Get past the horseplay right at the start of the most recent Orvis podcast (the player should appear below), and it’s a pretty good listen. Fly fishing in the wind is one of my least favorite activities, and I’ve heard literally  mounds of advice over the years. Some of it, frankly, seemed pretty bad.

Orvis has avoided all that in this podcast, but I’m looking for the Undergrounders to throw down their ideas.

Here, Tom Rosenbaeur and Perk Perkins advise anglers to not push the rod harder and don’t fight the wind, all of which is transparently good advice.

He and Rosenbauer also offer up a few non-controversial ideas, including:

• Keep casts low to the water (less windy there)
• Use a Belgian cast (a constantly loaded elliptical cast) to keep the line moving (haven’t tried it for wind, but it’s handy when you’re casting heavy flies like streamers)
• Use shorter leaders and smaller flies
• Cast a shorter rod

Interestingly, Perkins suggests he does just as well with a mid-flex rod in the wind as he does with a tip flex – something I did once experience fishing 6wts on a lake. I don’t get it, but it was true for me.

Is that simply because moderate tapers suit my casting style, or is there something else? (Discuss)

The Chainsaw Death Match Part

Finally, we get to the good stuff; Lefty Kreh has famously suggested underlining a fly rod by one line weight on windy days, apparently so you can throw tighter loops and generate faster line speeds.

And yes, I tried that once. The results weren’t pretty.

Apparently, Perkins and Rosenbauer don’t think much of the idea either, and in the interest of fomenting an Industry-Wide Death Match between Big-Name Heavy-Hitters, I’ve gotta ask the Undergrounders: has anyone else actually tried this, and had it work (or not)?

In my case, I’d suggest the lighter line loaded the rod less and offered less mass to “boss” the fly.

Perhaps If I’d been throwing a midge, it wouldn’t have mattered, but I was throwing a #14 parachute during a Callaebatis hatch, and eventually switched back to my original 6wt line (the rated line).

I’ve heard of anglers opting to overline a rod by one line weight on a windy day, so clearly, there’s ample room here for violent disagreement discussion.

Obviously, there’s plenty of room to screw around with all this stuff, but after years of mucking about, I simply fish a 6wt when it’s windy. Sometimes the simple solution is the best.

Where do the Undergrounders land on the subject of wind, fly rods, fly lines, and the prospect of an industry blood bath stuff?

Technorati Tags: fishing in the wind, fly casting, fly casting in the wind, fly fishing in the wind, fly rods, orvis podcast

It was late Saturday and the L&T and I were blasting our way up the Upper Sacramento River canyon – new, cranky daughter in the car seat and two barely conscious adults piloting – when the October Caddis started bouncing off the windshield (more on the trip later).

Sometimes, an unfortunate group of pumpkin-colored caddis sometimes mistake the I5 freeway for a river, forming up over the asphalt ribbon in ill-fated mating flights, and while cruel ironies are always appreciated at the Underground, I truly have little interest in seeing what an October Caddis looks like from the inside.

Big trout on October Caddis dries? Yep, but not as often as you think...

Still, the caddis were flying, but after better than two weeks spent literally on the other side of the globe (completely without Internet access), the disconnection struck me, and I had to ask: “How did the caddis happen without me?”

The Caddis-Go-Round

The October Caddis have become a milestone event on the Upper Sacramento and McCloud Rivers; the October emergence of these amberish-colored, small-hummingbird-sized caddis often occurs in front of the year’s biggest crowds of fly fishermen (several fly fishing clubs plan outings), yet the weather – while often cold at night – is still pretty comfortable during the day.

The result are a lot of fly fishermen throwing big, big dry flies (#6-#10s) at trout, some of whom will actually eat the things in splashy, aggressive takes.

Of course, no fly fishing hatch comes without its “gotcha” moment, and what’s true is that often, the big October Caddis don’t generate much in the way of interest from the trout. In fact, it’s common to fish a #18 PED through an October Caddis hatch and catch more trout.

It’s also true – when I first wrote about the October Caddis in 2007 (“Fly Fishing the Upper Sacramento in the Fall: An October Caddis Primer“) – that the best October Caddis fishing might be found in early winter, when the bugs are dying and falling into the water.

