So, whadja do this year?

Well, here we are. A little over one day left in 2014. I hope the year was good to you. Mine didn’t suck. I got to fish about 100 days — not too shabby for a guy who really loves his wife, has three jobs, and two kids playing travel sports. (I don’t have an exact count on the number of outings because I am grotesquely behind in my journal. Like, August behind.) I did a fair amount of writing, teaching, speaking, and guiding, too. All labors of love.

And, of course, there’s currentseams. The site had over 50,000 views this year, and we’re up to nearly 250 followers. I’d like to welcome the new people, and say thank you to everyone who took the time to read my scribblings. (No, Paul, I have not forgotten about you, and yes, I have started your striper flies.)

Part of what I love about my job is the chance to interact with the angling community on a personal level. So, to that end, please come say hi in the comments section. Tell us something you learned this year, or maybe about that one that got away, or even better, that one who didn’t.

I’ll start things off. I was fortunate to have a number of fish challenge for the highlight reel. But if I had to pick one, it would be my new personal best thirty-pound striper from the shore from spring. That cow had my rod making noises I’d never heard nor imagined it could produce. Good stuff. Learning? I try to find something new on every trip, so it’s hard to pick one. But I’ll go with this: if the steelhead aren’t biting in the run you’re fishing, move on.

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

Happiness is twice thinking you were snagged on the bottom — and twice discovering that you were not. Lousy photo, pretty spiffy striped bass. Maybe for our next contest we can try to guess how many herring she had in that tummy.

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Wet Fly 101: Take the ancient and traditional path to subsurface success

“Wet Fly 101” — an introduction to wet fly fishing for trout — first appeared in the Nov/Dec 2013 issue of American Angler.  I am including the original art for the diagrams that accompanied the text, and most of the photos. Many thanks to American Angler for publishing the article, and for their continued enthusiasm about wet flies and soft-hackles.

Wet Fly 101: Take the ancient and traditional path to subsurface success

by Steve Culton

Wet flies have been fooling trout for centuries. The fish aren’t getting any smarter, a simple truth that is reinforced every time I take a trout on a soft-hackled fly. Once the king of American fly-fishing methods, the wet fly fell out of favor decades ago. But today, a growing number of anglers are discovering what a dedicated few have known for years: the best match for a hatch is often a wet fly.

The what and why of the wet fly.

Basically, wet fly fishing is an attempt to duplicate subsurface insect life. While many mayfly nymphs emerge and fly cheerfully away, many more never escape their shucks. Wings get wet. Cripples drown. Spinners that don’t get eaten eventually sink. Caddis pupae rise to the surface to emerge; many adults swim to the bottom to lay eggs. Unfortunate terrestrials fall in and become easy meals. That’s an impressive biomass.

Trout know all this, in a programmed-by-nature way. Trout need to eat to live, and they are opportunistic feeders. They see things underwater – particularly food – to which humans are oblivious. The wet fly capitalizes on these factors. As James Leisenring, one of the godfathers of American wet fly fishing, stated, all you need to do is fish your fly “so that it becomes deadly at the point where the trout is most likely to take his food…” The vast majority of the time, that’s subsurface.

The four basic wet fly styles.

Wet flies tend to be highly impressionistic. Many look like nothing in particular, but rather a lot of things in general. In his book Wet Flies, Dave Hughes divides them into four groups: soft-hackles (or “spiders”), wingless wets (sometimes called “flymphs”), winged wets, and fuzzy nymphs. Those four are a good place to start.

Soft-hackles are sparse creations: thin bodies with a soft-hackled feather wrapped at the head. Popular hackling choices include Hungarian partridge, grouse, hen, and starling. By varying the size of the hook and the color of the body and the hackle, you can match just about any hatch.

February Red Soft-Hackle

FebRedPPT

The outstanding feature of the wingless wet is its spikey, air bubble-trapping fur body. Hen hackle, typically 3-4 turns, surrounds the front third of the fly. Wingless wets can be fished deep or in the film like a dry.

