So You’re Not Going to IFTD

July 11, 2016

Ah, Orlando in July. I hear that the summer months are the best time to experience all that central Florida has to offer. If you’ve ever been in that neck of the woods at that time of the year, you are fully aware that you will sweat the moment you step out of the airport until you collapse, exhausted and dehydrated in your $350/night hotel room.

But all of that can be overlooked if you are A) not working, B) lurking in air-conditioned conference rooms and exhibition halls connected by tunnels, and C) looking at fly fishing stuff.

The International Fly Tackle Dealer Show (IFTD) is the American Fly Fishing Trade Association’s (AFFTA) giant showcase at the annual International Convention of Allied Sportfishing Trades (ICAST). It is also the largest convention featuring fourteen letters worth of acronyms.

Let’s be real, here. It has been six whole months since the fly fishing show tour was making its way across this country. For literally half a year, you’ve had to go to fly shops. You’ve had to shop online. You’ve had to make up excuses to yourself and your spouse, because, for some reason, “I have to go to the fly fishing show and spend hundreds of dollars because it is what I do” is perfectly reasonable.

However, you’re not going to IFTD. You aren’t getting to see “the largest international gathering of fly fishing manufacturers, retailers, sales reps, media and fly fishing organizations in the world.” You have to wait at your computer or smart phone to see the Tweets and video clips of your next fly rod. And, get this: there are some poor souls that will have to wait months until some physical magazine is written, printed, and mailed before they get a write up on a new chenille for tying. Months!

Last Cast of the Week, 7/8/2016

July 8, 2016

Most Fridays on Casting Across are devoted to other people’s contributions in the fly fishing community. Articles, pictures, social media accounts, videos, podcasts, products, and more will be featured on The Last Cast of the Week.

Today, I’m sharing items from The Potomac Conservancy, Field & Stream, and Orvis Company Stores.

If you’d like to be featured in the Last Cast of the Week, or have seen something that others might be interested in, use my contact form or shoot me an email (matthew[at]castingacross[dot]com).

Thanks again for reading, and please take a moment to subscribe by plugging your email address in the field on the right sidebar.

Hop To It

July 6, 2016

Have you ever heard someone complain about their local stream not having good hatches? Sure, they fish there enough, but they would really enjoy fishing if there was a blizzard-like mayfly emergence. Or if there was a consistent, by-the-calendar caddis hatch. If you probe deep enough, you may discover that there actually are some tricos or something. But at that hour? And flies that size? It isn’t “ideal.”

Another virtual certainty for the stream without proper hatches is that there are probably terrestrials. While you, I, or our hypothetical conversation partner can wish we were stuck in a thick, hour long swarm of fluttering stoneflies getting eagerly slurped by large trout, chances are that we have something better in reality.

Ants, crickets, jassids, and any other number of non-aquatic bugs are basically in a constant state of “hatching” throughout the warmer months. The weather and time of day might dictate their activity one way or another, but they will almost always be present to some degree. And the king of the terrestrial is the grasshopper.

Some people love the grasshopper. They have boxes full of imitations, know exactly when the activity will be at the peak of its frenzy, and use the opportunity to target big fish looking for a protein-rich meal. To them, hoppers are the pinnacle of bug-meets-water-meets-trout.

I’m an ant guy, myself. But I do appreciate the hopper and dabble in the practice when I’m reminded by loud-rising fish, grasshoppers landing on my person, or vocal supporters chastising me for not taking advantage of the opportunity.

All that to say, its borderline stupid to not fish the things in July and August. Perhaps I, along with many other anglers, fish them the wrong way. Hoppers aren’t ants, midges, or even bushy size twelve mayflies. It isn’t about being delicate or making long, drag free drifts. Fishing hoppers is more like using a rocket launcher than a sniper rifle.

Here are five simple, brief, and unceremonious tactics to remember when fishing hoppers.

Loud Tea kettles, popcorn, and frying bacon all make unmistakable noises to let us know that food is ready. To a fish in an environment where grasshoppers are present, the splat of a thick bug on the water is a dinner bell. A gentle whisper of a landing isn’t natural. Consequently, a normal, subtle cast isn’t going to cut it. Get a wide tailing loop going (you know how to do that), and have that fly swing across the full parabolic arc so that it thwaps on the surface of the water.

You Can Go (Fish) Home Again

July 4, 2016

For most of my high school years, I lived next to a pond. This wasn’t some secret, backwoods farm pond or private golf course pond. Just a typical, Northern Virginia, water retention/park pond. But it was only a five-minute walk from my house. And seeing as I didn’t have a car until right before my senior year, a walk of that length fit the bill quite nicely.

For most of the 1990’s and early 2000’s, Loudoun County was not only the fastest growing county in the commonwealth, but in the whole country. Between federal jobs, government contractors, and technology corporations, everyone was coming to what was once just horse and sod farms. The infrastructure buckled under the weight of hundreds of thousands of homes lining freshly paved cul-de-sacs. But by and large, attention was paid to the green space that bolstered the environment, mitigated flooding, and presented a few idyllic, leisure opportunities.

In these spaces there were ponds. And in these ponds, there were fish.

