2 Guys, 1 Trout
I always enjoy fly-fishing more when it’s a team sport.
I think that’s why I enjoy saltwater fly fishing so much. The interaction between guide and angler creates something special. A shared accomplishment and a shared reward. Not unlike some of my best days of trout fishing, when a buddy and I might have figured out a tough fish and worked together to catch him.
When fishing small water, it’s customary for me and my friends to take turns fishing. It’s more effective than having a foot race to the honey hole and a lot more fun. Some days it’s more about the conversation than the fish, and thats fine. Fishing is almost like therapy and fishing friends are often therapist or priests hearing confession.
Some days, and for some fish, it’s about combining your wits to out fox an educated fish. Those are the fish I enjoy the most, whether the rod is in my hands or my buddy’s. I think it ties into the reason I enjoy fishing in the first place. The connection it gives me to my human nature. Practicing the skills that put food on the table for millennia and made our species what it is. I firmly believe that team work is chief among those skills.
Justin and I did this not too long ago. I was the one taking up position in the bushes where I could spy on our target, a big educated brown in shallow water. Justin would have to make a long, pin-point cast upstream to avoid spooking the fish. The fish was shifting position constantly and from his position Justin couldn’t see him. It was up to me to guide his cast.
It was a tough setup. Even putting the fly near the fish without landing it in a tree was a challenge. Several times I had Justin
Read More »Not Just Anybody’s Saint Vrain
By Louis Cahill
“IF YOU CLIMB INTO THE CAB OF THAT PICKUP WITH JOHN YOU’LL FIND THAT WHERE YOU WIND UP CAN, ONLY IN THE MOST EXISTENTIAL TERMS, BE CALLED A FISHING TRIP.”
It’s about seven-thirty on a Saturday morning. It’s mid-September and the chilly Colorado air has coaxed a fair number of lookie-lous, headed up from Denver and Boulder to catch some fall color, into the Stone Cup Cafe on highway thirty-six in Lyons for a cup of hot coffee. A dozen or so of these plains dwellers are queued up like good little office workers waiting their turns when a lanky man in his seventies comes through the door. He is not, at once, remarkable. He’s wearing blue jeans, faded with a hole or two, cinched up with a belt to fit his slim frame. A fleece vest and sun-bleached hat frame an angular face that’s lined like a gazetteer. There is a little white feather tucked into his hat band, like Peter Pan. His white beard seems to pretty much have the run of his face. It’s had just enough grooming to suggest that there’s a woman involved somehow, but she’s learned to pick her battles. His bright blue eyes seem too young for the rest of him. He doesn’t dally. He has the stride of an experienced hiker who sets a pace and covers his allotted miles without complaint, his eye fixed on a distant peak. That peak, at this moment, being the coffee pot.
This fellow may not have raised much attention from the morning crowd when he came through the door, but that quickly changes as he walks promptly past the line, around behind the counter and to the coffee machine where, seemingly unnoticed by the staff, he sets about pouring two cups of coffee. He tucks a couple of bucks in a basket that hangs on the wall by the coffee pot, picks up his two cups and with the same determined stride walks back by the line of dumbstruck tourists. He doesn’t acknowledge them, their galled stares or open mouths. He is completely stoic until he is past the line and makes it to the door. He reaches out his hand and offers me a cup and an impish smile creeps across his face as he says, “I love doing that.” And in that instant, there he is, the man I have come to know through his words long before I laid eyes on him. This is John Gierach.
I met John a year earlier at a fly fishing trade show in Denver. I was at the Whiting Farms booth pouring through a selection of high quality rooster capes when he took up a place next to me and within a few moments began telling me how to kill a chicken with a stick. This would, no doubt, have seemed odd to me had I not known exactly who I was talking to. How could I not recognize this man? I’ve read more of his books than any three authors combined. Of course I knew him and I knew that he had tried his hand at raising chickens at the little house across the street from the Saint Vrain River and that it had been a total disaster and that he had to move when the well became contaminated from the gas station next door and a hundred other personal details that had forced their way into his stories. Had I known all there was to know about raising chickens and been the fellow who had first thought of killing one with a stick and gone on to raise that killing to an art form and had the very act of killing a chicken named after me, I would have still hung on every word. We chatted for a bit and exchanged cards and I expected that to be the end of it.
I discovered John’s writing at the point of one of those great cosmic detours that life takes. I had lost my father to cancer and both of my grandfathers shortly after. I still had a lot to learn from those men when their voices fell silent. I had set a lot of goals as a young man that, once attained, had not provided me with much in the way of happiness. My career as an advertising photographer seemed to be feeding on my sanity. The harder I worked and the more money I made the unhappier I became. My anger rose like a fire alarm ringing in my head and after giving some serious thought to shooting one of my clients, and I don’t mean with a camera, I decided to take some time off to
Read More »Streamer Fishing – Hands on the Line at All Times
Streamer fishing is a great way to catch both numbers and trophy class fish, but it doesn’t come without some negatives. One of the biggest negatives with streamer fishing is you don’t always get solid hookups every time a fish eats your streamer. One of the biggest contributors to this is when a fish slams your streamer in between strikes and you’re caught off guard. Sometimes, the timing is so bad there’s nothing you can do about it, while other times, it’s 100% the anglers fault due to lolly-gagging around with their stripping hand.
Read More »TENKARA+ Or how people consume fly-fishing
by Daniel Galhardo
In the 2nd edition of his book, Trout from Small Streams, Dave Hughes writes, “Tenkara can be an end in itself, but it’s also an excellent adjunct to a day hike, backpacking trip, berry picking expedition, or any other activity that gets you out in the world where you might come across a trout stream.”
While Hughes used tenkara in the paragraph above, the same could also be said of fly-fishing in general. Just like tenkara can show people how simple fly-fishing can be, it also shows those interested in the outdoors that fly-fishing and other activities don’t have to be mutually exclusive.
There is a deeply ingrained perception that fly-fishing takes a lot of time, not exactly to learn how to do it, but to actually do it. One reason people frequently mention as for why they don’t fly-fish is time. It seems like it will take time away from other things we could be doing. When a novice talks to a dedicated fly angler, he will often hear about a weekend set aside for the sole purpose of fly-fishing. Then, he will read an article about a trip that took weeks of planning and a lot of time away from everything else.
I believe this portrayal of how fly-fishing has to be consumed has been a reason many people have stayed away from fly-fishing. We can take care of the perceived cost by offering less expensive equipment; we can take care of complexity by showing a simpler way (e.g. via tenkara). But, something that will take a bit of more effort is letting people know fly-fishing doesn’t HAVE to take a lot of time. And, as they say, “time is the most precious commodity out there”.
Read More »Every Long Wade Starts With A Single Step
By Louis Cahill
After a year of recovery I tentatively made my first step into a trout stream.
I can not tell you how good it feels to be back on my feet, and for those feet to be cold and wet. I have fished a few times since getting back on my feet from multiple eye surgeries, but only from a boat. Fishing from a boat was a good way to start. I could work on getting my casting back and start figuring out how to drop my fly where I want it, without depth perception. At first I had to put a piece of black tape on the lens of my glasses over my bad eye. Without the tape my cast was wild. It could go anywhere, like watching someone else cast. Eventually my brain started to learn to use the left eye and ignore the right, which had always been dominant. Now I can cast without the tape and my accuracy gets better every day.
“Fortunately, I like a challenge.” I’ve said that a hundred times, half in jest, as I struggle to do things that used to be second nature. Things like pouring a beer, you know, actually into the glass rather than all over the floor. Fly fishing, it turns out, has just a few more moving parts. I’ve met those challenges pretty well so far but it isn’t the casting or mending or the tedious tying on of flies that has been the most challenging, or at least the most daunting. Wading it seems is my new nemesis.
It’s really hard to explain my new vision. It isn’t just that one eye doesn’t work. I think that would be fairly straight forward. I have vision in my right eye, it’s just the kind of vision you might expect in a german impressionist horror film or a cubist painting. Yes, it’s fuzzy and unfocused, but it’s also wildly distorted and doesn’t line up with my left eye so everything is double. It gets weirder though. I also see a lot of stuff that isn’t there. I can actually see some of the scarring of my retina, like bright etched lines across dark spaces. There are also hundreds of tiny bubbles in the oil that fills my eye. I see those, and the scarring, even when my eye is closed. Weirder still is the trick my bad macula plays on me. Anything I look directly at disappears. I look away and it comes back, look at it and its gone again.
Try to imagine seeing all of that overlaid, but not lined up with, your normal vision and no depth perception, and think about stepping into a trout stream without busting your ass. That makes me more that a little nervous, especially about fishing alone. I can easily see myself taking a header on a sharp rock, or just wandering off and never finding the truck again. Fortunately, I have friends who are willing to put up with me and it’s a horse I’m determined to get back on, so last week I took that first step back into the water.
It was fitting that I make that first wee trip with my buddy Gary Lacey. Not only a dear friend, it was Gary who taught me to make bamboo rods so many years ago, which was ultimately responsible for rekindling my love of fly fishing and led me to where I am today. Over the last two years Gary had health issues of his own and was unable to walk or use his hands for some time. Fortunately, he is on the mend but I wasn’t sure what shape I’d find him in, though I was sure we’d make quite a pair on the river.
I was pleasantly surprised to find Gary seemingly his old self. Precocious, full of piss and vinegar, and busy in the shop making bamboo rods, classic S-handle reels and even
Read More »Emergency Line Splicing
The other day I was out fishing with my buddy Rob Parkins when things took a sudden turn for the worse.
I was making a cast and the line at my feet caught on something sharp. I shot the line with so much power that my eight weight line was cut in two. We were a long way from the car and a spare setup. It looked like my fishing was going to be cut short.