Presumably, the trout “know” that dead bugs won’t make a last-minute getaway, and the party (as they say), begins.

Now For a Real Expert

Everything I’ve told you about the October Caddis I’ve said before (but oy, nobody listens, nobody writes, nobody calls, especially you kids with your iPods and fancy-pants phones, and hey get off my lawn).

Still, I’ve always stopped far short of claiming expert status around the October Caddis, mostly because I may have caught a fair number of big trout during October Caddis season, but never with the kind manly, chiseled-jaw confidence I have when hitting the Green Drakes of spring.

And while it seems that becoming an online commando is all the rage these days, I’m going to defer to someone who hasn’t spent the last month on kid-related stuff: Craig Nielsen of ShastaTrout.com, who does the responsible adult thing and posts real fly fishing reports while I’m over here changing diapers and ruminating on the power of bikini photographs to change our lives for the better.

Right now, it’s raining hard at Trout Underground/Man Cave/Soiled Diaper World Headquarters, and the river’s starting to come up, though the line between an unfishable river and a refreshing plug of water that turns on the trout is finer than you’d believe; at some point, both conditions may be true. (What, you wanted easy? Take up checkers…)

Simply put, I’m back, and there’s more to come, though what “more” looks like is yet to be determined.

See you fishing the October Caddis, Tom Chandler.

Technorati Tags: Fly Fishing, mccloud river, october caddis, upper sac, upper sacramento river

Fly fishing writer Ed Engle remains an Underground favorite, largely because he’s a real predator on the water , and his writing is largely free of the ego and artifice that clogs the efforts of so many fly fishing writers.

His latest column in the Boulder Daily Camera is typically clean and clear, focused as it is on winter midge fishing, a pursuit that – in the style of predators everywhere – Engle’s stripped down to the bare bones:

It may sound strange, but my strategy on these difficult-to-catch fish is dogged simplification. I use a “soft” 9-foot, 5-weight fly rod, a hand-tied 12-foot leader of my own design and a single size 22 or smaller fly pattern that imitates a midge pupa or, less often, some sort of low-riding dry fly or cripple pattern.

I would probably be more successful if I fished a tiny dry fly and trailed the midge pupa imitation behind it because I could use the dry fly as a strike indicator. But I’ve caught enough midging trout using two-fly techniques and it was a good day for me when I finally figured out that what I like most is catching a trout in the most direct way possible.

My most memorable fish have been the ones where there was as little between me and the trout as possible. That means no junk or gizmos attached to the leader other than a single small, unweighted fly that I’ve tied myself and the application of a no-nonsense aesthetically pleasing, but practical, cast.

The icing on the cake is when the trout takes my artificial fly in precisely the same way that it has taken the naturals.

I wish I’d written that.

In truth, this is precisely the kind of fly fishing I thought we’d get when the Upper Sacramento was opened to winter fly fishing.

Oddly – unless I’m completely missing the right time slots – we almost never get fish working midges in the winter, though it’s something we often get in the summer. Go figure.

I’m not complaining about the Upper Sac’s winter BWO hatches: challenging fish, clear water, small “technical” flies, long casts – these are a few of my favorite things (unless I’m doing poorly, when it kinda sucks)

As further proof that Einstein’s theory of relativity applies to fly fishermen, it’s clear that in the Underground Universe, one trout caught on a nearly invisible #22 emerger is more satisfying than one caught blind nymphing.

My infrequent trips to Idaho’s Big Wood River in winter have produced the kind of minimalist, tiny-fly fishing Engle’s talking about, and yes, every time I approach the Upper Sacramento in winter, I wonder if this is the time I’ll find them eating midges.

See you on the river (chasing midges), Tom Chandler.

Technorati Tags: bamboo fly rod, fishing, fishing small flies, Fly Fishing, midges, winter fly fishing

When I left for the Fly Fishing Retailer show, fall was merely a threat on the horizon. When I arrived home, I discovered it was here waiting for me.

Wednesday was cold and windy — the prototype of the gray fall day — and the heater fired itself up for the first time this year as the outside temperature hit a chilly 38 degrees.

