Lower Forty Flyting Lab - January 24, 2000

COMPARADUN, THE FORGOTTEN DRYFLY

January 24, 2000 - Preceding a fly tying workshop we were hosting many years ago, instructor extraordinaire, Del Mazza, began perusing my personal fly boxes in search of God only knows what. After carefully inspecting 6 or 7 (am I the only trout fisherman that carries 5,000 flies afield ?), he sheepishly raised his head, and peering through a pair of half glasses quarried, "ever think of using comparaduns?"

It had always my assumption that properly tied dry flies had to maintain an abundance of high quality hackle in order to insure proper buoyancy. Sure I had read countless articles and periodicals by notables proclaiming their effectiveness, but, somehow the thought of a hackle-less dry fly lacked in substance and imagination.

As many of his comrade’s know, Del’s generosity speaks for itself. He brazenly flipped open a small Wheatley, tucked neatly away in his upper shirt pocket and graciously offered a handful of meticulously tied size 14 Hendrickson comparaduns, which was the impending hatch on the Farmington River, our destination for the weekend. While acknowledging this random act of kindness, I snagged an errant fly box from my vest and stored the little buggers out of harms way, without serious consideration.

Standing fanny deep, smack dab in the middle of the Church Pool the following afternoon, like clockwork, here they come. At first, sentries, almost to insure the masses that the coast is clear. Then, in an instant, a full blown blizzard of perfect size 14 Hendrickson adults, each one a mini-sailboat with mast’s at full tack.

By now the pool had attracted 5 or 6 other anglers to it’s banks, regulars to the drill it seemed. The entire river was alive with slurping trout, and, I, fully armed with the finest of Catskill dries, tied with the most expensive hackle money can buy, on the finest of hooks money can buy, need only lash a specimen to my 6X tippet and strategically vacuum clean the entire river while taking no prisoners. Or so it seemed.

The preceding 45 minutes saw nary a fish come to my offerings. Surely the hatch was unmistakable, Hendrickson-Red Quill, my fly selection was true, my leader tapered to a gossamer tip, my presentation, acceptable. What gives ? Just then I remembered the Mazza flies. In total desperation, a flyfisherman will undoubtedly resort to measures of the extreme variety. No way would a comparadun experience success on the heavily pressured Farmington, and during a Hendrickson hatch to boot.

I fastened one of the showroom quality Mazza flies to my 6X without even the slightest bit of confidence, and resumed my attack, determined to leave the Church Pool a frothy mess should victory elude my grasp.

The first fish was a total joy, at least I avoided the shutout. With the third, I was gaining confidence. By the eighth I felt myself the Dean of the Farmington, all fly angler’s should bow down, and dry fly purist’s are required by law to kiss my zinger.

This was a day I will never forget. It was my initial introduction to hackle-less flies and totally changed my theory about fishing adults. To say that another Catskill style fly has never donned my tippet would be a lie, but believe me they have become such an irrelevant part of my top water arsenal in lieu of hackless versions. If I were to restore my inventory of dry flies during the winter months my entire focus would certainly be on, comparaduns, no-hackles and low riding parachutes exclusively.

It took one of our great flytying masters to show me the light, and hopefully you too may learn from his wisdom.