What Are You Really Casting For?

The author (left) with his first fly-fishing mentor, Bob Guess. Photos courtesy Beau Beasley

I blinked and suddenly found myself staring 60 in the face. Honestly, I’m not sure how it happened. Nevertheless, here I am, at 60, with a lifetime of angling—and more than 30 years of fly fishing—under my belt and my first grandchild on my knee. And I wonder: What am I really casting for?

Why strive to master the cast? Is it just to be a better angler than my friend? Am I checking off destinations or species on a mental bucket list? Or is there something more?

Monumental Mentors

I have been fishing all my life: Among my earliest memories is chucking lures off a pier under my father’s tutelage. Chance, or providence, led me to fly angling much later. I was a young paramedic in northern Virginia when I responded to a call for aid from an elderly gentleman who had been stung by a bee and developed mild heart palpitations and shortness of breath. Initially, Bob didn’t want to go to the hospital, but I convinced him to err on the side of caution. In the ambulance, I learned that Bob was a fly fisher; when I commented that I’d always wanted to learn how to fly fish, Bob said he’d be glad to teach me. It turned out that the elderly gentleman was Bob Guess, namesake of Mr. Bob’s Lucky Day Lures, at the time one of the best known popping-bug makers in the country. Bob bought me my first fly rod, taught me how to cast, and changed my life forever.

Lefty’s memorial at Culler Lake in Baker Park in Frederick, Maryland.

Several years later, I visited Lefty Kreh at his humble Maryland home. I can still picture the scene: alongside the numerous awards that graced the living room walls was a tarpon the length of his sofa. Most anglers remember Lefty’s phenomenal cast. What I remember most about Lefty was his ability to make everyone with whom he interacted—whether a movie star or a firefighter—feel important. Lefty was winsome. He made friends everywhere he went, and he was prepared to share his passion for the quiet sport with people from every walk of life.

Lefty offered up two nuggets of wisdom that day: First, regarding my anxiety in promoting my very first fly-fishing event, he said, “Your problem is you don’t know what you don’t know.” He punctuated that comment with his iconic snort, which sounded like a cross between a blow of the nose and a grunt. Second, he remarked that “there are only two types of people in fly fishing: those who show their knowledge, and those who share it. Stick close to the latter and avoid the former like the plague.” Truer words have rarely been spoken, and I have found, generally speaking, that all people—not just anglers—fall into one of these two camps.

Big Hearts

Not long after meeting Lefty, I crossed paths with Rick Pope, who looks exactly like what one pictures when one thinks “Texan.” Tall and broad-shouldered, Pope is as talented as he is humble: In addition to being an expert caster, he is a crack shot—so good, in fact, that he’s in the National Skeet Shooting Hall of Fame. If memory serves, I believe he won a silver tea set at a tournament, which he gifted to his beautiful future wife Ginny.

Pope’s vision for the future of fly rods turned an industry on its ear when he founded Dallas-based Temple Fork Outfitters. His concept was simple: Make excellent fly rods that any angler can afford. In addition to revolutionizing the industry, Pope generously donated fly-fishing gear to numerous nonprofits, particularly those dedicated to helping veterans.

Rick Pope knows people. He knows a lot of folks, but more importantly, he can read people quickly and well. Yet in all the years I’ve known him, the most derogatory statement I’ve heard him make about someone is, “He’s all hat, no cattle.” If you’re waiting to hear gossip or rumors from Rick Pope, you’ve got a long wait ahead of you. Rather, this incredibly successful businessman and fly angler spends his time encouraging those around him; I know, because I’m one of those to whom he has generously offered his wise counsel and sound business sense.

Maybe there really is something in the water, because fly fishing certainly has more than its fair share of great-hearted individuals. People like Tom Rosenbauer, Ed Jaworowski, Pat Dorsey, Jason Randall, George Daniel, Josh Miller, Mac Brown, Wanda Taylor, Landon Mayer, Gary Dubiel, Rachel Finn, Allen Rupp, Jeff Rowley, Joe Jackson—and so many more—are Lefty’s “latter”: they are passionate about people, seeking to share knowledge at every opportunity. I stick close to them.

Accidental Role Model

One of these sharers consistently flies below the radar: Northern Virginia fly-fishing guide Kiki Galvin is deeply committed to helping others, giving of herself almost to a fault. Whether she’s serving with Casting for Recovery, Trout Unlimited, the Mayfly Project, or Project Healing Waters, Kiki is all in, all the time. Skilled, dedicated, and professional, there are lots of reasons to laud Kiki Galvin—but that’s not why she’s on my mind right now.

Kiki Galvin nets a fish for a young angler.

In the early years of the Virginia Fly Fishing & Wine Festival, before everyone walked around with a cell phone in one hand, we used to create a full-color program that included daily schedules as well as instructor photos and bios; we then distributed this program to our sponsors, vendors, and attendees. At the conclusion of one Virginia Fly & Wine many years ago, Kiki, who had taught a beginner casting class for me that year, swung by to tell me how much she had enjoyed being a part of the festival. On her way out the door, offhandedly, still smiling, she said politely, “If it’s possible, I’d really like to be included in next year’s program.”

I wrote the program myself; had I forgotten to include her? Impossible! I quickly grabbed a program and flipped through it. She was right: Everyone was there except Kiki Galvin. How had this happened? How had I been so wrapped up in the forest of work that I’d missed a deep-rooted tree like Kiki Galvin?

I caught up with Kiki later to apologize profusely; the oversight, I assured her, was entirely unintentional. I’m not sure what I expected, but perhaps my decades on earth have left me a bit jaded. The truth is that, rather than the earth revolving around the sun, our psyches tend to operate as though the earth revolves around us. From the day we’re born, we are locked in a battle with ourselves, and it is very easy to give in to the version of you that desires to be the lord of all you survey. But those people who surround us are not our vassals; they’re our friends and fellow travelers on this road of life.

Kiki defied my expectations. She didn’t harangue me. She didn’t press her advantage. Instead she simply forgave me. She assumed the best. I will never forget her quiet grace and humility. Indeed, I consider Kiki Galvin a role model.

At 60, I’m casting for more than distance or to land the next big fish. I’m casting as though my life depends on it. I’m casting for a whole new way of looking at the world. I want to inspire someone the way Bob Guess inspired me. I want to be winsome and generous like Lefty. I want to see people through Rick Pope’s eyes. I want the humility of Kiki Galvin.

What are you really casting for?

Beau Beasley is the director of the 25-year-old Virginia Fly Fishing & Wine Festival; he frequently researches and writes about river access and usage issues. His latest book Healing Waters: Veterans’ Stories of Recovery in Their Own Words was recently released.

Those who missed the chance to get to know Lefty Kreh can honor the man and his legacy. The movie Lefty: The Greatest of All Time will show on March 27, 2025, at Frederick, Maryland’s Weinberg Center for the Arts. For more information visit click here.