The cast was made and like I actually knew what I was doing, the lined lay perfectly across the surface of the water without making a ripple. I gave the fly some line as it drifted under the overhanging branch. All of a sudden the brook trout of a lifetime rose and took the fly. With a lift of the rod tip the fight was on. The trout sounded, going deeper into the pool. The six weight rod bent under the strain. I was able to hold; to keep him from getting me tangles in the debris at the bottom. It was a standoff. He wasn’t going further, nor was he coming in. 
Eventually I was able to gain line a little at a time. Ten feet from shore, then four, I needed just a little more. Two feet from shore I put the net down and then it happened. With a mighty head shake he popped the hook and was gone. “That was great!” came the voice from behind me. “That was catch and release at its best. You brought him to the net and that is what counts”. It was my friend and mentor Jack Hanley. I had no idea that he had been watching me the entire time, but then again, that is Jack.
We all have those people in our lives that have, and continue to, influenced us in more ways than we can imagine. For me as a writer those people are Ernest Hemingway, John Steinbeck and Edgar Allen Poe. For me the outdoorsperson and more importantly a fly angler, that person has to be Jack Hanley. “Jack Hanley?” you may ask. “Who in the world is he?”
No, you will never hear his name unless you read my articles. He is nobody famous. He has never written a book and he is not a famous television celebrity. Jack is my best friend and it was he who taught me lessons that I can never repay. Jack introduced me to fly fishing, an act, up until then, was rightfully compared to an elephant tap dancing. There are times out on the water where it seems like nothing has changed and believe me it isn’t a pretty picture.
Besides fly fishing Jack is an expert at upland hunting and it was during one of these endeavors that I first met him, some 20 odd years ago. I was a fledgling writer and Jack, well he was Jack. For some reason Jack say something in me and without me even knowing it at the time, he decided to take me under his wing. After I had taken my limit of pheasants Jack asked me if fly fished. I told him, “I fish with a fly rod, but I would hardly call myself a fly angler”. 
He said, “Good”. With that, my next meeting with Jack was fly fishing for striped bass at the mouth of the Mausom River, along the coast of Maine. I knew nothing about flies or angling for these fish with a fly rod, but Jack showed me what to do and coached me through the entire process and because of his guidance I landed my first striped bass on a fly rod using a Clauser Minnow. From there, on the same day, we went to the Ogunquit River to try our hand at sea-run brown trout. I wasn’t as lucky here, but I learned a great deal.
Over the years our friendship grew. We have fly fished for brook trout and neurotic rainbows on the Saco River and we have continued our quest for striped bass and bluefish along the New England coast. Jack as tied me flies ranging from streamers to weird looking flies with no name, yet seem to work. Jack has tried to teach me the names of the different flies, but I think he has given up, being satisfied that I know the difference between a streamer, a wet fly and a dry fly. Sometimes you have to be happy with little victories.
Jack taught me how to cast in all types of conditions; how to feed the line into the “zone”; how to roll cast and more importantly, to be able to put the line and fly where you want it. Jack taught me to read the water and how to read the fish. Jack always has the best gear and I always have the best gear that I can afford, but Jack never looked down on me for it. Jack taught me that it is not the gear that catches the fish, it is the angler.
No matter how many times I got hung up in the trees and bushes with my back cast, Jack always told me to try again. Then he would leave me alone to go fishing for himself, allowing me to make mistakes and try to figure it out for myself. Believe me there were plenty of them, and still are. Then out of nowhere he would be there to pat me on the back for catching a trout, or bass, though we all know it was just dumb luck. Jack always says, “Even a blind pig will find an acorn every now and then?”
After a while I was no longer the student, though there is still so much for me to learn. Now I became just another fishing partner. Sure, Jack is always there to help, but for the most part we do our own thing. I always look forward to the call from Jack wanting to see if I was interested in going fishing. No matter what I may have planned, I always say “yes”.
The years have caught up with both of us. Jack and I still hunt and fish together, but we both are slowing down a bit. Though time will take its toll, we still have some great memories, some, like that brook trout at the beginning, will be etched in my mind forever. For me Jack will always be that person who catches the brook trout that I missed. He will always be my go to guy when trying to decide which fly will work the best. Above all, Jack will always be my friend.
By Dana Benner