March Brown Wingless Wet

March Brown Wingless

The hero of the winged wet is – drum roll – its wing. Winging material varies from natural wood duck fibers to vibrantly colored quill. Likewise, winged wets run the gamut from hatch-specific patterns like the Light Cahill to gaudy attractors like the classic Bergman-style wets.

Dark Hendrickson Winged Wet

Dark Hendrickson

Fuzzy nymphs are buggy creations that bridge the gap between a nymph and an emerger (think Hare’s Ear meets The Usual). They are often underweighted with wire that is smaller than the diameter of the hook wire. Fuzzy nymphs cover much of the water column; they work whether you’re dead drifting them near the bottom or letting them swing up near the surface.

Ginger Caddis Fuzzy Nymph

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While each of the four styles is unique, they all share a common trait: they look – and behave – differently when submerged than they do dry. Sylvester Nemes, another giant of the wet fly, wrote, “Any sunk artificial fly, to be good, must transform itself in the water into something alive, something suggestive and moving, something that looks good to eat.” Wet flies excel at that task.

In the tradition: a team of three wets.

The classic method involves using more than one fly. Back in the day, anglers would sometimes fish a half-dozen or more flies. For our purposes, three will do: a top dropper, a middle dropper, and the point fly. The flies are not connected to each other by their hook bends; rather, they swim freely on short tags. Multiple flies intimidate many people, but the advantages far outweigh the specter of tangle perdition.

Obviously, three flies give you more opportunities per cast to hook up. But the biggest reason it tips the odds in your favor is that it gives the trout a choice. Different sizes. Different colors. Different species. Different life stages. Different depths. Droppers are the quickest way to find out what the fish want. They won’t be bashful about letting you know. You’ll have days where the trout will choose one fly at the ruthless exclusion of all others. When you’re not sure what will be hatching, you can hedge your bets by covering three possibilities. Certain of what’s in the water? Try three life stages, like a fuzzy nymph, an emerger, and something spinner-like.

Beyond probability and biology, fishing a team of wets imparts a sense of wonder. Hooking a trout is like opening a present: you don’t know which fly the fish has taken until you get it in close. What’s more, wet fly fishing connects you with the traditions of our sport. It is poetic to catch a trout on a fly pattern that is hundreds of years old.

How to build a three-fly wet fly team. At first glance, building a multi-fly dropper rig looks complicated. But basically, you’re just tying three triple surgeon’s knots. You’ll need a 9-foot, 3x or 4x tapered leader for the butt section, and some 4 or 6-pound Maxima (I prefer Chameleon [AUTHOR’S NOTE: I used UltraGreen four-pound in 2014 and it worked just as well as Chameleon]) for the droppers. I’ve tried a lot of different leader materials, and Maxima is by far the best because of its stiffness. I use the 4-pound in lower, clearer flows. 

Wet Fly Three FLy team

Step 1: Cut off the bottom three feet of the tapered leader. Discard this bottom section.

Step 2: Knots are not worthy of your trust. Wet every knot before you pull it tight, and test every knot by giving it a good tug. The heat of battle with a trophy trout is a bad time to discover you tied a substandard knot.

Step 3: Tie just over a foot of Maxima to the tapered leader with a triple surgeon’s knot. The bottom of this section will form the first dropper. Trim both tag ends.

Step 4: The ideal length between wet flies is somewhere between 18 and 24 inches; I prefer my dropper tags between 4 and 6 inches. If you’re going to build a dropper rig with the flies 24 inches apart and the tags 6 inches long, you’ll need a 30-inch section (24 + 6 = 30) of Maxima for the next step.

Step 5: Take the first, shorter section of Maxima (the one you tied to the tapered leader) and hold it 6 inches from the end. This will be your first dropper. Join the 30-inch section to the shorter section at this point with a triple surgeon’s knot.

Step 6: Trim the excess of the second section above the knot (the part you trim is on the butt side of the leader). You should now have a dropper tag about 6 inches long, pointing away from the butt, and about 30 inches of Maxima below it.

Step 7: You’re in the home stretch. This is basically a repeat of step 5. Grab the second section of Maxima 6 inches from the end, and join another 30-inch section of Maxima to it with a triple surgeon’s knot. As with Step 6, trim the excess above the knot.

