C8
East Oregonian
OUTSIDE
Saturday, December 28, 2019
Not tired
of tying
Henry Spivey has been tying
ﬁ shing ﬂ ies for 74 years
By LISA BRITTON
For the East Oregonian
BAKER CITY — Henry Spivey clamps
a bare ﬁ sh hook in a tiny vise and starts
wrapping bright orange thread around the
metal.
Then comes a lime green feather, and a
ﬁ nishing wrap of red chenille yarn.
He unclamps the creation and holds up
the newest lure in his collection.
“And that crappie jig is made,” he said.
Spivey, 86, chuckles when asked how
long he’s been ﬁ shing.
“Since I was 2,” he said. “The church
took us to Snake River.”
He pauses, then:
“I was tickled to death to get out of
church.”
That excursion sparked a lifelong love
of ﬁ shing. Spivey tied his ﬁ rst ﬂ y at age 12.
On his wall are two frames ﬁ lled with
ﬂ ies of all sizes and hues — tiny ones
that mimic mosquitoes and sturdy hooks
designed to lure, and hold, steelhead.
His ﬂ ies are for sale at York’s in Baker
City and the Hitchin’ Post in Richland,
Washington.
Spivey has books about ﬂ y tying, but he
doesn’t always follow the patterns.
“When I start one ﬂ y it always turns
into something else,” he said.
He has a treasure trove of supplies orga-
nized in plastic bins at his apartment at
Meadowbrook Place.
There are speckled feathers from chick-
ens, blue features from peacocks, and a
golden pheasant plume in sunshine yellow.
“One chicken is worth $250,” he said of
the feathers.
Another drawer is full of animal hair —
deer, coyote, moose.
“A lot of ﬂ ies call for moose hair,” he
said. “They ﬂ oat pretty good.”
Although Spivey has always ﬁ shed, he
didn’t get into tying ﬂ ies until he retired.
He grew up in Baker City, and worked
for the highway department in far-ﬂ ung
areas of Oregon — near McDermitt at the
Nevada border and later in Kinzua in Cen-
tral Oregon. He retired in Pendleton.
EO Media Group Photo/S. John Collins
Bold and colorful spey ﬂ ies are used for big water and big ﬁ sh like steelhead.
CLOCKWISE, FROM UPPER LEFT: Henry Spivey,
86, has been tying ﬂ ies since he was 12 years old.
He spends the cold winter months at his ﬂ y-ty-
ing bench and good weather ﬁ shing. The assort-
ment behind Spivey is a small sample of his in-
ventory and skill; Pheasant wings oﬀ er various
colors and design possibilities; Spivey demon-
strates his technique and speed at tying one of a
wide variety of crappie jigs; The Royal Coachman
is Spivey’s favorite ﬂ y.
Always ready to go ﬁ shing
Tying ﬂ ies ﬁ lls Spivey’s time when he
isn’t ﬁ shing — which he does every chance
he gets.
“Sometimes seven days a week,” he
said.
On a recent weekend he ﬁ shed at Mal-
heur Reservoir south of Bridgeport, his
favorite place to toss a line.
“That lake is 5 miles long,” he said. “It
was starting to freeze over, but we found
some open water.”
He’s catching ﬁ sh more than eating
them, so he often releases his catch (unless
it’s halibut). Mostly, it seems, Spivey rel-
ishes the task of tying ﬂ ies.
“For the pleasure — it’s a bonus if I
catch a ﬁ sh,” he said.
He takes 150 ﬂ ies when he goes ﬁ shing.
“I change ﬂ ies pretty often,” he said
with a smile. “I do a lot of experimenting.
I know what they bite — I want to know
what they won’t bite.”
Spivey can tie up to 25 ﬂ ies in an hour.
But some are more complicated, with
layers of thread and feathers and ﬂ uff.
“Some take ﬁ ve days to make one ﬂ y,”
he said.
His favorite is the Royal Coachman.
“It’s the number one ﬂ y for me,” he said.
He also has a wide variety of spey ﬂ ies.
He points to his boards of ﬂ ies where
hot pink lures hang next to jigs in various
shades of brown.
“Pretty ﬂ ies catch people. Ugly ﬂ ies
catch ﬁ sh,” he said.
He’s cast a line for all types of ﬁ sh,
but he’s not too keen on trout. That aver-
sion goes back to his youth, when he and
his dad were ﬁ shing near Izee, in Grant
County.
