The Mystery of the Black O'Lindsay

By Steve Raymond

The first fly I had as a boy learning to fish in the Kamloops trout lakes of British Columbia was a Black O’Lindsay. It was given to me by my father, who didn’t tie flies so he had to buy all he had, and as a somewhat thrifty man he was determined to get his money’s worth from each. That’s why the one he gave me looked rather scruffy, as if lots of trout had taken turns trying to tear it apart. But it looked beautiful to me, and I loved the way its name rippled off my tongue, apostrophe and all, even though I had no idea what the name meant, or where it had come from.