Fly-Fishing in a Nutshell

 

I caught this King in the Manitowoc River in Wisconsin in 2004.  I wouldn't consider this type of fishing, "fly-fishing" even though I was using a fly-rod and a streamer. I spotted this salmon staging downstream of some reds, picked a fly that wouldn't spook him, walked upstream and swung it into its mouth. Yeah, I flossed him and after catching a few more, I decided this type of fishing wasn't for me. 

I'll be totally honest about why I'm writing this blog article; I want to keep making a living off of the sport of fly-fishing and I want to do that in a way where I can feel good about it. The guiding world is becoming more and more competitive, so part of that is developing a niche and separating myself from others. Many times, with kids and even adults that just wanted to catch fish, I've grabbed a spinning rod with a Mepps and did very well on trout and there is nothing wrong with that. However, I got into an argument with a golfing buddy last spring about what is and isn't fly-fishing and why I teach the things to clients that I'm very passionate about. I am a fly-fishing guide and although I have employed techniques outside of the definition of fly-fishing when asked, I teach fly-fishing and I'm proud to be one of those guides grounded in the traditions of fly-fishing. My goal is to teach people to be successful at fly-fishing in a manner that is consistent with these traditions, and I feel this is crucial to the integrity of the industry. 

Before getting too far into it, and before pissing a bunch of people off, let me be very clear about a couple things. First of all, there's no shame in any type of fishing as long as there is a consideration for the resources and for other people's rights to their own pursuits. If you want to chuck Rapalas or dunk worms or bounce egg patterns along the bottom with three triple B split shot on the end of a leader all day, have at it. If that's what gets the blood cranking to the nether regions for you, by all means, be my guest and if you are willing to spend your hard-earned money for the grip and grins and that's all that matters to you, it's your money. Give me a call and I will help you find the guide that will facilitate that for you. But just because a person puts a fly-rod in your hand or there's a fly on the end of your line, it doesn't mean you are "fly-fishing." This, by no means, suggests I'm a purist in the sense that there is only one way to fly-fish. But I strongly believe that if you are going to call it "fly-fishing," there are elements that need to be considered.

Why is this important? It's a good question and I'll tell you why; when people who don't have much experience in the sport of fly-fishing watch, "A River Runs Through It," and it piques their interest and they do a Google search for fly-fishing guides, I think we have a responsibility to fulfill their expectations. If it's just catching fish, that's easy. Grab a rod and a box of lures or Styrofoam bucket of worms and start chucking. Eventually, you will catch fish and in a river like the Missouri at certain times of the year, you'll catch dozens. I've witnessed this over and over again with other guides and even out of my boat, but if a person wants to learn how to fly-fish, they need to learn about the techniques and the traditions that are essential to fly-fishing and realize that although catching fish is important, the goal of engaging in the act of "fly-fishing" is commensurate to the goal of catching fish. In other words, it's not just act of catching a fish, it's doing it in a manner that is different than just chucking bait or a spinner, consistent with what defines fly-fishing as a whole.

I have seen all too often, what happens when folks catch fish without actually engaging in fly-fishing but calling it fly-fishing. We create unrealistic expectations for everyone participating in the sport and then use those expectations as a barometer for success even though the folks who are actually learning the discipline, may not catch as many fish because admittedly, fly-fishing isn't always the most effective means for putting a bunch of fish in the net. I can't tell you how many times I've witnessed clients reconvening at the bar, priming each other for the bragging about to commence, and inevitably, watching the air get taken from one or several clients as the others boast about the dozens of fish they caught not even considering what techniques they were learning or whether they were fishing hatchery fish versus wild trout or whether or not they were even fly-fishing at all. All that does is puts pressure on clients and guides and takes away from the fun. But it also, more importantly, robs the client of the potential to learn new skills and challenge themselves because the goal now changes to a competition over numbers. 

Fly-fishing isn't supposed to be easy. There are skills and knowledge that need to be developed and that should be why people want to take the journey. Success isn't just the grip and grin. It's the realization that you actually learned at least some of the process paramount to the tradition of fly-fishing and in the end, you were able to use a more technical discipline and you were successful. Otherwise, just go fishing with a spinning rod.

