Blog Archives - Page 9 of 22 - 2 Guys and A River

January 31, 2018January 31, 2018

What Fly Fishers Pursue

Henry David Thoreau once said: “Many go fishing all their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.” I have to agree. I love catching trout when I fly fish — the more the better. But I figured out long ago that what fly fishers pursue is much more than the fish.

Here is a brief list of what I’m after when I head to the river with my fly rod:

Beauty

I love the sheer beauty of rugged mountains, crystal-clear streams, snow showers, yellow aspen leaves, and the piercing bugle of a bull elk. Fly fishing gives me a way to experience this beauty — not just observe it. Whether I’m knee-deep in Montana’s Yellowstone River or in the Milwaukee River not far from where the Milwaukee Bucks play basketball, there is beauty to feel and see on the river.

Solitude

I like people, so it took me awhile to realize that I lean more toward introversion than extroversion. A couple lines from an old John Denver song resonate with me whenever I go fly fishing.

There’s something about fly fishing that gives me the space and quiet and time to re-energize. The next couple items on my list are by-products of that refreshing solitude.

Clarity

I do some of my best thinking when I’m fly fishing. It’s rather unintentional, though. When I’m fly fishing, my single-minded focus is on casting to the right spot and getting the right drift. Yet this concentration clears my head of the white noise, and my mind begins connecting scattered thoughts and seeing solutions to problems I’ve been pondering.

The dynamic at work here relates to what a writer once counseled his students. He told them to quit writing for the day at a point of frustration. Later, during the mundane activities of the evening, one’s mind begins making connections until a solution appears. That’s what happens to me when I’m fly fishing. I go to catch trout and come back with a list of insights and ideas.

Solace

My friends describe me as an optimist and a rather positive person. But I can brood over failures and frustrations with the best (or worst) of people. Fly fishing provides a solace — a comfort or consolation that I don’t get elsewhere. Maybe it works because fly fishing provides physical exertion to counteract my fretting and brooding. Hiking and casting and wading serves as good medicine.

Togetherness

Ironically, fly fishing provides togetherness as well as solitude. I crave both. The most obvious form of togetherness is the experience and conversation I share with my fly fishing companions. This is most often my podcast partner, Dave, and occasionally my brother or one of my sons.

The time together on the river is rich. We alternate between silence and laughter. The conversation ranges between where we will eat at the end of the day and where we will be at the end of our lives.

There’s another form of togetherness, though.

Norman Maclean speaks of it near the end of his novella, A River Runs Through It. Fly fishing for him was a way of reaching out to those in his life who were gone. When I’m on the river, I think of times with my dad bow – hunting elk high on the mountain slopes in Montana’s Beartooth-Absaroka Wilderness Area. I think of the times when he waded into icy mountain streams to free my, uh, Mepps Spinner from a rock or submerged branch. Somehow, fly fishing triggers these memories more than anything else I do.

There’s also a sense of togetherness with the Creator of the rivers I’m fishing and the mountains at which I’m gawking. Or, in the words of a poet, there is a sense of “awesome wonder” when I consider all the works God’s hands have made.

Adventure

Of course, fly fishing is not all contemplation. It’s a blast, too!

Sure, fly fishing is not an extreme sport, but it is an adventure. There are cliffs to climb, moose to avoid, currents to wade, snowstorms to endure, and some of the most interesting people you could imagine. Will I catch a 20-inch rainbow today? Will I step on a rattlesnake? Will I make it out of this isolated stretch of river before dark? Once Dave and I walked around a bend in a trail and came upon a herd of bison, and one of the bulls wanted to get to know us better. The bull walked within 30 yards of us before switching its tail and heading up the ravine with the others.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like catching fish. I always on a mission to catch trout – and hopefully lots of them. But Thoreau was right. I’m after much more than the fish.

January 23, 2018

Fly Fishing Murky Water

I’m fond of trout fishing because I love crystal-clear rivers and streams. They are simply breath-taking and life-giving. So I can get a bit grumpy when a rainstorm adds a bit of color to make the stream more like chocolate milk.

