September 21, 2012
By Florida Sportsman Newswire
By Ken Hofmeister
A fly rod is my magic wand—taking me on unforeseen adventures. There is indeed magic in fly fishing illuminated by a full moon, or the majesty of a sunset, or the beauty of a sunrise. There is the thrill of a fish smashing a newly-tied fly, affirming the craft and choice of this offering.
My fly rods have taken me into numerous new friendships that I never would have dreamed of. These long rods have led me into causes and crusades that were not on my planning board before retirement.
Without a fly rod, I would never have had an inclination to join Suncoast Fly Fishers and engage in an entirely different demographic of diverse individualists tied loosely together by a love of the sport.
The long rod has led me into some gator filled, rain soaked swamps. These magic wands have taken me into canoe dragging low water of the Withlacoochee River and the channel erasing high water of the Hillsborough River. I've had waders filled in Oregon's Deschutes River and lost gear standing in Lake Okeechobee. Mosquitoes have been larger than the flies I used. I've jumped overboard to retrieve a dropped fly rod.
