As a fly fishing boy I roamed

And I often slept by the spring,
And I put my right arm under my head.
I can hear how the water sounds:
A soft shudder passed from branch to branch
And a smell was coming sleepy.
Thus I often spend whole nights,
Softly swayed by the waves voice.

Such poetry was also for me 20 years ago when I started fly fishing on mountain rivers. It was not nature's call, it was his merit Sorin Dragoi, at that time a kind of Brad Pitt (A river runs through it) of fly fishing in Romania.

Bad for fly, good for fly fishing

At the beginning of the 2000s, I had discovered the ponds and rivers of raptors around Bucharest and mined small, from the shore, perch, bream, mullet and bream, and Sorin was the number one provider of small gummies and micro wobblers that I also mined. Every time I visited to get my little lures, he told me that the fishing I was doing was stupid and that I should start fly fishing. And he kept telling me about the nobility of fly fishing, about the history, past, present and future, showing me books, people, famous anglers and writers, vintage and state of the art equipment, artificial flies and everything that flycatcher from Romania would have liked to see gathered in one place at that time. I liked it and was attracted to it, but that's not how Sorin convinced me. More jokingly, more seriously, he picked me and George up (my little fish bagging buddy) one day and took us to Arrow (Crângași warehouse) tricking us into taking more money from us to buy small gums and consumer items at warehouse prices. Super offer!

The first day of fly fishing, the first day of artistic ballet

How much money do you have with you? Sorin asked. We emptied our pockets, declared the amount and woke up with a Ron Thompson fly fishing combo, entry level, rod, reel, line and I don't think anything else went into that money. Yes, I'm lying, some small gums, normal, for the rest. In a maximum of an hour we were on Argeș, downstream from Mihăilești and together with George we were doing artistic ballet with the fly strings under the instructions of the demanding and metronome professor Sorin Drăgoi. We raked bushes, we lost (his) flies through the trees, we caught ourselves and each other, but we also caught. George caught the first, he didn't realize it until Sorin told him: "Bah, you see that your line doesn't fit because you've had a hook on the hook for some time that you kept dragging on the shore and throwing it into the water." The fact is that I was hooked on the game with the line and flies, fly fishing was really something else. Two years followed in which I fished at least once every two, three days, on the fly, on Argeș. Super years, super clen, super fishing.

Fly Fishing, flounder, flounder, huh, huh

The mountain rivers followed, also under Sorin's wand, trout and grayling. All of them small, because that's how the waters were, because that's how good I was, it doesn't matter anymore, but they were certainly the most beautiful fish in the world. And the freckled ones are tasty, less so the graylings because I chased them a lot to catch them. With the first grayling I caught on a river near Cluj, I spent whole minutes looking at its head, tail, back, flag. He in the water, me on the shore, a visual difficult to reproduce these days on our waters. I released him with no regrets. Me shed of bag. Yes, fly fishing really has other values. The rest is not nonsense, as Sorin said, all styles of fishing have their charm, but I understand it more and more as the years go by, fly fishing has something special that is difficult to reproduce in words. It's a state of mind. Enough with the poetry, we move our telephoto lens to 2007, Sweden.

My first and my last Fly fishing in Sweden

2007, first time in Sweden, first river I was fishing after a 3500 kilometer drive, so I had all the fishing gear with me, of course a fly fishing combo, something from Cabelas, PT, class 2 and a kit of Swedish travel class 5/6, Cortland reels (yes, like the line) and Okuma (they had some fabulous reels). I had evolved. We were on a 4-kilometer stretch of river, between two lakes, on which a maximum of 4 anglers were allowed to fish for bream and grayling. Being the driver and the guardian of the car keys, I waited for Petre, Mălin and Paco to prepare their fishing tools and start before me. Pike, perch, then grayling and trout began to be caught from the mouth of the lake where the evil came out as the river gathered speed downstream. I quickly took a spinning rod, tied a spinning rod and took it to the health center in the footsteps of my colleagues. On the first bend of the bad, in a wider area with lots of rocks and a dented current belt, I caught my first graylings past 40cm. They seemed to me from another movie, different fish compared to the ones I had caught in Romania. Please, I was in another movie. I stopped for a while on the highway of the graylings, they shot at every launch, until I heard Petre shouting "Keep it!". Normal, run after Petre, leave the graylings, what would you have done in my place? After two trout and a pike I still couldn't get out of my head the gorgeous place and the graylings left behind. Oh wait, I have my fly fishing gear in my car!

