Kai's Green Terror
If one day you should lie on the bank pounding your fists into the sand in frustration over the lack of fish and someone sneaks around the corner offering you a chartreuse coloured fly, perhaps it's Kai Nolting.
It was late October 2004. Two of my friends stayed with me on Fyn, a small island in the middle of Denmark. We had a week full of fly-fishing ahead of us and were keen on doing the first casts. The weather was warm; the sun was shining from a clear blue sky and the wind was almost calm.
We stayed in the area near Bogense in the north of Fyn, in a comfortable house. Everything was nearly like we had expected it.
Everything except the fish.
Especially their behaviour regarding taking the fly - or unfortunately not taking the fly.
We saw sea trout splashing and saw their dorsal fins and tails close to the edge of the water.
We fished large flies and small flies. We were retrieving the line in fast strips and in slow strips. We were changing places and tried every tactic we could think of, but couldn't get a single take at all.
After two fruitless days I felt a strong resignation. With a sobbing sound I fell to my knees close to the water and pounded my fists into the sand.
After 10 minutes lying there in pure desperation, something from deep down in my weary angler's head told me to consult my fly box one last time.
After a coffee break I followed this miraculous inspiration out of nowhere and found two unbelievable ugly flies - bright green body, orange tail and a grizzly-hackle tied around the body.
After storing my wet handkerchief in my pocket, I took a closer look on the illuminating flies and swore to do good for every desperate angler I'd meet, if these flies caught me a fish.
Making sure no one saw me, I tied the forbidden fly on.
With a feeling of "if I'm in guilty I will pay" I entered the water, made a few casts and - immediately caught my first sea trout!
Not a big one, but a fish!
Happy as rarely before I climbed out of the water to find my friends. Free from tears and frustration I stumbled around the next cliff and saw my good friend Rüdiger lying on the ground, pounding his fists into the sand. After an infusion of a good amount of coffee a gave him a green fly...
Since that day I've caught so many fish on this green fly, which Martin has called "Kai's Green Terror", that I always carry a good amount of these flies in my fly box.
So, if one day you should lie on the bank pounding your fists into the sand in frustration and someone sneaks around the corner offering you a chartreuse coloured fly, perhaps it's me.
But if you would like to tie some of these flies yourself (since I can't hang around the world's waters all the time), please read the instructions in this article.