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If your image of fishing is of mind-numbing hours sitting in a rowboat, you may be justifiably turned off. But fly-fishing is a skill that depends on thorough preparation, stealth, and keen observation. A fly-fisher must understand the complex workings of a stream, and has to know how to make bits of fur and thread mimic the actions and life stages of the insects that make up a trout's meal. A good trout angler, particularly one who wades into a stream with fly-fishing gear, acts more like a graceful heron than a bored vacationer.

Some anglers carry a piece of equipment for every possible situation. But if you keep things simple, you'll add no more than three pounds to your gear, spend about $200, and still have a solid chance of catching fish.

A basic outfit includes an inexpensive ($10) reel and an eight-foot-long graphite rod designed for a 4- or 5-weight line (strong enough to catch mountain trout, which weigh less than one pound). The rod should break down into four 24-inch sections that you can slip into a backpack. To connect the reel and the fish, you need backing (a line that fills up the reel and functions as a reserve); a double-taper fly line designed to match your rod; a few monofilament leaders; and a tippet, a very fine piece of line that you tie to the fly. Thousands of fly patterns are available, ranging in size from tiny, nearly invisible ones to feathered harpoons that look as if they'd frighten a walrus. Start off by buying about a dozen, of two basic types: dry flies, which float on the surface and imitate the most common stream and land insects; and nymphs, which imitate the insects' larval forms.

You need only two of fly fishing's innumerable gadgets to round out your gear: hemostats, for mashing down a hook's barbs (enabling you to remove a hook from a trout's mouth without injuring the fish); and nippers, for trimming knots. To negotiate slippery stream bottoms, glue felt soles to an old pair of sneakers. Wade in your quickest-drying nylon hiking pants or shorts, or invest in a pair of lightweight nylon hip waders.

Casting is an art best learned from another angler, but you can start by practicing short distances on dry land. Lay out 15 feet of line in front of you, then raise the rod sharply back to the one o'clock position, just over your shoulder. Wait while the fly line loops behind you. Just as it straightens out and flexes the rod, bring the rod forward to the ten o'clock position without snapping your wrist. If you haven't lost momentum or let your elbow wander, the line will loop forward and lay out straight before you. A good cast is a slow, almost stately motion that places the fly gently on the water's surface, allowing it to drift naturally downstream.

On the water, the game is simple--in theory, at least. You wade upstream so carefully that the trout don't know you're there. "Read" the stream for the sheltered spots where trout can eat without expending energy. Watch especially for feeding lanes, the tongues of current between fast and slow water that funnel floating insects to waiting fish. Look for circles on the surface created by rising trout, or white flashes as the fish dart after nymphs.

Use the flies that most resemble the real insects in or coming off of the river. Because trout watch up-current, cast your line above the spot where you see or hope to find fish, and contrive to let your fly drift downstream without dragging.

When you land a wild trout these days, your response should not be to flip it into a fry pan, but to return it carefully to the stream. While wild trout are wily and therefore a true challenge to catch, they're also declining in numbers. Save your dreams of dinner for trips when you're fishing a stream or lake stocked with hatchery-raised trout. It's a challenge to learn fly-fishing, and it's equally important to respect the game.