My hands are cold. It’s the second week of May, and I’m caught unprepared by a cold front that has moved in with more wind, more rain and more of the wet stuff than was predicted. “Last night’s forecast promised better than this.” I think it before I catch myself....
The parachute post on your size-twelve March Brown dances down-current. The fly drifts in harmony with the surrounding bubbles that were formed fifty feet upstream, where the river rolls over the riffle and begins widening into this shady flat. Dressed with a dose of...
** This is Part Two of a Troutbitten short series. But it also reads well as a stand alone dry fly piece. Find Part One HERE. ** A fly touches the water with a trout in the area, and a few different things can happen. Ideally, the fish sees the fly, buys our...
The single biggest advancement in fly fishing gear over the last few decades is the tippet. The breaking strength, per diameter, of both fluorocarbon and nylon tippets is far stronger than what all of us were using in the last century. The 5X tippet that we tie to the...
There’s a sweet spot to every drift. For each swing of a wet fly, strip of a streamer or drift of a dry, there’s a range — a distance — where the fly looks its best. This is the moment where the fur and feathers tied to a hook are most convincing or most natural. It’s when the fly is really fishing and not just dragging through the water. Good anglers recognize this sweet spot of the drift. They maximize its length. They position themselves in the river to control it with their rod tip or with slack line. And they set it all up to happen over the best trout in the river . . .
We’re looking for the best part of what happens after a cast. We’re searching for the sweet ride. And we’re trying to make it last as long as possible . . .
I sat. And I laid the fly rod across my knees like a hunter’s rifle. I waited and watched. I scanned the river and sank deeper into the mossy earth until my breathing evened out.
My heartbeat slowed and recovered its normal pace, having accelerated on the walk in. I was warm and content. I sat with a stillness reserved for moments like these and watched only with my eyes. The silence calmed me until I could feel the blood pulsing beneath my skin. I sat, alive and aware, eager and anticipating, serene and satisfied all at once.
For many years, I never much considered casting dry flies on a Mono Rig as a viable option. I enjoyed the art of casting a dry with a traditional fly line. And if you asked me about dries on a long leader system back then, I’d shake my head and tell you something about using the right tool for the job. But in the last few years, much of that has changed. And now, I suggest that a long Mono Rig is, in fact, the right tool for the job — sometimes.
There’s a time and place for everything. And fishing dry flies on the Mono Rig has become one of my favorite ways to approach trout, not just because it’s a convenient and quick variation when swapping over from a tight line nymphing rig, but because it is stunningly effective . . .
It’s the effectiveness of a nymphing rig and the excitement of a dry fly rig, with boosted catch rates.
In this four part series covering dry dropper styles, I’ve saved the best for last.
I prefer methods that lend excellent control to the angler. And tight line rigs, with direct contact as the primary feature, are built for just that. Add a dry fly to the rig and tight line dry dropper is the best of all possible worlds . . .
Casting styles change with the water. The same stroke that lays a dry line with perfect s-curves in a soft flat is useless in pocket water. As the river picks up speed, so must our casting. Effective drifts are shorter, so we cast more. Mixed surface currents greedily pull our built-in slack over to the next seam. So our casting matches the currents. It’s more aggressive. Faster.
But fishing rough or mixed currents doesn’t mean we give up on a good dead drift. And the best stroke for the job is one that I call the Crash Cast . . .
A backcast loop unfolds, parallel to the rolling current. The tapered fly line straightens and joins the rod tip on its forward path. It punches through the wet air with a second loop — a horseshoe arc with all the power and energy needed to drive a bushy Royal Wulff to the target.
The rod tip stops above that target — in vertical alignment with the mark, but well above the water’s surface. Tip stops high. Leader shoots out and releases its power. Fly reaches the end of the line. Then the rod tip drops. The line recoils in s-curves as the dropping rod pushes more depth into those bends and arcs.
Fly lands and drifts. Fish eats. Perfection.
That’s the stop and drop. And this simple move is the key to good dead drifts with a dry fly. Let’s look at it closer . . .