Step 8: You should now have a rig that looks like the one the diagram: two shorter tags, to which you’ll tie dropper flies, and a longer end section, to which you will tie the point fly.

Which fly goes where?

There are many theories on what works best; I’m just going to give you my take on positioning. The largest or heaviest fly goes on point. It makes your team of wets easier to cast, and it gives you the option of using an underweighted or bead head wet that suggests a nymph. On a dead drift presentation, the point fly will be the deepest fly. Point position is also where I’ll place an attractor fly, like an Alexandra or a Woolly Worm.

The top dropper is almost always a soft-hackle or other emerger-like fly. This fly will always be closest to the surface. It’s rarely a bad choice to make your top dropper the size and color of what’s hatching.

The middle fly is a bit of a wild card. I want it to be something that’s likely to be in the water – for example, in the summer, a Drowned Ant. If I have a caddis pupa on point and a caddis emerger on top, I might mix things up and put a soft-hackled Pheasant Tail in the middle (give the trout a choice). Most of all, I want it to be a fly in which I have complete confidence. With a little experimentation, you’ll soon find what works best for you.

Learn to recognize classic wet fly water.

If you enjoy solitude, you’re going to love wet fly fishing. The water you’re targeting will be sections of river that most anglers ignore. The Hendrickson hatch is a crowd magnet on my home water, the Farmington River. But I usually have my pick of spots because everyone else is jockeying for a place in the named pools. Ignore water with mirror-like surfaces and languid flows. Rather, fish your wets in the transition water above them. Look for what I call the snotty water: pockets, riffles knee-high or deeper, and runs with a broken surface – any water moving at a brisk walking pace. Look for bottom structure. Look for current seams around rocks and logjams. With wet flies, where you fish is often as important as how you fish.

Don’t be afraid to move around. One of the biggest mistakes I see beginning wet fly anglers make is flogging the same water over and over without a strike (remember Einstein’s definition of insanity?). Unless trout are visibly feeding, or I know for certain they might become active at any moment, I won’t give a spot more than a dozen casts. Sometimes taking a few steps up or downstream makes the difference. While it is true that you can sometimes goad a trout into striking, your primary quarry is the aggressive fish. You’ll be surprised how many trout will offer at your first cast.

But there are other reasons to actively wade and fish. When you walk the length of a run, you get to know it on a more intimate level. Where are the submerged pockets? Where is the sunken debris? What is the structure like behind that boulder? It is intel like this that will make you a better angler.

A 20-inch brown that liked the looks of a Hackled March Brown, an old English pattern.

Wetflymouth 1

Basic wet fly presentations.

You can make wet fly fishing as complicated or easy as you like. Since this is Wet Fly 101, we’ll stick to three presentations. Use a floating line you can mend (a longer rod makes that easier, too). I find fast-action rod blanks contrary to the true nature of the wet fly. Think of the slower bamboo rods of days long past. Two things to avoid: high line speed/ultra-tight loops, and dumpy, pile-like casts. Both are recipes for tangles.

By all means, seek out and target rising trout. It’s almost never a bad idea to drift a wet fly past the nose of an actively feeding fish. Look for splashy rise forms where you don’t see the trout’s head. More often than not, they’re taking emergers just below the surface. Match the hatch, present your wets like the naturals, and the trout will make you look like a savant.

The Upstream Dead Drift. This presentation gives you the advantage of the fish not being able to see you, and the flies being delivered to them in a natural manner. The key is line management. Immediately after making your cast, your line will form slack loops in the uneven current as it floats downstream. Gather in this slack as it forms. Take care not to strip the line faster than the current – this is a dead drift. Watch the tip of your fly line like a hawk. If it stalls, you’ve got a customer. Set the hook.

Short-Line Deep. Another upstream presentation, much like short-line nymphing, that is ideal for presenting flies in deeper holding water. Again, you have the advantage of being out of the trout’s line of sight. This is where a longer rod shines. I have a rod’s length or less line out when I present this way. Make an upstream cast, and immediately raise your rod tip to ensure the fly line is off the water. Match the track of the flies with your rod as they drift downstream. You’ll know when you have a fish – your leader will come tight and thrum with energy. Set the hook. If the water is particularly fast or deep, I’ll sometimes fix a BB shot to the leader just above the knot that forms the middle dropper. While untraditional, I assure you the trout don’t care.

