The Galleria dell’Accademia. The Ponte Vecchio. The Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore. For the past few days, I’d been standing in these places absorbing the immensity of their historical and cultural significance. Statues, paintings, and facades that I’d been seeing my whole life were now right in front of me. There were moments that were humbling, emotional, and contemplative.
And then there were moments when I realized that I was paying hundreds of Euros to fish next to a hatchery.
As the springtime temperatures climb, anglers also begin to move up to the hollows and highlands in pursuit of mountain trout. Whether it be brook trout in the east or wild cutthroats in the west, the species that occupy high gradient small streams are a favorite quarry of fly fishers.
The nature of mountain creek fly fishing generally demands specific gear. Articles preparing anglers for these situations usually focus on equipment like rods, footwear, and packs. All three of these pieces are vital. In a remote location, a pack is a way to carry gear but also survive. A footwear choice is as much about hiking as it is wading. And rods have to have the right length to fit under canopies while still assisting in making decent presentations to trout.
A piece of gear that is often overlooked for a situation that is exemplified by short casts is fly line. For better or worse, the culture and industry is somewhat preoccupied by the ability to cast long distances. Lines are designed with more grains than traditional weight designations and with tapers that enable hundred-foot casts. The nature of mountain creek angling doesn’t fit that mold.
But that doesn’t mean that fly line doesn’t matter in these situations. Arguably much more important than even the reel, line selection can do a lot to help or hinder anglers fishing small waters. Here are four reasons to consider shopping for a quality fly line – even on your three weight setup.
For the vast majority of anglers, fly fishing encompasses a lot more than actually fly fishing.
Looking forward to a weekend away fishing, it isn’t abnormal to anticipate the late night talks around the fire or the trips to the same dive bar in town. One isn’t any less an angler if the promise of that first cup of coffee in the morning is a lot more alluring than jamming tired feet into cold wading boots. When we’re fly fishing, more goes into it than a rod, a fly, and (hopefully) a fish.
Conversely, passionate fly fishers think about rods, flies, and fish when they are far from the river. Time spent scrolling through fishy Instagram pictures, reading angling literature, or even just organizing and reorganizing gear helps pass the time between outings. Living room art might feature trout spot patterns. Bumper stickers and ball caps may feature fly fishing brands’ logos. A child might be named Brook or Fisher.
For the vast majority of committed anglers, fly fishing has a way of sidling into most facets of life.
For one Colorado couple, this omnipresence of the pursuit they love spurred them to design and create clothing that is just as suitable on the water as it is running errands. In a market with a lot of fly fishing lifestyle options, Trout Life has a purposeful aim in the industry. “We were intentional,” Amy Ralston says, “for people to know that our brand is about them living their trout life.”
“Oh, yes. There are lots of fish in this river.”
I was skeptical. “But are they wild fish?”
“Oh, yes. They will fight real nice for you.”
Wild might not have been translating the way I wanted it to. “Are these the kinds of fish that are from your country? Or have they been put there from somewhere else?”
“Oh, yes. The fish are from here. Mostly.”
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I had been given the green light to take a day to go fishing on our European vacation. To protect the identity of the individual in question, let’s just say that the county this story takes place in is famous for pasta and looking like a boot.
Hopping on the internet, I found that there are a number of legitimate trout fishing opportunities in and around where I would have been. Big rivers and mountain creeks, filled with familiar as well as somewhat exotic species. And everything seemed to be accompanied by some pretty remarkable backdrops. I found a couple of guides to communicate with, and started planning a day fishing in the European countryside.
Standing on the bank of a trout stream, you’re probably used to thinking about how three of your senses are focusing on the fishing. Whether it is wholly conscious or not, you’re relying on feeling, hearing, and seeing what is around you.
Sight is obvious. It is necessary to position yourself. Identify feeding lanes. Figure out what bugs are in the water.
Listening is also vital. The telltale sips and splashes of feeding fish are some of the subtlest yet most invigorating sounds to anglers.
