** NOTE ** Find the YouTube Video Below Fly fishing has suffered from its own elitism for too long. The I’m better than you because I have a fly rod in my hand . . . attitude . . . has sadly carried over and infested every microcosm of the sport (at times). But all of...
** NOTE ** Find the YouTube Video Below Most anglers put a lot of focus on fly choice. And that makes sense, because we have to tie something to the end of the line, and we have to feed something to the trout. The fly is the quickest thing to change, and it's the...
I’ve been writing about the Mono Rig and tight line styles for ten years, and I’ve been fishing with them for ten more. It’s amazing to see how much has changed in that time, how much the understanding and usage of these rigs has grown, and how a Mono Rig is being...
While guiding on a favorite stretch of water last week, Chris and I hit another good bite, where trout in perfect pocket water were eating reliably. Every fish came from the merger seams or the inside pockets — slower stuff beside the fast water. With tight targets,...
Here’s the bottom line: You do not need an extra-soft rod tip to protect delicate tippets while nymphing. Skip past that selling point in the marketing jargon, and make your fly rod decision on the other factors that matter.
I’m consistently surprised by the lack of river sense that’s missing in so many anglers. I mean that literally and not condescendingly. Just as a city kid marvels at the sight of deep darkness on a moonless night, fifty miles deep into a state forest, the country boy doesn’t give it a second thought. It’s experience. And that’s all it is.
People who are new to fishing just don’t know much about rivers. And I never really get used to that. Because so much of what a river does, and what fish do in response, is organic to me. I grew up fishing and playing in small streams. As a kid, I was drawn to every runoff ditch within walking or biking distance. I couldn’t stay away. And like anything else, you grow into your surroundings. I don’t think that can be changed, whether we’d like it to be or not.
Anyway, those without that same history with rivers see the water differently, and sometimes I have trouble remembering it.
On a cool April morning, Sam and I hit the water with all his new gear . . .
I was resigned to the plan but having a hard time watching it fail.
Why was my confidence so easily shaken? Because a river that was once the most predictable of any that I fish has now become the opposite. It’s a confounding mystery that I keep coming back to, wishing to solve. And I know that with enough time, with an open mind and by running the right experiments, I’ll find the answers . . .
A great fly rod responds to the angler. The slightest motions and refinements in the cast are transmitted to the rod, and it flexes — it responds in kind. The angler’s thoughts and instincts flow through a great rod, so our accuracy and adjustments become effortless.
We can be in tune with a great rod and perfectly connect with its performance. With some time spent fishing a great fly rod, it becomes an extension of our will. The fly hits the target because we want it to. The leader lands with s-curves in the tippet because that’s what we decided. And the rod makes it happen.
A go-to fly rod is like an old dog or a good friend. We know them, and our connection is natural.
Choosing the right indicator is the first step to setting up and effective system. Balance between indy and weight is the key.
How much can we feel the fly at the end of the line? And how well does the fly rod transmit the flex to the angler? These are two very different kinds of sensitivity.