But I’ve learned not to despair. Here are a few insights about fly fishing a murky river or stream:

1. A bit of color may work to your advantage

Sure, a swollen river gushing with snow runoff is usually not productive. Yet, fish are less spooky when the water is a bit murky. The murkiness prevents them from seeing fly fishers, false casts, and larger tippets.

2. Put on the San Juan Worm

There are a couple reasons why a murky river is a great place to try a San Juan Worm.

First, rainstorms and rising water often loosen up mud along the banks. This dislodges worms and sends them drifting down the current. Second, a pattern like a San Juan Worm is a bit larger than a size #18 Zebra Midge, so it’s easier for trout to spot it when visibility is limited.

3. Slow down your fly

Since visibility is limited, you want to give trout a longer-than-usual view of your fly. If you’re fishing nymphs, add a bit more weight to get your fly into the slower current at the bottom of the river. Remember, if the bubbles on the surface are moving faster than your strike indicator, you’re at the right depth. If you’re stripping a streamer, strip it a bit more slowly.

4. Keep an eye out for risers

I’m always surprised to see trout rising when the water is murky. But it happens more often than you might think. Often, I’ll find risers in slower water—either in the tailwater of a pool or even on the outside of a bend. These are places where the fish have more time to respond since the flies on the surface are not being carried along so quickly.

5. Look for fish in unexpected places

A few years ago, I fished the Lower Madison River in Montana when it had more color than usual. When I approached a familiar run, I was surprised to see a couple trout feeding near a shallow bank. I had never seen trout in that spot before. They were always in a deeper channel about six feet further into the river. But with murky water, they were less visible to predators.

I ended up catching one of them.

So don’t give up on fly fishing when your clear-running river gets a bit murky. You can work around a bit of color. Sometimes, it may even work to your advantage.

January 17, 2018January 19, 2018

Response to the @CastingAcross Open Letter

Dear Matthew, we’re still stinging from your Open Letter to us on January 3, 2018.

The stinging was caused not by the content of your post but the reminder of our last Skype podcast interview with you. Gazing at your unbelievably pristine lumber-jack beard during the interview was a rebuke to our manhood. Even in midlife, Dave has no real shot at such facial hair, and Steve’s goatee is nothing short of pathetic, a feeble attempt to validate his deep outdoor insecurities.

So we must begin our reply with nothing but deference to and accolades for your facial accomplishments. You have achieved legendary countenance status in our hearts and minds.

Before we go much further, we want to be sure to accept every wonderful comment that you make about our podcast and book, The Fly Fisher’s Book of Lists: Life is short. Catch more fish. Did we mention that we’ve published a book?

Now that we’ve covered our annoying self-promotional, self-aggrandizing hoo-ha, we’d like to address the big idea of your post: that we need to broaden our fly fishing experiences to the East Coast.

Key Lines of the @Castingacross Open Letter

To properly respond to every nuanced thought in your post, we’ll break it down:

“I did want to remind you that I still haven’t received the royalty checks for my two appearances:”

Say what?

Didn’t you mean to say, “I still haven’t sent you the royalty checks for the privilege of being on the podcast?”

“… it is clear that your fly fishing hearts lie beyond the Mississippi.”

We think it’s clear that we are cheap. We begin all our fly fishing planning with, “Do we have family or ‘loose family ties’ that we can mooch off?”

Steve is a master mooch, and Dave is Steve’s mooch conspirator, for Dave never complains when Steve finds free lodging on one of their Montana excursions.

“I’m just asking you to seriously consider some angling opportunities that lie a little more eastward.”

Eastward. Hmmm. Is that a direction?

“A River Runs Through It has captivated recent generations of fly fishers, and rightly so. Still, that brand of western angling nostalgia only looks as far back as the early 1900’s. Places in the Catskills and Central Pennsylvania are literally the birthplaces of American fly fishing.”