Beer, horns and fly fishing

Oh, but I also have beer in the car. The moment had to be celebrated somehow. I returned to the car, opened a beer, enjoyed the moment accompanied by a cigarette, after which, tactically, I began to prepare my fly fishing equipment. The place in question was not far from the car, in 10 minutes I was back in the grayling drill. This is life! Lots of grayling caught on dry fly and nymph and two more beers followed, naturally. You know how cool it is to take a break every once in a while, watch and listen to the river, sip a mouthful of beer sitting with your ass on a log, feet in the water next to some deer antlers? Priceless. The moment, the place, the graylings, the trout, the rivers, that pure nature and the rest of my first fly fishing trip to Sweden marked me. Upon returning to the country, with a bitter taste that I have after every return from other countries, I suggested to myself that fly fishing had nothing to do with what I was doing in Romania. I gave some of the tools as a gift, I gave the flies to him Angelina. Loan.

After 15 years

Over time, fishing for me acquired other and different values, but I didn't completely put the fly in the nail, I occasionally stretched out a string, a rod, two, just to keep in shape, with the equipment of my fishing friends on the near me, whether it was for trout, pike or carp. yes yes carp you read it right. Next expeditions to Sweden were under the sign of the pike, competitions and one each fast fishing ahead I kept and grayling, where, due to lack of time, the equipment and spinning lures were, are and will be much more effective. Fly fishing needs time, experience, analysis, emotions, a story. We're moving the telephoto lens again this year to 2022, Sweden, where we spent 11 days at the invitation of Roin, my Swedish brother from another mother, as I like to call him. The purpose of the expedition, fishing on rivers and lakes, for trout and grayling, on the river Vendelälven and its tributaries, a natural, irregular river under Unesco heritage. We will tell more in a future article about how we should take care of rivers, on the Swedish model, until then let's get back to our everyday fly.

You get a bite, you don't get a bite, go fly fishing

Also on the Sorin Drăgoi model, Roine tells me that he sold all his fishing tools, boats, rods, reels, lures and kept only his fly fishing equipment. The rest were useless, taking up time, space and robbing them of merging with nature and the relationship with the fish. Ok, so we kind of do Fly versus Spinning these days? I told him. No, not necessarily, for example, tomorrow we go fly fishing exclusively, replied Roine, you also have to recover somehow from this run after fish. How Roine? Am I not allowed to spin at all? Not. Fly Fishing or Die, that's the rule on this river full of grayling and big trout, and my dear, this is your rod, I bought it especially for you when you come here. Do you still know how to fly fish? Roine closes the discussion before I ask him how we can do that I don't have fly fishing equipment. As in Operation Monster, Roine puts a Scierra rod in my hand Reminder class 5, a reel Track 2, a string Aerial, a leader Stroft, a roll of Stroft threads and a box of flies made by Let's play, his fly fishing partner. waders and boots I had, because of fly fishing I knew, there was sure to be a new or old pleasant experience.

Long live the beer we were born into

Do you know how cool it is to have no luggage? Just a rod, a reel and a box of flies in your pocket? I had forgotten one. And not only that. In short, I caught a bunch of graylings, a trout and let a few more escape, I had time to look at the river, listen to the water flowing and enjoy everything that surrounded me. And friends and a beer, of course accompanied by a cigarette like deh, I like to smoke. Please, I hope a small part of it is felt in the video above, more to come, according to the fisherman. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Moreover, we also had a meal in nature, excuse me two meals, prepared at the level of a Master Chef in the wilderness by Lars and Let's play, sprinkled liberally with beer and coffee from the kettle. At the request of the viewers, I will put on a video editing how to make a shaorma with smoked perch and some venison burgers with berry jam. Just let me know in a message on facebook, instagram or by email if you have subscribed to the website newsletter. Dream.

Come home, come with me

Back, again, in the country, I kept running the film back and forth through all the recorded frames with fly fishing, from the first release on Argeș, through our beautiful mountain rivers, to the first and last grayling caught in Sweden. That it could be from the wisdom of age, that it could be from the fact that I finally managed to assimilate the teachings of masters Sorin and Roine, such a longing seized me to fish again at fly fishing... I immediately called Anghelina to give me flies and love letters back and then I opened the fly fishing memento chest to see what I had left of the old arsenal. We didn't have much left, so we started shopping again. Buuun and where to start? I had gotten to know Roine's rod very well, both on dry flies and nymphs and small fish and big fish and short and long casting distances. Well then it should be Scierra, right? Not that I'm a benchmark fisherman in fly fishing and the choice of equipment of this kind, but starting from the premise that the Scandinavian company has served and satisfied many generations of fly anglers with equipment from A to Z, and I was more than satisfied , I can wholeheartedly recommend the products Sierra. I admit I liked the tagline too "Scierra, for the magical moments of fly fishing!"