Thursday warmed, and while I got lost in the mountains around Trout Creek with Curtis Knight and Drew Simmons of CalTrout (taking in the McCloud Redband Trout habitat restoration projects), the weather turned beautiful again.

Sure, fall means the short, dark days of winter are coming, but it also means the river will wake up from its summer doldrums. That ain’t bad.

The October Caddis Effect

Soon, the October Caddis will leave the bottom of the river and — on some nights — fill the air with pumpkin-colored bugs the size of small hummingbirds.

Naturally, the big bugs draw big crowds, and in October, the river’s often overrun by fly fishers. Clubs flock here en masse, yet it’s impressive how rarely the hatch pays off for most fly fishers.

It’s common to catch trout on #18 PMD dries while clouds of October Caddis obscure the sky, and the dirty little secret is that the best October Caddis dry fly fishing usually comes much later in the year — when the caddis adults are dying, the fish are watching for dead drifted specimens, and the river is empty.

Meanwhile, BWO hatches start popping up in some surprising places, and the river’s normally as low and clear as it gets. Oddly, the late Fall BWOs are smaller than those that typically hatch in winter (#20 or #22 vs an #18), and I wish it was the opposite so I could ease into the tiny bug fishing a little bit easier.

At this point in the year, the trout in the flatter, more technical water get pretty damned spooky — many simply stop rising when you false cast anywhere near them — and your margin for error on the cast dwindles. That’s when I turn to Sully’s Extraterrestrial Leader — the 16.5′ product of an alien civilization.

Don’t try to fish an October Caddis dry with the thing, but

The Gear

Gear choices in the fall are never easy; one minute you’re nymphing a big, heavy October Caddis pupae, and the next you’re fishing 7x tippet with #20 BWOs on flat water. In between, you could end up slapping a big, bushy October Caddis dry in pocket water seams.

In other words, when you walk away from the truck at the start of the day, you better not be holding a one-trick pony fly rod.

My old solution was a reasonably tapered, very smooth bamboo 6wt. It had the line mass to boss a bigger fly, but the flex to protect extremely light tippets.

Sadly, three winters ago, an icy boulder shifted underneath me and tossed me hard onto the ground (with my beloved 8′ 6wt quad beneath me), so that’s not the option it used to be. (Actually, it’s not an option at all. It’s kindling.

Since then, I’ve run through a series of 8.5′ and 8′ 5wt bamboo and fiberglass rods looking for the Universal Fall Fishing Replacement Rod, but now I realize that I’m pretty much going to fish whatever strikes me that day anyway, so why agonize?

I have committed to a pair of rods for technical BWO fishing: Raine’s 8′3″ 4wt hollowbuilt cane rod and a Diamondglass 8.5′ 4wt glass rod. Both rods are so sweet and effective that I’m pretty sure I don’t have to show up to catch fish.

(Sure, love is blind — remember when you thought your high school girlfriend’s awful laugh was cute??)

Whatever your choice, it helps to if you can change leaders relatively quickly, and while I don’t much like braided line loops, it’s one time of the year they might be worth the hassle.

The Flies

Flies, of course, are wildly personal things, and my suggestions are limited to the broadest strokes. You need some kind of big October Caddis pupae, including a heavily weighted version. Something as simple as an amber-ish Hare’s Ear Soft hackle in size 6 or 8 will do, but certainly, more sophisticated versions exist.

Stimulators are the workhorse October Caddis dries, but I prefer something that sits lower in the water, and hooks more of the fish that eat it.

I eventually came up with a fly that included a bouyant elk hair body lashed to the hook, overdubbed with a pumpkin/amber dubbing mix, a mylar rib, an elk hair wing, and a hackle collar.

Of course, if you show up without the requisite PEDs and BWO imitations, you could very well be stuck in neutral, and since no fly fisher goes anywhere without a bunch of Pheasant Tails, midges, Adams, Stimmies, Elk Hair Caddis, etc, I won’t even mention them.

You might realize I’m not what you call a stickler about fly patterns. That’s either because I’m a presentationist at heart, or I’m unbelievably lazy about getting flies tied, and to tell you the truth, I’m not sure which tendency helped create the other.

It’s just another mystery of the universe.

