Category Archives: Articles and Essays

“The Streak” in the current issue of The Flyfish Journal

Catching a striped bass on the fly from the shore for twelve consecutive months takes determination, fortitude, and luck. It also takes you to some pretty strange places.

At long last, “The Streak” has arrived in Volume Six, Issue Three of The Flyfish Journal. “The Streak” is about my second attempt to go twelve-for-twelve, January through December. How it ends really isn’t important. It’s all about making the attempt.

Let me know if you get the chance to read it.

The Streak. Read all about it in the current issue of The Flyfish Journal.

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Whether they admit it or not, every outdoor writer likes seeing their work in print. When it’s in “fly fishing’s coffee-table bible,” it makes it even sweeter. In addition to the words, I have two photos in the book. I’d also like to give a shout out to my brother David, who earned a full page for his beautiful time-lapse night shot of the SoCo shoreline. David also took the photo of yours truly for the Contributors page.

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Three Fly Tying Materials I Can’t Get Enough Of

Your humble scribe is now a guest blogger on the J.Stockard Fly Fishing website. (If you’re unfamiliar with J.Stockard, they have a huge selection of mail-order fly tying materials.) They’ve asked me to make regular contributions to their blog, and this is the first.

The three fly tying materials I can’t get enough of are blood quill marabou, Angora goat, and Ice Dub. You can read all about it here: http://www.jsflyfishing.com/blog/three-fly-tying-materials-i-cant-get-enough-of/

This weekend is supposed to be nice. I hope you’re all able to get out and fish.

I can’t get enough red fox squirrel, either.

S&G ready to finish

A Floating Line Myth. Sunk.

Striped bass don’t read internet forums or hang out in breachway parking lots. This fifteen-pounder was part of school that was feeding in a strong rip. The bait, sand eels, was trapped between the rip and the shore and the stripers were feeding with impunity. It was one of those magic moments (rather, episodes — it lasted close to 90 minutes) where it was a fish on every cast. You guessed it. I was using a floating line.
Mouth
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Critical Kensington Hatchery Vote April 1 — No Foolin’

The deadline for the Appropriations Sub-Committee addressing the DEEP budget which includes Kensington Hatchery is this Wednesday April 1st. If any of the committee members represent your town, you are encouraged to phone or email them directly, even if you have already submitted testimony to the entire committee. Please see the link below for Sub-Committee members and phone or email them if you live in a town they represent. The hatchery must survive this step in the process if it is to remain alive. Ask your friends in these towns to also contact their reps.

Here is a link to the list and contact information on flyaddict: http://www.flyaddict.com/forums/showthread.php?10694-Critical-Hatchery-vote-scheduled-for-next-week

A little help, please?

Rainbow Release

Ken Abrames Catches a Big One (a Currentseams exclusive)

The striper grandmaster talks about setting the hook, playing big fish, the effects of pressure, and fear.

Ken Abrames is one of the most revered names in saltwater fly fishing. He is the creator of the modern flatwing streamer, presentation-style flies that can imitate everything from clamworms to menhaden. His books Striper Moon and A Perfect Fish belong on the shelves of anyone who is an aficionado of traditional New England striped bass fly tying and fishing methods. Besides being a world-class angler, Ken is also a rod designer, author, poet, and artist.

I have the good fortune to be able to talk fishing with Ken on a regular basis. He is funny, candid, a good storyteller, and highly experienced. Here is an excerpt from one of our conversations.

Ken Quonny

Currentseams: I remember you once telling me the story of how your father taught you, “You gotta set the hook.”

Ken: I was a little kid, eight or nine years old. We were fishing off Poppasquash Point in Bristol (RI). There were a lot of fish in those days, and very few fishermen. It was a hazy day in May. We were fishing with plugs. I was reeling and popping, and all of a sudden a big fish exploded on my plug. It was like someone had thrown a Volkswagen in the water. And the fish started running like crazy, the rod was bent over, and the reel was screaming. It was like heaven. And the fish just ran and ran and ran – and then he turned to the right and the plug popped out. It was devastating to me. So I started to reel in, and my father looked over at me and said, “You gotta set the hook.”

Currentseams: (laughter)

Ken: It’s so hard to set the hook when a fish is screaming off line. People think they’re hooked up. But the fact of the matter is, you need to set the hook. And if you don’t, as soon as he makes his first turn, it’s over.

Currentseams: That is exactly what happened to me this spring. I had a big striper blow up on a flatwing and I didn’t set the hook. So if you don’t get a good initial hookset, you have nothing to lose by trying to reset during that first run.

Ken: That’s right.

Currentseams: When you first started teaching me, you drilled into me, as a fundamental part of fly fishing for stripers, the practice of hitting that fish multiple times.

Ken: If you hit him three times, sometimes you still lose him. If you hit him four times, sometimes you lose him. If you hit him five times, you won’t lose him.

Currentseams: Tell us what you mean by “hit him.”

Ken: You grab your line, and you punch him. And then you punch him. Even though you think everything is going to come apart, you want to punch him, and punch him, and punch him. You’ve got to hit him at least five times with a very, very sharp hook. And if you have a dull hook, it doesn’t matter how many times you hit him. Because you’re not going to catch him. (laughs)

Currentseams: Talk about a sharp hook being the single most important thing in fishing.

Ken: Well, it is the single most important thing. Because all those things you hear – the fish struck short, the fish were playing, there’s too much bait in the water, those little taps are small fish – those are just excuses people make up because they don’t understand why they’re not hooking up. And the only thing that is necessary is a needle sharp hook. Once you have that, once you feel the pressure of the fish, the hook has already started in.

Currentseams: You’ve also used the phrase, “sticky sharp.”

Ken: Think of the inside of a striper’s mouth as your fingernail. You take a hook and you run it across the back of your thumbnail. If it doesn’t stick in, or stick to your nail like a piece of scotch tape, it’s not sticky sharp. And the same thing will happen inside a fish’s mouth. A hook that isn’t sticky sharp will slide right out.

Currentseams: Let’s talk about those little taps.

Ken: When you feel that little tap, that’s a fish. He just sucked in your fly. If you’re used to casting and retrieving, like with a spinning rod, you expect a big yank. But the fact of the matter is that it is often just a tiny little touch, or even just a change in pressure. And to be aware of that is one of the most important things you can learn. You have to develop it as a skill.

Currentseams: If you’re taking a simple cast-and-retrieve approach to fly fishing, when you feel those little blip hits, and miss the fish, are you just simply pulling the fly out of the fish’s mouth?

Ken: Yep. You are. Fish don’t make mistakes.

Currentseams: Fighting a 30-pound bass is different from fighting a 10-pound bass. Let’s talk about that.

Ken: The first thing is to not be afraid that you’re going to lose the fish. The other thing is to not try to stop him when he runs. Say you’re a sprinter, and you’re running the 100-yard dash. What’s the first thing your body does when the race is over?

Currentseams: You’re exhausted, you hunch over, go limp…

Ken: That’s what the fish does, too. At that moment when the fish reaches the end of his run, that fish is exhausted. Now I know this is true because I have caught so many fish in my life, it’s ridiculous. When I fished commercially for stripers, I would hook a fish, and he would run, and I would run my boat right after him. At the end of the run, the fish would come up near the surface on his side. He was exhausted. It would only take about three minutes. Didn’t make any difference if he was thirty pounds or fifty pounds. You understand?

Currentseams: Yes.

Ken: OK, so now a guy hooks a big fish, it runs like hell, and he wants to stop the fish. And he puts pressure on the fish, and he thinks he’s going to turn it. That’s ridiculous. Take the pressure off the fish and it will stop (laughs knowingly). You have to learn this. Fish don’t read books about what they’re supposed to do and not do. They do all kinds of things besides what I’m saying. When the fish stops running, you reel in nice and steady, keeping the pressure the same, and the fish will come in like a dog on a leash. It’s like you hypnotize him with that steady pressure. If he wants to run again, back off the handle and let him.

Currentseams: Some anglers overplay stripers.

Ken: They don’t put any pressure on the fish because they’re afraid something bad is going to happen. Fear is the deciding factor. As long as you’re afraid, you’re not going to learn anything, and you’re going to make the same mistakes over and over again.

Currentseams: So some things that help you be less afraid are sharp hooks and, would you say, strong leader?

Ken: Oh, absolutely. Throw away all these ideas about fish seeing leaders and all that crap. Some people think I’m speaking heresy, but it’s not heresy. It’s the truth.

Currentseams: I haven’t used anything other than thirty, twenty-five, and twenty-pound Worldwide Sportsman mono for years now.

Ken: Of course. If you’re worried about leaders, you’re going to have a built-in handicap. You’re going to catch a hell of a lot more stripers on thirty pound than you are on eight.

Currentseams: I’ve found very few situations where I felt my leader color or size was the reason I wasn’t catching.

Ken: The leader isn’t an invisible connection. It leads the fly. You’ve got to match the size of the leader to your fly so it will swim right. You want the fly to be presented in a certain way. The leader is about the mechanics of presentation, not invisibility. You know that mono you’re using? That’s the original mono. The first one that was ever made. Do you get it?

Currentseams: I think so.

Ken: They haven’t improved it. But they’ve found millions of ways to sell other different kinds.

Currentseams: Do you keep your drag ratcheted down tight?

Ken: I use my hands. My hands are my drag. I don’t want anything between me and the fish. I just keep my drag tight enough so that the reel doesn’t over spin.

Currentseams: Too many anglers let stripers take them into their backing. I’ve only gone backing with three or four stripers in my life.

Ken: This is a true story. And it was witnessed by two people. I was fishing off Watch Hill in a boat for false albacore with a seven-weight rod and a fifteen pound leader. I hooked a fish, let him run, then held him and held him until the leader popped. So I said, oh, okay. I tied on another fly. Then I caught forty-two albacore. And not one of them got into my backing. Not one. Because I knew exactly how hard to push.

Currentseams: That’s impressive.

Ken: I kept ten of them, and told people they were good to eat – even though everyone says they’re not – and I lied, because I wanted to find out if they were good to eat. Everyone was disappointed (laughs).

Currentseams: (laughter)

Ken: I don’t care about the rules, and about what everybody else does. I always want to find out for myself. I also caught a couple of false albacore that day on my spinning rod. Know what I caught them on?

Currentseams: No, tell me.

Ken: Plastic crawfish with blue claws (laughs).

Currentseams: I have this theory…

Ken: I have no theories. I’m just talking about experience.

Currentseams: …the more line or backing that’s out, the more things can go wrong.

Ken: Well, yeah. The only thing you want to do is break the fish’s spirit.

Currentseams: What about swinging your bent rod from horizon to horizon to keep the fish off balance? I’ve done that with steelhead, and sometimes stripers.

Ken: You can absolutely change the direction of a fish by moving your rod. If you put your rod down close to the water, you let the line cushion your leader. You can change a fish’s direction by backing right off the pressure. If the fish runs downstream, you can dump line into the current, and let it get below the fish. Then all of a sudden the fish feels the pull from downstream, and he’ll start swimming up, dragging that line right behind him. I’ve done that hundreds of times.

Currentseams: That seems counterintuitive: if you take the pressure off the fish, you’ll lose the fish.

Ken: The line in the water will keep it tight.

Currentseams: I get it now, but I worry when a fish runs downstream, then makes an abrupt turn and speeds upstream.

Ken: A fish running upstream means somehow the drag of the line got below him. The fish always goes against the pull. Mmm-hmm.

Currentseams: What are some of the bigger stripers you’ve caught on a fly rod?

Ken: Oh God…I’ve caught a lot of big fish. A lot of people have caught a lot of really big fish on flatwings, because they really are a big fish fly. And they’re castable, and they can imitate anything.

Currentseams: Are there any kind of basic strategies for targeting big fish?

Ken: Well yeah, there are, but you have to learn those things over time. And you can’t be listening to other people.

Currentseams: How about how to fight a big fish?

Ken: You fight the fish from the first guide closest to the reel. The rest of the rod is not important. That angle from that guide is the most power you’re going to get. And you use the rod to dampen that power – if you raise the rod, it lessens the drag and reduces the pressure. Reason can’t fish. You fight the fish with your gut – you don’t play it from your head. Most people have fear in their gut. And fear always comes from an idea.

Currentseams: I still have a certain amount of fear with any big fish, but it doesn’t inhibit me. Since I started resetting the hook like you taught me, I have not lost a striper over 28”.

Ken: Yep.

Currentseams: Sometimes people say to me, “Well, how do you know you haven’t lost one over 28?”

Ken: (laughs) I know what a big one feels like.

Currentseams: Yeah.

Ken: And that’s the truth. Some people just refuse to give up their reason. Everything has to have a cause and an effect. The fact of the matter is that the future is unwritten. You can’t get there by figuring out the past. It’s always now.

The state of the Farmington River and other shocking news

In case you didn’t know (and if you’ll pardon the inflamatory headline) the Farmington River has lots of trout. Lots of big trout. And lots of wild trout. All good news if you like to fish the Farmington.

We know this because every September, the MDC draws down the flow of the dam and electroshocks the river. The electroshocking has two purposes: trout census, and gathering broodstock for future generations, aka Farmington River Survivor Strain. (For more on Survivor Strain, see my article in the Spring 2014 issue of The Drake.)

I didn’t attend, but the DEEP delivered their state of the river address to the FRAA a few weeks ago. Here’s their story in numbers:

“Winter Fly Fishing on the Farmington River” in the current issue of MAFFG

The latest article from yours truly, this is a basic primer on winter fishing on the Farmington River. You can read it in the February 2015 issue of the Mid Atlantic Fly Fishing Guide, available free in many fly shops from Connecticut to North Carolina.

