Fly fishing in Northern California has changed a lot over the past 50 years, but some things have remained constant, even as the fortunes of the striper populations have fluctuated, the steelhead runs in the Russian River have diminished, and revolutions in technology and information have revolutionized the sport several times over. One constant has been the presence of innovative and pioneering anglers such as Ed Given. As an angler, as an angling journalist and outdoor writer, as a fly designer, and simply as an enduring presence in the sport, Given is one of the people who are synonymous with California fly fishing.
Bud: You’re originally from Phoenix, and when you moved to California in 1965, it was to Salinas. Neither of these come to mind when one thinks of places conducive to fishing, let alone fly fishing, yet that’s where you began your career as an angler. What drew you to fishing and to fly fishing, and what angling resources did you have back then?
Ed: My first recollection of fishing was as a young boy in South Phoenix, Arizona, during the summer months. I, along with boyhood friends, would cut lengths of bamboo from one of the many irrigation ditches that lined the Phoenix area, use white cotton cord for line, and heat and bend straight pins to form hooks. We’d try to find earthworms, grasshoppers, or crickets for bait, and once we caught a fish, we’d use cut bait. All I remember catching were small bluegills or bullheads. We fished gravel quarries in the Salt River bed near where I lived as a youth, which contained water year-round. There were also black bass in these waters, but our flimsy equipment was no match for the larger fish. Once in awhile a bass would attack a small hooked bluegill, and that usually resulted in a lost fish and broken hook.
Probably my grandfather Wilson first introduced me to fishing. He was a bait fisherman who could sit for hours, smoking his pipe and watching his bobber. Supposedly, my father was a fisherman and hunter, but he was gone before I was five, so I doubt there was an influence there. My introduction to fly fishing occurred when I was 22 years old and a friend, Jerry Heffelfinger, asked me to go trout fishing with him to Becker Lake in eastern Arizona. I instantly fell in love with fly fishing and became obsessed with learning to tie flies, as well as with casting. My first attempts to cast were, to say the least, brutal, so we mostly rowed a boat and trolled a fly.
Bud: The sport has changed since those early days. How does the current state of the art differ from the state of the art back then?
Ed: My first attempts at fly tying were laughable, except to my wife, who said she had never heard some of the words that came out of my mouth during my formative tying years. In the mid-1950s, there were no videos, TV shows, or for the most part, local fly shops. At one point, a local tackle store advertised they would have a fly tyer give tying demonstrations one Saturday. I spent the entire day there, and every time there was a quiet period, I would ask how to tie this fly or that, and that day was a breakthrough for me.
There was little fly fishing information in the 1950s, and what there was came mostly through articles in the three major magazines, Field & Stream, Sports Afield, and Outdoor Life. Authors I remember were A. J. McClane, Ted Trueblood, Joe Brooks, and Ray Bergman. There were others I read, but these four authors imprinted in my brain how wonderful fly fishing could be and lit a fire to try to catch some of the “exotic” species they wrote about — “exotic” meaning anything other than black bass, white bass, crappies, bluegills, and trout.
I saved the annual Field & Stream fishing awards for years, remembering the names of rivers and lakes where all these award-winning fish came from, yet finding it hard to believe the size of some of the fish that were caught on fly gear. The number-one fly reel when I learned the game was a Pflueger Medalist, and the most sought-after fly reels were Hardys. Fly rods were fiberglass, and line manufacturers were just getting into sinking lines. My, how the fly fishing game has changed since the mid-1950s and 1960s. When I moved to Salinas in 1965, I visited Jon Tarantino’s shop in San Francisco and purchased a Hardy Husky reel, made myself a 10-weight fiberglass rod from a Herter’s rod-making kit, and started chasing striped bass around Hunters Point. I went to the Smith River in the fall of 1965, catching my first salmon on a fly. All the time, I found it hard to believe that these fish could be caught on fly gear, until I did it.
In those days the only fly lines were floaters. Sinking lines were at best slow sinkers or lead-core lines that we made ourselves, so for the stripers and salmon, lead-core was really the only option. You either stripped fast in shallow water or waited longer to reach the needed depth, because the existing floating and sinking lines would not get your fly to the fish, especially in flowing water such as tidal waters or rivers.
Nowadays, with all the electronics available, you often can pinpoint the depth of the fish and, by knowing the sink rates of your lines, feel confident your fly is in the zone all the time. Personally, I carry two or three rods at all times, rigged with different lines, ready to fish various depths without having to change lines.