The Weather

Fall weather varies widely, and the fly fishermen who shows up without fleece jackets, rain gear and fleece pants is in trouble. Of course, you’ll also be in trouble if you show up without shorts and tropical fishing clothes.

Remember, this is the mountains, and the weather up here changes more often than a teenager’s mind, and the trick isn’t so much to rue what’s about to happen as adapt to it.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

[tags]fly fishing, upper sac, upper sacramento river, fishing, october caddis, bwo, blue winged olive[/tags]

The fly fishing world is awash in them — the endless “Ten ways to be a better nympher and score more babes” articles. You’ve seen them:

Seven Secrets to Catching Bigger Fish.Ten Tips for Better Split Shot Management. The 20 Places You Must Visit if You Need Dumber, Bigger Fish Than You’ve Got at Home. And so on.

People apparently read the hell out of “Top Ten” articles, so naturally, I wanted to cash in too. But what could I write when all the obvious “Top Ten ” ideas are already taken?

With the help of Wally the Wonderdog (and a few of Mt. Shasta Brewery’s finest), I present:

The Six Fly Fishing Hints You Absolutely, Positively, Can’t Live Without — But Will Never Read about in the Fly Fishing Magazines.

1. Never utter the words “This doesn’t look too deep” to your partner before wading in. The best you can hope for is to be right (a rare thing indeed). When you’re wrong, you’ll look like a complete and utter moron. In fact, as you wring out your hat, your fishing “buddy” will likely say “You look like a complete and utter moron.” He’ll be right.

2. Always keep a flask of whiskey close at hand. The ability to brandish a flask of whiskey has saved many a fishing trip from certain doom — especially those involving two or more people. Years ago, I had to repeatedly quick-draw a flask in the face of a muttering, unhappy mob of fly fishers, who were under the impression that I knew (in a literal sense) the way to the lake.

Of course, I knew in a metaphorical sense, but with the flask running low from repeated quickdraws, I thought my goose was cooked, until a glimpse of blue water peeked from around the next corner. No, I didn’t know the lake was there, but I was willing to pretend I did, which was enough for the by-now tipsy members of the party. Trip saved.

3. Carry an empty rod tube in your car (and make sure your spouse sees it). Should you ever indulge in an impulse rod buy that your spouse might find objectionable, you simply carry the new rod into the house safely ensconsed in the old tube, announcing that it was “about time I got all this crap out of my car.” Later, if anyone notices the tube still in the car, simply say you put it back “just in case.”

4. Do not — under any circumstances — use a vacuum cleaner to “tidy up around the rod closet.” I learned this through grim personal experience, but apparently I’m not alone. Remember; the higher the modulus, the faster it breaks.

5. Never watch “Jaws” before going float tubing. That’s all I’m saying.

6. Do NOT eat four slaw dogs before going fishing. Whatever their waterproofing qualities, waders are also adept at trapping gaseous emissions and channelling them skywards — where they can do significant damage to sensitive olfactory equipment. There’s nothing quite like that big, warm, slaw-dog induced Air Bubble of Doom as it works its way up your body in the epidermal version of Sherman’s March on Atlanta. When it finally it bursts through The Wading Belt Barrier, you’re lucky if you only black out.

Of course, that’s only six, and the proper “Ten Tips…” article requires ten. I leave it to the Undergrounders to come up with four more — which I’ll steal (of course), and pitch to the nearest fly fishing magazine (so it can be rejected, and I can

See you at the Ten Tips counter, Tom Chandler.

[tags]fly fishing, fishing, ten tips, slaw dog[/tags]

From Opax (our Finnish finny blogger friend) comes this photograph without comment:

Well damnit, we’ll comment. Drying or cleaning a fly line on the toilet roll is sheer genius.

And imagine how nicely it might work in a hotel room (assuming you stay in a hotel offering indoor plumping — never a sure thing on a fishing trip).

Sure, some will see this as a neat little time-saving technique. Visionaries like me? We see it as proof the voyage of discovery that is life never ends. Never.

[tags]fly fishing, fishing, fly line[/tags]

The Winehiker blog reminded me that it’s tick season again.

I haven’t had many problems with them up here, but fly fishermen are seriously at risk for the little bloodsucking critters like Nestle who burrow into your skin and transmit pretty debilitating diseases.