Spivey caught a 24-inch trout — but
then an 18-inch rattlesnake slithered out of
the ﬁ sh’s mouth.
“He’d just swallowed that snake,” Spivey
said, still cringing a bit at the memory.
But snakes won’t keep him away from
his favorite ﬁ shing holes.
“I love to be outside,” he said. “I’d live
there if I could — huckleberrying, mush-
rooming, ﬁ shing.”
He doesn’t ice ﬁ sh. So this winter he
will continue tying ﬂ ies to try out next
spring.
“As soon as the ice melts,” he said. “You
want to be at the reservoir as soon as the
ice melts.”
EO Media Group Photos/S. John Collins
CAUGHT OVGARD
Trout ﬁ shing for bass in the Deep South
By LUKE OVGARD
For the East Oregonian
ALABAMA — Trout
ﬁ shing is the consummate
human experience. Few
other activities, even within
the world of ﬁ shing, provide
such a challenging quarry
that is at once beautiful,
strong, wary and capable of
reaching epic proportions in
an idyllic environment. Just
thinking about this type of
ﬁ shing is enough to bring a
lump to my throat.
It’s no surprise trout have
been widely introduced and
can now be found on every
continent save for Antarc-
tica, but at the end of the
day, trout still require cer-
tain conditions to thrive,
and the parts of the world in
warmer climes — like the
American Deep South —
just don’t get to experience
the majesty of trout ﬁ shing.
At least, not in the tradi-
tional sense.
Instead, Southern anglers
should consider a species
that lives in ﬂ owing water,
readily takes ﬂ ies, lures, and
bait, and provides the entire
experience of chasing trout
in rivers and streams.
You’ll be trout ﬁ shing,
but for bass.
Photos contributed by Luke Ovgard
Cahaba bass, found only in
Alabama’s Cahaba Basin,
have a unique digital cam-
ouﬂ age look to them.
Redeye bass
The bass that ﬁ sh like
trout are redeye bass.
Redeye bass, Microp-
terus coosae, were once con-
sidered a single species but
have since been reclassiﬁ ed
into several species based
on drainage. You can still
chase redeye (now some-
times called Coosa bass),
but now you can also chase
Cahaba,
Chattahoochee,
Tallapoosa, Altamaha, Bar-
tram’s and Warrior bass —
all names for the drainage
in which they can be found.
All seven recently reclas-
siﬁ ed species exist in the
Southeast, but redeye bass
have been introduced all
over the country (especially
in California). Though they
don’t get nearly as large as
largemouth, smallmouth or
Redeye bass, now some-
times called Coosa bass, are
still found throughout their
native range in the South-
east but have been intro-
duced widely throughout
California as well.
spotted bass, they provide a
unique challenge.
If you want to catch them
in their native reaches, head
to Alabama where at least
ﬁ ve of them can be found:
Cahaba, Chattahoochee, red-
eye (Coosa), Tallapoosa and
Warrior.
There are obvious phys-
ical differences between
the members of the “Red-
eye Bass Complex,” but they
can be targeted in much the
same way. Look for them in
slow runs, current seams, at
the base of small waterfalls,
and in deep pools just as you
might look for trout.
Strategy
Crawﬁ sh,
minnows,
leeches, sculpins, darters,
and insects are all viable
options, but ﬁ sh make up
a much smaller portion of
their diet than other black
bass species, so smaller pre-
sentations can be successful.
I caught my biggest redeye
bass — just over 2 pounds
— on a size 24 hook.
That said, they’ll still take
a streamer or Rapala with
abandon. My personal favor-
ite way to target redeyes is
with smaller Countdown
Rapalas, which you can
sink, twitch, and erratically
retrieve with and across the
current to entice wary biters.
Though I’ve caught red-
eye, Cahaba, and Warrior
bass, the Chattahoochee
and Tallapoosa are still call-
ing my name, so I plan to
book a ﬂ ight to come back
to Alabama soon. Some-
day, I’ll also head to Geor-
gia for Altamaha and Bar-
tram’s, too. Even if I hate
ﬂ ying overnight, this is one
redeye that’s totally worth
it, so think about this as you
ﬂ y home from your holiday
vacations and reunions alike.
———
Read more at caughtov-
gard.com; Follow on Ins-
tagram and Fishbrain @
lukeovgard; Contact luke.
ovgard@gmail.com.