Bud: You’ve also had a long career in angling journalism, and the same question could be asked about that endeavor: What was outdoor writing like when you began in the 1970s, and how has it changed? How did you get your start and what are the odds that something similar could happen today?
Ed: My start in journalism began in 1975, after a trip to Costa Rica for tarpon. I met Lefty Kreh on that trip and fished one afternoon with him. Lefty encouraged me to give writing a try. Upon returning to Salinas, I applied to write the outdoor column for the local newspaper, the Salinas Californian. About five months later, the newspaper hired me, and I wrote that column for 18-1/2 years. My first magazine writing was for Angler magazine, and since then, I’ve been published in archery, waterfowl, and fly-fishing magazines, including California Fly Fisher. The writing, along with slide presentations I did for fly fishing clubs and Ed Rice’s International Sportsmen’s Exposition, were wonderful experiences that provided some lifelong friendships.
I believe getting started in the writing field today would be more difficult than when I broke in. Today’s editors have a slew of “pro authors” who have assignments months in advance and who can often be working on the same subjects that an aspiring writer might have. That said, editors are always looking for new ideas, techniques, places to go, and so on. So, if the desire is there, go for it.
Bud: You and your good friend Dan Blanton are associated with the fly-fishing scene that emerged in Northern California and the San Francisco Bay Area in the 1970s, developing techniques for fly fishing for striped bass and salmon from the bay to the Smith River. What was the scene like in those days?
Ed: I kind of stumbled into the West Coast fly-fishing scene by a combination of luck and desire. All I could find written about striper flies dealt with the Blonde series by Joe Brooks and some hackle and shrimp patterns from the Chesapeake Bay area. I believe I met Dan Blanton in 1970, and he showed me his Whistler patterns — what an eye-opener in fly design and fish catching!
As for salmon, all I could find for f ly-fishing information when I started was the advice to use shrimp patterns. At the same time, the previous year’s Field & Stream salmon award winner had caught his fish on an Eel River Optic, so I learned what that fly was, and my first journey after salmon was with those two patterns. Once there, I was shown Comet patterns by other fly fishers. Today’s patterns are primarily offshoots of various different-colored Comet and shrimp patterns.
Bud: That said, your angling interests have been by no means limited to striped bass and salmon. Over the years you’ve fished for bluegills and marlin and pretty much everything in between. Most of us are lucky if we get the opportunity to fish for trout once in awhile. How did you manage to pull off such a wide-ranging angling career? And what did fishing for a wide variety of species teach you about fly fishing in general?
Ed: Ever since I discovered fly fishing back in 1958, I’ve had a yearning to catch every fish I encountered with fly tackle. I have been fortunate to have the fishing opportunities that I have had, because working in the produce industry, which was a six-to-seven-day-a-week job, and raising a large family — seven children — money and time were scarce. Money raised through writing and program presentations financed my endeavors, and close management of vacation time between family and hobbies, which included fishing, provided the time.
I believe that learning about fly fishing, as with any endeavor, is ongoing. Catching a wide range of species was not in itself a teacher. I learned by being observant of my surroundings. An example is Henrys Lake in Idaho, where I have fished for 43 years and now live part of the year. The areas I fish and the patterns I use have changed drastically. For instance, I have flies that used to be top producers, but they hardly catch fish anymore. Successful patterns continue to get smaller. Chinook salmon flies are another example. When I first fished for salmon in 1965, most flies were tied on size 2, 4, and 6 hooks. Now, most flies are tied on size 6 hooks and smaller. For years, fluorescent orange was the go-to color and is still a favorite, but fluorescent green is just as popular now. Fly fishing is constantly changing with new materials for rods and flies, reel designs and drags. Fly fishing is a new and changing game all the time, and I believe that adds to its charm.
Bud: You’ve pursued those species in exotic venues from Hunters Point on the San Francisco Bay to New Guinea and Venezuela. What’s the appeal of the exotic and far away as opposed to the appeal of the nearby and familiar?
Ed: Answering what’s the appeal of the new and exotic is simple: it’s new and exotic! Back in the 1994, Lefty Kreh asked me to join him on a trip to New Guinea, and a couple of years later, Ed Rice asked me if I would be interested in joining him on a trip to Venezuela. I immediately said yes to both queries, for their company, but also for the opportunity to fish for barramundi and saratoga in Australia, payaras and piranhas in South America, and other species that for the most part I had never heard of. There is an appeal for something new, the same as there is to check ahead of time each month of a pinup calendar.
All fishing has an appeal to me, and honestly, if I knew of a hot bite for steelhead, I could easily pass on an overseas trip. The distant and exotic places certainly have appeal, even though getting there sometimes can be a hassle. At the same time, I will never tire of the tug of a striper only 45 minutes from my house.
