Memories of Sam
If you search the web for Sam's One Bug, you will likely come across the Fly Angler's Online article titled The fly of the week, posted by a friend of Sam's shortly after his death in 2005. It was a tribute to honor Sam and the bug. It can be found here: Fly anglers online - Sam's One Bug
Since that article was published, years and people have passed away. Warren Patterson the author and friend, dealt with troubled teens, crazy fisherman, stubborn fish, students at Motlow State, and various health issues. I was saddened to hear he had passed away as well. He had some great stories about fishing with my dad, and I wished I had spent more time talking with him about those events. As I grow older I find myself recollecting on the days my father and I had on the water. This post is a starting point for me to get these memories down on paper or at least documented.
There were only a few things my father loved more than fishing. My mother, his family, the dogs, boats, fast cars, a clean truck, motorcycles, drums, a good story, tying flies and most importantly Jesus. But on some days it was difficult to tell where all of these things fell behind fishing. Or so it seemed. Dad would get giddy with the sheer anticipation of seeing a fly slurped off the surface of the water. He LOVED catching big bream while fly fishing with popping bugs.
As dad's health deteriorated, simple things became more difficult. Fishing time became more and more difficult. He was losing his grip, literally. He developed carpal tunnel syndrome in his hands. It made it difficult to hold a fly rod. So we had custom cork handles made to make it easier for him to handle. We even used tennis racket grip to wrap the handles and provide a little better grip. A friend made a slip sling to go over his wrist to keep from dropping the rod in the water. He also had cataracts in both eyes, which made it darn near impossible for him to tie flies on the line. You could sense the frustration when these things kept him from valued fishing time. Brittle bone syndrome put fear in us both. A simple slip of the foot or stumble getting into the Gheenoe might end up with a broken bone. We padded everything. It was great for stealth fishing and for comfort, but time consuming and often added unnecessary weight to the boat.
He loved fishing the deep clear water on the lower end of Wheeler lake. It had very few weeds. Which meant less time dealing with a trolling motor wrapped up in milfoil. Even our weed-less Minn-Kota prop was no good in the thick grass on Guntersville. As much as I loved fishing the matts with flies and frogs, dad hated it. Especially if it had been recently sprayed with chemicals. I can smell that stuff just typing these words. The black witch like slimy hair that would string along on the fly or the line and leader knots would ruin a fly line. On the lower end of wheeler and Wilson lakes, we didn't have to deal with that hassle. Wheeler had coves that provided some protective cover from boats cruising the lake, it had a state park lodge in close proximity that was great for food, refreshing beverages, bathrooms, or just taking a break from the heat. The bluffs that stretched along the north side of the lake near the dam made for excellent smallmouth and bream fishing on summer days. That deep water provided ambush points and lots of cover along the crags of the bluffs. They often had big dead trees lodged in the cracks and crevices that fish loved to hide under. Many a fish were caught on those bluffs over the years. The only problem dad had with the bluffs was a lack of depth perception. He was great caster, but often sent line sailing through the air in longer distances than needed. Those errant casts caused a moment of cringe worthy pain to the mind and the pocket book. Often followed with a loud crack as the bug struck the rocks on the bluff. Even worse was half or more of the balsa body would go flying off in another direction. To add misery to the pain, many times a fish would explode on the portion of the broken bugs as they landed nearby in the water. It was heart breaking. Mainly because those bugs were difficult to come by and expensive to boot back in 1980. We collected them if you will. Amazing custom cork and balsa poppers made by the one and only Walt Holman. They were prized by fly fisherman all over the county. Beautifully constructed to sit perfectly in the water, painted eyes that seemed to be staring into the soul of the fisherman or at the fish chasing them. They were painted in bright fluorescent colors or wrapped in foil to look like fish scales. Rubber legs and feathers were adorned to match the painted schemes. Dad's favorite were bright yellow with orange legs. It had yellow saddle hackles off the back with a black collar and legs tied in to extend off the back. Legs also pushed through the cork in the classic X pattern. The fish seemed partial to the yellow poppers as well. I always had success on bright orange, but not near as much as those yellow bugs. They were unlike any popper we had ever fished. And as long as you could keep them off the rocks they held up well.
The Sam's One Bug was created partly out of frustration and mostly out of a need and desire to keep from breaking his poppers. We are back at time on the water was valuable. Having to tie on another bug was a loss in time and money. Dad wanted a solution to fix both.
Some have heard the story about Dale Clemmons custom tackle and the rod handle cores. If not you can hear a snippet on my interview with the Storied Outdoors podcast. You can watch it here: The Storied Outdoors - Sam's One Bug or listen here: Wade's Interview Those high density foam cylinders were the start of creativity at the vise. Keeping the foam from twisting on the hook and staying on became the biggest struggle. Through a series of trial and error, several versions of super glue and eventually a ceramic dental lab's help with an adhesive which held up in water and bonded the foam was the answer. After several test runs Sam had come up with a fly that was easy to tie, it sat well on the water, it wouldn't crack or chip, it came in a variety of fish friendly colors, it floated, and most importantly it caught fish! Ten to my one to my disbelief. The fly just caught fish. I couldn't figure it out. It was kinda ugly to be honest. It was simple. It was yellow foam with sparse yellow, orange, and black deer hair for the tail and round orange rubber legs in the classic X pattern with a collar of thread to segment the head and thorax of the fly body. Later dad used marabou because the deer hair made the but of the fly sit to high in the water. The marabou just added to the natural movement in the water and the fish loved it even more. Dad could fish with that one fly all day long. He caught dozens of fish on a single fly. And suddenly just like that it was dubbed the One Bug. It was all he needed to fish all day long. As friends received samples of this amazing little fly, Dad would say I know it's not as pretty as Walt's but just fish it. I beg you to just fish it. Cast it out there let it sit. Count to ten. I doubt it will take that long before it gets hit, but if it does, let it sit some more cause that's usually when a big bass is sitting under it just waiting for it to do something. Before long people were asking for more of SAM"s One Bugs. Stories started coming in from all over about the numbers of fish caught on a single fly. Personal bests caught on a foam popper. When I say this fly catches fish when other things won't its simply time tested truth.
My father had the opportunity to go fishing with Walt Holman several times. They were in the TVFF club together and enjoyed giving each other a hard time. They were both craftsmen and both a little proud of their own creations. I often fished with Walt's son Jay. He was a little older than I and an amazing deer hair bass bug tier. He enjoyed fishing from canoes and I liked the challenge. When I started out fishing Jay with dad's one bug, Jay became a believer in that little foam bug. It ruffled Walt's feathers that his own son would fish a Sam's bug over his balsa bugs. Walt told a dear friend of mine one day if I knew you were going to out fish me with one of Sam's Bugs I would have left you at the dock. I don't really know if he was kidding or not. The largest smallmouth I have ever laid eyes was on Wilson lake in a Jon boat with Dad and a friend. Dad had cast up into a small area next to a boat house, rock wall and a small weed bed. As we began to troll away from the boat house a bass exploded on the bug and immediately porpoise out of the water from the tension on the line as the boat moved away. I used to tournament fish and I had seen my share of big bass over the years. A friend landed an 8lb 4oz smallmouth below the dam and another had one near the boat that we swore was double digits below Wilson dam. BUT this fish was bigger than either of those. When I say it had shoulders it was massive. It took my dad for a ride for several seconds and then snap! That light 3x tippet was no match.
He loved catching smallmouth almost as much as he enjoyed finding bream on bed.
Miss you dad. I thank God that you shared this love of fishing with me and the Sam's One Bug. It has brought me so many wonderful memories over the years on and off the water.
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