…In which we count down a series that recaps my favorite fly fishing moments of 2020…
Marines are trained to improvise, adapt, and overcome obstacles. OK, so I’m not a Marine. But my oldest son is, and I’m going use that as license to borrow this mantra. This spring, with our nation in the grips of the pandemic, speaking in person to fly fishing clubs wasn’t an option. Lockdowns and social distancing in general were challenging for so many of us. And even though I’m an introvert, I dearly missed the chance to interact with other fly fishers. The idea of doing a regular Zoom seemed like a good one. Best if we keep it to the same night every week. But which night? In an homage to one of my mentors, Ken Abrames, I decided on Tuesday. And thus was born the Tuesday Night Currentseams Zoom.
While not as detailed and rehearsed as my paying gigs, I believe these presentations were still loaded with good advice and included a strong entertainment factor. Your reaction and support was overwhelming. There’s nothing worse than presenting to an audience of ten when you were expecting a hundred. Well, I never cracked the century mark, but we got over 75 more than once, and we were almost always over 50. While I intended these simply as a way to get us all to connect through fly fishing, some of you generously offered donations. So: thank you. Thanks for showing up. Thanks for so many great questions. And thanks for your enthusiasm. You gave me something to look forward to every week for a couple months.
As the pandemic continued, some fly fishing clubs discovered that if they held their meetings remotely, members could safely attend. This fall I got back to presenting to clubs via Zoom. In fact, I have a bunch scheduled for 2021 that I’m looking forward to. Many of you have asked that I do some pay-per-view tying Zooms this winter. Those are in the works. And we may still do a freebie now and then. So stay tuned…
This was my last Zoom, back in early June. At its close, I asked everyone to go out and fish and have an adventure this summer. Maybe next time we could talk about how you all did with your homework. I know I did a ton of exploring (new water, new flies, new techniques) for smallmouth. If you’re looking for a full, detailed presentation for your club, here’s my current presentation menu.
I got a late start today, and there’s so much to do: plow the driveway, catch a workout, pre-Christmas prep, a virtual wine tasting tonight (been looking forward to that for weeks!). I started the day proper by building a fire, an old Culton snow day tradition. I’ve also got lots of writing to do, but won’t get to it today: for Dennis Zambrotta’s followup to Surfcasting Around The Block, for my year-end wrap-ups for currentseams…plus Santa brought me an early gift of a new video camera. Gotta figure that out and hopefully make some even spiffier tying videos.
But for now, here’s a piece I did last year on the best nymphs for winter fly fishing. (Understand that “best” means my favorite, high-confidence patterns.) Also, remember that I don’t Euro nymph, so add weight and jig hooks to these patterns as you see fit. Enjoy the snow day.
We don’t need no stinking fake logs and propane fire!
Yep. I’m picky about the stuff I wear and the stuff I use when I’m fly fishing. I have very little patience for gear that doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do, or makes me uncomfortable, or just generally sucks (like this awful lamp). A winter hat seems like something that’s so simple, it shouldn’t require much thought. Therein lies the beauty of the UnderArmour Primaloft Ridge Reaper Hunt Beanie: it’s warm. It’s comfortable. It does what I want it to do.
For starters, I like to wear a ball cap when I’m fishing, even in the winter. The visor keeps the sun out of my eyes and precipitation off my glasses. On those really cold days, I like to wear a ski-type hat over the ball cap. My issue with previous hats was that they were too snug or too small or not warm enough. The last thing I want to be doing out on a river when it’s 20 degrees is be futzing with my hat. So the Ridge Reaper, even though it’s one size, is stretchy and roomy but snugs down nicely around my head and ears with no fuss.
New hat: the UnderArmour Primaloft Ridge Reaper Hunt Beanie.
