Gink and Gasoline
Steelhead flies
Gink & Gasoline
When the rain won’t stop, the light is failing and the river swelling, steel headers drink whisky and stare darkly into their fly boxes. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but we all do it. I spent an evening like this with a group of friends recently. One of the guys had just started tying his own steelhead flies and they were pretty nice. Beautifully tapered, undulating forms with ostrich hurl and marabou and jungle cock eyes. They looked pretty deadly.
He would sort carefully through the box, selecting the perfect specimen, and passing it to Barrett, our guide. Barrett would give each fly a brief glance and toss it carelessly back across the table.
“Half as much,” he’d say and go back to his drink.
“They’re great flies,” he went on, “and they’ll catch fish, just not as many fish.” The reason is pretty simple.
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