Blood suckers of the worst order. Remind you of Nestle anyone?

He’s posted a short article about ticks, and links to another site with more complete instructions, including this straightforward primer for tick removal:

Ticks should be removed promptly. The longer it is attached the higher the chance of disease transmission. Remove it carefully to prevent disease transmission:

1. Using fine pointed tweezers, grasp the tick as close to the skin as possible without squeezing the tick’s body.
2. Firmly pull it straight out (expect to feel some resistance). Save the tick for future testing by placing it in a plastic bag or in a small jar of alcohol. If a tick is to tested for spirochetes place it in a small jar or vial with a blade of grass to keep it alive. Be sure to note the date and site of the bite for future reference.
3. NEVER: squeeze the tick, burn it, or cover it with Vaseline or any other substance.
4. Remember to disinfect the site of the bite, wash your hands and disinfect your tweezers.
5. Contact your doctor.

Interestingly, I’ve heard that vaseline, heating and the others were the best way to remove Nestle a tick, but the Stopticks folks say don’t. Since it’s on the Internet, it’s gotta be true…

As for the Underground, I’m going to place a very high priority on group tick detection, where people pair off and search each other for ticks after an outdoor experience. (Obviously, I’m going to place an even higher priority on going into the outdoors with attractive folks from the opposite gender.)

See you in group, Tom Chandler.

[tags]fly fishing, fishing, ticks[/tags]

Here’s what you get when you combine a scuba diver, a couple fishermen and the South Platte River: 11 different observations about fly fishing that may or may not surprise you.

From the diver:

I’m in the middle of an experiment to find out what trout really do under the river surface. The only way to truly understand the fish, I figured, was to be the fish, so I got out my scuba gear and jumped in. Here’s what I learned.

Read the rest of the article at: Field & Stream – Photo Gallery – Going Deep In The Name Of Trout Research

Some of the “tips” were surprising; others less so. Many run counter to some of my own fishing experiences, and while the article is hugely interesting, it’s best to take it with a grain of salt.

We’re talking about the behavior of trout on the South Platte – one of the most pressured trout fisheries on the planet.

I’d expect those trout to develop behaviors less-pressured fish might not share.

What parts resonated?

• False casting spooks fish (true).
• Suspended fish are active fish (duh).
• Trout often hang out at the edges of different currents and structures (double duh).

What parts made me wince? The bit where the diver noted that indicator nymphers missed about the half their strikes.

His solution was for anglers to set the hook from time to time when a trout “could” be eating it.

He might call that smart. I call it snagging.

Still, a very interesting read. In fact, it’s today assignment; read the thing (it’s fairly short), and then let us know what you thought. See you behind the mask, Tom Chandler.

[tags]fly fishing, field and stream, trout, nymphing[/tags]

The Fly Fish NorCal site – in addition to having the good taste to run some of my material – also showcases articles from other writers, including this thought-provoking little beauty about fly fishing the surf from Ken Hanley.

Fly fishing the surf isn’t perhaps the first thing that leaps to mind when you hear the words “fly fishing,” but saltwater’s the fastest-growing part of the sport, and if there’s something California has in abundance, it’s surf.

It’s pretty. It’s wet. And there are fish there. Why not?

The Underground’s Southern Cal Saltwater Correspondent Jim Troyer has become something of an expert on the genre, and frankly, his e-mails detailing his adventures sound like a hell of a lot of fun.

Sure there’s sand there (icky, scratchy stuff), and those of us in the Jaws generation will never look at the ocean without some level of suspicion, but there’s water, and big, strong fish in that water.

Someday I’ll trick Jim into writing a basic “how-to” article about it, but in the meantime, give Fly Fish Norcal’s article a try.

Any surf fishers out there? Let us know how you like it. And if you’ve ever seen Jaws.

[tags]fly fishing, fly fishing the surf, surf fishing, jaws[/tags]

It’s that time of the year when long leaders are part of the game – especially when fishing small bugs in the low, clear flows.

And when the Underground talks leaders, it talks to Underground Montana Correspondent Sully, who has spent a lifetime testing leader formulas to a state of perfection. (Well, not a whole lifetime. He’s not dead.)