Uh, this may be a bit embarrassing for you, but everyone knows Brad Pitt is the founder of fly fishing and that Norman Mclean was his father in real life. Everyone. Given that bit of historical, uh, truth, the royal lineage of fly fishing seems to run through Montana.

“It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that I am the chief sinner when it comes to just going where it is comfortable.”

We don’t want to judge you, but the phrase “chief sinner” had come to mind before you mentioned it.

“So what say you? Maine brook trout? Massachusetts striped bass? Carolina catfish?”

You had us at Carolina catfish.

“Sincerely, the hopefully-soon-to-be 3rd guy in a river out east,”

You are here by officially knighted as the Third Guy. We’ll send an invoice for a third of the expense of it all shortly. You can pay us by saying yes to another podcast episode real soon.

Your Western-Biased Friends,

Dave and Steve
2 Guys and a River

January 10, 2018January 11, 2018

10 Commandments for Staying Warm in Cold Conditions

I have not conducted a formal study on the reason fly fishers stay home on a cold winter day. But I’m confident I know what it is. It’s not the problem of ice build-up on fly rod guides. Nor is it the less-frenetic feeding patterns of trout in the winter. It’s the problem of staying warm in cold conditions.

Here are ten commandments for staying warm when fly fishing on cold days. Most of these are obvious. But they are good reminders. Perhaps there’s one that you’ve missed.

1. Drink liquids — whether hot or cold

Chances are that you won’t cover as much water on a cold day. So there’s no need to obsess about traveling light. Bring along that small Thermos or Yeti tumbler filled with your warm liquid of choice—coffee or hot chocolate. Your tumbler might even double as a hand warmer.

Actually, water may be your best bet since it promotes circulation to your your fingers and toes. Drinking enough water also eliminates a huge contributing factor to frostbite and hypothermia: dehydration.

Be wary of spiking your drink with schnapps or brandy. Alcohol may make you feel or think you are warmer. But it actually drops your core body temperature.

2. Use a hand-warming device

Cold hands make it impossible to fly fish. It’s hard to tie on a fly or tippet when your hands don’t work. Cold hands also make fly fishers miserable. The most obvious solution is to purchase a pair of insulated, waterproof gloves. Personally, the ones with exposed fingertips don’t help me, because it’s my fingertips which get cold first! Occasionally, I’ll bring two or three pairs of lighter wool gloves so I can switch them when one pair gets damp.

Another possible solution is to use hand warmers. I’ve used the small, disposable, inexpensive packets which get activated when exposed to air. In my experience, most brands provide sufficient heat for only an hour or two. The downside is that these packets stop working when they get damp. If you spend enough time fly fishing on cold days, you might try the chrome plated hand warmers (about the size of a cell phone) which run on lighter fuel. I confess that I haven’t used one of these since I was in my early teens while spending the entire day in the woods deer hunting. But they put off a lot of heat.

Don’t forget to stop and stuff your hands inside your shirt against your flesh. If you can place your hand under an armpit (a lovely thought) you can warm both sides of your hand. Read on for another overlooked option.

3. Wear a warm hat

You might be surprised to learn that your cold hands are due, in part, to the heat escaping from your head. So wear a warm hat — preferably one with ear flaps. A stocking cap works fine — especially one with wool or microfiber.

4. Go with layers instead of one large jacket

I usually wear the same lightweight Simms rain jacket I use in July that I do on a cold winter day in January. It protects me against wind and moisture. Then, I add more layers underneath. More layers provide more warmth than one bulky jacket. Start with good moisture-wicking underwear. Even when it’s cold, you may sweat when walking to your fishing spot. Staying dry is essential to staying warm.

After a layer of moisture-wicking underwear, build layers with an assortment of relatively thin pullovers, sweaters, or wool shirts. Add a down vest if you need to. The advantage of layers is that you can peel them off as the day gets warmer. Your waders add another layer of warmth, too—even if you’re not wading.

