For a while it was the hope that kept me night fishing — the belief in a chance that some night I would catch the kind of wild brown trout that never shows itself in the daylight. That’s what kept me going. As seasons pass and it doesn’t happen, that belief dims with the reality of every trip.
I’m okay with that reality, and I still have the belief anyway. Now I just night fish because it’s in me, and I simply love it for what it is.
Reviving a trout was once taught as part of the routine. But we don’t hear that so much anymore. Because the idea of playing a trout to the point of exhaustion, so much that you have to help it regain balance and breath, is mostly a thing of the past. And that’s a good thing . . .
Our objective while fishing is to catch a fish. That’s the point. And as catch-and-release anglers, we don’t fish to put food on the table. We fish . . . because it’s fun.
We can all list a hundred other reasons why we enjoy fishing. It’s the environments where trout live, the problem solving, the daily mystery, the beauty of the woods and the water, the therapy of being immersed in a river and a chance to interact with one of nature’s swimming creations.
But none of that means much without a win once in a while. Catching fish is the motivation. And without that reward, without the feedback that we’re doing something right and improving, all those other intangibles fade away fast.
When you fish the Pusher, imagine the wings flexing and pulsing as you hand twist retrieve and pulse the rod tip on a three count. See the fly in your mind’s eye and make it come alive in the dark. Then hold on tight . . .
Patience and persistence — in some ways they are opposites. Patience is waiting for something to happen. And persistence is making something happen.
And all you need is a full day spent with a persistent fisherman to know that your patience isn’t really getting anything done.
Over time, patience has been pinned to fishing, as if the two go hand in hand. And I think that’s a mistake. It’s an attached stigma that doesn’t fit — not for Troutbitten anglers, anyway. So once again, it’s apparent that words themselves change the way we think about things. Words and meanings change how we do things. New anglers are taught that fishing is a quiet, patient sport. And so they wait. And they are content when nothing happens.
Big trout after dark are never predictable. And they give you everything they have — right now. So your tippet better be strong.
There are three questions that lead you to solving all your nymphing problems. If you’re struggling, if you’re wondering if the empty net is your fault, ask yourself these questions and answer them honestly.
Is everything in one lane? Do I have to be this far away? Is my fly low enough for long enough?
Assuming that a dead drift is the goal for your nymph, answering these three questions leads you to correcting your own mistakes . . .
The art of a good trout fight is in taking them to the point where we have more control over their body than they do. Side pressure pulls the trout from its lane. While the fish faces the current and tries to hold a seam, side pressure moves that trout from its comfort zone and forces it to work against the force of our bent fly rod — all while keeping the trout low. And while we never want to play a trout to exhaustion, the art of a good trout fight is in taking them to the point where we have more control over their body than they do.
Show up on time, do your job and have a little fun while you’re at it. Then go home and do it all over again tomorrow. That’s a blue collar worker. It’s a Pheasant Tail with a CDC collar. It has a little disco for the rib and a hot spot collar. It’s simple, reliable and effective . . .
My friends and I don’t go fishing with our mind set on a certain tactic. We let the trout make those decisions, and we’re ready for anything. The Troutbitten Standard Mono Rig is the perfect tool for such an approach.
. . . It’s a versatile tool. It’s a hybrid system. And to maximize those options, simple adjustments are necessary. This video shows those adjustments in detail . . .
Drop shot nymphing on a tight line system puts the angler in control of every part of the drift. By using the riverbed as a reference, you then choose the speed, level and lane-travel of the flies.
That control is a double-edged sword. While the benefits of contact and control are infinite, there is a downside — you must get everything just right. Ultimate control is a big responsibility. And in many ways, it’s easier to choose a pair of light nymphs with no shot and simply track the nymph’s progress downstream, letting the river make all the important decisions.
Learning and refining that presentation is a daily challenge. . . .