This is perhaps the most unusual of all the Sully recommended leaders – a 16.5′ specimen that always turns over.

When asked about its origins, Sully simply said the original formula was found on twisted fragments of an alien-looking metal during a recent visit to Area 51. Then he pulled out an odd penlight, flashed it in my eyes, and… wait, where am I?

The low, clear flows of fall and winter mean BWOs – and long leaders.

Huh. Lost my train of thought.

Anyway, I see I’ve already pasted the leader formula below. Nobody knows where the formula comes from, though it’s easily the most extra-terrestrial of the Sully leaders, two of which we already passed along (links to those at the end of this post).

I use this leader extensively fishing small flies in the low, clear water of Fall and Winter. The turnover on this is truly amazing, and the drifts are spectacular.

It responds well to caster inputs, so pile and reach casts actually work like they’re supposed to.

Like any long leader, there’s little joy to be found fishing it in the wind. There is, however, a lot of joy in hooking tough fish.

Dia. Length
.025 4′ Rio Powerflex Butt Material (start with 4 feet but trim down length if leader doesn’t turn over well)
.022 3′ Rio Powerflex Butt Material
.017 8″ Rio Powerflex
.015 7″
.013 6″
.011 10″
.010 20″
.011 11″
.009 15″
.007 8″
.005 30″ (6x)

Sully’s pretty specific about materials, but this design will stand some tinkering.

He recently constructed a prototype using Orvis Hy-Flote butt material, which is smaller than the listed sizes and very flexible. It’s a perfect match for my more flexible fly lines (Cortland Sylk and 444 Peach).

I would definitely try a smaller butt diameter if I was trying this leader with a 4wt line.

Other Sully Leader Designs

Sully’s Big Bug Leader design: 10.5′ long and it turns over big dries beautifully. My favorite all-around leader spring and summer.

Sully’s short-range accuracy leader: 7.5′ long, but a small stream killer.

[tags]fly fishing, leader, leader design, BWO[/tags]

Trout aren’t stupid. They might be brainless and lack creativity (a lot like the creators of Gilligan’s Island), but they’re survivors. And they didn’t get that way by offering themselves up as a meal for every predator that wanders by.

Which – if you stop to watch most fly fishers on the water – begs the obvious question. Why don’t more fly fishers act like predators?

Wayne Eng’s so skinny he probably doesn’t need to be sneaky, but he does it anyway.

In the past, there were times I’d have told you I was a pretty stealthy bastard on the water, and a lot more times when I knew I wasn’t (probably because I wasn’t making the effort). Still, nothing reveals your weaknesses like exposure to someone who really knows what he’s doing, a concept I rediscovered (again) last spring in Tennessee.

I was on a fishing trip, but sick enough that I was happy to watch someone else fish, which is why I spent hours watching Ian Rutter stealthily creeping along the banks of Tennessee’s Little River, catching fish after fish.

It was eerily similar to watching Wayne Eng creep along the banks of the Upper Sacramento (catching fish after fish), and even a hugely thickheaded writer would have to learn something from the process.

After all, Chandler’s First Law of Fly Fishing says the second best way to learn to catch fish is to watch people who are good at catching them. Simple, eh?

So after lots of watching and a little practice, I’ve gotten a lot sneakier. Which has lead me to develop the Underground’s Four Strategies for Being a Sneaky Bastard:

Rule #1 – Stay Out of the Water

Being far denser than air, water conducts sound very, very well. In simplest terms, when you’re in the water, fish can hear you. In a recent Internet post, John Wilson of the USA Fly Fishing team described watching fish bolt when an angler set foot in the water 40 feet away.

Ian Rutter skulking bankside on a run I was going to wade. He caught many, many trout.

In a freestone river – with its constantly moving water – you’d think the effect was lessened (it probably is), but face it, trout are highly attuned to their environment. Your average trout can pinpoint the sound of a fly fisher stomping along a riffle the same way a fly fisher can pinpoint the sound of a beer being opened in a crowded campground.

So while I’ve always been a “get in the river and flounder” guy, even I’ve come to see the light. Nowadays you’re a lot more likely to find me standing around behind trees and boulders, looking guilty and throwing more backcasts into bushes, but catching more fish.

More often than not, catching fish requires wading – but try stopping to think about it first.

