quash it with skepticism from the previous season. As in, "man I can not wait to fish Lake X every set off during May," followed by the realization that I only fished it once the previous year. I have learned fishing never gets in the way of life but that it's the other way around.

The daydreaming and the trip planning in my head soon begin taking shape. Phone calls, e-mails and plans start to become finalized all without my Wife's knowledge. Actually, she has been with me long enough to know exactly what the hell is up when I start taking phone calls behind closed doors and nervously closing the laptop when she enters the room. Any other woman would probably think their significant other were having an affair. We usually have to have a serious sit down to discuss what is and what isn't practical. If you were to ask me I would say it's all practical but alas' this would contradict my "happy wife happy life," belief so I am reduced (and have come to somewhat understand) compromise.

This isn't to say that life is miserable when trips get aborted due to some unforeseen event that just springs up. O.K. that's not entirely true. In most cases I am too preoccupied with trying to fish as much as I can that I never look at the calendar at when I actually should. As a husband and father of three young boys time is in limited supply these days so it pays to listen to my wife going over the upcoming weeks itinerary. I used to try slipping my plans into conversations real subtle like, as in , "oh that sounds nice, I think it will be a great idea. Man the weather forecast looks like it will be nice on Thursday, probably be good fishing...". It actually worked too.

 She has, however, over the years deciphered this into something she can more easily understand, " I could care less about your wine and cheese party with some of your girlfriends. Thursday is going to be overcast and calm meaning trout are cruising the shallows, I am going fishing!"

 Needless to say I have been reduced to actually having to ask for permission to go fishing. Fortunately my wife somewhat understands so I can bank on getting to do 20-30% of preplanned trips which when you look at what I originally had planned still ends up being a lot!

Anyway, my preseason ritual. It usually begins with getting over the hurdle of cleaning up my fly tying desk. I have never considered myself a neat freak and when it comes to my desk it is no different. I do try to keep it relatively clean...initially. I remember when I was commercial tying I would read books by A.K. Best on how to become a more efficient and prolific fly tier. For arguments sake a lot of what I read helped speed up my tying and I was getting through orders quickly. But then I am a fisherman at heart and not a commercial tier. With every passing fly order I grew more disdain for the profession as my flies were gracing the boxes of other fly fisherman. Needless to say my commercial tying days were short lived and I quickly resorted back to old habits, which is where I am 15 years later. By this I mean; tie a fly, stop. Tie another fly with completely different materials, stop etc. etc. so on and so forth. Anyone that ties flies knows this is a recipe for one giant shit pile of fur and feathers.

So come mid March I spend several evenings cleaning the dead moose sized pile from my desk so I can at least get at my vice. Quick glances through my boxes will tell me what I need to stock up on and perhaps remind me that I have way too many flies to begin with (I am thoroughly convinced fly tiers suffer from OCD). This of course carries on through the fishing season until the end of October at which time I focus on hunting.

About two weeks out from the season I will begin cleaning my gear bags which can prove to be another monster all together. When I was a young Jedi my mentor Wayne Phillips explained that fly lines should be pulled from reels, stretched, oiled and hung so they didn't crack and or retain reel memory. Reels should be cleaned of grit and greased and rod guides checked for burs or wear. Wayne said a lot of things to which I have to this day yet to determine if they were true or not. On the topic of equipment maintenance he was probably right. Now, that doesn't mean I pull my fly lines from my reels (I am good for a new one about once every five years) but I follow through with the rest of what he said and after multiple seasons most of my tackle is holding up.

My actual tackle bag usually is good for a rotten sandwich, flat bottle of pop and or a half eaten granola bar stuffed under some fly boxes from the previous season. Old leaders and tippets are tossed, new ones stocked. Split shot that was dumped in the bag is put back into appropriate containers and I usually have to give the bag a shake to get sand and crap from out of the bottom. Once done my bag is repacked and ready to go for the rest of the season and or another tossing mid way to rid it of a decaying lunch.

My final step and probably the one I relish the most, is going over the bathymetric map of my chosen destination. If it is a lake I have fished often over the years I will prioritize spots based on forecasted weather conditions (wind, temperature, sun) to where I know I can set up the best. New water bodies are crap shoots but at least I can narrow down much of the water to a few likely looking spots. Once in a while I get it right the first time and the fishing goes as planned. Usually it doesn't. Still, it is something I enjoy doing the night before opening day which then leads to frantic fly tying into the wee hours of the morning.

Looking ahead, when my boys become older and we begin to go fishing together, a part of me hopes that I can still keep my sacred preseason ritual. Part of me still, and even more so, would like to keep it my own little tradition but then I know that is just wishful thinking.

Roderick Haig Brown once wrote: "One learns to temper hope with skepticism, and loses nothing by doing so." I couldn't agree more, in life and in fishing!