I got the head back. About sixty or seventy feet had been cut off. It was enough line that I could make a short shot but shots were scarce that day and I hated the idea of being limited. I tried tying the line with a blood knot but it was impossible to get through the guides. Rob came up with a brilliant solution.
He suggested
Read More »Garners Carp Dancer
CARP ARE A NOTORIOUSLY PICKY FISH.
Anyone who’s thrown a fly at carp can tell you what a frustrating experience it can be. Fortunately our resident warm water expert Garner Reid has a solution. The Carp Dancer.
The carp dancer is tied on a curved shank hook with dumbbell eyes. This makes the fly present with its tail in the air. So I’m sure you can guess where the name carp dancer came from. When you twitch the fly it rides along the bottom with the marabou tail pulsing in the water. It drives the carp wild.
Watch the video and learn to tie Garners Carp Dancer.
Read More »Keep Your Leash Out of Trouble and Catch More Fish: Video
By Louis Cahill
Effective saltwater fly fishing is all about maximizing your opportunities to catch fish.
Saltwater fly fishing is usually not about numbers. You spend a lot of time hunting fish and waiting to get a shot. When you get that shot, it’s heartbreaking to miss it over something simple and totally avoidable, like having your fly line snag on a cleat or be trapped under the boat.
Being mindful of the condition of your leash is a full time job. Anyone who fishes with me can tell you that I compulsively check my leash. Often with a simple flick or the rod tip, checking for resistance while my eyes scan the flat. I try to always be aware of the direction of the current and the wind so I know instinctively what my leash id doing, both in the air and in the water. When it’s time to make a shot, I’m ready to make it count.
WATCH THE VIDEO AND I’LL SHOW YOU HOW TOO MANAGE YOUR LEASH.
Read More »Louis Goes Fishing
By Louis Cahill
IT’S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I POSTED AN UPDATE ON MY CONDITION.
Most of you know that the last year has been a rough one for me as I am in an ongoing struggle with PVR, which has impacted my vision and much more. Things change all the time but I’m hesitant to post updates. Folks would get tired of hearing about it and, frankly, I get tired of talking about it. I’m writing this because I actually do have some news and I honestly don’t have much else to write about, since this has been my life lately.
I expected to be in bed recovering from my seventh eye surgery this week, but I’m not. I saw the doctor a little over a week ago and he says I’m stable (that’s kind of a big deal) and there is no rush, so we rescheduled the surgery for October. That’s a huge relief! Being on my feet for a while is really going to help me recover from some of the unexpected side effects of my condition.
I knew going in that my vision was not going to be great. There was a good stretch there where they thought I might lose both eyes but, knock wood, that concern seems to have passed. My left eye seems to be in ok shape. There are no guarantees but with PVR but my doctor seems pretty confident about it. It’s been a while sine there was any talk of physically losing the right eye, which is awesome, but I am legally blind in that eye. Visually, for now at least, that’s very challenging. If the right eye were gone my vision would be better. The bad signal from the right eye makes a mess of everything. If, however, things were to go badly in the left eye I’d be damned glad to have it.
I didn’t know going in that this thing would wreck me in so many other ways. Recovering from multiple surgeries, I was in bed for a solid six months. Three months of that I couldn’t even roll over. That caused all sorts of other problems. Muscle atrophy, balance issues and nerve damage being the worst. Long story short, I had to learn to do simple things like walk, sit up and feed myself without a bib all over again.
I’m doing great now. I’m still very weak with some ironic pain but I am driving (which is huge) and doing pretty much whatever I want. I have fished twice in the last month. Ok, I know that doesn’t sound like a big deal but it is. I used to put in over 250 days a year but four hours on Sunday morning wiped me out. This week I’m fishing two days and for the first time I’ll be wading. Again, doesn’t sound like a dig deal, but just a few weeks ago the idea of standing in a stream seemed impossible. I’m incredibly excited. Hopefully next week I won’t be telling you about new cast on my leg!
For the casting geeks.
I was very afraid that I would be learning to cast a fly rod from scratch. Fortunately, some part of me remembers, at least, which end of the rod to hold. Thats not to say I’m
Read More »Laying the Smack Down
Sometimes you just have to lay the smack down on the water with your terrestrial fly patterns during the summer months to entice fish to eat.
This trophy rainbow trout turned on our flies repeated times only to veer off at the last second. I changed flies and rigs multiple times and then this trout completely shut down on us. It wouldn’t budge even when the fly drifted the perfect line over the fish.
I was about to give up when I told my client to scoot up a few feet closer and smack his dry fly down hard on the water right on the trout’s nose. He did so, and this big hen came up with no hesitation and inhaled his fly. It was a really cool fly fishing experience and my client was thrilled. Next time this summer you spot a trout and a regular drift doesn’t get the job done, try laying the smack down with your fly to imitate a bug flying into the water. Often it’s like ringing the dinner bell for trout.
Check out this video link below of some epic terrestrial fishing on my home water, shot by Bent Rod Media. The giant fish at the end required a “Smack Down” to entice it to eat.
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