Cosmetically, I like that the logo is understated. I’m not a fan of high-visibility, high-contrast logos, and as an outdoors person, you can understand wanting to blend in. According to the UA website, the yarn in this hat is breathable and water resistant, and it has a double layer knit lining. Sounds perfect. Like most UA products, this is more than I’d like to pay. $40 for a hat? But, as with so many other things, my eventual cost-per-use will make me forget the price, as will the hat’s performance and comfort.
Price: $40
Rating: *****
A post-steelhead-landed victory shot, hat under the hood. A warm angler is a happy angler.
Regular readers of currentseams will know that I tend to run cold. So when it comes to winter fly fishing (a very poor choice of hobby for me) I need all the warmth I can get. I’d been using an old-school UnderArmour ColdGear compression-style mock neck as a base layer for years, but it was getting a little sketchy, so now was a good time to explore new options.
The UnderArmour ColdGear Base Leggings have served me well for a couple years now and I love them. So migrating to the UnderArmour ColdGear Base 4.0 Crew seemed like a no brainer. (It was.) Here’s the gist, taken from the UA site: “UA Base 4.0 is a men’s baselayer built for extreme cold weather and lower activity. It uses a unique pattern that’s designed to trap heat without adding bulk. Think long underwear, revamped for today’s top athletes.”
At $80, this top isn’t cheap. Quite frankly, I’m a value guy. So if something costs more than I’d like to pay, but it does what it’s supposed to do and I use it a lot — never underestimate the power of amortization — I’m going all in. This version is far warmer than my previous UA top. My only complaint is that I have sensitive skin (wool is out unless I have a solid base layer) and the brushed grid interior on this shirt bugs me just a wee bit. Not to worry — I just wear a breathable UA crew t-shirt beneath and I’m good to go.
Price: $80
Rating: ****1/2
Why is this man smiling? Besides holding a beautiful fish, he’s not shivering even though it’s below freezing. Beneath all of this is my ColdGear Base 4.0 Crew. Full disclosure: I am not connected to UA in any way.
I’m currently reading Dennis Zambrotta’s Surfcasting Around The Block. As you may have read a few days ago, Dennis has asked me to contribute a chapter to his upcoming followup. It’s a little crazy to me that I’ve known about Dennis’ book for years, but I’ve never read it until now. While the focus of the book is on spin fishing the Block with plugs in the surf — and frequently surf under hardcore conditions — there are plenty of secrets that the fly angler keen on building his or her knowledge base will be able to use for their next outing, whether on Block Island or elsewhere. Here are some of my thoughts.
Color matters to needlefish pluggers. The needlefish is a primary choice for pluggers when sand eels are the bait, and the most popular color is fluorescent green. On Block I fish Big Eelies the vast majority of time, in all kinds of colors, and have never found that the stripers have a preference. But now my mind is wandering in to places of color and length. The Big Eelie in L&L Special colors is one of my favorite, high-confidence Block flies. It’s got a lot of chartreuse. Hmmmm….maybe a longer version, seven inches long, with more bright greens?….one way to find out…
Or, maybe the L&L in a Soft-Hackled Flatwing, tied about 7″ long. I really like fishing this color scheme over sandy bottom structure, like Crescent Beach...or on the Cape…
Location matters…and there are so many locations. I like to think that there aren’t too many anglers that know Block Island on the fly like I do, and then I read a book like this and realize how very little I really know — especially when it comes to locations. Part of it is that I’m a creature of habit. Part of it is that I like to fish flats and skinny water more than surf. Part of it is that it can be challenging to fish certain marks with a fly rod in wind and waves (almost constant companions on Block). But I’ve really got to explore more of these boulder fields (check out Gerry Audet’s talk on boulder fields sometime) and the mysteries they hold. In a way, Dennis hasn’t written a book as much as he’s built a roadmap. Follow it to find your own secret spot.
Tides matter. Once you’ve figured out where you’re going to fish, pay attention to the tides. There are certain marks on Block that I fish on universal tides, and others that I’ll only hit at a certain tide. Pay attention to the details in Dennis’ book and you’ll have the code cracked for you on your next outing.