5. Use a neck gator

Even a thin microfiber neck gator will keep your face warm. Your cheeks and tip of your nose will thank you at the end of the day.

6. Wear warm socks

I’ve never tried the battery powered socks or even the inexpensive, disposable foot warmers or toe warmers. But I suspect they are a terrific option—as long as your feet don’t get too hot. I opt for a thin pair of moisture-wicking socks covered by a slightly thicker wool blend pair. Keep reading for another strategy.

7. Keep moving

The most obvious way to keep your feet and body warm is to keep moving. At last, I have an excuse for moving so quickly from one run to another! Moving generates heat and compensates for the way that cold temperatures restrict your blood vessels, slowing down your blood flow.

But what do you do if you want to fish the same run for three hours because it’s producing? Take a walk anyway and come back to your spot in five minutes. It’s likely that most of your competition will be at home on the sofa watching the Winter Olympics.

8. Simplify your gear

The less time you rummage through pockets to find tippet or split shot, the less time your hands will be exposed to the cold. Also, this will decrease the time you are stationary. Remember, you want to keep moving–walking or casting—to stay warm.

9. Eat snacks

Whether you stick with health-conscious choices or go with a Snickers Bar, eating will provide the energy you desperately need in the cold. Plus, it will also boost your metabolism.

10. Limit your wading

I’ve stood knee-deep in Montana’s Madison River in January for long stretches of time and have remained surprisingly warm.

However, the deeper you wade, the more you put yourself at risk for disaster. Falling into a river when the air temperature is thirty degrees poses risks that falling into it when it’s seventy degrees does not. Hypothermia is always a concern. So be on the safe side. Don’t try anything heroic when it comes to wading.

If you spend a cold winter day in front of your television or fly tying vise, you have made a wise choice. But if you want to fly fish, you can have a great experience if you take the precautions needed to stay warm.

January 4, 2018

My Fly Fishing Resolutions for the New Year

I’m looking forward to fly fishing in the new year. One never fully knows what opportunities or obstacles a new year will bring, but intentionality helps create good experiences. So the other day I scribbled down a few fly fishing resolutions for the new year.

I may modify my list as the year unfolds. But at least I have some direction:

1. Cut down on my false casting

The reason I false cast a bit too much is, well, because I can. But the trick with fly casting (as it is with a lot of skills) is to work smarter, not harder. The extra casts only increase the odds of spooking fish or getting tangled. So I’m going to try to concentrate on keeping it simple.

2. Stop, look, and listen more often

I actually managed to do this one day last fall on the Yellowstone River in Yellowstone National Park. Dave, my podcast partner, and I were fishing a remote stretch of the river. We had the whole day to fish, so I found myself more willing to sit down, nibble on the cheese and crackers I had packed, and watch a couple of elk on the opposite mountainside. I need to do more of this. It helps me savor the whole fly fishing experience.

3. Tie more flies

I hardly tied any flies last year.

At one level, I’m fine with that. My time is limited, so I’d rather cast flies on the water rather than tie them. However, I find it gratifying to catch trout on flies I’ve tied. Besides, I can’t bring myself to pay a couple bucks for something simple like a San Juan Worm or a brassie or even a Woolly Bugger.

My fly tying bench is now cleared off, so I have no excuses!

4. Work on my double haul

A double haul is using your “line hand” (your left hand if you’re casting your rod with your right hand) to haul or pull back the line on both your forward and backward stroke. This increases line speed by delivering velocity to your fly line. I’ve played around with it before, but I want to improve my technique. As soon as the weather gets warmer, I plan to head to the grassy field in a park about four blocks from my house to practice.

5. Transfer my flies to a new fly box

More than a year ago, I slipped and fell while fishing a small creek. The good news is that I didn’t get hurt. The bad news is the one of my fly boxes in my vest did get hurt. It cracked. So, I purchased a new box. One year later, that box is still in pristine condition. That’s because I haven’t used it yet! Somehow, I haven’t found the time to transfer a hundred plus flies from the cracked one to the new one. It seems tedious. But I need to do that before I get out on the river.

