A FLY FOR JIMMY?
That's a wonderful idea, Juro.
I suspect that not many people realize who Jimmy Green was and what he did not only for the sport but for the entire industry.
I first met him on the Mixer Hole in the late seventies. I was using a 14 ft. Sharpe's cane rod, pretending like I knew what I was doing. The rod immediately got his attention. He asked me if I wanted to "field test" some of his new graphite prototypes. Long story short, his idea of "field testing" was to just give you the blank, let you build it, then later, tell him what you thought. I ended up with a fantastic collection of double-handers that to this day I hold nearer and dearer to my heart then all the other rods I own. To this day I also wonder why Fenwick never became a player in the long rod market.
I broke the tip of one of his 16 footers a few years ago and I felt like my universe had fallen in on me. Each one of his rods had a unique characteristic. Literally. They were all different. This is what made them so special but also made breaking one of them so tragic.
What a wonderful concept: an outright gift to all his friends and to people like me who he met on the river-- a telescopic extension of your index finger which when properly strung allowed you to reach out right across your favorite strip of river and touch the heart of its wildness with an effortless flick.
And that guy single handedly delivered me from the agony of a 22 ounce cane rod. I'd probably have bursitis today if it weren't for that new high-tech carbon stuff he was rolling onto his mandrills out on Day Road.
I'll never forget the day I received a package from him. I had moved to Alaska by then. Big fish and big rivers had been redefined for me. It was an unsolicited gift, just something Jimmy thought I "might enjoy fooling around with”. I opened the tube and as I suspected, it was a double handed blank. But there were five pieces. Holy Mackerel.
I did the math: 5 x 4 = ?? Oh, I thought to myself; Jimmy sent me a 16 ft. blank with two butt sections, each with a different set of characteristics. He’d done this with tips in the past; I had several rods with multiple tips, each with different flex patterns.
Now I was getting multiple butt sections! Or so I thought. I soon realized that he had sent me a 20 footer. I wrapped on the guides (over 20 of them!). I had to guess at the proper placement-- I was forging new territory. But I had a mounting sense of wonder. What a weapon!
My first fish on that rod was a 20 pound steelhead. I took it behind a guy who had stepped in front of me in the tail-out of a run on the Skeena. He low-holed me in a somewhat insolent blustery manner and I put all my frustration into my casting which seemed to be setting new personal distance records although I never thought it would buy me a fish because I was too pissed off.
When my line tightened and that fish took off downstream across this guy's field of vision I thought somehow Jimmy would appreciate the way things went down. When the guy reeled up his line and stepped out of the river to give me free reign with my fish and my long rod I just absolutely knew Jimmy would apppreciate the way things went down.
I visited Jimmy at his house out in Quilcene. I was with my girlfriend. It was April and we were coming back from the Sol Duc. I wanted to share a magnificent 12 pound spring steelhead I’d hooked on a 5/0 GP. I was going to just give him a side of the fish but I ended up giving him the whole fish. It was like a sacrament, giving someone a chrome gorgeous fish like that. But Jimmy had given me so much. He’d opened up a whole new world for me and giving him a fish like that seemed way more appropriate than anything else I could come up with.
Jimmy said the fish was nice but I could tell he was way more interested in my girlfriend. She was a fly fisher and Jimmy liked that part. She was also a babe, the particular mix of which I have never been able to duplicate since.
He took her into his rod display room. There was a rack that extended from one end of the room to the other, every notch holding a glistening brand new rod. "Pick any one you want", he told her, taking in the expanse of the room with a magnanimous sweep of his arm. There must have been fifty of them.
Judith sidled slowly up and down the length of the room, reaching out and occasionally touching one of the rods with her long slender index finger. A few she fitted together so as to test the action, fastening her moony blue eyes on me and giving me an impish grin as she went through the waggling motions. She did this with a slow deliberate feminine majesty that drove me to absolute distraction. I was chomping at the bit, beside myself with agitated distraction, simmering with unsolicited advice. There may even have been a tendril of drool on my chin as I spied the very rod that she absolutely, unconditionally had to choose. I willed her to the very slot in the rack that held the rod she just absolutely unconditionally had to choose, Godamnit all.
Jimmy looked at me and wagged his finger slowly back and forth. No, he said. This one is for her, not for you.
I was shocked. I hadn’t even said a word.
Juro-- I have a great fly to add to the collection. I’d be honored to have it as part of the collection. To whom or where should it go?
Thanks for suggesting this.
Marketic