Remembering Jim Johnson

Long time FVTU board member and master fly tier Jim Johnson passed away late last month.  Jim was a fixture at FVTU functions and taught the advanced fly tying classes for many years.  I always considered him a “semi-professional” fly tier.

While you and I have a fly tying desk, Jim had an entire room devoted to the hobby; stacked floor to ceiling with tools, books, and materials. Boxes upon boxes of hooks,  furs, feathers, and synthetics; each neatly labeled and in its place.  Elsewhere there were nets, dozens of fly lines, a few rods, some favorite photos and even a small TV and DVD player for watching tying videos.

He once dabbled briefly with tying commercially but found his greatest joy in tying for himself and helping others to master the art.  He knew or met most of the greats in fly tying over the past half century, and usually had a story to tell about each of them.  For many who knew him, it will be the stories that we will remember most fondly.  Jim was a master story teller.  From tales of his days in the Coast Guard, through his short-lived adventures as a professional guide, Jim could spin a great yarn and keep your interest right through to the often hilarious climax.  Many were too good to hear only once and I would coax an old favorite out of him from time to time just to hear him tell it again.  Those of you who attended his fly tying and rod building classes over the years got a good sampling.  A small group of us would gather at his home one day a week in the winter to tie flies and swap tales.  Often a story would come at the expense of getting a fly tied, but it was always time well spent.  He was a very outgoing and generous man.

At the reception following his funeral service they had a collection of photos of Jim, one of his fly rods and an assortment of his flies.  In fact, every table was set with a center piece containing a small American flag surrounded by a dozen or so of Jim’s flies.  The flies were free for the taking.  Jim’s loving wife Sally wanted to share them with anyone who might want one.  Before I left I gathered a handful and decided there would be no better way to honor my friend than to catch a fish on one of his flies.

The following Monday I headed up the North Fork of the Flathead.  The North Fork was the last place he and I fished together.  That was the late summer of 2016.  Jim and I had traveled to Fernie, B.C. in 2015 to fish the Elk.  Jim was great in the boat but the days we wade fished he struggled with his mobility.  By the following year he couldn’t get out on his own, but still wanted to fish.  I knew a spot above Polebridge where I could almost drive down to the water.  Once there, I set up a folding chair next to the river’s edge and Jim was able to either cast from the chair or stand and cast without having to wade.   It was a workable solution and we had a great day together.  We had planned a second trip to the Elk with our wives for the summer of 2017 but Jim ended up having to cancel out.  His cardiologist put the kibosh on a fishing trip to a foreign country.  In fact, even the North Fork was too far off the grid in case of an emergency.

On that Monday following the funeral, I drove to one of my favorite spots a few miles north of Polebridge, rigged up and waded into the river.  I’d kept Jim’s flies in a special box so as not to confuse them with my own.  Looking over my small collection I chose a size 12 Klinkhammer.  In the last few years Jim had become a big fan of the Klinkhammer style of fly.  I recall him tying a bunch of them during our weekly winter sessions.  As his most recent “favorite” it seemed like a good place to start.  I tied one on, worked out a little line, and made a quartering shot upstream.  Jim would have smiled knowing that I rose a fish on my very first cast with his fly.  He would have been even more amused seeing me miss the strike.    A few casts later and a westslope cutthroat nosed up and grabbed the fly.  It wasn’t a big fish; in fact it was a very average North Slope cutty; small, wild, and full of energy.  Size didn’t matter, it was what that fish and fly combination meant to me that was important.

I managed to pick up a handful of cutts on both the Klinkhammer and one of Jim’s elk hair caddis patterns.  When an errant backcast caught a bush I took that as an omen from above that I’d better quit using his flies before I lost one.  I carefully placed his flies back in their special box and tucked them in my vest.  I spent another hour or so on the river before packing up and heading for home.  It wasn’t a long day but I had accomplished what I had set out to do.  I honored my friend in the best possible way I knew; doing that which we both love and using his flies to catch a few fish.

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There’s something special about a friendship built on tying flies and fishing for trout.  Jim may be gone, but he is not forgotten and as long as I fish his flies, or remember his stories, or use some of the tying techniques he taught me,  he’ll still be there.  Rest in Peace my friend, and thanks for the memories.

Jim Borowski,  FVTU Board Member