I chose from the window with fly fishing

Memento class 5 rod, Traxion 1 reel, Aerial cord, Trout leaders, Stroft GTM threads. Perfect so far, I told you about Stroft why and how, not? So, we have a rod, we have a reel, but we don't take anything on fashion luggage, accessories? I got, I got, pants Helmsdale Fishing that maybe it's not the time or the place for waders, shoulder backpack Kaitum for the normal man, Street Wear sunglasses to see the bigger freckles and a magnetic clip for playing and playing on any iron surface. It's super fun. Did I forget something else? Oh yes, the pièce de résistance literally and figuratively. After a few phone calls and messages exchanged with older fly fishing friends, I was informed that I have nothing to hunt for trout in Romania without bear spray. Wherever I go. Bear spray, checked! Aoleu, I forgot about the flies, Anghelina, I pass by and he hands me the 4 boxes cheerfully informing me that most of them are rotten and that I have nothing to do with them. But he doesn't leave me like that, who doesn't have old people like Anghelina to buy him, he tore a few flies from his kit related to him, he tactfully put them in a urine sample box, and with a squinting look under his glasses he muttered: Yes, you'll tell me too if you catch where you're going, where and to what... yes? Yes. before we part, Madalina, his consort who still puts up with him (I don't know how he does it because he's a mean old man) secretly slipped me some catching flies. Chic!

Back to the future, fly fishing in mioritic lands

Well, my dears, now where are we going to fish for trout? That begs the question. I didn't find out the answer until today either. Honestly, I didn't even look for it very much so as not to be demoralized at first. I chose the Vâlsan river because I had a trip to the area and I decided to combine the useful with the pleasant. But how do I find out if there are still trout on Vâlsan? I called them Florin Ghimisliu and Ovidiu Mihuț, two landmark fishermen for me, one in muskrat. They told me where, when, how and what to give and yes, there are still trout on Vâlsan despite all the "good" things happening on our mountain rivers, but they are very difficult to catch. I found out that the Vâlsan keeper is also called Inorogul. With the permit made at Kerslake (30 lei per day) and with many expectations, I went up the following weekend to the Vâlsan gorges, a dizzying landscape that takes your breath away until you start coming across clearings, people, music, barbecues, cars and logs pulled through the water, sounds of chainsaws and so on. It's okay, we go even higher. As high as possible? Until we can no longer drive forward and there is total silence. That's it, it's quiet. I listen to the river, look at it, look for insects, tie a catch fly from Mădălina, sic, put on my polarized glasses and look for THE PLACE. The place is where a trout lurks safe from the current of an insect falling, in time you see it, you know it, you feel it. I find the spot with my eyes, unroll the string from the reel and perfectly present the lying insect to him. I immediately remove the freckles in the rays of the sister, ploop, misses the fly. I put the fly on the water for the second hour naturally, ploop, it misses again. What can be more beautiful than that? Come on again, come on… The perfect flow of the river is suddenly interrupted by the sound of beer bottles crashing into each other…”Bo$$, are you taking fish on this water?”. I answer that yes, it is, he asks me what fish it is, I answer that it's a trout, he looks at me strangely, studies me from head to toe, says "Aha" and disappears into the forest with the bag of beers that had been resting cold in bad.

The moon rises, hits me straight in the face:
A paradise from fairy tales I see between the eyelids,
On the plains a wave of silver mist,
Sparkles in the sky, blazes in the waters,
A song secretly sings sweetly,
Calling closer and closer…
On the dry leaf or through the tall grass,
He seemed to hear deer coming in droves.

Will there be more?

PS 1 As I promised Anghelina, I told her where I had been, that there were trout and what they were catching. He also climbed Vâlsan the next day, higher than where I managed to reach, and he caught it. Good, he caught Mădălina better than he did, as is normal, final score 10 to 5. And two zero to see the bear.

PS 2 The trout photos of Cristi and Mădălina are from Zetea, the Târnava Mare river, the last redoubt of the civilized rivers in Romania. Common sense regulation and fees here.

PS3 Later edit.

Because a lot of you asked me "Andy, when are you going to put the video of the smoked perch shaorma and the venison burgers with forest jam cooked in the forest by Lars and Joacim?", well, I edited it and I put. Please, honestly, no one asked me anything, either. Enjoy.