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With only a few days remaining in the Wisconsin trout season, I was fortunate to spend a memorable afternoon instructing and guiding two physicians from Mississippi on Knapp Creek at Seven Pines Lodge, near Lewis, WI. It’s both challenging and rewarding to teach others to cast with a fly rod, how to read the water and identify likely trout lies, and some basic streamside entomology in a limited amount of time.

Unfortunately, most people have a misconception that fly-casting and the art of fishing with a fly rod is just too tricky to figure out in a short period of time. It’s usually the case that folks who’ve never picked up a fly rod find it nearly inconceivable that they’ll have any shot whatsoever of actually catching a trout their first time out, let alone cast a fly with any measure of grace or elegance. My job, and I’m always delighted to do it, is to de-mystify this sport and dispel the prevailing myths that unjustifiably shroud fly-fishing.

Well, the two Mississippi doctors, newly baptized trout anglers purified in the cold spring waters of Knapp Creek, genuinely surprised themselves in a short period of time that day. After 45-minutes of instruction, their casting improved from downright awful and positively dangerous to consistently good. These guys were attentive and determined to do as well as they could that afternoon, and their single-mindedness paid off nicely at the end of the day. I sometimes prefer that clients have no prior experience with a fly rod, and there’s certainly a lot to be said for not having to “undo” bad habits and a poor casting stroke.

The fishing was good, the weather ideal (leaden skies threatening rain that never came), and cooperative trout kept the young doctors busy with numerous hookups, landed fish and plenty of streamside photo opportunities.

As an instructor and guide, I have my fly rod with me at all times, but use it only for casting demonstrations and as a nine-foot “pointer” while on the stream (put your fly right there, behind that rock). As many times that I’ve been tempted in the past, fishing while guiding others is, in my book, prohibited. You’ll understand when I tell you that it’s sometimes pretty tough to watch other folks catching fish and whooping it up while your hands are tied, so-to-speak. My casting hand began to itch something fierce at about the three-hour mark, so after our time was up, I asked the guys if it’d be o.k. to take a few casts and work a couple of fresh runs with them. We spent another hour or so fishing together off the clock, no longer bound by the unwritten guide and client rules. With the shadows growing increasingly longer and their dinner reservations at the lodge looming, we broke down our rods and exchanged all of the pleasantries, thank yous and way-to-gos you’d expect to hear after a successful and fun-filled few hours on the stream.

Make no mistake about it, I’ve had guiding jobs that didn’t go nearly as well as the gig with the doctors. For reasons that remain a mystery to me, the stream, on occasion, is just “off” and reluctant to give up fish, or a client simply lacks the particular gene in his DNA strand necessary to fly cast, rendering him quite incapable of simply waving a fly rod back and forth through the air. You laugh, but I’ve been with folks that had hitches in their cast big enough to pull a covered wagon, and I was unable to correct these problems with all the experience, patience and encouragement I could muster. I’ve long since stopped being too hard on myself, and concede that sometimes I guess it’s just not meant to be.

Other days, I spend quite a bit of time untangling leaders and tippets that more closely resemble a first-grader’s macramé project. I’d be a rich man if I had a nickel for every time I heard a client say, “Wow, you must be a very patient person to do this.” On its face, the comment isn’t nearly as funny to me as the delivery, which is invariably offered with a slow headshake and what I assume to be a mixture of genuine wonder and pity in their eyes. I smile reassuringly as I work at picking a snarled knot loose and tell them that it’s really not a big deal. Their faces brighten and they’re always happy and relieved to hear that even experienced anglers make a mess of their leader from time to time.

Fortunately, my guiding season ended on a high note that Saturday in late September, free of hitches and tangled leaders. As I drove home in the evening I thought of the pleasant day and the smiling Mississippi doctors with their infectious southern drawls, proudly holding colorful trout for the camera. Perhaps they’ll return home and tell their friends that casting with a fly rod and catching stream trout is a snap – a walk in the park. I hope they do. They were good students and did a fine job. Sometimes, it can be as easy as that if everything goes right and the trout are eager to bite. Of course, those are some big ifs and there are plenty of them, but it does work out that way quite often.

Unknowingly, the good doctors experienced a near perfect initiation into the world of fly-fishing and I’m pleased when I think back on that day. It was a good day to call it quits for the season.

Dan Brown’s weekly outdoor column is brought to you by Frankie’s Bait and Marine, in Chisago City, and St. Croix Outdoors, in St. Croix Falls, Wis.

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