Touch does a lot. Everything from feeling the wind that will affect the cast to perceiving the temperature is communicated through your nerves telling you what is happening.
Those three senses are what you can count on using when you’re trying to catch fish. Your body is constantly working, sending data to your brain allowing you to synthesize the unfathomable number of variables that go into fly fishing. Taste isn’t really a factor, unless your beverage or snack of choice is a must-have.
Smell, on the other hand, can be a powerful sense.
Today I’ve kind of / sort of taken a day off here at Casting Across. However, I do have an article up over at Trout Life’s blog. You can find it here.
If you head over to check out the piece and the blog, definitely take a minute to browse through the store on Trout Life’s main site. I’ve had some great conversations with the owners and others associated with the brand, and you’ll be reading more about Trout life in the next few weeks. read more
Mile 0 This afternoon I’ll be making the same drive I’ve been making for over six years. Down the east coast, from New England to Northern Virginia. It is the same drive in that the point of departure and the destination don’t change. However, there are virtually an infinite amount of ways to make the trip. The safest bet for daytime driving involves skipping the most congested parts of Connecticut, New York, and New Jersey.
And this also means I’ll be driving by some familiar watersheds. Like state lines, they are somewhat arbitrary benchmarks of progress. They’re more fun, though. Who has ever spent a long weekend on a state line? And state lines don’t carry the sort of memories that help a ten-hour drive pass by either.
Mile 90 On the Mass Pike, there are swamps. I didn’t know how swampy New England was until I moved up here. Looking at these ponds, I can’t help but think that there are some enormous pickerel and perch lurking right off the side of the turnpike. Only an hour and a half in, there was a time when I was ambitious in thinking I’d make the trip just to poke around fishy looking water like this.
Yet these bodies of water, like so many in and around where I’ve called home for the last six years, are destinations I haven’t made time for. Driving is a great time for alternately making grandiose plans and contemplating those you’ve previously defaulted on.
Mile 119 In downtown Hartford, the Connecticut River doesn’t look anything like it does up at the Canadian border. Channelized, broad, and urban; it is a far cry from the cold and quick tailwaters found in the north woods of New Hampshire. My first taste of New England trout fishing came below First Connecticut lake, catching feisty rainbows and searching for landlocked salmon. The ponds around the Connecticut system, with their native brook trout, are a treat. Tall pines, lonesome moose, and weaving creeks are upstream, but here only concrete overpasses weave over the slow and deep river.
It was Cousin Eddie that so succinctly summed up the value of the jelly of the month club: “Clark, that is the gift that keeps giving throughout the entire year.” And while he was the only character in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation that was optimistic about the prospect of twelve months of jams delivered straight to the door, any true fan of jelly would be equally excited.
These days, monthly services for everything from jellies to cigars to dress shirts offer subscriptions. These subscriptions cater to a few different kind of consumers. There is the customer who wants the convenience of merchandise showing up on their doorstep that they’d otherwise have to go out and purchase. Or, there are people that want to be exposed to new and different items within a product category.
Quite often fly fishers fit into both of these classifications. And within fly fishing, flies are definitely the product that is most conducive to this model. Small, light, and inexhaustibly diverse in so many ways, flies are perfect for subscriptions that provide monthly delivery.
In the past few years, a number of companies have started up within the industry that focus on the subscription model. While the concept isn’t new within angling, or even fly fishing, what is out there today provides the consumer with some legitimately worthwhile options.
Wild or native?
Native or wild?
It is the they’re/there/their of fly fishing.
“I caught some native browns from that pretty little spring creek in Montana the other week.”
No, you didn’t. Unless “Montana” happens to be the name of some fancy European estate.
“Look at the colors on this rainbow! The stripes on these Delaware River natives are amazing!”
False. Rainbows will move around a lot, but not from the west coast to the east.
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I know that by this point you’re probably trembling with apprehension to even utter the words, lest I wag a digital finger at a peccadillo of vocabulary. So I’ll do my best to explain:
