Fish, friends remind you that old flies may be best flies

I caught my first-ever sea-run cutthroat trout in 1986 on a yellow Knudsen Spider fly cast into Oregon's Alsea River.

The fly, which was first tied by an Everett angler named Al Knudsen, has fooled fish since the 1920s.

But I forgot about this terrific fly during the past few years — mostly because I started tying sea-run cutthroat flies to match the little fish and crustaceans in Puget Sound.

But a good friend — fishing wizard Greg Cloud — reminded me of the fly after I wrote a whiny column a couple of weeks ago about getting skunked on a local beach.

You might remember Cloud from columns I've written before. He fishes even more than I do, and he invented the deadly method of fishing anchovies under a bobber for chum salmon in Puget Sound.

Anyway, here's part of an e-mail he sent me:

" 'I only need 4 flies.' Hah!!!!."

Cloud was making fun of me for trying to whittle my sea-run cutthroat fly selection down to four flies.

I admit that was a dumb move. Cloud went on to recommend trying a Knudsen Spider.

Bells began to ring inside the big empty space in my skull.

"Sometimes the attractor is the way to go," Cloud wrote.

The Knudsen Spider isn't an exact imitation of any critter in South Sound. Then again, the long, flowing mallard duck hackles give the fly lots of life and movement in the water, so it probably looks like a lot of tasty things — shrimp, baitfish or even a marine worm — to a cutt.

I dug out my old box of Knudsen Spiders — and tied up a bunch more. Then I started fishing them. The fish started whacking them — especially when I was casting into moving water, such as a rip, which is the current line between fast and slow water.

I fished the falling tide on a favorite beach Thursday, and bright, beautiful cutts — and one finclipped resident coho salmon — walloped the fly. Catching was so good that I tied on an olive wooly bugger to see if the fish cared. They did. I got two strikes and one hookup on the wooly bugger in 20 casts.

I tied on the Knudsen Spider and fishing got hot again.

One of the cool things about fishing is how old lures and flies often become new again. The fish don't care whether a fly or lure was invented in 1925 or 2008.

I suspect that most of the best lures were invented decades ago.

I learned about Roostertail spinning lures in 1972 when I watched my father catch trout after trout on a black Roostertail spinner fished off of the bouldery shore at Huntington Lake in California's Sierra Nevada mountains.

My dad would make long, arching casts, and start cranking in the Roostertail. Seconds later, the water would boil, and another fish was on. I recall seeing my dad's smile in the soft light of sunset and hearing the tinkle of the lure's blade before every cast.

My dad gave me a Roostertail to cast, and soon I was catching fish as well.

Roostertails were invented in the 1950s, and they're still one of the top lures, according to a reader poll in the latest Field & Stream magazine. Mepps Aglia lures — another top spinner invented in 1938 — also still get top marks from Field & Stream readers.

I still carry Roostertails and Mepps spinners in my gear box. So do my dad and my brother Casey.

Other old lures — especially Kastmaster and Krocodile spoons — still work far better than newer spoons. I would never travel to Baja, mainland Mexico, Florida, California or any other tropical spot without a bunch of these spoons. I like to fly fish, but these spoons catch fish even when the wind is blowing too hard to cast a big streamer fly.

This sounds funny, but casting an old-school lure or fly often gives the fish something they've never seen.

And we get to see a slice of the past become young again.

Chester Allen's fishing column runs Fridays in The Olympian. He can be reached at 360-754-4226 or callen@theolympian.com.