6. Save for a new pair of waders

My twenty-year old Patagonia waders finally gave out last summer. My fifteen-year old Simms waders are still going strong. But I suspect they have almost reached their life expectancy. So I need to save for a replacement pair before I really need to replace them. I’m intrigued with the waders that have a front zipper. I looked at a pair of Patagonia waders last year that make sense. So it’s time to start setting aside dollars so I can get them in early spring.

7. Introduce my grandsons to fly fishing

This is the one that’s most important to me this year. Our whole family is going to spend a week this summer at a mountain ranch in Montana, and I’m looking forward to helping my seven-year old and five-year old grandsons dabble in fly fishing. Even if I let them reel in a trout I’ve caught, I hope it will give them the feel – and the fever! — for fly fishing.

I don’t know what the next year is going to bring. But if I can follow through on some — or all — of these resolutions, I should have a good time fly fishing.

What are you New Year’s resolutions for fly fishing?

December 28, 2017February 24, 2018

For the Ice on Your Fly Rod Guides

A friend sent me a photo of one of the largest rainbows he’s ever caught on Montana’s Missouri River. He caught it in mid-December, the temperature was 8 degrees above zero. That’s cold. He endured frozen digits and iced-up fly rod guides for a day to remember.

I dislike fishing in a frigid weather for several reasons:

First, it’s really cold (an understatement, of course). Second, my fingers get really cold. Third, my toes get really cold. Fourth, my face gets really cold. Okay, you get the idea.

There’s another problem though. The guides on my fly rod collect ice like my hunting boots collect mud when I walk through a plowed field on a rainy fall day.

How do you deal with ice on your fly rod guides?

Preventative Measure for Your Fly Rod Guides

Some fly fishers coat their guides with Vaseline. Others apply some kind of lip balm. So maybe you should purchase that Simms lip balm the next time you’re in a fly shop (Kidding!That’s an inside joke that our long-time readers and listeners will get!) Seriously, a lot of fly fishers say that Vaseline or lip balm works. Others suggest spraying your guides with olive oil or some kind of cooking spray. This sounds like an easier approach as long as you remember to put a canister of it in your duffel bag or fly vest.

You’ll notice that I refer here to “some” or “other” fly fishers.

The truth is, I’ve never bothered with this measure. It’s not because I fear that the chemicals in these products will damage my rod or guides. The reason is it seems like a lot of work for a solution that will only be temporary. After a half hour, or so, of fishing, the ice reappears (from what other fly fishers tell me). At that point, I have no interest in fumbling around with lip balm or trying to retrieve a canister of cooking from my fly vest.

However, enough fly fishers swear by this approach that you owe it to yourself to try it to see if it works for you.

Fly Rod Guides No-No

Perhaps the most obvious solution is to use your fingers to break it off of the guides. Nooooo! Not under any circumstances!

You run the risk of breaking off the guides with the ice. You’ll use more pressure than you expect to break off those stubborn ice crystals. If Michael Scott of The Office were writing this article, he would likely describe it as a “Lose-Lose-Lose” approach. So don’t try it when you’re on the river.

Simple Is, Well, Best

This brings me to the approach I prefer. It’s simple, yet effective.

Dip your rod in the river you’re fly fishing. With the right depth of water and the right angle, you can do this without submerging your reel (and your hand!). I typically leave my rod guides submerged for a few seconds. To use the words of an old television commercial, the ice “rinses away like magic!” Sometimes, there is still some residue of ice. But it’s loose enough that you can remove it (gently!) with your fingers without breaking a guide.

Also, once I remove my rod from the water, I shake it to remove excess water. If light water crystals start to form, I simply blow them off with my breath or gently squeeze them with my fingers.

If all of this seems rather tedious, well, it is.