This doesn't mean that there is only one way to fly-fish any more than there is only one way to play jazz guitar. However, like playing jazz guitar, there are specific rules and techniques consistent with jazz traditions that have to be considered or you're not really playing jazz at all just like you may be fishing but it doesn't mean you are actually fly-fishing. It also means that just because you're playing a Gibson ES-75, doesn't necessarily mean you are playing jazz music any more than if you have an Orvis Helios in your hand, necessarily means you are fly-fishing. And again, there's nothing wrong with that unless you are claiming to occupy the same space as someone who is learning to fly-fish and comparing yourself to someone engaging in a discipline that is much more technical and advanced. 

It seems silly, right? But if I claim to teach fly-fishing and don't really adhere to the traditions that make up fly-fishing, then is it fair to charge the same money and compete for clients with the same expectations as those folks who do and call it something it is not?  It would be like strapping a Guitar Hero guitar around a dude's shoulder, plugging them into the game console set at the easiest setting, telling them to strum along with the music and then proclaiming, "look, you're a rock star!" Meanwhile, there's another musician who has practiced diligently for the past 5 years who can now actually string a few chords together and somehow, they are seen as equals. In fact, what's coming out of the first musician's speakers is way cooler, and now the second musician is wondering why they spent so much time and money on taking lessons when they could have just gone down to Jimmie Lipper's mom's basement and played the Wii. Or, like paying for jazz guitar instructions, and then showing up to the sessions and all they do is play the Wii without teaching anything about chords, scales, or jazz theory. Then, a year later the student shows up to a jam session with some real musicians and says, "oh, yeah, I play jazz, I've been taking lessons for a year." Someone hands them the Gibson and they don't even know how to tune it. And the crazy thing is, the student in this case, would inevitably blame the guitar for not producing the right sound because that's what they've been told by someone who's trusted as being a professional. (Phew...take a breath.)

And again, I feel like I have to say this several times or I'm going to get crucified; if you just want to catch fish and you're ok with doing whatever it takes, or you just want to play the Wii and you're willing to spend the money, (which many people do,) then have at it. Just don't pretend that you are fly-fishing and occupy the same space as those folks that do want to learn to actually fly-fish or want to actually learn to play jazz guitar.

What Brings Us Together

When I first moved out to Montana 23 years ago, I tied on a prince nymph under a cork on an ultralight spinning rod and crushed the brookies and cutthroats and had a blast. Seriously. If you want to have a lot of fun on the creeks, try it. And if you want to get a kid into fishing, it's a great first step. I think, in order to continue this discussion, we need to recognize the things all fishers share. Being in the outdoor and catching fish is fun. Regardless of the method, fishing is fun and rewarding and it gets us to places we might not discover if we didn't have a rod in our hands. 

A love for the outdoors and the desire to pursue something wild is intoxicating to anyone that spends the time and money to fish or hunt. If it was just about harvesting food, there are way cheaper and way faster ways to put food on the table. In fact, most of us don't even keep the fish we catch because if I'm going to be honest, trout aren't that good. Obviously, some fish are, and I do a fair amount of ice-fishing for perch out here but trout? Not so much. We fish because we enjoy the outdoors, and we enjoy the pursuit and the feeling of success that comes from catching fish. 

Trout are mysterious, though. Maybe it's the colors or the patterns that camouflage them in gin-clear streams or because of how allusive and wild they are, or maybe it's because of all the articles that have been written about them but for some reason, trout just have something about them that when caught, makes the heart beat a little faster and the adrenaline flow a little harder. Maybe it's because they appear so smart or because they are typically, so damn fickle. Whatever it is, every trout I catch seems to mean something--like an accomplishment that separates me as one of the "haves" for a brief moment. And when I release a trout, I feel good about it; like I've completed a circle and maybe at some point, someone else catches that same fish and we get to share something pretty special. 

So, What's the Big Deal?

At some point in my first year or so in Montana, I was talking to a buddy who was obsessed with fly-fishing, and he explained to me the difference between fly-fishing and other forms of fishing and why he was so passionate about it. His passion infected me, and I found myself buying books and a rod and the journey, traversing one of the steepest learning curves I've navigated, began. 