Free to you. Such a deal.

MAFFG 2:15

Salmon Fishing for Striped Bass

Salmon Fishing for Striped Bass first appeared in the October 2014 issue of Mid Atlantic Fly Fishing Guide. Many thanks to them for allowing me to share it on currentseams.

Most striper fly anglers have never heard of A.H.E. Wood or the book Greased Line Fishing For Salmon. That’s a pity, because Wood’s greased line swing is one of the most elegant, pleasing – not to mention effective – ways to fish for striped bass in current.

Wood fished for Atlantic salmon in Scotland over a hundred years ago. Greased Line Fishing for Salmon, a technical how-to based on his extensive letters and notes, was first published in the 1930s. It was re-issued in 1982 by Frank Amato Publications with “[and steelhead] “ added to its title. While the writing style is a bit moldy, the content will transform the way you fish for stripers. You may never approach an estuary or a breachway the same way again.

The greased line and the fly rod.

Before the advent of the modern floating line, anglers were compelled to use lanolin dressings (grease) to keep their silk lines on the surface. Why grease the line? A floating line allowed them to mend. Mending meant they could harness the power of the current, rather than have the current dictate the fly’s path. As Wood wrote, “The basic idea is to use the line as a float for, and controlling agent of the fly; to suspend the fly just beneath the surface of the water, and to control its path in such a way that it swims…entirely free from the pull on the line.” It is a concept, Wood observed, “entirely opposed to that of the normal sunk fly procedure.” If you fish for stripers but don’t use a floating line, here is your chance to break free from the shackles of the sinking line – and use your fly rod as a fly rod, rather than a glorified spinning rod.

You can perform the greased line swing with a standard-issue nine-foot rod. But a longer rod makes mending a delight instead of a chore. And mending is at the heart of the greased line presentation.

Open wide. That’s about all this fifteen-pound Block Island striper had to do to eat my sand eel fly.

Mouth

Why greased line swing?

Like their salmonid cousins, striped bass love current. They will take up feeding positions, holding on station, moving no more than a few lateral inches while they dine. Often, the stripers will not chase a stripped fly. Why would they? The current is conveniently delivering their food. All they have to do is rise to meet each morsel with an open mouth. Those morsels can range in size from minutia like crab larva, to inch-long grass shrimp, to more substantial fare like mullet, menhaden and herring.

And therein lies the genius of the greased line swing. Regardless of the size of your fly, you are sending it on a pathway to a hungry striper’s mouth. She doesn’t have to work hard to eat. What’s more, during much of its drift, the fly is presented broadside to the fish. This gives the predator a full profile of what’s for dinner, rather than a fleeting glimpse of a tail or head.

 Presentation flies like these Crazy Menhaden flatwings are an excellent choice for the greased line swing.

Crazies

Performing a simple greased line swing.

Use the greased line swing in tidal rivers, breachways, sand bar rips – any place stripers hold in current to ambush bait. Make a cross-current cast with your floating line. The moment the line hits the water, begin throwing a series of upstream mends. Be sure to mend the entire fly line, from the rod tip to the line/leader junction; half a mend is no mend. While you are mending, the fly will be travelling downstream at the natural speed of the current, while appearing to slowly swim toward the shore behind you. When the fly is nearly two-thirds of the way down and across from your position, stop mending, and hold the line so the fly can complete its journey with a wet fly swing. Keep the fly in the current below you for a few moments, then retrieve and cast again.

Obviously, if you see signs of an actively feeding fish, be sure to present your fly over its feeding lane. The greased line swing is also an excellent searching tactic. “Backing up a pool,” another traditional presentation method, involves working a stretch of water by moving upstream. Backing up a pool with the greased line swing allows you to cover a tremendous amount of water.

To execute the greased line swing, cast cross-current and throw a series of upstream mends (A-C); hold the line so the fly makes a wet fly swing (D); at the end of the swing, retrieve and re-cast (E).

Culton_Greasedline_Currentseams

Hooking stripers on the greased line swing.

The take of a big striper on a greased line swing is sublime. Rather than the blunt force hit with a stripped fly, the angler initially feels only a presence – a mere building of pressure. This is the striper acquiring its target, flaring its gills to suck the fly into its mouth. You might be tempted to set the hook at this point; but that would be a mistake. You’ll pull the fly right out of the striper’s mouth. Instead, let the bass hook itself. It is feeding with confidence, and does not yet sense that it has been deceived. Simply hold the line, and let the bass come tight as it turns away with the fly in its mouth. All this happens in a matter of seconds, or less. The hook point (of course, you constantly check your hooks to make sure they’re sticky sharp) will find purchase in the corner of the striper’s mouth, just like your father taught you it should.

