** NOTE ** This is a companion to the article titled, “Fly Casting: Shoot Line on the Pickup." These are related concepts, but separate skills. To me, fly casting has always been instinctual. Maybe not from the beginning, because I’m sure I struggled like everyone...
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...
In my early twenties I drove a delivery van for a printing company, while finishing the last few semesters of my English degree. Life was pretty easy back then, and I spent much of my leisure time playing guitar and fishing small backcountry streams for wild trout. It...
One of the biggest misconception in nymphing is that our flies must bump along the bottom. Get it down where the trout are, they say. Bounce the nymph along the riverbed, because that’s the only way to catch trout. We’re told to feel the nymph tick, tick, tick across...
The fly fly rod quick dip is a problem-solving essential. Some things in fly fishing are obvious right away. The concepts of casting and drifting a fly are intuitive for most anglers after just a bit of instruction and a few trips of experience. And a lot of what we take for granted or think is obvious has become second nature only after fishing for a long, long time.
The more time we spend on the water, the better we fish. No news there, right? But why is that? If I don’t fish for a week, it’s not like I’ve lost the skills to get a good drift, nor have I lost lost the ability to read trout water. Shouldn’t it be like riding a bike?
Fishing skills certainly can grow some rust, but after a couple of hours on the river, everything about your game ought to mold back into shape (assuming your layoff wasn’t months long). Because once we’ve learned something in fishing, it stays with us — thankfully though, there’s unlimited potential for refinement.
So still I ask, why? Why do we fish better when we’re out there multiple times each week?
In his mid-twenties, my friend Jeff walked away from his job to be a trout bum for a few months. It was a bold move, but a strategic one. Jeff had enough funds saved up to float him from late spring all the way into the fall, and he simply wanted to hang out, drink beer and catch trout for a while.
Some people hike the Appalachian trail. Others take a year after school to travel across Canada or maybe backpack through Europe, if you have that kind of money. Jeff just wanted to fish the hell out of Central Pennsylvania and be a trout bum for once. So that’s what we did.
At the time, my own lifestyle was pretty flexible. I’d already spent five or six years exploring Central and North-Central Pennsylvania during the day and playing music in clubs and bars at night. Gas was cheap then, and it was nothing for me to wake at dawn and travel north for a hundred miles.
Buoyancy is all about trapped air. It’s what keeps an eight-hundred foot cargo carrier afloat at sea, and it’s what floats a #24 Trico Spinner. With just enough trapped air to overcome the weight of the hook and material, the fly floats on the surface and resist being pulled underneath and drowned. It’s simple.
Regarding this buoyancy, we must consider two things: the materials of a fly (what actually traps and holds the air), and a way to preserve the material’s ability to hold air (waterproofing).
Let’s tackle both . . .
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.”
Fishing dropper rigs should be easy. But judging from the amount of questions I field about knots, dropper types and tangles, fishing two or more flies causes a lot of angst out there.
Last week, I wrote about fishing tangle-free tandem rigs, and a popular question repeated itself in my inbox: “Tippet rings would be great for droppers, right?” My short is answer, no. My long answer is . . . usually not. Tippet rings for tags can work, but I don’t think it’s worth it.