Fishing, by itself, is an activity that gets us out in nature and provides some recreation--sometimes providing table fare, and often a way to connect with others. Fly-fishing is a discipline. I've used that term earlier in this essay and it's important to distinguish the difference. I'm not trying to put myself, or anyone else who chooses to learn the sport, on a pedestal, but I think when one makes that choice to fly-fish, there is a commitment to learning the many different elements that make up fly-fishing and to stay true to the traditions, hence the word, "discipline." When I studied the discipline of sociology, there was a commitment to learning about the theories of sociology and adhere to those theories to develop a paradigm, or a lens, for which I view the world. In fly-fishing, it's no different and a major part of the fun is the process of learning and developing skills that are consistent with those traditions. And as we develop more skills and a better understanding of the discipline, we are better at understanding the process, being able to predict and control the outcomes, which is essentially the scientific method in a nutshell. However, we do that within the framework that makes up the art of fly-fishing. 

I know that sounds a little deep and a little dry but think of all the things we do in our normal lives that fit in with this idea of the scientific method, which some would suggest, separates us from other animals. Even just in our interactions with our best friend, the dog, we often get obsessed with throwing the ball for them almost as much as they want to retrieve it. Why? Because it gives us a sense of control. Anytime we train the dog or teach it a new trick, we feel good about it because of what that symbolizes to us. We are in control and when the dog defies us, we feel the frustration and even anger because we've lost that control. 

I was talking to a gentleman the other day at the brewery who compared fly-fishing to gambling. With gambling, there's a reason why people get addicted to it and that has a lot to do with an unscheduled/intermittent reinforcement system that pulls us in. We crave the reward, and we feel like we know it's going to happen, but we don't know when. We even feel like we might have some control in that, but we really don't. And every once in a while, we get a little bit of an affirmation for our efforts or our investment, and we are hooked. I would suggest that we can make those parallels to fishing in general but with fly-fishing, we are actually learning to control the outcomes, which, when it happens, is what's really intoxicating. When we learn to put all the pieces of the puzzle together and we get that 20-inch brown to come up to sip a dead PMD lying flat on the water, that we picked out from the 50 other patterns that might mimic a PMD at different stages of the bug's life, or even better, we actually tied that fly from scratch and it actually tricked that fish, that's what's truly intoxicating. 

However, that 20-inch brown that might symbolize success didn't happen without taking a journey that started at a particular point that also symbolizes a significant amount of investment. In other words, catching that 20-inch brown would be cool for anyone, but the taste of victory is so much sweeter because of all the things that went into catching that fish that has taken a lot of time and effort. And the really cool thing is the journey is a personal journey that is defined by how much time and energy one wants to invest. However, the investment is still defined within the context of what fly-fishing is because that's the point. You're fly-fishing, not bait fishing and you were successful in fly-fishing and that, paradoxically, is recognized by a community that also understands the investment.  It is a personal journey, but it's a journey that is validated by a lot of others who have also taken a similar, however very personal journey, themselves.

What You Need to Know

First and foremost, with all this talk about the scientific method what you really need to understand is that fly-fishing is much more an art than a science. What I mean is that there are so many ways to interpret all the different things going on in nature, that it gives us the freedom to explore and develop our own path. That sounds a bit paradoxical as well, because I've also suggested, or not even suggested but tried to pound the point home, the importance of adhering to the traditions. Both are true. It is important, when fly-fishing, to recognize and learn the rules, and then figure out how to put your own stamp on it. In doing so, you may even go beyond student and into creator and then teaching and that's what is really fun and why I still enjoy guiding.

The first fly I ever tied was a grasshopper pattern that I created myself. I took it down to the Little Prickly Pear and almost on the first cast, caught an 18-inch brown. It was exhilarating. A week later I took that same fly to the Missouri with my buddy and he kind of laughed at it. I begged him to let me try it and after a half hour of nothing even looking at it, he grabbed my line, snipped off my hopper and put on this foam thing that he had bought from the shop, and I began crushing fish. That was humbling. It was also a challenge and I found myself going back to the bench, making adjustments, and figuring out patterns that would not only work on a creek, but would also work on a river as technical as the Missouri. 

