Years ago, I took on the habit of ignoring weather forecasts, because I knew I was going fishing regardless of what the weather would bring. In my fishing kit I’ve always had gear and garments to match whatever mother nature might deliver.

Ease of access to weather data has turned most of the population into amateur storm trackers. And one element seems to universally inspire dread among anglers more than any other. It’s the wind.

For years, I had no special plans for the wind. I just fished through gusts and squalls, doing my best to choose rigs and tactics that might help manage the conditions. But on one volatile fall morning a decade ago, an incoming cold front sent wind ahead of its arrival that opened my eyes to a few things.

READ: Troutbitten | Dry Flies in the Patagonia Wind

Dries

The morning started with Blue Winged Olives and trout that graciously rose to a late season mayfly emergence. The hatch was sparse, but the trout were willing. And as I pushed a small Klinkhammer toward the minor dimples in a favorite flat, wind rushed downstream and riffled the surface, blowing a few Olives off the water, but helping to dry the wings of others on a damp, drizzly day. I hooked about every third target, and along my watery course upstream I realized something important . . .

With a dry fly I’d rather face into the wind than have it push from behind.

The heart of good dry fly fishing is drag free drifts. And to accomplish this presentation, slack in the leader is introduced and managed on the water’s surface.

Wind from behind an angler steals slack from the cast and pushes the leader, taking the fly with a straight line to the target. But as every good dry fly angler knows, straight lines drag too quickly.

However, the wind in an angler’s face provides something to push into. We can adjust the energy of the cast to work with the wind — pushing against it, allowing the wind to win some of the battle, sending some of the leader back toward us, creating desired slack that lands in s-curves.

Using the wind this way and judging how much power to send — how tight to form the casting loops — is a fun calculation that shows instant reward or failure. And however the next cast lands, working with the wind instead of cursing and fighting against it seems like a natural success.

Photo by Aiden Swentosky

Nymphs

I don’t know if the last of the Olives trickled off or a more constant and swirling wind picked up the sailboats too fast and frequently to hold a trout’s interest. But after a good hour of top water action, the enchantment ended.

So I waded to the riverbank and took a walk that both warmed my insides and brought me a quarter mile upstream, around the bend and into the center of a thick run of pocket water. Whitewater seams and slow, slick stalls mixed into a tantalizing jumble of lanes and chances. My eager nymphs nearly jumped out of their foam slots when I opened the fly box.

Such places beg for a tight line approach, and indicators can get your fly lost in such currents. Complex, three dimensional swirls flow up, down and sideways, and the best way to keep track of your nymph while enhancing strike detection is a straight line from rod tip to fly.

So I strung up a pair of stoneflies and forced my way toward one of the largest boulders. The wind swirled as I threw some warm up casts and waded the last few feet. It made me think about the wind direction again. My goal for a managed dead drift was no longer a slack line but a straight one. In which direction would the wind really help me? In front or behind?

The next hour and a half gave me every chance to find out. As the cold front settled in, I watched the colored sighter of my leader drawn into curves from every direction. And it didn’t take long to realize something I’d never before considered.

With a tight line, I’d rather have the wind pushing from behind.

This preference has nothing to do with the cast. A good nymphing angler uses the weight of the fly and the leader to easily achieve the desired distance. And with proper speed, turnover happens with no need for the wind. (But it doesn’t hurt the cast, either.)

Wind from behind is preferable while drifting on a tight line. Even with a low-angler sighter, wind can play havoc with the drift in any direction. But we can effectively pull into a wind that’s coming from behind.

We cast upstream with the wind at our back. And as the fly drifts downstream we lead into the wind, straightening it against the forces that wish to curve it. Additionally, we can use the wind to create some managed slack in the presentation. Allowing the wind to push the sighter ever so slightly gives the flies a chance to be influenced by their surrounding currents, to flutter a bit and perhaps induce that last spark to engage a trout.

Wind facing us from upstream has the opposite effect. Negative drag is pushed into the sighter when it’s forced to curve and pull the flies downstream unnaturally.

Finding the perfect angle and tension to both defeat the wind and present a natural drift becomes intuitive once the concepts are ingrained.

Do It

There are several ways to beat the wind or manage it. But perhaps the most important thought, our primary consideration, is direction.

Where’s the wind coming from? From upstream or downstream? Recognizing wind direction might influence our next choice about tactic and location.

Fish hard, friends.

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Enjoy the day.
Domenick Swentosky
T R O U T B I T T E N
domenick@troutbitten.com