One Great Fly Casting Tip

I guess I take casting with a fly rod for granted. It’s not that I’m some fantastic caster or I don’t have my struggles, but in truth, I can usually put the fly where I want it. And after all these years watching good and bad casting from other anglers, I believe the difference comes down to one key element — speed.

My own education happened naturally. Over a period of years, fishing day in and day out, I developed a casting technique and style that works for me. But it took time, and not everyone has that luxury. Inevitably, the anglers I meet who struggle to cast a fly, whether working with a dry line, tight line nymphing, whether casting wets or streamers, it comes down to one thing. They aren’t aggressive enough.

The fly rod needs an angler who will take control and be bossy. Good casting requires acceleration between 10:00 and 2:00, with hard, deliberate stops at those points. That’s what I mean by aggressive. The cast should be crisp. It must stop between two positions, and it must stop with purpose. The casting stroke should never be lazy, and it should not be cautious. Otherwise, fly placement and accuracy falls apart.

Fifty Fly Fishing Tips: #36 — Dry flies and flotation — Building in some buoyancy and preserving it

Hatch season is just around the corner. On some rivers we’ve already experienced good fishing over eager trout rising to delicate Blue Winged Olives. And somewhere in the distance, a chorus grows louder — the Grannoms are coming, the Grannoms are coming.

Oh sure, there are midge fishing opportunities around here all winter long. (I know a local guy who travels in shorts and picks his spots from the banks with no-see-um dry flies all winter long). But for most of us, the winter season is a subsurface fishing affair — we bottom bounce nymphs and strip streamers for eligible trout. And after four months of all that, I don’t know anyone who doesn’t get excited about a good dry fly opportunity. In fact, show me a legit chance to fish dries for active fish, and I’ll take it any day of the year.

And now, on the precipice of all the major hatches, right before mayflies, caddis, midges and stones start bumping into each other, we prepare at our vises. We tie flies, and we dream. We pack our gear and envision the surface slash, the gulp, the dimple and the ring of the rise. So it helps to consider for a moment — what keeps a dry fly floating on the surface in the first place?

Where is My Fly?

John looked back and glared at me through his copper lenses. He was frustrated, exasperated and worn out. I’d just told John, for the third time, to drift his fly on the inside of a large midstream boulder. But his cast and the resulting drift were far away from the mark and even further away from any chance of hooking a trout. So I started to speak the sentence again, a little lighter this time, with a little more empathy.

“Just drift your fly on the inside of . . .”

John interrupted. He shook his head in anger and leaned in toward me.

“Man, if I could see the fly, I’d put it there.”