Chances are you’ll get cold and leave the river before the tedium of clearing the ice off your guides drives you crazy. The only other alternative is to stay home and tie flies or watch a video of fly fishers hauling in huge trout in New Zealand. But then you might miss out on the fish of a lifetime.

December 20, 2017December 20, 2017

A Fly Fisher’s Christmas Wish

I’ve never fly fished on Christmas Day. I’ve fished on Thanksgiving Day and New Year’s Day, but never on Christmas.

Yet I remember a year a couple decades ago when all I wanted for Christmas was to go fly fishing. I had a fly fisher’s Christmas wish:

Our house overlooked the north floor of Montana’s Gallatin Valley. From our picture window I could it was beginning to look a lot like Christmas. A dozen or more houses glowed with Christmas lights. An inch of snow covered the valley floor with a white blanket. Inside our house, the tree was decorated, and the sound of Karen Carpenter singing “I’ll be home for Christmas” filled our living room.

Christmas was seven days away.

But I was desperate to go fly fishing. It had been two months since I last flung a fly on the water. Just then an idea began to form in my mind. I knew that tomorrow was going to be in the high thirties, and I figured out a way to take off work in the early afternoon.

The next afternoon, I left work early at two o’clock and headed for the Madison River. I arrived at the mouth of the Bear Trap Canyon an hour later. My plan was to park at the Warm Springs fishing access and walk up about three-quarters of a mile to the rock garden where some decent sized trout always seemed to lurk. But my heart sank when I pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine.

No wonder the parking lot was empty.

I had no desire to hike three quarters of a mile in gale force wind. But it occurred to me the bend in the river that wrapped around the far corner of the parking lot. I was in no mood to be true to my mantra: “Always walk at least a mile before you start fishing.” Besides no one in their right mind would have fished this elbow during the last few days of blustery weather.

For the next few minutes, I got into a consistent rhythm: cast, shiver, mend, shiver, retrieve, shiver, complain, shiver. And then it happened.

For the next couple minutes, I felt the old familiar tug of a fish on the end of the line. It turned out to be a 14-inch rainbow which looked surprisingly plump for the time of year. I wouldn’t call that catch a Christmas miracle. But it made my day.

After I released it the fish, I realized that my shivering had increased. It was cold, and the sun had slipped below the mountain. So I began the long walk back to my truck—all fifteen steps. Later that night, I stood at our picture window and looked out over the moonlit Valley. Beyond the houses dotted with Christmas lights, I could faintly see the gap in the distant hills where the Madison River emerged from the Bear Trap Canyon. I was thankful for the light and warmth of home.

But I was also thankful for those fifteen minutes on the river that lifted my spirits.

December 13, 2017December 13, 2017

Fly Casting Against the Wind

A friend recently went through his late grandfather’s personal papers and stumbled upon the notes to a speech. My friend laughed when he saw a particular note his grandfather had written at the top of a page. The note read: “Weak argument, yell louder.”

Unfortunately, I’m tempted to adopt a similar approach when I’m fly casting against the wind. My inclination is to cast harder. But casting harder against the wind resembles yelling louder when the argument you’re trying to make is weak. It is highly ineffective.

Here are seven tips when fly casting against the wind. Some are obvious, some not so much. All of them can make a big difference.

1. Use 6-weight line

The current favorite for an all-around fly rod is a 9 foot, 5-weight.

But after years of fishing in the wind on Montana’s Madison and Yellowstone Rivers, I’m sold on a 6-weight rod for windy conditions. The added power of a 6-weight does help you cut through the wind. If you can’t afford another fly rod, at least get another spool with 6-weight line. It will work fine with your 9 foot, 5-weight rod.

By the way, you might want to shorten your leaders from 9 feet to 7.5 feet. A shorter leader is easier to control in windy conditions.

2. Cast between gusts of wind

Alright, this is one of those rather obvious tips. But it works when fly casting against the wind.