Downstream Mended Swing and Dangle. Plenty of days, I’m feeling lazy. I’m content to walk a stretch of river, cast, throw a few mends, then let the currents take my flies where they will. It is a peaceful, organic, relaxing way to fish. It also works like the dickens. Make a quartering cast downstream. Throw a series of upstream mends to slow the swing of your fly. Absent a strike, let the flies swing down below you. Let them dangle in the current. Your soft hackles and spikey bodies will move even while at rest, tantalizing trout. Because your flies will have planed up near the surface, you may see a strike before you feel it. Don’t set the hook! The biggest mistake beginners make while fishing on the swing or the dangle is striking too soon. They take the fly right out of the fish’s mouth. When you see the swirl of the take or feel the tug, wait a moment. Ask yourself, “Are you still there?” Then, lift your rod tip, and the trout will be, having neatly hooked itself in the corner of its mouth.

A Simple Mended Swing: This basic wet fly presentation is an ideal way to cover water and find aggressive fish. Make a quartering downstream cast (A). Throw a series of upstream mends to slow the speed of the flies as they swing down and across (B). At the end of the drift, leave the flies suspended in the current (C). This is called the dangle. Be ready for explosive strikes.

WetMendedSwing

For those interested in an advanced degree in wet fly, I recommend Dave Hughes’ Wet Flies and Sylvester Nemes’ The Soft-Hackled Fly. But for now, class is dismissed. Head for your favorite stream. And catch some trout the way your great-great-great-grandfather did.

Farmington River Report 12/23/14: That’s what I came here for

No steelheading for me this week, so my consolation was a few hours on the Farmington. The upper TMA was running just over 500cfs, water 38 degrees, nice and clear. Despite air temperatures in the 40s, it was a cold, grey, and raw day with occasional mists and showers. (I did manage the entire session without gloves. I gave myself a gold star for that.) A few midges and some stray BWOs, but nothing rising to them. That was OK. I was committed to the subsurface cause.

Spot A was a blank on streamers. Well, not quite. I had a few bumps and came away with another scale souvenir on my hook point. Off to Spot B, another blank, although I did it proper by skunking on both nymph and streamer. Lost a few flies into the bargain. By now, I had crossed paths with four other anglers, and no one reported having any luck.

Started nymphing at Spot C, and that was also a blank. But, I had the whole place to myself. How pleasant to be able to walk the pool and fish at will. Switched back to streamers, and a few minutes later, bump, pause, thump. Not big, but a lovely jewel of a wild brown to send my spirits soaring.

All I wanted for Christmas today was a bent rod.

Bent Rod

I moved upstream a hundred yards and switched over to a streamer I conjured up the other night. It was an ugly beast with grizzly rabbit and schlappen and olive marabou and ice dub and crazy legs and a black cone head, but ugly in a fish-should-love-this-shit kind of way. Much to my delight, one did, a brown buck in the upper teens with pectoral fins the size of Montana (the state, not Joe) and an ornery disposition. A few casts later, I lost the fly.

That seemed like a good time to go pick up the rib roast.

I tied this fly just for you, bubba. Thanks for the early Christmas present.

Winter Streamer Brown

Streamer setup: full sink tip integrated line, 3-foot leader. Short, jerky, irregular strips produced both trout today.

Second “Wet Flies and Fuzzy Nymphs for the Farmington” class added

Wow. My 2/8/15 class filled up in two days. So we found time for a second, at UpCountry Sportfishing in New Hartford, CT, Saturday, January 24. Same blurb as the other class:

“Join outdoor writer and Farmington River guide Steve Culton as we explore tying buggy, impressionistic wets and nymphs geared toward fishing the Farmington. The class will place an emphasis on using natural materials to create flies for specific hatches, as well as attractor patterns. From classic North-Country spiders to some of Steve’s own creations, you’ll learn to tie high-confidence patterns that have been battle-tested and proven on the Farmington. Steve will also discuss wet fly methods for each pattern. Participants will need a vise, thread and tools. All other materials will be provided, including a pattern recipe sheet. The class starts at 9am and will run between four and five hours. Space is limited to six people. Tuition is $75.”