When you present on the greased line swing, the stripers you catch will be neatly hooked in the corner of the mouth every time.

Culton_Greasedline_2

You may be thinking, “But I like the way that big hit on the strip feels!” Not to worry. The adrenaline rush you crave is coming.

Now, the striper realizes that this baitfish bites back. The water erupts as the fish’s primal reflexes of fight and flight kick in. This is where you set the hook. Point your rod directly at the fish, hold the line tight to the rod handle, and thrust rearward with conviction. I cannot emphasize enough the importance of a solid hook set. If you’re fishing with a strong leader – mine is always twenty, twenty-five, or thirty-pound nylon, substantial enough for any inshore striper I’m likely to encounter – you can dictate terms to the fish. From this point, the striper will be fighting a losing battle.

And you’ll have Arthur Wood to thank.

Dear Angler: Did you know you were a terrorist?

This is an excerpt from a letter to the editor of The Courant, Saturday, January 17, 2015. The author is referencing a story the paper ran on ice fishing:

“Selective human empathy, such as humans for their pets, is a fundamental shortcoming to evolving a sustainable civilization. To the victims of slaughter or pleasure sports, whether fishermen, hunters or ISIS, there is no difference. Classic reaction: A fish with feelings? Ha.”

I’m not sure where to begin here. We’ll start with the glass house metaphor. Let’s give the writer the benefit of the doubt and assume he doesn’t eat meat or own a single leather item.

The assertion that a civilization that keeps some animals for pets and eats others is retarding its evolution is patently absurd. Dogs have been domesticated for over 10,000 years. How much longer have humans have been eating animal flesh, and where would we be on the evolutionary calendar today if we were all vegans?

We could move on to politically incorrect sexism next. “Fishermen?” Not “anglers?” That’s a fairly substantial liberal thought spectrum faux pas. If you have a dick and you fish, you’re bad person. Female anglers, apparently, are exempt from such judgement. (April Vokey will no doubt be relieved.)

The “fish have/do not have feelings” argument is ultimately a cul-de-sac. I could offer up such pearls as, “What would be a trout’s reaction if you played Tchaikovsky’s ‘1812 Overture’ for it?” “Are bigger fish evil because they prey on smaller fish — and do those smaller fish feel bad when they get eaten?” Or even, “If a fish has the capacity to feel, why doesn’t it swim toward you when it is hooked rather than away?” No one is going to convince me that fish are anything other than rather primitive animals, and I’m not likely to convert the other side.

But equating me with ISIS because I fish?

That kind of thinking makes fish look intelligent.

Book Review: My Life In Fishing by Stu Apte

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My Life In Fishing by Stu Apte, Stonefly Press, ISBN: 9781939226709, $29.95

There are giants who walk among us. Technically, they are human. But upon further examination, they reveal themselves to be of a different order.

For proof, I submit Stu Apte. Stu has done things that you and I never will. He was a fighter jet pilot in the Korean War, and then a pilot for the legendary Pan Am airline. He drank mojitos with Hemingway, guided U.S. Presidents, was fishing buddies with the last player to hit .400, fished with luminaries in the world of angling like Joe Brooks and Curt Gowdy, and became the sharpie’s sharpie of big game saltwater fly fishing. Oh. He also held, or still holds, over six dozen IGFA world records.

My Life in Fishing is subtitled “Favorite Long Stories Told Short,” and the resulting format shines under the author’s charming, often humble recollection of his experiences. Apte is a simple writer, yet his stories held me captive over several evenings. This is the kind of book that I love: it’s really an expansive how-to manual (among my favorites: when fighting a big fish, to play him long is to play him wrong) disguised as a collection of personal anecdotes.

Apte cut his angling teeth in south Florida, so the book is saltwater-heavy, especially snook, tarpon, bonefish, sailfish, and permit. But there are chapters on stripers, trout, Atlantic salmon, and many more species.

The cover photo is representative of the book’s photography: simple, evocative shots on both color and black & white film that transport you back to an era when the tarpon were in thick and anglers didn’t look like they dressed out of a catalog. There is a homeyness and an honesty to the shots that is lacking in so much modern angling imagery, and the keen observer will note the absence of photos of anglers with elbows locked straight out, thrusting their catch into the camera lens.

Quibbles? Only one. The exclamation point is overused in this book! Some passages read like a text!

Thanks for writing this, Stu. My Life in Fishing makes me wish it was fifty years ago, and I could call you up and book a tarpon trip. But if you’re ever up in Connecticut, give me a ring. The guide trip’s on me.