One of the windiest days I ever fly fished was during the Mother’s Day Caddis hatch on the Yellowstone River south of Livingston, Montana. I had to stop for a while and close my eyes to keep them from filling with dust. But I discovered that if I waited, I would get 5 or 10 second windows to cast. I had to be quick, but the window was sufficient to get my fly on the water.

I caught a lot of trout that day.

3. Use your wrist, not your whole body

Again, the temptation is to work harder when you cast in windy conditions—to put your whole body into it. If swinging your arms and swaying your entire body is your approach, stop it. The wrist flick is where the power is. That’s what makes your rod work for you. If you try to get your entire body into the cast, you actually diminish the performance of your fly rod.

The wrist flick — back and forward — makes the rod do what it is designed to do.

4. Learn the double haul

One of the best ways to cut through the wind is to use the “double haul.” This technique increases line speed by delivering velocity to your fly line. Joan Wulff says: “The rod is loaded more deeply, and that transfers to greater energy in your line.”

Basically, you use your “line hand” (your left hand if you’re casting with your right hand) to haul or pull back the line on both your forward and backward stroke. It’s much easier to see than to describe.

So here is a helpful video by Orvis: The Double Haul

Joan Wulff teaches the double haul here: Joan on the Double Haul

5. Lower your cast

The idea is to keep your line low — perhaps under the wind. There are two ways you can do this.

First, use a sidearm cast. You can still double haul while casting sidearm. A second way to lower your cast is to crouch or kneel. I can’t remember how many times I crouched while standing knee deep in Montana’s Madison River on windy days in March and April.

6. Shorten your casts

This may seem obvious, but you may need to remind yourself to keep your casts shorter. The less line you have in the air, the less problem you’ll have with the wind. You can live with a shorter cast if you can extend your drift as much as possible. So keep feeding line until your fly drifts through the feeding zone.

7. Don’t cast against the wind

That’s right. If at all possible, figure out how to get the wind at your side or, preferably, at your back. This might mean fishing the opposite bank or casting downstream instead of upstream.

If you practice these techniques when fly casting against the wind, the day won’t make you quite so angry. You may not even mutter or yell inappropriate words. Instead, you’ll happily hum Bob Seger’s old tune, “Against the Wind” as you make one effective cast after another.

December 6, 2017

A Primer on Mending for New Fly Fishers

Now mend your line.” Those words from Bob Granger, one of my fly fishing mentors, still ring in my ears. I needed all the help I could get on mending for new fly fishers.

Curtis, another fly fishing guide, recently said: “Better menders catch more fish than better casters.” I am convinced he is right. So here is a quick primer on mending for new fly fishers.

What is mending?

Once your fly line is floating down the river or stream, mending is simply flipping the mid-section of the line upstream of your fly line.

So if the current is flowing from right to left, flip the mid-section of the line to the right. The end result is that your fly line should resemble the letter “C” as it floats down the river — with the back of the “C” on the upstream side of the current.

Why is mending for new fly fishers important?

Mending is critical because it eliminates drag.

If the mid-section of your line gets ahead of your fly, it will drag it through the current. Your dry fly will resemble a water-skier, leaving a wake that will send trout scattering for cover. Your wet fly will zoom through the current more quickly than any nymph normally drifts through it.

The point, then, is to get a natural drift. Your fly should look like a normal morsel floating freely on top or underneath the surface.

When is mending important?

The answer is, almost every cast. Every cast needs to be mended at some point.

It’s possible to put a mend in the line during your cast. On your forward cast, simply draw the letter “C”—normally if the current is going from left to right or backwards if the current is moving from right to left. Otherwise, you will almost always need to mend your line once it lands on the water.

How can I avoid disturbing fish while mending?

First, do your mending well before the fly enters the hot zone. If you are casting a dry fly to rising fish, cast well above this spot. If you are nymph fishing or even dry fly fishing when nothing is rising, then cast well above the zone where you figure the fish will feeding.

Second, practice mending so you don’t disturb your dry fly or your strike indicator. The first few times you try to mend your line, you’ll probably jerk your fly or strike indicator a couple inches.