Bud: You’ve also done a lot of fishing and taken a lot of trips with people who are household names in the fly-fishing world and in particular in Northern California. Are there any stories you can tell without getting yourself or them in trouble?
Ed: I have met so many interesting people while pursuing fish with a fly that I couldn’t come close to naming them all. Just thinking of the many colorful people I’ve known from my yearly fall trips chasing salmon brings a smile. The one person from my salmon memories who stands out is Bill Schaadt. I was lucky to
fish a week with Bill, just the two us, at the Chub Rock Hole on the Smith River, and we formed a lifelong friendship. What stories he could tell, with constant gestures and embellishments! Bill’s secret flies, which everyone wondered about, were for the most part simple patterns. He just knew how to get them in the fish’s face better than most of us.
I’ll share one story of Bill. It had been raining for two days, and the Smith was rising. Five us were clustered in someone’s camper, having a drink and telling stories. Bill told us he has found a new body material and brought out some different-colored Comets. We asked what the material was, and he proceeded to tell us it was from potato chip bags that he gathered after lunch period at nearby schools. Bill was proud of his discovery, but I don’t know anyone who gathered empty potato chip bags other than Bill. I still have one of those flies, framed.
There are two names I would be remiss to not name, Lefty Kreh and Dan Blanton. Lefty is a legend, and to have fished with him and to have spent days in camp with him will always be treasured memories. Lefty is a consummate fisherman, and every day is a learning day, while the evenings are a combination of new things to learn and constant laughter. Lefty could have been a comedian, and I believe he would have been just as successful.
Dan Blanton and I have had a friendship nearing 50 years after first meeting on San Francisco Bay. Dan and I have fished for tarpon, snook, yellowfin tuna, salmon, steelhead, bluegills, black bass, striped bass, and on and on. I have such respect for his knowledge and his willingness to help people, and I only hope we will be fishing together for many years to come.
Bud: Like Dan Blanton, you’re also known for the flies you’ve developed, notably the Goldsmith and the Barred ’n’ Black — especially the latter, which is a go-to fly for anglers targeting many species around the world. How did you develop them, and what approach to fly design do they reflect?
Ed: The Goldsmith was an idea I had shortly after I began fly fishing for chinook salmon. It is basically an overdressed Comet. My idea was that fish as big as salmon would prefer a large fly, which turned out to not always be true. However, there are times when the Goldsmith will outfish all flies offered. I held the world record for chinooks for eight years, a 54-1/2-pounder that was caught on a Goldsmith.
I came up with the Barred ’n’ Black after meeting Russ Chatham at the Smith River. I had heard of him catching a world-record striper on a fly called the Phantom. So when we met, I asked if he had a Phantom I could have. He did not have one, but gave me a yellow-hackle fly and said he tied the Phantom the same way, just in black. I began tying the Barred ’n’ Black with mostly bucktail, with grizzly hackles on the side for contrast, to provide a bigger silhouette in the off-colored waters of San Francisco Bay. Dan Blanton gave the fly its name after I gave him one and he was successful with it, and he wrote an article about it. Today, though, I do most of my striper fishing in the clear waters of San Luis Reservoir, so I seldom use dark flies.
Both of these flies were tied for a specific reason, and they have served me well. Interestingly, I’ve caught stripers on the Goldsmith when trying for steelhead, and the Barred ’n’ Black has caught some of my largest largemouth bass.
Bud: You’ve raised a big family and, unlike what transpires in many families, all of your kids became fly fishers. Lots of fly fishers today worry about recruiting kids to the sport. How did you get your kids interested, and what advice do you have for folks who’d like to do the same?
Ed: They all started out fishing with spinning gear, but switched to fly rods by the time they were seven to nine years old. We were a one-car family for a lot of years, so we took turns, both boys and girls, to go fishing with dad. Early on, they saw that fly fishing usually produces the most action, so they all wanted to fly fish at an early age.
If a child wants to fish, I believe getting them into fly fishing should be easy. Just be patient with them and give them personal attention. My three daughters all taught their husbands to fly fish, and I have many grandchildren who fly fish. Start most kids catching bluegills on flies, and they will be hooked for life.
Bud: Here we are at the dreaded Silly Tree Question. If you were a tree, what kind of a tree would you be?
Ed: As for what tree I would want to be, that’s easy: a giant redwood. To be able to live alongside steelhead and salmon waters for hundreds of years would be special. My, what stories those trees could tell!
