So many factors figure into trout habits, and I feel like it’s my job to keep up, matching flies and presentations to the trout’s terms. And then sometimes I don’t want to . . .
. . . A few of those apex fish are still out there hunting cicadas. Still swimming. Still searching. Maybe they’re doing it on their own terms too.
You can tell a lot about a fly angler from a quick look at their leader. If there was an educational course for working at a fly shop, that’s something the teacher would share early on. And I’ve seen this trick pulled countless times in shops, when the answer-to-question ratio was getting pretty thin . . .
“Hey, go grab your reel, and let’s see how you have things set up.”
There’s nobody around for miles, you have every braid and river bend all to yourself, and there’s a real possibility of the biggest fish of your life to the net. The prospects of marginal water are tantalizing. But you have to be willing to cover miles of river, wade the rough stuff and accept a slim fish count, all for the low percentage chance of a couple trout where they aren’t supposed to be. You have to fish hard.
. . . Success on marginal water takes some time and patience to get it right.
I’ve replaced fishing hours with writing hours. In truth, I could be back out there wading, casting and catching again, but I’ve fallen into a daily cycle of coffee at the keyboard all morning. Sure, family stuff and other commitments have broken the spell on occasion, but I’m working fast on the book project that I’ve been looking toward for so many years. And once I start a big project, I don’t like to stop.
I was there to target some of the deeper parts that offered trout adequate protection against predators, like . . . me.
The sickness kept my motions slow. My stubbornness kept the process methodical. Stay behind the fish. Target the A water. Keep moving, but do it slowly. And stay off the bottom . . .
Fishing is a story . . . On a summer morning of fishing, I fish terrestrials in two different ways — first as a dry fly and then as a nymph.
The concepts of terrestrial fishing are largely centered around the dry fly. And I show that in the first half of this video. Target the edges and fish some of the middle stuff along the way. But the terrestrial fishing mindset — the concepts and strategies — are effectively taken over to a nymphing rig as well, often producing more and larger trout.
Fishing is a story . . . On a cool morning in August, I visited a favorite stretch of Class A water, with no plan but to see what the trout wanted to eat. In a few hours of fishing for wild trout, I fooled fish with nymphs, dry flies and streamers. This versatile approach is not only enjoyable, it’s often necessary. Because meeting trout on their own terms is the only way to make the most of a river. Cover water. Find feeding fish. Test theories . . . every day.
The Troutbitten Fish and Film series is here. Fishing is a story. It’s the woods and the water. It’s the trout, and the rivers that draw us streamside. And at its best, good fishing is a mystery to be solved with observation, theory and technique.
The new Fish & Film series from Troutbitten aims to tell that story.
There’s a process of evolution in our fishing that cannot be rushed. It’s better off being accepted. And yet, it might take the wisdom of age to ever understand that.
I’d argue that most anglers pursue fishing for the time-out-of-mind experience. Many styles of fishing allow for it, but surfcasting draws me in unlike anything I’ve ever done.
I think it’s the waves . . .
. . . It can be dead silent on that mountain, quiet enough to remember a place in time with no interruptions, a day that started in a bustling, wide valley and finished in stillness on top of a mountain.
. . . . . . The guitar amp, the voices, the conversations, the laughing and arguing, the engine noise and the truck’s rattles, the NPR opinion and the crackly speakers — it’s all gone. And it’ll stay gone for as long as I’m here on the mountaintop. This is real silence.
. . . There’s a segment of fly anglers who will never see streamers, nymphs or wet flies as a legitimate offering. That’s fine. Keep it to yourself.
There’s another segment of fly fishers who believe trophy hunting for big browns with big streamers is the only way to live out there. And everything else might as well be tweed hats and waxed catgut. That’s fine too. Keep it to yourself.
The majority of us are fishermen, just having fun, trying to catch a fish and then catch another one . . .