Just over three years ago I visited a stream that I had fantasized about for decades. Decades. It isn’t on the other side of the world. It isn’t even across the country. In fact, I’ve crossed over it hundreds of times. The access just so happens to be a bit on the restrictive side. As in none.
So how did I find myself on this particular creek? A lot of poring over maps, researching property lines, and hiking. Some class A quickest-way-between-two-points is muddy, weedy, and steep hiking.
But when I got there I struck out. Not a fish. They’re there and I know they’re there. I’ve seen them during reconnaissance. Rainbows, primarily. Smallish, but healthy and (this is the important part) naturally reproducing. All of this data was gathered sans trout in hand. I pulled out all of my usual tricks for the situation I was in. I bounced small streamers through the deep pools. I splatted little foam beetles under overhanging trees. I even resorted to tightline nymphing a hare’s ear. Still nothing.
This week I intend on retracing my steps. Part of me thinks it is foolish. More of me wants to catch something in that little spring creek. Consequently, instead of fantasizing about the fish I’ll catch I’ve been strategizing about how to catch them. Here are three things I’ve been thinking about that ought to help me on that creek – but should translate to any failure you or I have had on the water:
Consider things other than the fly.
Too quickly we blame our failure on poor fly choice. Of course, the real perpetrator there is the chooser and not the fly. But perhaps the fly was perfect. As I think back to my aforementioned ill-fated trip, I wonder if I was missing a lot my making every presentation from downstream. Or, in my eagerness from being on that stream was I moving too quickly and haphazardly? Changing my approach angle could have made a difference. Was I being too aggressive by stripping streamers and forcibly casting terrestrials? Might a more delicate approach with similar flies yielded different results? A large fly box is nice, but it can obfuscate other angling deficiencies.
Do your best to remember.
Not catching fish when you want to catch fish has a way of creating tunnel vision. The data set the mind absorbs becomes very, very small (and revolves around frustration). Still, thinking back to the last time can be very profitable. How did the fly drift through that run? Which pools did you accidentally splash into? Where were you when that beautiful cast got hung up in a tree? Slow down. Think. Adjust. Then act. Being on-site will help jog your memory, but there is probably a lot in there that you’ll be able to recall if you try.
Don’t write off what you did the first time.
Bouncing small streamers through deep pools and splatting little foam beetles under overhanging trees may very well be the ticket this time around. Last time could have been the anomaly. Given the countless variables involved in fishing, only a few metrics swinging one way or another can change the entire scenario. Maybe I was almost right. Maybe it will work this time. Be willing to change if it isn’t working. Just don’t give up on what you know and trust.
Experiment, remember, and trust yourself. That is a pattern that has paid off for me in the past. Hopefully, it will pay off for me this week.