I went to Ifly yesterday up on Post Oak and San Felipe. On the way home I stopped by Fishing Tackle Unlimited. I think I expected too much from Ifly since it is solely dedicated to fly fishing. They didn't have the selection, unless you want to buy clothes, that I expected. That's why I stopped by Fishing Tackle Unlimited on the way home.
At all three locations they have a fly fisherman dude to help you. For some reason I felt a bit intimidated at IFly. I think it's because it's kind of rich. It just seemed tailored for rich guys that take fly fishing trips. That's not to say they weren't helpful and decent. I think it's more me feeling out of place. I walked out and thought, "Get me to the bay with the rust and the salt and the rickety docks. I want to wipe this clean off of me and get some grunge on".
The guy at Fishing Tackle Unlimited is as Texan as you can get. He reminds me of my cousin who happens to be named Bass. The guy up at Bass Pro lives on the water.
I don't like that uncomfortable feeling I get around the rich. There is a classic movie about a group of friends who are growing up and growing apart. It's called "Breaking Away". There's a scene where Dennis Quaid swims against a college athlete. It's kind of like that. While I push, paddle, swim my heart out and bump my head on the rocks; the other effortlessly strokes his way.
There's nothing bad about that. I'm guessing for some I'm seen as the guy who effortlessly glides by. I guess it's a matter of perspective and knowing who you are with.
I'm more comfortable fishing for crawdads, sitting beneath a window unit, sweating, the smell of cut wood, fireplace, working with my hands - and struggling. I also feel at home, more at home, outdoors than just about anywhere.
Fly fishing, like the photo taken by Lefty Kreh, the name on my rod, is just awesome. It really is. It's a combination of art, skill, love of the outdoors and the thrill of hunting (something I'm still grappling with).
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