Please do not contact me to register for this class. You must enroll by calling UpCountry at 860-379-1952. Hope to see some of you there.

I think we should tie up some Dark Hendricksons. This is a classic American winged wet pattern, and one that I’ve done exceptionally well with during an emergence.

BatchoHendricksons

Farmington River Report 12/17 and 12/18/14: Is it winter yet?

Meteorologically, not quite. And with no snow on the ground and air temps above freezing, it didn’t feel like it. Still, a misplaced hand in the water during a stumble told me right quick that this wasn’t September. Water temp was mid-thirties, flows around 540cfs, very slight stain.

Wednesday, 12/17/14: Ninety minutes of nymphing in the upper TMA. I missed it. By the time I got situated — around 12:30pm — what was apparently late morning gangbusters was now a fading memory. Managed one nice brown, and saw one other trout caught, but the anglers I spoke to said the action was nothing like it was earlier in the day. Of course. So I made plans to return on…

Thursday, 12/18/14: A mini cold front and a NW wind at 10-20 does wonders for keeping anglers off the river. Yesterday I was one of nearly a dozen. Today, all by myself. In place shortly before 11am for…nothing. Not a touch. Changed weight. Changed flies. Changed the side of the river I was fishing on. Finally, a small brown on the upward swing of the nymph. Then another momentary hookup as I was stripping my line in to re-cast. Hmmm. Maybe I should be presenting flies with some motion? A lost nymph rig was the impetus for abandoning the small stuff in favor of streamers. And that, as they say, made all the difference. Kept at it till 3pm. Left tired, cold, and happy.

There you are. First fish on the streamer today. Love the sparkles behind the eye. Looks like some kind of nebula or interstellar dust transposed from deep space to gill plate.

Farmy Brown CU

Dang. Lost him. That was a nice fish. I wonder what happened? Oh. That’s what… 

StreamerScale

One of several that didn’t get away. In fact, I found a whole pod of twelve-to-thirteen-inchers that were rather eager to chase. Fun while it lasted.

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Today’s streamer setup: Teeny integrated full sink tip (4.0 ips) with floating running line. 3-foot leader (18 inches of 15#, 18 inches of 8#). Tungsten cone head in faster, deeper water, brass in slower water. Fished single hook and articulated. Did better with the single.

“Soft-Hackles for Winter Steelhead” in the current issue of American Angler

Calling all steelhead fanatics and soft-hackle aficionados: this article, appearing in the Jan/Feb 2015 issue of American Angler, is right up your alley. It features six of my favorite winter steelhead soft-hackles, including detailed photos, pattern recipes, and a little story about each fly. Also included is my winter steelhead indicator setup.

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I have several more articles in the pipeline for American Angler this year. Stay tuned.

Also, I just finished a piece for the Mid Atlantic Fly Fishing Guide on fly fishing the Farmington River in winter. That should appear in the next issue, out in early 2015.

Fly Tying Class Sunday 2/8/15: Wet Flies and Fuzzy Nymphs for the Farmington River

This class will by led by yours truly at UpCountry Sportfishing in New Hartford, CT, Sunday, February 8. Here is the blurb from the UpCountry website:

“Join outdoor writer and Farmington River guide Steve Culton as we explore tying buggy, impressionistic wets and nymphs geared toward fishing the Farmington. The class will place an emphasis on using natural materials to create flies for specific hatches, as well as attractor patterns. From classic North-Country spiders to some of Steve’s own creations, you’ll learn to tie high-confidence patterns that have been battle-tested and proven on the Farmington. Steve will also discuss wet fly methods for each pattern. Participants will need a vise, thread and tools. All other materials will be provided, including a pattern recipe sheet. The class starts at 9am and will run between four and five hours. Space is limited to six people. Tuition is $75.”

Please do not contact me to register for this class. You must enroll by calling UpCountry at 860-379-1952. Hope to see some of you there.

North-Country spiders. You betcha we’ll be tying some.

