So I headed out to my super-super, surreptitious, Über-clandestine fishing spot with my first traditional flies. And my IPhone.
You’d think after the third time I’ve gotten my Iphone wet, that I’d be inclined to just go ahead and go the money for a camera that CAN get wet. And even after the obligatory and miraculous “bag-of-rice” trifecta, the phone now has fits and turns that I am still discovering, even though, miraculously, the phone still remains functional enough for me to be happy with it (including—posting this blog entry via the WordPress app).
One of those oddities is a camera that doesn’t like to focus on anything relevant. My attempts to photograph this first-on-a-Kebari-fly moment looked worse than a still frame culled from the Zapruder film.
Undaunted, I used the secondary, “I am Narcissus” camera on the front of the phone (you know, the one that in America, allows every can-tanned and pout-lipped Professor of Self to STILL look at themselves while talking to somebody else). This operation at least allowed me to gain some semblance of a photo. It just looks ridiculous. My overwrought mug shoving a tiny little trout (10 inches) into the foreground was the best I could do, with me having a “thousand yard stare.” And unfortunately, none of this matches the brilliant, HD offerings some of these other blogs have. Plus, I was by myself, so taking an actual camera the size of the Hubble telescope is unwieldy at best, and stupid overall.
Either way, my Kebari fly: Black thread, hen hackle, and a white horsehair for ribbing—is there for all to see–Messed up though it seems.
So there. I did it. I fished a fly with some 300 years of history, and the fish still went for it.