Before we launch into our February events, we have a quick announcement for January. We are doubling Loyalty Rewards points all month long! That means you’ll get 2 points for every $1 you spend with us in January! You’ll start earning rewards redeemable for $$$ discounts off future purchases with a balance of just 250 points! That’s twice as many reasons to shop small with your local Texas fly shop.
As the owner of Bosque Valley Fly Fishing, Pat Vanek specializes in guiding anglers in pursuit of a range of bass species – largemouth, smallmouth, and spotted bass – along with carp, channel catfish, and drum, but he has a special place in his heart for the scrappy white bass. He is also a skilled fly tier and the creator of the locally-famous white bass fly, Pat’s Ghost Minnow (which we will be teaching on one of our Fly Tying Nights this February!). While Pat’s services focus on the Brazos River and area tributaries around Waco, his insights into Fly Fishing for White Bass will help you anywhere you fish for them in Central Texas. and of Waco isn’t one of them, it should be! Join us at the fly shop on Saturday, February 4th to learn when, where, and how to catch white bass on the fly!
What could be more romantic than getting tangled up together learning something new? Grab your honey and join us on Saturday, February 14th for our Introduction to Fly Fishing course! During this FREE event day, we’ll take you through the the fundamentals of fly casting, tackle and rigging, as well as access points and fly selection for the Texas Hill Country. All equipment is provided! Registration is required.
Over the last decade, GRTU’s Troutfest TX has become the largest event of its kind in Texas, bringing out more than 4,000 individuals interested in fly fishing and protecting cold water fisheries. For 2026, Troutfest is being reimagined as Mend the River, a focused, one-day-only fundraiser to support our Guadalupe River community’s recovery from the devastating July 2025 floods. Gather with us on Saturday, February 21st at Lazy L&L Campgrounds on the Guadalupe River as we raise vital funds for river and community! The evening will include a keynote speaker, live and online silent auction, door prizes, great food and local drink makers.
As seasons change, so does fish activity and so should your fly fishing tactics! Join us February 28th for a Spring Bass Primer devoted to helping you transition your techniques for the upcoming season. We will walk through the basics of the bass spawning cycle, where to target trophy bass, how to read weather, fly selection and presentation, as well as how to eliminate unproductive water. This course will benefit you no matter where you fish in the Texas Hill Country or beyond!
Want to learn to tie your own flies? Whether you’re new or experienced, join us Wednesdays for Fly Tying Night! For Beginner tiers, we supply all instruction, materials, and tools free of charge. Over the course of four weeks, you will learn fly patterns that will introduce you to core tying skills that you will build on as you grow in your tying journey. We highly recommend starting with week one and continuing in sequence, as the flies and skills we teach over the course of the month will build on each other and become more difficult. Registration is required for beginners only. For Intermediate+ tiers, there is no registration required. Materials and instruction are provided free of charge, but please bring your own thread, vise and tools. Each month, the fly patterns you will learn will focus on a specific material, pattern variation, or skill to increase your mastery through repetition.
For more details head to our Events & Education page!
Take care and God Bless!
Tight Lines,
Living Waters Fly Fishing
Lucky Carp
by Melody Williams
Having arrived at the Secret Carp Hole™, I looked in awe at the schools of fish, mouths open, feeding on the surface. I laughed in surprise and glee as one shot up out of the water close by me, a clumsy orange rocket. I had never seen a carp do that.
The high on January first was seventy-one degrees, sunny and beautiful, but the water stung like ice and made us shiver. Across the deep water were two falls, which created a strong double back-eddy which broke left and right around a huge, angled boulder in the center. K.C. paddled us across to the falls, and I laughed as another carp shot out of the water ahead of us. As we approached, I could see a load of carp mouthing at the surface like koi in a pond. I wished aloud that I had a Chubby Chernobyl tied on, but I was both too lazy and too excited to change out flies. My Jigged Pinch Hitter spooked some fish on my first few casts, but I adjusted quickly and placed a few more-delicate presentations toward the edge of the group, letting the fish follow my fly as it sank. I gave the fly a few jigs and soon felt the familiar weight of a fish on. My heart leapt in my chest, but my excitement quickly turned to panic as moments later my reel fell off my rod into my lap.
From the back of the canoe K.C. coached me to get tight on the fish. “I’m trying! My reel fell off!” I shouted back to him. As my carp beelined for the back of the pool toward a submerged tree, I tried frantically to maintain pressure while fumbling for my reel. Clearly, I took too long because K.C. reached from behind me and took the rod out of my hand. The reel clanked to the floor. I quickly handed it back to him before grabbing my oar and doing my best to keep us from spinning in the current. K.C. managed to get the reel re-attached and my rod back to me in short order, but not before the carp had made its way around the back of the tree and under one of its submerged branches.
I tried desperately to reel up all the slack line quickly but managed to get tangled around my reel in the process. Now the carp was halfway across the pool again already, heading now for the boulder in the center. We floated up behind the tree, my rod and line back in a straight-on position with my fish, but still without sufficient leverage. K.C. once again took my rod out of my hands while saying something about sending it under the branch. “Grab it from the other side,” he instructed. Before I could get the words out to disagree with his plan, he shoved my set up under the water.
“No! I can’t reach it!” I exclaimed, too late to stop him, but to my great relief, the rod lodged under the branch. I leaned over, straining to reach it, but it was just out of arms length. I began to run scenarios in my head. If I leaned any further, I would tip the canoe over. I could jump in, but by now clouds had rolled in and the temperature was dropping. Would I give myself hypothermia? “I can’t reach it!,” came my distressed cry again. The seconds were ticking by. Any moment the fish or the current would pull $1500 worth of rod, reel, and line into the deep, inky pool.
Then, as is his way, K.C. took over. He swung us around the front of the tree, and began using his oar to direct the rod through the branch and hoist it up. He reached for the tip and swung the handle and reel up to me. It was, by some miracle, not broken. I let out a huge sigh and, as my adrenaline dropped, I began to reel up the slack line. Suddenly, I was met with resistance. The carp was still hooked.
“Oh my God. He’s still on,” I said with a mix of disbelief and weariness. The carp was stationed up under the boulder. I stripped and stripped, but seemed to make no headway. K.C. struggled to keep the canoe in position as the current pushed at us from two directions. I added and stripped line as the canoe spun in a circle, wishing for the swiveling seats of our guide raft. Eventually K.C. gained control and positioned the bow of the canoe straight at the submerged stone. As I continued to strip in line by the inch, I was mentally preparing myself for the inevitable – cutting my line to get free – when I saw my leader emerge from the water.
“I’ve got him! Back up!” I shouted to K.C. As the boat pulled us away from the obstruction, I could now see that I was hooked into the carp’s tail. Exhausted from the fight, it slipped easily into our net. The fish was heavy and my tired arms strained to hold the net up as K.C. rowed us to shallow ground. Once beached, I hopped out, bracing against the chill, to rest my netted fish in the water. K.C. asked if I would send him off, but I asked for a picture first. There’s no telling whether I had snagged him from the get go or if my fly had come unpinned in the struggle. Either way, I felt incredibly lucky that, despite an absolute goat-rope of a fight, I had landed him and hadn’t lost or broken my rig in the process. K.C. understood and pulled out the camera to memorialize my first fish of the year.