Rule #2 – While You’re in the Water, Wade Smart

I recently waded into some “tough” technical water – expecting to throw hugely complicated slack-line casts in devilishly complex currents – and almost stepped on a 14″ trout. The lesson? Don’t charge into the water like a rampaging hippo. Hippos catch few trout. Want to avoid hippo-hood? Here’s how:

When you’re about to wade, don’t. Invest a few minutes looking for rising fish and likely holding spots (especially near your entry point). If you’re presenting to a specific fish, make sure you’re wading to the right spot. Arriving – and then realizing you can’t make the drift – means more wading and spooked fish.

Hide your underwater half. Fly fishers know they’re supposed to hide behind objects above the water, but inexplicably fail to do the same for underwater obstacles. The Upper Sac (like many rivers) is littered with subsurface boulders, rocks, trenches, weeds…. Keep these between you and fish, and you’ll sleep better at night.

And don’t ignore current tongues (not every barrier to being seen is solid); that bubbly barrier between you and the fish inhibits their sensory abilities (some warships use a curtain of bubbles to foil sonar), and can spell the difference between success and that awful skunk smell.

Wayne Eng keeps a bubbly current between him and the fish.

Keep it quiet. Rene Harrop suggests that studded wading boots spook fish, but then again, he’s fishing the largely sedate Henry’s Fork, not the “greased cannonball” bed of the Upper Sacramento. Two-stepping your way through a run is likely to spook fish more than studs, but his premise is good – keep it quiet underwater.

A good friend once gave me a gorgeous aluminum wading staff that was stable and strong. Unfortunately, it rang like a gong, and I did away with it. Don’t get gonged.

And all that manly power-wading crap? If you truly feel the need to push a bow wave, trying fishing the beach, where presumably the fish respect manliness more than trout. I’ve managed to put down rising fish by wading carelessly and pushing even little pressure waves across shallow water. Don’t you do it too.

Rule #3 – Be a Hunter

OK, so you’re staying out of the water when possible and wading quietly when it’s not. It’s time to adopt the posture of a predator.

Hide. This isn’t exactly groundbreaking advice, but it’s also rarely followed. Casting from behind trees and bushes means you’ll experience more of those excruciating “Better go to my happy place” leader tangles, but once you’ve mastered the art of fishing while skulking, you’ll catch more fish – especially on small streams.

The value of this was brought home in Tennessee, where on my last day of fishing, I hiked the upper section of the Little River, and caught several fish from slots right on the bank.

I stayed hidden, poked the rod out, made a rotating “flip” cast, and the fish were there – in the kind of water I’d have said looked good, but never produced for me in my less-surreptitious past.

Camouflage. There are endless debates about the virtues of shiny rods vs. matte finish rods, light clothes vs. dark, bright fly lines vs. neutral, etc. Given my tendency to split the difference, I try to match my fishing shirt to the color of the background, stay away from light colored hats, and typically shun day-glo fly lines.

What should you do? Whatever feels appropriate – given that the best fly fishers I know blend into their surroundings a lot better than the worst fly fishers I know.

I have many pictures of Ian Rutter. In every one, he’s being a sneaky bastard.

Don’t Flail. Waving a rod over a fish is a manifestly bad idea, as is false casting over fish in shallow water. Fish are highly attuned to movement – and they’re definitely aware of objects flashing overhead.

Keep your false casting to a minimum (yes, this means you), and practice your change of direction cast. Come the low, clear waters of fall, you’ll need it.

Don’t Compound Mistakes. When you’re casting to a specific spot and miss, don’t pick it right up and slap it back down. Let the current pull it away and try again. Similarly, when you’re casting tight to cover, don’t throw right into the “zone of death” the first cast.

Instead, drop your fly at the outside edge – it gives you a chance to measure the distance, avoids a terrify-the-big-fish tangle with bankside brush, and offers the fish a chance to come out and eat the fly anyway. (Cuts down on the amount of swearing too.)

Stalk. If most fly fishers stalked fish half as hard as they stalk deals on the Internet, there’d be a lot more sore-mouthed trout in the rivers. For example, casting a long shadow is always a bad idea, yet I often see fishers casting with the sun at their backs.