Soft-hackles

What can you catch on wet flies? Trout like this. (Hackled March Brown, size 12)

20%22Brown8:18:13

Fly Fishing for Striped Bass on Lighter Tackle, or: A Good Night For The Five-Weight

This article originally appeared in the July 2013 issue of the Mid Atlantic Fly Fishing Guide under the title “A Good Night For The Five-Weight.” Many thanks to MAFFG for allowing me to share it here. Those of you who are familiar with how I fly fish for stripers know that I often fish like other people don’t — or won’t. Fewer things get my adrenaline pumping stronger than the thought of using my five-weight to present a ten inch-long herring flatwing to striped bass that might be best measured in pounds.

When I tell people I like to fish for stripers with a five-weight rod, I get a lot of strange looks. Some of their comments are even more pointed.

“Oh, your poor rod!”

“Doesn’t that void your warranty?”

“You’re only stressing the fish and adding to the mortality rate.”

I can’t say I blame them. Ours is the culture of the nine-weight rod for stripers, and deviations from that norm are looked at with jaundiced eyes. Their reactions stem from fear – and the unknown. I know, because when I first thought about using my five-weight for stripers, I was terrified that I would break my rod. And that I wouldn’t have the first clue about how to play and land a big striper on such tackle. As it turns out, our 32nd President was right. The only thing I had to fear was fear itself.

All five-weights are not created equal.

Before you head out, make sure you’re using the right tool for the job. My striper five-weight is a nine-foot, fast-action blank, flexible in the tip and stiff in the butt. It is a beautiful beast of a five-weight. I can upline the rod, and easily cast larger flies up to 12 inches long – as well as dropper rigs of three flies. The stout butt section gives me the power to battle bigger bass (I’ve taken fish up to 33 inches) and turn them, even in swift moon-tide currents. I never feel under-gunned, and my only complaint with the rod is that it doesn’t have a fighting butt. Many rod makers put fighting butts on their six-weight models, so you may want to look into one of those.

You could use a lower weight rod – I know an angler in Rhode Island who loves his three-weight for stripers – or a slower action stick if that’s your preference. Many things are possible with unconventional tackle for the adventurous angler. And it’s not limited to striped bass. Do an internet search for the short film, “Salar, The Leaper” to see Lee Wulff land a 12-pound Atlantic salmon on a 6-foot, 1 ¾-ounce midge rod.

Don’t be afraid to upline.

If you’re going to catch stripers on lighter tackle, you’re going to have to break a few rules. One of them involves uplining, also known as overlining. When you upline, you use a line weight that is greater than the one specified for the rod. This is often the source of great consternation among purists on internet forums, but have no fear: the casting police have no real power over you. Besides, stripers don’t care what line you use with what rod.

Why upline? In two words: Comfort. Necessity. I use a line that allows me to effortlessly load the rod with one false cast, and to overcome the air resistance of a large flatwing or dropper rig of three flies. The line that mates perfectly with my rod and slower casting style is a nine-weight, weight forward integrated shooting taper. The head length is 37.5 feet, and it sports a hefty weight of 375 grains.

As an angler who puts a premium on presentation, my preference is for floating lines. But you should use whatever kind of line works best for you. If you can, it’s a good idea to try different lines with your rod before you buy. When you find the one that makes your rod sing, you’ll know it.

When I upline my five-weight, even long flies like this 11-inch Herr Blue flatwing are easy to cast.

IMG_0316

The beauty of a good reel and a stout leader.

School bass in the 12 to 20 inch range are terrific fun on a five-weight rod, especially in current. You can easily hand-strip those fish in. However, once you get into keeper-size territory (28 inches in my home state of Connecticut), you’ll appreciate having a reel with a reliable drag. That’s because you fight those bigger fish with the butt of the rod and the reel – not the tip.

That’s where a strong leader system comes into play. My typical leader is 7 ½ feet of 30-pound monofilament – more than enough to handle any striper I’m likely to hook from the shore. If you consider striped bass to be a precious resource, you want to make sure you don’t overplay the fish. Once you hook a striper, the combination of a 30-pound leader and your reel puts you squarely in charge of the situation.

Fighting bigger bass on lighter tackle.

