Sunday, July 8, 2001

In memory of Bud

Lee Livingston of Fredricksburg found the fish plentiful but small during this year's Bud Priddy One Fly Memorial Contest in the headwaters of the Nueces River.

CAMP WOOD - You would be hard pressed to find a Texas river angler without at least a peripheral connection to Bud Priddy.
   The late San Antonio doctor wrote the book on the subject.
   Fly-fishing the Texas Hill Country, first published in 1994 and now in its third edition, has sold more than 16,000 copies. Probably double or triple that many have been read. It's one of the most borrowed books among Texas fly fishers and still the best selling publication at Gruene Outfitters, a fly shop in Corpus Christi and Gruene.
   But Priddy's legacy goes beyond this fly-fishing bible, which reads equally well as a novice's guide or a veteran's handbook.

Texas Women Fly Fishers member Sarah Valentine of San Antonio caught this handsome bluegill in one of the shaded pools, conveniently located near a low-water pass.

   He's being considered for the Freshwater Anglers Hall of Fame in Athens.
   And at a gathering of his followers recently near the headwaters of the Nueces River, where Priddy was born and raised, I discovered that many Texas fly fishers fall into one of two categories. They either are proud to have known and fished alongside this Texas icon or regret having never met the gentle teacher, who died in 1996.
   It was no accident that so many Priddy fans were in Camp Wood on this June weekend. Each summer since Priddy's death, the tiny Hill Country community near Uvalde has hosted the Bud Priddy Memorial One Fly tournament, sponsored by the Alamo Fly Fishers, a San Antonio-based affiliate of the Federation of Fly Fishers. I suspect Priddy will never be replaced as the club's favorite son.
   At first glance you might think the object of this contest is to win by catching the most fish using only one fly. Nope.

They have enough fight to put a slight bend in a four-weight fly rod, but once landed these juvenile river bass look like bait.

   It became obvious as I went from river crossing to river crossing speaking with anglers wading in Priddy's clear-water domain - you might not recognize the spring-fed Nueces River near Camp Wood - that fishing was not the main point of the tournament. This was, above all else, a reverent tribute to a humble and generous sportsman and conservationist.
   "Bud would have a whole lot rather been known as a good fly fisher than a good doctor," said longtime friend and fishing partner Don Jackman of Camp Wood. "But he was both."
   Jackman is aware that most of Priddy's acquaintances thought of him as a patient man. And this characterization generally held true on the water, Jackman said.
   "Bud's patience showed through the most when he was teaching someone to fly fish," Jackman said. "If he sensed the least little spark of passion for fly fishing he'd stick with someone for hours. I've seen it."
   However, Priddy wasn't as generous when dealing with Jackman, who recalls a time when he and his fishing partner were hosting a couple of outdoor writers on a river trip. Priddy always took the stern, considered the control position in a canoe. Jackman sat at the bow.

Veteran fly caster Mike Link of Kerrville was one of the more casual contestants on the river during his third showing in the tournament. Walter Saunders in the background.

   Fishing had been slow that day and the river's swift current made maneuvering the boat difficult, Jackman recalled.
   "Bud wasn't all that patient that day. He wanted to catch fish for these writers, but he couldn't get the canoe to do what he wanted," Jackman said. "When I caught one little ol' bass, that was it. He yelled at me the whole rest of the way, telling me to straighten out the canoe, do this and do that. Of course, from the bow I had very little to do with where that canoe was going. I got so tickled at him. I had to laugh."
   Even this story demonstrates Priddy's far-reaching desire to please others, Jackman said. Though frustration may have gotten the better of him that day, Priddy's motivation was clearly to highlight the wonders of the river and sport he cherished.
   Longtime friend and fishing partner Irving O'Neal, of Boerne, also noticed in Priddy an intense respect for the rivers they fished.
   "Bud had such an appreciation of the water, not just with fish and fishing, but with the insects and everything about the river," said O'Neal, who accompanied Priddy on his last fishing trip just days before his death. "When we were fishing together, I'd watch him look under rocks to see what kind of insects were there, then gently replace it."
   He took copious notes on each stream he visited, how to get there, where to fish and what flies to use. He was compelled to show others what he had spent a lifetime discovering, and thereby share his experience. Priddy was "haunted by waters," to steal a line from A River Runs Through It.
   Ray Box, owner of Gruene Outfitters in Gruene, said he never met a more genuine or a more humble fly fisher or fly tier of Priddy's caliber.
   "He never placed himself above others," said Box, who stood beside Priddy when the doctor caught his first redfish on the fly. "And his common-sense approach to fly fishing helped him relate well to novices and experts alike."
   Back on the Nueces River, I sensed that many anglers were doing their best Bud Priddy impersonation, stalking tiny fish using delicate flies expertly flung into pools and transition waters. I began the day following Lee Livingston, a likable Fredricksburg fly fisher, who wishes he had known Priddy. When fishing the Nueces, it's difficult not to imagine yourself stepping in Priddy's footsteps, noticing the nuances he had written about, contemplating scenes he had memorized or even catching fish he had released.
   My friend Kelly Gantt plunged into the river's essence - as he does with everything - by tasting the spring-cool water. It was good, he said. Don't try this in the lower Nueces.
   Livingston waded the river for about a mile, before we left him to continue. In that span, I lost count of the number of fish he caught. I think it was twentysomthing spotted bass, Guadalupe bass, largemouth bass and various varieties of bluegill and perch. None was longer than maybe 10 inches. But girth and length meant nothing this day.
   After a quick lesson from Livingston, even Gantt, who'd never held a fly rod, caught eight fish. None of his catch neared 10 inches.
   Around the next bend, the gender of the anglers changed. About half of the 39 tournament contestants were members of the Texas Women's Fly Fishers. Some had been Priddy's pupils.
   While it seemed skill levels and intensities varied only slightly among the handful of Priddy disciples I visited with on the water, apparently one contestant had an edge.
   John Marfin of Spring Branch caught and released 156 fish, making him this year's one-fly champ. Nobody came close. He also got the prize for the biggest fish of the day.
   It measured 304.800 millimeters. It sounds better in metric terms.
  
  

Talk about fishing in the Coastal Bend