Largemouth bass, channel catfish, common carp, along with various and sundry panfish were introduced to these ponds through a number of measures. Today the associations stock the ponds, but back nearly twenty years ago the word was that people would catch big fish in the Potomac and bucket them in. (Consequently, we’d also have the occasional piranha “scare.” Who would have dreamed of snakeheads all those years ago…)

The fish sometimes got large. There were always murmurs of bass that pushed that ten-pound milestone. Such an achievement would be noteworthy anywhere, let alone in an eight-acre lake surrounded by townhomes. I had catfish snap fifteen-pound test, carp run me into my backing, and bluegill that hardly fit in my hand. Don’t let the jogging trails and mown-down-to-the-bank scenery fool you: these ponds were no joke.

Upon moving back to the area last week, I made getting out to a pond with a fly rod a priority. My four-year-old loves all things fishing, outdoors, and Daddy, so he came too. Although my current address puts me in close proximity to a few really quality ponds, I decided that I would drive us over to the one I used to live near. I talked it up to my little guy. He was psyched. I was psyched.

Last Cast of the Week, 7/1/2016

July 1, 2016

Today, I’m sharing items from Flymen, Orvis, and Casting Across (?).

If you’d like to be featured in the Last Cast of the Week, or have seen something that others might be interested in, use my contact form or shoot me an email (matthew[at]castingacross[dot]com).

Thanks again for reading, and please take a moment to subscribe by plugging your email address in the field on the right sidebar.

Who Would Win in a Fight?

June 29, 2016

Who would win in a fight? It is the ubiquitous question of college dorm rooms, bars, and long car trips. Variations have found their way into sports (who can throw farther?), politics (who would govern better?), and historical debate (who would conquer more?).

Anglers haven’t spared fishing from being part of these hypothetical exercises. Between night time around the camp fire, long winters between seasons, and the inherent argumentative nature of the internet, the quarry and culture of fly fishing are pitted against each other.

I’ve picked out three arguments that I’ve seen and heard that fall into the “who would win in a fight” category. There are many more squabbles (particularly online) that take place, but these have the requisite quantitative/qualitative comparisons that fit in to this discussion.

What kind of flies are best?

Dries vs. nymphs. Nymphs vs. streamers. Egg flies vs. san juan worms. This conversation has a whole lot of tradition and sentimentality wrapped up in it. Dry fly elitists are called out by technical nymphers who are, in turn, looked down upon by streamer “bros.” And then there are bead fishers. Everyone has something to say about them.

Heading Downstream

June 27, 2016

Over seven months ago I finalized plans to move. It will be back to Virginia, back to the Mid Atlantic where so much of my life has already taken place.

I won’t lie: I’m very excited to go fly fishing. To get back to the streams I love, revisit rivers I only fished a few times, and explore new waters.

I’m also not delusional. This move isn’t a license to fish unabated. I’m a father and a husband with a new job. I’m going back to grad school. Again. And going back someplace also necessitates leaving another.

Which means saying goodbye.

Honestly, there are so many angles that I want to explore in this post. But between these hectic days of packing, coordinating logistics, and managing two little through all of it, what is most poignant is the goodbyes.

Last Cast of the Week, 6/24/2016

June 24, 2016

Today, I’m sharing items from Outside, Trout Unlimited, and Risen Fly.

If you’d like to be featured in the Last Cast of the Week, or have seen something that others might be interested in, use my contact form or shoot me an email (matthew[at]castingacross[dot]com).

Thanks again for reading, and please take a moment to subscribe by plugging your email address in the field on the right sidebar.

In the Sight Line

June 22, 2016

“I can’t say that I know much about the whole man-jewelry market,” I said.

Edgar Diaz laughed at my hesitance. “I get that a lot,” he said. “But some really manly men have picked up a cuff or two and wear it all the time.”

And here I am, about a month later, wearing mine all the time.

You can’t help but be drawn in to the style of a piece from Sight Line Provisions. The cuffs (that is the gender-neutral, acceptable to manly men term for bracelet) feature rugged leather, industrial rivets, and metallic outdoor images. The word artisanal comes to mind. More than that, the cuffs immediately take your mind to thoughts about fish, fishing, and nature.

Diaz, the artist and entrepreneur behind Sight Line, sees that as the purpose of his cuffs. “Sight Line is all about what you are looking at, or maybe even just what you are thinking about,” he says. The name for the company came about when he was taking a trip out west with his family. “Like so many of us, my kids were looking down at their screens when there was just so much amazing scenery going by. I started asking them ‘what is in your sight line’ incessantly; just to get them thinking about what they could be seeing. It became kind of a running joke, but it stuck. I like the idea of really focusing on what you’re thinking about or actually looking at.”

Where does a bracelet come in?

Fatherhood & Slowly Changing

June 20, 2016

I don’t fish nearly as much as I did five years ago.

On Father’s Day, 2011, my wife gave me a card revealing that she was pregnant with our first child. Obviously, what followed has changed my life significantly. That little boy, the other one that followed, and the baby (gender unknown to us at the moment) on the way have altered both the day-to-day and the big picture.

More diapers, more being around for 7:00pm bedtimes, and less fly fishing.

But I wouldn’t change it for the world. If it came down to it, fishing would be the thing I’d change. It has been the thing I’ve changed. I’ve never looked at one of my boys and remorsefully thought, “this is why I’m not on the river right now.”

While there are quick fly fishing outings and intermittent weekend trips, I haven’t been out as much as I did before fatherhood. And as cliché as it sounds, the times when I’m out on my own I can’t help but think about what it will be like when they are old enough to join me. Only a few years, months maybe, until the oldest can wade in gentler waters and hop on the boulders of mountain streams. And, as any parent knows, the next child in line will be propelled by the desire to keep up with his older brother.