Nelson
Bryant
©Ed
Mitchell 2008 Fly Fishing in Salt
Water July/ August 2008
At
4 Am on a June morning, not long ago, I climbed into my Jeep with a cup of black
coffee and headed to Martha’s Vineyard. This was no fishing trip mind you, but
rather a chance to meet someone I have long wanted to know - a person whose
writings are a favorite of mine - a man who has fly-fished the island longer,
perhaps, than anyone else.
Later
that morning I stood at the Steamship Authority Dock in Vineyard Haven, scanning
the busy parking lot, in an effort to catch sight of him. During a prior phone
conversation, he told me he had trim white beard and would be wearing a green
beret with a gold Airborne medallion. Fair enough I though; I should be able to
spot him. So with those clues guiding my eyes, I watched and waited, only to
have him suddenly appear out of the crowd. No question about it; this was the
person I had come so far to meet; this was Nelson Bryant.
Our
day together, unfortunately, would be a short one; Nelson had warned me that
might be the case. For the last year and a half he has suffered with a medical
condition called polymyalgia
rheumatic. He tires easily and is frequently in pain. Still during that
afternoon, and with the help of an e-mail exchange in the weeks ahead, he shared
a great deal about himself, and now I have a chance to share it with you.
Nelson
Bryant was born in Red Bank, New Jersey, in the spring of 1923. When his father
took an accounting position up in Boston, the family left the Jersey coast for
Needham, Massachusetts. Yet Needham wasn’t destined to remain their home. Back
then the country was teetering on the edge of precipice. The infamous Black
Tuesday of October 29, 1929 sent the nation’s stock markets reeling, and
ushered in the difficult dark days of the Great Depression. And with their
arrival, a great many people, including Nelson’s father, lost their job.
With
his father out of work, the family found itself in dire straits, but as
sometimes happens - good things spring out of adversity. Nelson’s maternal
grandfather was a retired doctor living on Martha’s Vineyard. He was in poor
health and needed assistance, so he offered his daughter’s family a place to
live if they would come and take care of him. With
that kind offer in hand, the Bryant family yanked stakes again, moving to the
island in 1932, the place Nelson to this day still calls home.
One
can only imagine how idyllic it must have been for a young boy to spend his
childhood on the Vineyard. Surrounded by the island’s wild woods and waters,
Nelson had an endless - and near magical- adventure at his doorstep. He slept
outdoors whenever possible; trapped muskrats in the pond; took pickerel,
smallmouth and trout on a bamboo fly rod his father had given him; and with his
father’s help caught his first stripers and bluefishes at the opening of
Tisbury Great Pond by heaving heavy jigs into the swift current and then hauling
them back on tarred marline.
As
adulthood approached, Nelson packed his bags and headed off to Dartmouth
College, but world events would soon get in the way. The fires of World War II
were burning across Europe, and Nelson felt a call to duty. So he drop out of
Dartmouth and joined the Army, becoming a member of Company D, 508 Parachute
Infantry Regiment, 82nd Airborne. Shortly before D-Day, along with his regiment,
he parachuted into Normandy behind enemy lines, where Nelson was wounded by
machine gun fire. After a fairly speedy recovery, he rejoined his outfit,
parachuted into Holland, and then saw action in the deadliest fighting of the
war – The Battle of the Bulge.
While
still in Europe, Bryant got a letter from home, one that he remembers to this
day. In it his father said that he had caught schoolie stripers on a fly, in
Tisbury Great Pond. At the time fly-fishing in saltwater was all but unheard.
Yet the idea of catching stripers on a fly sparked Nelson’s imagination and
eased his war weary mind. He
told me that he resolved on the spot to try fly rodding for striped bass, if he
made it back home alive.
Upon
returning home, Bryant settled back into island life. He married Jean Morgan and
started a family, a relationship that produced four children-Steve, Jeff, Mary
and Alison. And
he also started his quest for a striper on a fly. With plenty of prior angling
experience under his belt, Nelson knew how to wield a fly rod, still he thought
it wise to seek out advice on rigging up for striped bass. But unlike today,
finding such help wouldn’t be easy.
Right
after the war, there was probably only a handful of people in New England that
truly knew anything about fly-fishing in salt water. Still Nelson had heard
about an angler in Barrington, Rhode Island, with a growing reputation as an
expert at taking stripers on a fly. His name was Harold Gibbs (see May/June
issue 2007), and Nelson gave him a call. What Nelson heard from Gibbs was simple
and yet very effective; Gibbs told him to use a heavy 9 foot rod, a 3 foot
leader, and any fly as long as it was blue and white.
It’s a strategy that would still work today.