Put in your time. And move around. If the bass aren’t biting where you are, give them a chance to move into the area you’re fishing. If that doesn’t work, move. One of the beauties of the Block is that everything is accessible and everything is short drive from where you are.
Okay, so the days of the multiple 30, 40, and 50+ pound bass blitzes from shore are over. (Dammit! I can’t believe I missed that. Oh, to have been a striper fly fisher on Block in the early to mid 1980s…) It’s been a slow last couple years for me for slot fish and above on Block, the opportunity still exists. Here’s a very respectable double-digit pounder on the fly from two years ago. Miss you, sweetheart.
Today was tidal creek stomping day with Toby Lapinski, he armed with his light spinning gear and me with my trusty five-weight. The wind was a bit of an issue for me — as was casting room — but once I reacquainted myself with the nuances of casting a three-fly team with a 9-weight line on the 5-weight rod, everything was jake. We hit two marks on the incoming tide. One was a total blank, and the other produced for both of us. Nothing large, but enough to put a nice bend in our rods. It sure didn’t feel like December.
In these politically charged times, here’s something we can all agree on.
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This one didn’t make it. We saw scores of dead bunker, especially at the second mark. Many had bird wounds (post mortem?). Apparently there was a substantial fall invasion of these crazy menhaden.
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You’ll experience fewer tangles with a three-fly team if you slow down your stroke and open your loop a bit. Photo courtesy of Toby Lapinski.
As promised, here’s a pre-currentseams oldie but goodie. The events took place in December 2009, my first real winter steelheading trip. It’s amusing now to read this over a decade later, recalling how raw I was and little I knew about hooking and landing steelhead. I’ve included a link to a video old fishing buddy Todd Kurht made where you can see the battle and the beast. I hope you enjoy this little slice of steelhead dreaming,
“That Boy is a P-I-G pig!” With apologies to Babs from Animal House (and the steelhead involved) he truly was.
We started out on a beautiful winter morning with moderate temperatures and plenty of sunshine in a pool I had never fished before. The water was low (>350cfs), cold (33 degrees), and crystal clear. I had high hopes for this trip, my first winter steelheading venture, and I thought the conditions would only help us out. I sparked up a churchill to start enjoying on the walk down to the river. An hour later, I was still puffing on it, fishless. Bob had moved to spots elsewhere, and Todd and I were beating the water thoroughly. I just didn’t know this spot well. I spent a half hour around a really sexy-looking stump tangle before wading over to discover that the water was much shallower than I thought.
Then, I waded though a deeper channel that I didn’t know was there, and realized that that was where I should have been fishing (later confirmed by Trapper, one of the good guides, who shared the pool with us and his client). But, such is the learning curve on new waters.
I had tied on an Opal Blue Estaz egg and was fishing a current seam along the far bank when the indicator paused. I set the hook like I had already done dozens of times today, only this time the rig didn’t come flying out of the water. It stuck. And then the water boiled up 50 feet away from me.
I could see it was a good sized fish, but I didn’t have the full picture until the first run. Criiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiink! The drag sang out in the warm December air. The fish rolled again, and I could see once more that it was a good fish. Todd was on the scene by now, and confirmed it was a sizeable steelhead. And that’s when the line went slack.
Well, I told myself, that’s why they’re called “steelhead.” At least I had hooked a big fish, and at least I had my adrenaline rush for the day. Can’t win them all.
So why is my fly line moving upstream at a very rapid pace?
You must understand that I have a minimal corpus of knowledge when it comes to steelhead. “Rookie” would be accurate. I had forgotten how quickly they can turn on a dime and shoot upstream. The last time this happened was the first steelhead I hooked over a year ago. I lost that fish. Frantically, I stripped and reeled line as the fish passed me. Yes! Still on. I reset the hook as hard as I dared, and the fish dashed downstream at a breakneck pace, peeling line off the reel like I’d never experienced.
