Stop by @detteflies
for the story of Tomah Joseph, his fly, and detailed tying instructions
~I knew that he meant business, for he had taken off his hat and coat, and stood bare headed and erect with his eyes sparkling with unwonted fire.
A few strokes of the paddle brought us to the first fall and we plunge into the roaring waters~ away we flew, Joe steering for the wildest water knowing it to be the safest, now we pass by a heavy boulder just rising to the top of the stream; and now we take a bucket of water over the bow and feel it trickling down our cheeks, but we move not, another bucketful.
On, on we dash; thump, thump resistless as death, the waves stroke the bottom of the birch, now the wild water seems to be rolling toward us, and now dashing on ahead with the speed of a race horse; the air about us is flecked with foam, and we seem vying to outrun the flying waters themselves. We pass beneath the bridge and the onlookers cheer us as we dart into sight again. We are in rough water, we are in rougher water, we are in white water and we are in foam. And now we round a bend in the stream and in an instant stroke out upon the smoother water below.
~Charles Stevens Fly Fishing in Maine Lakes Camp Life in the Wilderness 1884~ A friend and fishing companion of Tomah Joseph~ Passamaquoddy Native American fly fishing guide