It’s the day before departure, and my entire body is buzzing and tingling with a sensation I’ve come to know well — half excitement, half chaos. Tomorrow, as the rain pelts down and the sky whips up a fury in the form of the first East Coast Low in three years, I’ll meet the rest of the Australian Ladies Fly Fishing Team at Sydney International Airport. I’m sure we’ll all be bleary-eyed and adrenaline-laced, although me likely more so than my more seasoned teammates. I’ll be travelling in typical mismatched style, lugging a battered, second-hand cricket gear bag (that I snaffled off Marketplace for ten bucks a couple of years back) paired with my spunky Australian Fly Fishing Team uniform.
The Australian Fly Fishing crest is first to be packed in Jo’s suitcase ahead of the 2025 Ladies World Fly Fishing Championships in Idaho.
Turns out cricket bats and fly rod tubes share a striking resemblance in length. Thanks for the tip, Marian Miller! That well-worn bag now houses six rods in three tubes, zipped up and ready to roll. First to Dallas, then a hop to Bozeman, Montana where we’ll pick up our rental for a happy cruise to Idaho. I sure do hope my teammates enjoy singing out loud.
I’d be lying if I said my attention hadn’t fixated on the flight itself. Taking off into that beast of a storm is hardly the uplift I’d script ahead of fifteen hours of trying to trick the body into sleeping upright. I’ve packed every hack: sci-fi neck pillows, noise-cancelling headphones, and a couple of Phenergan… let’s hope my schemes are enough to bring time to heel!
Funny thing, time. The lead-up to this moment felt glacial — up until four weeks ago, every day stretched like a yawning American prairie as I wrestled with fundraising and preparation. Then, as soon as the last payment was made it was as if someone yanked the cord and the days bolted. Just yesterday, my local pharmacist gasped, “This week?!” when I handed over my last-minute scripts. “Wow, that sped up! It seemed to be taking forever!” So, it’s not just me.
Fundraising is hard graft, but the people of Tuross Head have rallied behind their fly girl and managed to get us over the line.
So much of this trip has been powered by my community. Tuross Head, you legends! You filled my rattling tins, bought raffle tickets like it was an Olympic event, and still cheer us on with unflagging spirit. I’m deeply grateful. Likewise, thanks to the NSW Chapter of Fly Fish Australia — not only for your financial support, but for the river wisdom and camaraderie you’ve shared to get me here.
Support hasn’t only come in dollars. I’ve had whispered tips from mates in the States (cheers, Rog), an unexpected cuppa with a new-found friend Ross — a fly fisher who wore the Aussie crest on these same waters two decades ago and opened both his fly boxes and memory vault for me — and generous offers from legends like Chris Baty and Casey Pfeiffer to tie backup patterns if I cramp up. I didn’t take them up on it — not because I’m ungrateful, but because my own very average skills needed the practice. Huge thanks go to Glenn Eggleton and my teammates for mentoring me from rough’n’ready to at least adequate. You all form the fabric of this journey. I’m travelling with a whole village in my heart.
Catching fish is only one aspect of this journey.
If I lived in an ideal world, I’d be heading into this tournament with weeks of practice on water and months of leisurely nights at the vise. But the reality has been quite different. 2025 has proven to be momentous for the juggernaut that is the WRFL, and my position — albeit fully volunteer at this point in time — has demanded more than fulltime attention. Throw in a second job and the relentless fundraising needed just to secure this opportunity, and there just hasn’t been enough time. But mental reps count too. Since January’s four-day team intensive with coach Tom Jarman, my subconscious has been staging river scenarios like it’s on loop. Even mid-commute or dishwashing, I find myself visualising currents, seams, fly behaviour, and questioning how I might entice a bite in such a scenario. It might be obsession, but it’s also strategy.
After that January camp, I returned home with full-blown chest-pack envy that helped prioritise my prep. My camo canvas adventurers chest pack couldn’t hold a candle to the purpose-built magnetic rigs the experienced girls were rocking. So began the Bunnings-fuelled rebuild: magnets, parachute cord, marine-grade sikaflex, rigid plastic and HD foam. The result? A rugged, fingertip-accessible fly workshop strapped to my torso. It’s a masterpiece of Aussie DIY if I do say so myself… and, more importantly, it works.
The vise has also seen action. I’ve shifted from freestyle muddling to disciplined runs of five-per-size in patterns that actually have names! AND, I’ve even learnt those names. My hackled posts still resemble bed hair, but the nymphs are streamlined, my dries will float and fish, and my boxes are fuller. My eyes, however, may never uncross.
It may not be pretty, but Jo’s chest-mounted workbench is certainly functional.
Packing has been its own Olympic event. This level of competition demands backups for everything. That means six rods, two nets, multiple reels, spools, boots, waders, tying gear, civvies — and the elusive perfect balance between preparedness and luggage allowance.
Steve’s voice echoes in my head: “Why are you taking your fly tying vise? You’ve got way too many flies already!” Then, the kicker: “You’ll be lucky to use a quarter of what you’ve packed.” He’s probably right. But taking a limited arsenal doesn’t allow for full and thorough trial and error during pre-fish. We intend to throw the entire fly box at those rivers and lakes, then use the intel gathered to guide the nights at the vise ahead of the comp-proper.
Greys River in Idaho is one of five locations on the menu for the World Championships. Each angler will fish a beat on all of them across the five day tournament.
Once we land, we get a week to scout waters that mimic the competition beats (which include the famous Henry’s Fork on the Snake River, Warm River, Grey River, Hebgen Lake and Sheridan Lake — a private fishery. Comp waters are closed to competitors before the event). We’ll cast every fly in the arsenal, tweak tactics, and refine patterns. We’ll be busy probing the waters by day and tying by night. All this against the jaw-dropping backdrop of the Rockies! I am hoping I have the mental discipline to keep my mind on the task at hand and not simply gawp at the majestic vista!
(Oh… that moment of daydream just reminded me that I have to put bear spray on my State-side shopping list! Must MacGyver a bear spray slot on the chest-pack.)
Whether we bring back medals or memories, every cast I make is laced with your support. From Tuross Head to late-night messages, I’m taking your support with me. I’ll carry it across time zones, over customs counters, into rivers where anything is possible.
See you on the flip side, with stories — and a whole lot of experience I never expected I’d have.
Until next time, FISH ON!
For three decades Jo has worked with businesses and personalities, helping them to promote themselves in one form or another, whether through graphic design, advertising, promotions or marketing.
She has owned a fishing rod for just as long, but it’s only been in this new century that it hasn’t been allowed to gather dust.
Jo is a passionate advocate for the sport of fishing and its promotion as a healthy lifestyle for women.
To find out more about Jo visit her website HERE
Or you can visit her Fishtopia Web site HERE or on the banner below.
Jo is also the founder and National President of the Women’s Recreational Fishing League (WRFL) Inc. The work they do is very important in balancing the participation ratios of fishing in Australia, thus making the collective voices of Aussie anglers more harmonious and powerful, as well as shoring up the economy of the sector. For more information visit their Website at womensrecfishingleague.org