This idea of fly-fishing being an artform goes beyond tying flies. It's also the way one casts that might be artistic in the sense of the person observing, but more-so, in the realization that we all develop our own style. That's why there are hundreds of different rods with different flexes and different actions so we can get the most out of our equipment and our style of casting. The art is also expressed in the way we read the water or how we present a fly and how we fight a fish once we hook it. All these things come down to our own interpretation of those traditions and is how we put our own signature on fly-fishing and what makes it special. 

Don't think there isn't science involved, however. The dynamic between the rod, the line, and finding that perfect combination has evolved over time because of the science. We also have to be really good at entomology and life cycles of bugs and fish as well. Weather patterns can turn fish on and turn them off. Science is also important, and our understanding of the science and then what we do with that will lead to success.

The Elementary Discussion

What makes up fly-fishing? What are the traditions and elements of fly-fishing that separates it from "normal" fishing? 

Whenever I take a person fishing for the first time, they ask these questions. Maybe not exactly like that but you get the point. As mentioned earlier, I firmly believe that if you are going to call it fly-fishing, it has to be consistent with a definition of fly-fishing that is grounded in tradition and basic concepts that separate it from other forms of fishing. Otherwise, and again, you may be fishing but you ain't fly-fishing. 

Let's talk gear and casting for a moment, remembering, you could be holding a fly-rod in your hand and/or using flies, but there's more to it than just having the gear. In spinning gear, the weight of the thing that is being casted, is at the end of the line. It's the lure or the worm or the bobber that generates the momentum to fling the thing. In fly-fishing, the idea is that you are using flies that are too light to generate the momentum, so the weight is in the line itself. Because of that, the line and rod create a dynamic that allows you to cast a very light object, quite a long way. This concept is crucial to what fly-fishing is and what it means is that you do have to learn how to cast. Yeah. Go figure. This dynamic was created centuries ago and unfortunately, if you are huckin a bunch of weight over the side of the boat just to find the water ten feet out, that isn't consistent with the tradition of fly-fishing and I would suggest, you're kind of missing a major component. I understand that sounds a bit snobbish but...

Bugs, bugs and more bugs...a basic understanding of entomology is also crucial to being successful in fly-fishing and most of the time, it's just left up to the guide. I try to bring people into the process of choosing patterns but in a couple of days a year on the water, which is what most people get that come out to Montana and hire a guide, that's one of the things that can bog an angler down. There just isn't the time to explain the different bugs and their life cycles and why at certain times of the day I might use this stage of fly versus a different stage in the afternoon, but it does matter. A person could get a master's degree in entomology and still not fully understand how to incorporate that into fishing. However, the bare minimum ought to include at least a discussion for why a fish might see the fly being used as food. 

Imitating the bugs, picking the right flies, and doing so consistent with the tradition is something that gets debated, and is a huge bone of contingency for a lot of people. If you are a true snob, you only use natural materials tied in a manner that has been developed thousands of years ago, somewhere in Egypt. Since then, the snobs have taken that to another level where those flies being tied have to be dry flies that sit on top the water so that a trout has to rise to the surface to eat and you actually get to watch the take. However, I feel like this is a pretty narrow definition of what fly-fishing is. Flies can absolutely be tied to represent stages of food that are sub-surface, and it doesn't necessarily have to represent bugs. In my opinion, as long as it's a visual representation of natural food, it's fair game. 

Throughout the years, more durable and more enticing materials have been developed that help the angler get a leg up, so to speak. We draw lines, and we debate over what is appropriate and what we think tramples over those lines. What has become clear, is that for as much heat this topic gets, I think these debates keep us floundering about in the weeds, uncovering a mess of hypocrisies that are nearly impossible to reconcile. What's important to me is that there is something being tied to a hook, that's not mass produced by a machine or molded into a shape like a rubber worm or an egg. However, if you open my fly box, I'm sure you'll see plenty of examples of things like mylar or other synthetics that would suggest I'm a liar. I won't use rubber material or a plastic bead because that's where I draw the line, but I know people who do and I'm ok with that because there are other things they do incorporate into the process like drift and presentation that brings them back into the fold. I feel like a fly needs to be something tied out of somewhat natural materials or materials mimicking natural materials but I'm not above tying on a grappling hook, AKA the wire worm. Yes, I'm a hypocrite too, and I'm ok with the judgement. 

