“Throw a tailing loop.”
I stared at Dave. “On purpose?” was my confused reply.
“Yes,” he urged, “cast with a tailing loop.”
My next cast was perfect.
“No. Again.”
My next cast was perfect.
“No. Again.”
Getting frustrated, I jerked my fly rod back and forth quickly.
“There it is! Good job!” His praise was real. “If you want to be good at casting, you need to be able to make all the casts, ” he explained. “You need to feel why the wrong things happen. If you can do that, you can replicate them so you’ll know what to avoid. And you’ll be able to explain it to others, too.”
I watched Dave throw tailing loops and open loops; casts that jerked right and others that curled left; casts that snapped back at him and casts that petered out well before they unrolled. “If you can do that, when you want to do that, you know how to cast,” he said.
And he was right.
Dave was the first person to tell me that my fly cast needed work in a long time. I might not be able to put the most fish on the board on any given day, but I have been pretty confident in my casting ability since I was 18 or so. The result of countless hours on the lawn and on the water, I figured out how to get my fly where it needed to be. I credit medium-action rods, Lefty Kreh books, and an abundance of river hours for my quick learning curve. I felt like I knew what I was doing. Then came Dave.
He watched me as I was teaching teenagers how to cast. He started with a compliment. Then he asked me to cast for him. Then he asked me to throw a tailing loop. The reason he wanted me to create this bad cast (picture an infinity sign with one open side: that is what your line looks like with a tailing loop) was because he saw the tendency for the ailment in my casting. With tailing loops you get snags. But if you are able to cast in such a way that you don’t get snags, as I had been doing for years, you loose line speed. Loosing line speed translates into loosing distance and loosing accuracy when you are casting distances.
Dave worked with me to break down how to throw a tailing loop on purpose. He worked with me so I could see, feel, and sense how it was happening. He was then able to reverse-engineer a good cast. And to my surprise (but not his) my good cast was better,
Meeting Dave was a blessing for me (and my cast). You can have a similar experience if you get outside and throw some fly line yourself. Try to get those loops so tight that they close in on themselves. Notice when you’re applying power in your back and forward motions. Watch your wrist. Take note of how far your forearm is traveling, and if you r hand is moving in an arc or not. Play with these variables and see which ones cause or fix problems. Now try to throw open loops and do the same things.
I understand that this is a little hard to explain on paper. But it will make sense if you have a good foundation for fly casting and you take the time to practice and pay attention to the minutiae of what you’re doing. You might be good at casting a fly rod. But I guarantee you’ll be better if you’re a better bad caster.