The way you move on the water, the way you carry gear and how you adapt, has a big impact on your experience out there. Yes, we all enjoy the scenery and solitude. We love the sites and sounds of a river. But when that novelty dulls a bit, the process of solving problems and seeing the results of our solutions is what keeps us in the game for a lifetime . . .
There are times for constant contact. But on most days, the best tight line presentations are not about feeling the action of the fly or the weight on the bottom. It’s not about a perfect tight line with the rig. Rather, it’s about slipping in and out of contact with the fly on a small scale — staying somewhere between tightline and slackline — that’s where the magic lies.
Winter is a quiet ghost.
When he days are dark and at their coldest, the woods are barren — void of life, save for the chickadees and a few eager squirrels. Most of the mammals hunker down in burrows, inside hollowed out trees and underneath hemlock bows. You might miss all this if you don’t slow down, find a log and just sit for a while to listen to the silence. It’s different.
The forest is a widow in the winter wind.
In time, all things in a river sink to the bottom. How much time do you have?
Here are the six elements: weight, depth adjustment, material resistance, drift length, tuck cast, current seams.
Each one of these elements works with the others to get deeper and to get there more naturally. It’s not enough to add some weight, just like it’s not enough to switch from 3X to 4X, or to slide the indy up the line or drop the sighter. All of it matters. And everything interacts with the other things beside it.
I wasn’t quite sure why I’d asked the kid if he fished in the first place. But there was something about him that compelled me to share. And here I was, about to give up a guarded secret.
“Do you have a piece of paper back there?” I asked. “I’ll show you something . . .”
Every new condition required another adjustment, another approach, and sometimes new tactics. And every change yielded results.
Here are the seven ways . . .
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.
Here are my methods for catching trout in my favorite season.
I’ve grown to love these bitter months, not only for the solitude and peace beyond the dead end roads, but for the challenge of a different game. And once you dig in, when you spend some time fighting, and you finally gain comfort against the elements, you’ll find a season more predictable than any other. Because winter feeding options are limited for a trout, and the angler may take advantage of that — if he’s persistent.
The rewards for finding a winter fishing system are both high numbers and larger trout. The range for error is wider. It’s harder to hit the mark. But when you do find the target, success flows freely . . .
You can get a trout’s attention with a host of different patterns. Bright beads, flashy materials, wiggly legs and sheer size all stand out in the drift, and trout take notice. But interest and curiosity do not necessarily lead trout into the net. In fact, many of the attention getting materials we attach to a hook simply turn trout off, giving them a reason not to eat the fly.
On the other hand, while drab and flat patterns have their moments, it often takes a little sparkle, a little color, flash or wiggle, to turn trout on. The trick then, is finding the right elements to seal the deal — a simple combination of materials that is just enough to convince a trout, but not too much either. Enter: the Sucker Spawn . . .
Much of what we learn about fly fishing comes from instinct. Fishing, after all, is not that complicated. It does not take a special set of talents or years of study to figure most of this out for yourself. It just takes a tuned in, heads up approach out there on the water, and a good bit of want-to.
There are two ways to recover slack after the cast: stripping in line or lifting/moving the rod tip. Use both at the right times . . .
Wild and wise trout demand from the angler a natural presentation of the fly. Trout are a difficult fish to fool. So the consistent fisherman learns to successfully drift flies that look like something the trout is used to eating — something that appears natural.
However, the most natural drift of the fly happens over a short portion of the drift. And usually, the angler who casts more often is more successful . . .