Many anglers wax poetic about how a powerful striper took them into their backing. It makes for good storytelling, but I’d rather not have the fish take that much line. I like to ratchet the drag down tight, especially when I’m fishing with my five-weight. In fact, I’ve never seen my backing with that rod, even on chubby, well-fed bass up to 15 pounds.

Here’s a typical fight scenario. I’m presenting a big flatwing on the greased line swing. Suddenly, I feel a build of pressure – the bass taking the fly into its mouth – then the water erupts as the fish turns and realizes it is hooked. I can tell it’s a bass over 28 inches from the size of the boil and the power of the initial thrashing. I come tight to the fish by quickly reeling in the slack from my shooting basket, or letting the fish take the line through my fingers.

At that point, the striper may begin its first run. But sometimes there’s a quick grace period where the bass will sulk in the current. I use that time to my advantage by re-setting the hook. I point the rod and line straight at the fish, and, with my arms outstretched, give one or two hard thrusts straight back toward my gut (now you see why I like 30-pound test). That fish is now well hooked. From this point on, she’ll be fighting a losing battle.

There’s another good reason for re-setting the hook. Stripers have tough, rubbery mouths. Many years ago, I lost several substantial fish due to poor hook sets. Since I added this simple arrow to my quiver, I have not lost a single fish over 28 inches.

Once I’ve re-set the hook, I’ll play the fish with my rod held somewhere between a 30 and 45-degree angle. Remember, on lighter tackle your power comes from the bottom one-third of your rod. You want to feel the fight not at the rod tip, but down in your hands. There is absolutely no loss of sport with this technique. A good fish in current will put a tremendous bend in your five-weight. The battles are exhilarating, and will test your tactical know-how as well as your physical abilities.

If the bass is holding in the current, I’ll start to reel. When the fish wants to run, I’ll let her, because she’s not going very far with that tight drag. What’s more, her runs will burn a tremendous amount of oxygen, tiring her out and making her easier to land. Most of the bigger stripers I’ve caught are good for a couple long runs, maybe another shorter one once I bring the fish into the shallows. But by then, the fish is beaten, and my goal is to get the striper to hand, remove the fly, and send her off on her merry way.

This keeper striper fell for the charms of a Rock Island flatwing, fished on a greased line swing.

IMG_0255

Those who practice catch-and-release – and I’m one of them – have a responsibility to land the fish as quickly as possible, regardless of tackle. I’ve seen plenty of anglers with traditional striper rods overplay sub-legal bass to the point of near death. If it’s taking you more than a few seconds to revive a striper you’ve just fought on lighter tackle, you need to work on getting that fish to hand quicker. A.H.E. Wood wrote that he expected his rod to earn its keep. Do likewise. Don’t be afraid to push your five-weight. It’s a lot stronger than you think.

When and where to use lighter tackle for stripers.

Of course, you can fish your five-weight any time you like. But there are certain places where lighter tackle shines, like sheltered estuaries and salt marshes; back bays; salt ponds; and harbors. For me, the determining factors are: How far do I need to cast? Do I have limited room behind me? What’s the wind doing? Are waves an issue? It helps to look at these not as independent variables, but rather in conjunction with one another.

For example, if the wind is blowing at 15 knots in my face, I might still take the five-weight if I’m heading to a well-lit dock where the bass will literally be right at my feet. If my destination is a wide river mouth where I will be making casts well over 50 feet, I’ll be taking my big two-hander instead. Same call if my plans include the outside of a breachway or a beachfront with surf over three feet. Fishing is supposed to be fun, and fishing with the wrong tackle for the conditions is a sure path toward a miserable outing.

If you upline your rod with a weight-forward shooting taper, you can still cast a fair distance with just a little line in the air. This makes your five-weight a great choice for fishing in areas loaded with obstructions. One of my favorite spots for the five-weight is dock that is cluttered with overhead wires, light poles, and assorted wooden structures. There’s no room to get off a big back cast – but it’s not an issue because I can load my rod with less than thirty feet of line. Similarly, I fish a breachway between two salt ponds where a standard back cast would hit the rock seawall directly behind me. My setup allows me to easily get my fly out where it needs to be.