I will say this, however and it's something I won't bend on. The imitation is supposed to represent food in a visual manner. If you are soaking a rubber legs, or a crayfish pattern in some kind of Gulp minnow juice or a Powerbait packet, you have crossed the line. That is bait fishing. Again, you might be holding a rod in your hand, and you do have a fly on, and it can be a lot of fun and might put more fish in the boat but it's not really fly-fishing.

I also will draw a firm line with the use of mechanical stimulation. A fly called the Pistol Pete has been created with a spinner on the nose. The spinner will move water creating vibrations that, intern, trigger the fish to strike. Some flies are tied with sliding beads that, in theory, act like Rattle Trap lures where the sound triggers the strike. Using vibrations, sounds, or scents are not consistent with the tradition of fly-tying and in my opinion, don't belong in the sport.

Presentation is also hugely important. The idea is that the angler offers up an imitation in a way that represents what a fish is actually looking to eat. Drift matters. Getting the fly to sit on the water or in the water to appear natural, is a huge part of the puzzle. We can cheat that or handicap it for folks by adding weight or swinging big flies with big hooks in a manner that the fish can't get out of the way or even floss fish like I mentioned in the first paragraph but again, that's going away from the tradition of what fly-fishing is. Now, we could spend hours and hours on presentation and how to get that perfect drift but that's for future blog posts and potentially, future hours in on the river. Some of that may even include swinging flies that mimic bait fish or emerging flies or slapping stoneflies on the water or twitching hoppers, but all techniques are still meant to represent natural food. That truly is an essential component to the art of fly-fishing and something most of us spend years perfecting.

Being able to read water is also an essential aspect to the sport that can't be overlooked. It is true that one could drift down the middle of the Missouri River at many times of the year and throw a line out and catch fish. However, understanding where the fish live and why they are stacked up in some spots versus others will exponentially improve one's odds for both, catching more fish and bigger fish depending on the goal. Looking at a small stream and picking out a boulder, and assuming there is a fish hiding behind it is a good bet. That seems pretty obvious but then being able to identify the nuances on a big river like the Missouri is entirely another level. Why is it that when we drift through this one spot, we almost always catch fish? Why are there so many fish stacked up in one big eddy and not another? Why do big browns often sit in shallow riffles in the summer while the seams and eddies are full of 18inch rainbows?  Recognizing structure is only one part of the equation. Reading water also means having and understanding of why fish are where they are and where to put the fly in order to get that fish to eat. Reading currents that will bring the fly to a rising fish or how to anticipate drag on a nymph as it passes a seem and whether or not it will sink to the depth of where a fish is holding is all crucial. 

The technique for landing fish is also something that I feel separates fly-fishing from spin-fishing, in large part because of the gear. Bait casting and spinning gear has become so efficient that you could be reeling at the same time the fish is running out line and you can get away with it. The reel is doing the work. A fly-reel doesn't have the same kind of drag system. That, along with the fact we are usually fishing light leaders due to the size of the flies we are using, means there has to be a lot more finesse and you actually have to do the work. The angler, essentially, controls the drag, not a mechanism in the reel. Again, there is a lot of debate over how that should be done, and we all develop a style or technique, but there is an element of finesse that can't be overlooked. And again, we as guides have a habit of handicapping this part of the puzzle for clients because we like to see them land fish. 

There are also certain types of fishing, especially in salt water, where traditional techniques go right out the window because of the size, strength and speed of the species targeted. Having said that, there should be an art to it that considers finesse because regardless of the species or the environment, in fly-fishing you are almost always using tackle that is more rudimentary and lighter weight than what you would be with a spinning rod. 

