We spent a week fishing with Captain Carl Ball, who is undeniably one of the best tarpon guides on the planet. It wasn’t long before Joe was tossing 80-footers and twitching his fly back in rhythm of Captain Carl’s cadence: “Strip, short strip, long strip, dink it, dink it... he ate it!”

For a fly angler there isn’t much that compares to hooking a tarpon in four feet of water. Watching 300 yards of backing melt away in the mater of a few seconds and witnessing the King make jumps that would shame the greatest of NBA players is about as good as it gets in my world. The ensuing battle tests every from your hook to your toes, and I often wonder how anybody ever successfully lands a tarpon on fly.

The euphoria that accompanies landing your first tarpon is bitter sweet, as you’re physically exhausted, amazed you did it, and also worried about quickly reviving and safely reviving your fish. It’s one of fly fishing's greatest thrills, and I’m glad I was able to witness Idaho Joe’s first of many battles with the King.

We made plans to join my buddy Captain Carl Ball this past March, for five days of fun in the sun. Always great to leave the winters of north Idaho behind and head to sunny Florida for a week.

We arrived in Miami right along side an unexpected and uninvited guest who decided to pay the region a visit. Mr. ColdFront came barreling down from the north and decided to just sit on us for the week. That first morning optimism prevailed and we hopped in the boat wearing our typical flats gear. Ten minutes later I was fighting the urge to scream, “Take me back to the dock”, which was made all the tougher knowing my fishing parter and wife, was toughing it out far better then me.

“48 degrees with winds blowing NNE at 22 knots,” shouted Captain Carl. Made all the worse was the fact that he was wearing a jacket that looked like it belonged to an arctic explorer.

By the second day we had and traded flip-flops for shoes and wool socks. The good news was that the water temps were holding steady and the fish acclimated quickly. They were still on the flats, just laying right on the bottoms and tougher to see. But once we found them they ate as if they were starving, and if nothing else, fighting a 100+ pound tarpon will warm you up from the inside out.

During the week I could not help but notice the weather in North Idaho experienced a strange warming trend that saw temperatures jump up into the mid 60’s. Go figure.

Every few years I completely change my tying habits, which usually includes materials.  My first steelhead flies were marabou spiders, and seemed effective, but just not sexy enough. Then came the more traditional patterns that were immensely complicated (also effective), until the new articulated patterns started showing up. Of course I couldn’t resist the urge to spend even more time and money jumping on the articulated bandwagon.

At some point Ed Ward introduced the Intruder, which once again took the tying complication to a new level. One would think my skill set would’ve scaled with the evolutionary process of the flies themselves, but perhaps my lack of any real training, or more importantly my not wanting to sit through any, has hindered my tying skills. 

Lately, I’ve put the guinea, partridge, moose, turkey, ostrich, yak, goat, pheasant, buck tail, temple dog, and rabbit on the backburner, and made room for marabou—piles of it everywhere. I’ve decided to keep the articulation for now, and also like the idea of cone heads. I’ll also add some flash, which takes about 14 seconds and seems to help. 

I guess I’m paying less attention to the latest cool pattern and focusing more on the patterns that got me started. Back to the future? Hell, I don’t know, but for now I am convinced I’m hooking as many, or perhaps more, fish.

Next season? I’m already planning speed tying tests between my current lineup and the standard Wooly Bugger.