Consider bringing a landing net if you’ll be fishing off a dock. School bass under 18 inches are easy to heft out of the water. A twelve pounder, not so much. Some docks are several feet above the waterline, especially on an ebb tide. A landing net will make life easier for you – and your fish.

Sheltered estuaries like this one coursing through a marsh are ideal places for lighter tackle.

IMG_0336

Tripping the light fantastic.

The best way to learn the nuances of any fly fishing setup is to go out and fish with it. Nothing beats time on the water. Start with smaller school bass until you get your sea legs. In time, you’ll have the confidence to take on stripers you never dreamed were possible on lighter tackle. And the time will come when you’ll land a bass that will be measured in pounds, not inches.

That’s when a good night for the five-weight becomes a great one.

Steelhead Report 12/5/14: Neither here nor there

You get two kinds of steelhead reports.

The first is celebratory. The bite was on, the hookups plentiful, and the giddy recollections make you wish it was you who had written them. Such reports are usually accompanied by multiple grip-and-grins, or artistic renderings of gleaming flanks, spotted tails, and hook-and-Estaz neatly secured in mouth.

The second focuses on the friends you fished with, or the solitude you basked in, but most of all the glory of just being there. Umm, the fishing was slow. What else is there to write about?

No matter which end of the spectrum your trip falls into, the truth always lies somewhere between the two. Yes, there is no other rush in fishing that compares to the knowledge that the bellicose, cartwheeling silver machine you’ve been dancing with is going to be in your hands in a matter of moments. And yes, it is glorious just to be there. (You cannot, after all, catch a steelhead in Connecticut.)

Here’s my somewhere-in-the-middle from Friday.

Morning. I had planned to fish one of the nearby creeks, but the water was falling too fast for my liking. So I explored some of the diversions below Altmar. Friends, I covered water to the point of excessive thoroughness. I moved around. I gave the steelhead a choice. Nothing. Whatever was there, it wasn’t eating what I was throwing. I spent the first three hours picking ice out of my guides and trying to coax my fingertips into a functional setting. At least I had my pick of spots. By 11am, though, I’d had enough.

It wasn’t cold by Pulaski standards, but it was cold enough to make crystal lily pads. IMG_2619

Afternoon. From the start, I viewed this as a bonus trip. After my wildly successful November, I was playing with house money. So I decided to head downriver, instead of up to where the heavier concentrations of steelhead (and anglers) would likely be. If I had to do it over again, I probably would have chosen both.

I learned that some of the places I can cross the river at 1,000cfs are far more challenging at 1,400cfs — even with a wading staff — and still others are plain impassable. That limited my choices here. Run A was a blank. Run B produced my only steelhead action of the day. I kicked it. Asleep at the switch. By the time I realized the bottom was a steelhead, it was  swimming indifferently downstream, never to be seen again. (I am working on an algebraic proof that states: after the 499 good drifts you make, eyes keenly focused on the indicator, reaction potential equal to a cobra’s, looking for an excuse to set the hook, the one take you get will come on the 500th when your senses are taking a nap.)

Run C was dark and deep and surely held a few fish fresh from the lake. Or not. Run D was formed by a perilous conglomeration of deadfall. I waded out between logs, stripping out line, trying to decide where to cast. I was already a little annoyed by the missed opportunity (and lack of others). So when my fly got snagged on one of the submerged logs before I could even make a cast, I angrily tried to snatch it back. Thrummm! Asleep at the switch again, only this time the fish was hooked. Not a steelhead — that was abundantly clear from the non-hysterical headshakes. Good thing, too, because with all the barriers and overhangs, there was zero chance of landing something chrome. But I will take a 20″ brown trout over the skunk any time.

Lousy picture. Decent brown. Incredible luck. IMG_2642

Run E appeared to have potential, but after 45 minutes it remained unrealized. So I went back to the dropped steelhead location well, in hopes of a repeat. Hopes were dashed. At 3:15pm, with over eight hours of hard fishing in the books and lake-effect sleet bouncing off my hood, I began the hike back to the truck.

I tell you, it was really great just being there.

Christmas tree, Pulaski style. IMG_2628