Many of these concepts are subjective. I get that and the last couple things I'm going to talk about aren't necessarily exclusive to fly-fishing but more of a personal perception of what fishing and participation in the outdoors should include. One such concept has to deal with the preservation of our fisheries. Anyone can stand up in the boat and look down to see reds, or spawning beds, along the bottom with a bunch of fish on them at the right time of the year. (Or maybe you don't recognize you are fishing reds and just think you're a hero because you're ass-pounding a bunch of fatty rainbows.) Obviously, by targeting those fish, you're going to put numbers in the net, but should you? This is something that, again, gets debated and most of us are on the same page. However, there are fisheries where the majority of the fish aren't really spawning because they are hatchery fish and they're just kind of going through the motions and there's a justification for targeting those fish. I, for one, don't really concern myself with those fish because I know they are going to be replenished every year by FWP through their stocking program. 

But what's happening is that guides are fishing these reds in the spring, over and over and over again to make their clients feel like heroes, and I guess, give them a sense that they are getting what they are paying for. Some even have clickers or counters and at the end of the day, show their clients the numbers and high-five each other for the amazing anglers they are. What does this do? As for the immediate, not much. Again, those fish are going to be replenished using dollars collected through our taxes and licensing fees. Subsequently, the guides and outfitters fishing these fisheries make money off of the stocking program and there could be some discussion there for how ethical that is. I'll leave that up to you. But in the long-term, what I see as particularly problematic, is the lack of education that is happening for preserving wild trout in wild fisheries. Most of the clients don't even know they are fishing hatchery fish and might not realize they are fishing reds. I wonder how they would feel if they did know that. So, when they get to a wild fishery and start pounding the reds because they don't know any better, who's going to tell them to give those fish a break or explain to them the damage they are causing to these wild fisheries when the standard has already been set with the hatchery fish? And, when these folks do have the opportunity to fish on a wild fishery for wild trout and maybe only catch 10 fish versus the 50 they might get in the kiddie pool, who's going to talk them off the ledge for either wasting their money on "inferior" guides on an "inferior" river or for having the realization that fishing for wild trout actually takes some skill? This is the problem I see with not adhering to those fly-fishing traditions. Part of that, a big part, is understanding wild trout versus hatchery fish and how important it is to preserve our wild fisheries and appreciate the difference between the two. And AGAIN, it's their money and with all the boats that fish these hatchery fish would indicate, there isn't a shortage of people willing to spend their money on catching them. All I ask then, is to be honest and tell it for what it is and not pretend it's something it's not. 

I got into fly-fishing, in part, for the cerebral exercise it has become but also the fact that it gets me away from the hustle of daily life. Most of the time, when I fish for myself, I don't see another person. I'm usually somewhere in the mountains on some small stream and I'm able to focus on the task. It becomes a form a meditation and is therapeutic. Not competing with other people, only striving to put all the pieces of the puzzle together in order to trick that one fish is what brings me to the river. It's just me and the fish and I couldn't care less about whether or not the guy I meet at the bar later that night has caught more fish than me or bigger fish. This is my journey. Not his. I am at a different stage in this journey that may be further along than him or maybe just in a different place laterally. It's a personal journey that I don't feel needs to be corrupted by ego or validated by Instagram posts and honestly, I get a little disenfranchised with the fly-fishing community as a whole when I hear people brag about two things in particular. The first is counting how many fish they caught and the second, that they caught them all on dry flies. In both cases, it's about propping oneself above another, instead of being grateful for the opportunity Mother Nature has provided for exercising one's soul. Having said that, I think it's awesome that people want to share in the joy of their accomplishments, and I love hearing about two-footers on hoppers as long as that's met with an equal appreciation for their contemporaries' accomplishments no matter how grate or small. 

In wrapping all this up, I would like to extend an invitation to anyone who would like to share their own opinions about what fly-fishing is to them. I'm sure, at times, some of you reading this have had your feathers ruffled. You can respond in the comments, or hell, let's go fishing and you can tell me in person. I can't promise you'll catch 50 fish or that you'll catch the two-footer. What I can promise is that you will learn something about fly-fishing, the environment, or yourself, and hopefully all the above, and to me, that's more important than a grip and grin or hanging 50 on the clicker.

Keep 'em where they live...