Armed
Gibbs’ suggestions and a fiberglass fly rod mail ordered from Herter’s,
Nelson became one of the very first anglers to ever fly-fish the Vineyard salt. In
fact the entire sport of recreational saltwater fishing was very much in its
infancy. So much
so, that during those early years it was rare for Bryant him to see another
recreational angler, of any kind, on the island. So Nelson often fished alone.
And given his day job as a carpenter, his fishing expeditions were done mainly
at night.
Tisbury
Great Pond was one place he fly-fished after the war. Near to home and somewhat
sheltered, the pond was an ideal place to wet a fly line. Nelson also fished
along the island’s North Shore. That was easier said than done, however; he
didn’t own a car, and the North Shore was a good distance from his West
Tisbury home. But Bryant was young, strong and determined, and used what
transportation he had on hand- a bicycle. With his fly rod stored in his
mountain infantry pack, he would take off at sunset, riding to places like
Lambert’s Cove, a trek of eight miles round trip. Regardless,
the effort would prove worth it, for it was at Lambert’s Cove in the autumn of
1946 that Nelson took his first striper on a fly.
Eventually Nelson resumed his education at Dartmouth, and then took a position as managing editor of the Daily Eagle in Claremont, New Hampshire, where he held down a typewriter for 15 years. Around 1965, however, Nelson opted to return to the Vineyard, taking on work as a dock builder. Yet fate was waiting in the wings, for a couple years after his arrival, Bryant received a call that would change his life. A friend of his, Howard Swain, phoned to tell him that the New York Times was in need of an outdoor writer. Howard urged him to contact the newspaper, feeling this was a perfect opportunity for Nelson to link his writing skills with his love of the outdoors.
In
the fall of 1967, the New York Times hired Nelson Bryant. It would prove a
fortuitous event both for him, the Times, and as well the large readership he
would attract. His column, called simply “Outdoors”, appeared sometimes on
Sunday, sometimes on weekends and sometimes two or even three times a week. On
those pages he discussed the things he so dearly loved: fishing, hunting,
camping and canoeing ”.
He worked at it full-time for 30 years, and then part-time for nearly
another decade. By
the time he retired in March of 2005, Bryant columns numbered in the thousands.
I
read many of those column’s and eagerly looked forward to them all, but the
ones on fly-fishing the Vineyard especially grabbed
my attention. In all too brief vignettes, he told readers of his angling
adventures in places such as Lobsterville Beach, and Dogfish Bar. Those stories,
sometimes accompanied with the superb illustrations of Glenn Wolff, supplied me
and a great many other fly rodders with a tantalizing taste of island life. We
read about striped bass on a fly, and starry nights, and long sandy strands.
Little wonder those stories were the source of many angling dreams.
Today
Bryant fishes with his sons Jeff and Steve, as well as his long-time friend Kip
Bramhall, a well-respected island artist. And he does so with the knowledge that
he taught all three the ways of the long rod. Moreover,
he can look back fondly at his years with the Times, for they brought him in
contact with many fine people. Early on he fished with “Cap” Colvin of
Island Beach, New Jersey, from whom he learned the virtues of popping bugs for
striped bass. And with each passing year he met other notables including Lefty
Kreh, Nick Lyons, Jimmy Carter, and the actor Rip Torn.
As
I left on that June day, I stood on the ferry’s upper deck and watched a brisk
north wind rake Vineyard Sound.
No it’s never easy to leave this island, but at least I felt my trip
had been a success. And as West Chop Lighthouse faded into the distance, one
thought centered itself in my mind. After coming over from the mainland 75 years
ago as a 9 year old boy, Nelson Bryant is now an integral part of Martha’s
Vineyard. He belongs there as much as the sand, the sea and the sky.
The End
Sidebar:
Bryant’s Favorite Fly
Ed
Mitchell
During my day with Nelson Bryant I asked him to name his favorite fly for the Vineyard. A moment later, Bryant simply placed one in my hand. At first glance it appeared rather ordinary, just a sand eel fly made with braided tubing. The only difference I saw was that it was tied with tandem hooks, a size 2# in the front and a size 4# at the back. But Nelson went on to tell me about this particular fly’s deadly built-in action.
Aptly
called the Acrobat, the fly was developed several years ago by Nelson and son
Jeff during a night of striper fishing.
Through trial and error, they discovered that by positioning a short
section of foam inside the tail end of the tubing, they could greatly increase
the fly’s striped bass appeal. Nelson explained that the foam’s placement
causes the fly to jig during the retrieve. When you pause, the fly rises to the
surface, tail first. Strip in line and the fly dives head down. It’s a clever
and effective design.
The
End