Again, understand that my experience base of fighting a fish like this on single digit test tippet is nil. The steelhead melted through the flyline in a matter of seconds. I was into the backing good. Of course, Todd is kibitzing the whole time, providing moral support, and telling me this is a great fish. I kept thinking, “Todd, you just put the whammy on me.” I decided nothing ventured, nothing gained. I was uncomfortable with well over a hundred feet of line out, so I started to reel in. Every time I felt weakness on the other end, I reeled in more. I regained the majority of the line before the fish blistered off on another long run. But all this oxygen-burning fury was taking its toll. And for the first time, cigar clenched in my teeth, puffing away, I felt good about landing this beast.
Finally the end was in sight. I had the fish in the shallows. At this point I felt if it broke off, I had at least achieved a moral victory. Todd came up behind the fish, tailed it, and a prize that was measured in pounds, not inches, was ours.
Talk about good fortune: the egg fly was dangling from a paper thin section of tissue in the steelhead’s mouth. We took some pics then released it, watching it porpoise as it skulked back to its lie. Not a bad steelhead to be your first on a fly you tied. And here it is.
This caption was not part of the original piece, but the photo was. I believe this is still the largest steelhead I’ve landed, and I’d estimate it to be about 15 pounds. You can see the fly dangling by a thread of tissue — such is the case when planets align and good fortune is in the forecast.
I went and sat on the bank to savor the rest of the cigar. I was shaking. I think I giggled out loud for a half hour.
The battle preserved on video. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself, because I think I at least look like I know what I’m doing. The main even is from about 0:23 through 1:03.
A few months ago I asked that you suspend fishing on Connecticut’s small streams until the drought was remedied and the spawn was complete. Check on both boxes. With a favorable amount of water for two months, the locals that survived the harsh summer conditions have had a chance to recover, fool around, and now prepare to hunker down for the winter. I have two requests (I know, I ask a lot) if you must fish small streams. First, try to stay out of the water as much as possible. The thought behind this is that you don’t want to walk over a redd and destroy the next generation before they’ve had a chance to hatch. Two, consider using a bushy dry with the hook point removed, or an over-sized dry that the little guys can’t get their mouth around. It’s nice to hold a small wild char in your hands and release it, but truly, isn’t the fun really derived just from fooling a fish? I appreciate your consideration. Tight lines, be safe, and be well.
The stark beauty of a small stream in winter. Please respect the brook and its residents. We all thank you.
I’ve received several emails in the last week asking about doing pay-per-view fly tying Zoom lessons — so now I’m throwing the concept out to the subscription base. Is this something you’re interested in, too? I don’t have any details ironed out, but I imagine it would work something like this: I pick a topic/fly, like North Country spiders or sparse striper bucktails or getting started with flatwings or high-confidence nymphs — you get the idea. I’d set up a class date/time — probably an hour-long session — and send the link to everyone who sends me a small fee via PayPal — $10? $20? We’ll have to see how many players we have to make it work. If this is something you’re interested in, please respond in the comments section, and it wouldn’t hurt to list the types of stuff you’re interested in tying. I should also say that if you want me all to yourself, I do private tying lessons for $65/hour. So now, ladies and gentlemen, it’s up to you…
It’s been a tough streamer bite my last two outings — another blank, with only two bumps today compared to half dozen on Wednesday. The river is in fine shape, 500cfs and clear, just in time for tomorrow’s deluge. I hit four marks today, all within the Permanent TMA, and had a bump in each of the first two, but neither felt like a good fish. I played around with size, color, and presentation, but whatever I was throwing, and how I was throwing it, the trout just weren’t that interested. So goes the battle. Just a note that if you’re going to fish the Boneyard, there is an active shotgun season, so be safe and wear some blaze orange.
I lost a Barr’s Meat Whistle to the bottom gods in a very deep pool of the Farmington. Even though it’s tied on a jig hook, this happened when my full sink line got tangled around an obstacle.
currentseams.com 