Of course, that’s not the end of the world if you’re mending well before your fly reaches the hot zone. But it’s best to eliminate this. You’ll get a feel for it with more practice, but the key is to lift up as much fly line as you can from the water before you make your mend.

How can I mend longer casts?

The more line you have on the water, the more difficult it is to mend it effectively with a single mend. Longer casts require multiple mends, depending on the current. By multiple, I mean two or three — not seven or eight! Instead of trying to mend the entire line in one flip, concentrate on moving the section closest to you. Then move the rest of it in another mend or two.

What is stack mending?

You can also use the technique of multiple mending to create “stack mends.” Stack mending refers to the creation of successive loops of line on the water. This allows for a much longer drift before your fly ever begins to drag. You might be surprised at how many trout you’ll catch towards the end of a long drift. Stack mending makes longer drifts possible.

So don’t just stand there after you make a cast. Do something. Mend that line.

The fish will not thank you, because you’ll fool them more often. But you will be a more satisfied fly fisher.

November 28, 2017November 30, 2017

Witty Outdoor Sayings: “You Should Have Been Here Yesterday”

You should have been here yesterday – I can’t think of a more annoying comment. I’ve had some great days on the river. But I’ve also had a lot more days on the river when I was reminded later by some jerk I had never met before that the previous day had been a lot better.

The phrase “You should have been here yesterday” is not really all that witty. It’s pretty much a thoughtless taunt. At least it feels like a taunt. Maybe it’s simply small talk. It’s unnecessary chitchat, for sure. It’s a saying that complete strangers at a fly shop or at the coffee shop will offer up with no warning.

It’s mindless. And flippant.

Shame on My Friends

Worse, it’s a saying that even friends and family have the audacity to blurt out, with little to no provocation.

For a generation each fall, I have hunted upland game and waterfowl with my father and his cronies. For decades, I carved out a week of my life and traveled back to North Dakota. My sons and brother and I bounced around the prairie with my father’s generation, who regaled us with Ole and Lena jokes, some of which raised the eyebrows of my young sons, who giggled at the occasional potty language and body parts.

Invariable, no matter how good a week of hunting, one of my father’s friends would pipe up, just as sure as the sun rose that morning, “It’s too bad you weren’t here last week. We shot so many geese.”

This is another perverse form of saying, “You should have been here yesterday.”

Last week. Yesterday. The other day. Shoulda, woulda, coulda.

Maybe I’m just being too sensitive. But when an inconsiderate slob, even a family friend, makes the brainless observation that I should have been fishing here yesterday, he or she puts me in a mood.

I wasn’t here yesterday. I am here today. And the fishing stinks.

I will say, though, that the wisecrack rarely comes up on a guided float trip down the Yellowstone River.

Before we put in, the guide may say, “Man, it was really good yesterday. The browns were slamming hoppers.” However, as the day goes by, especially on the slower trips, the conversation rarely drifts to yesterday. That’s good. Because I’m still thinking about his earlier comment how good the fishing was yesterday while feeling grumpy about the action today.

Guides are pretty savvy. They know their tip comes at the end of the day. So, it’s never strategic to offer up the saying to an exasperated client at 4:30 PM.

My Bigger Struggle with “You Should Have Been Here Yesterday”

A couple years ago, Steve, my podcast partner, and I fished a stretch of Montana’s 16 Mile Creek. By sheer luck (Steve’s connections and a rare opening on private waters), we spent six hours reeling in trout after trout until we cried “Uncle.” At about 4 PM, Steve said, “I am wrecked.” I was too.

Exhausted, we wrapped up the late afternoon and early evening with 4,000 calories each at the area’s best steak house.

The next morning, we were back at the fly shop, still feeling sluggish from the carnage at the steak house, and I began to make small talk with one of the shop monkeys. I mentioned that we had fished 16 Mile, and he said that had fished a stretch of the river not long ago.

I couldn’t help myself.

“You should have been at 16 Mile yesterday.”