To trout, shadows mean birds, and birds mean dinner (and not in a good way). Keep a low profile, stay aware of the sun, and fish with the sun at your back only when absolutely necessary.

#4 – When All is Lost

Finally, when there’s no cover, the water’s clear, and your casting choices are limited, there’s always the Waiting Gambit. Pick your best spot (the one that offers you the best shot at the most/best fish), wade in as quietly as possible, and if the trout stop rising, wait ‘em out.

If you stand still and make no threatening gestures, the fish might foolishly decide you’re not a risk and resume feeding. It often happens in as few as five or ten minutes, and while the wait is excruciating, it can be effective.

Sometimes – if you wade very, very quietly – the fish don’t even stop rising. Continuously working fish are sometimes happily oblivious to what’s going on around them, as evidenced by the time I slowly waded less than a rod’s length away from a pod of big, rising trout in very shallow water.

This is far more likely to happen on overcast days than bright ones; sneaking up on ‘em is just that much easier when the fireball in the sky is on vacation.

The Moral of this Article is…

Sneaking around brushy trout streams isn’t always easy – and you’re often left to perform the fly fishing calculus needed to choose between two bad options – but it costs a lot less than a new fly rod. And unlike a new rod, being sneaky will actually help you catch more fish.

So practice stealth. Fish like a sneaky bastard. And remember: the best bastards never stop getting better. After fishing with Ian Rutter last spring, I realized there was a lot of roll casting practice in my future. That recently paid off handomely – to the tune of a wad of 14”-19” fish.

[tags]trout, stealth, rutter, fly rod, tennessee, upper sacramento[/tags]

The Trout Underground isn’t exactly awash in “how-to” information, but every once in a while I get all helpful and nice, and something useful gets put on paper. This is one of those moments.

Because I’m going to reveal one of my Secret Fall Patterns.

Bees. Those buzzy, stingy things.

Fishing in the Fall? Dieing bees might be your best “hatch”…

Once the cold weather sets in, the bees start dieing. The male honeybee drones die off after being evicted from the hive and worker bees also succumb to the weather – as do a lot of wasps and and the like, the communities of which typically disband in the fall.

The die-off begins first on the high alpine lakes, and as the cold temperatures work their way downhill, the die-off follows.

I’ve hit the “bee hatch” several times, and fishing a bee pattern can be wild. The trout will gently nudge the fly to see if it’s alive, and if you’ve got the nerves to let it sit, they’ll suck it down.

That’s fun on a stick.

What about the River?

I only rarely fish bee patterns on the Upper Sac in the Fall (typically preferring the PED, BWO and caddis hatches), but the pattern has worked during the late spring and summer, and I’m batting 50% in the fall (OK, that’s writer obfuscation for “I’ve tried it twice and caught fish once”).

Still, last winter I saw dozens of dead bees in the bankside snow, and some of their friends must have ended up in the river.

It’s also worth noting that one of the original Ted Fay “Bomber” nymph patterns replicates a drowned bee, and that several big, big fish have been caught on the bug.

The moral?

Despite its “for kids only” reputation, it’s time to lay your hands on a few bees – a bug I’ve used to catch a lot of fish, especially once they start dieing in the fall. It’s a killer on the lakes, and can work on the river, though success on moving water seems less assured.

See you in the hive, Tom Chandler.

[tags]bees[/tags]

It’s growing dark and your dry fly is getting very hard to see. But there’s one good fish rising in that far seam.

Under these conditions, even setting the hook is difficult – but you won’t get the chance until you get the drift right. And the odds of that are pretty slim if you can’t see your fly.

Like a lot of others, I use Frog’s Fanny (a white dessicant powder) to revive soaked flies, but it’s also a great “highlighter.”

Frogs Fanny normally works best when used sparingly. Under normal conditions, I blow away excess dust, returning the fly to its normal color. But when I’m after one more fish at dark, I go a different route.

I apply a small amount, work it in, and then apply an extra coat to the top of the fly. It typically won’t float long (AK Best suggests leftover dessicant absorbs water and actually sinks the fly), but for a couple casts, the whitened top of the fly stands out like a beacon.

Cast, drift, bingo. See you at dark, Tom Chandler.