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Keeping Your Dry Fly Floating High

A buoyant Humpy dry fly

In April, dry fly fishing really starts to turn on in the Smokies. Not only are there a significant number of hatches, but water temperatures are getting ideal and fish are just looking up, even when no hatches are present. Presenting a dry fly that rides high on the water, not only tends to produce more strikes, it is much easier for you to see. Here are a few tips to keep your fly floating high in the fast moving currents of the Smoky Mountains.

First off, if you don’t tie your own flies, be sure buy high quality dry flies. It can be tempting to find Internet companies or box stores that offer really cheap prices on flies, but they are cheap for a reason. These dry flies often have less hackle and/or use a very low-grade hackle, and they are simply not going to float as well. Bushy, heavily hackled flies will float the best, as will flies that utilize foam and/or deer hair. These are all great for most of the riffles and pocket water you encounter in the Smokies. However, if you’re fishing to slow water risers in a slick pool, you may want to use a more slender, low profile fly like a parachute or comparadun pattern.

Treat your flies before you fish them. There are a number of great products on the market that accomplish this and are generically referred to as fly floatant. The most common are silicone based and have a gel consistency. Just squeeze a drop on your finger and rub it into your fly. Orvis, Aquel, Loon and Gink are probably the most common brands. They’re all probably about the same but everyone seems to have their favorite. I use Orvis Hy-Flote.

Fly Floatant

Once you’ve selected your high quality dry fly and gooped it up with fly floatant, the worst thing you can do to it is catch a fish! They take it under water and slime it up to the point where it doesn’t want to float as well, especially after you catch 2 or 3 fish. When this happens, a mistake a lot of anglers make is to re-apply the same gel floatant they used to pre-treat the fly. However, you’re often just trapping moisture in to the fly at this point. You need to remove as much of the moisture from the fly as possible.

On bigger rivers such as tailwaters, your false cast can keep a lot of moisture out of the fly, even after several fish. But in places like the Smokies, frequent false casting is often not an option due to the tighter quarters, and is often not desired because of the increased risk of spooking fish. There are a number of methods I use to dry a saturated fly in these environments.

Dry Shake

One is to press the fly against an absorbent material. Amadou is a material sold at many fly shops that works great for this. You can carry a patch on your vest or pack and just squeeze the fly in it. Chamois cloth is another good option. If you’re in a pinch and don’t have either, just press the fly against your shirt. After employing this method, blow on your fly. Finally, consider carrying a second, powder based floatation product. These are desiccants, similar to what’s found in the small, “do not eat” pouches packaged with some clothing and electronics. Again, there are numerous brands. Frog’s Fanny is a favorite of many anglers. My favorite is Shimazaki Dry-Shake. It has a large-mouthed bottle that allows you to drop the fly in while still attached to the tippet. Close the lid, shake vigorously and remove. It will be floating like new.

The final tip for keeping that fly floating high is technique. What causes flies to get waterlogged more than anything else, especially with novice anglers, is drag. When your fly doesn’t drift naturally with the current, and instead pulls unnaturally against the current, not only will you not catch many fish, your fly is going to become more waterlogged and require far more maintenance to keep it floating.

Think about what you’re doing. Instead of dragging the fly through the run 2 or 3 times before making a good drift, read the water. Identify the varied currents that will pull your line at a different speed than the fly and try to position yourself where you can eliminate them. If you can’t eliminate them through position, think about how, when, and which direction you’ll need to mend BEFORE you make the first cast. And pick your fly up when it reaches the end of the target area, rather than letting it drift (drag) into the fast shallow riffle at the bottom of the run.

Keeping the line off the current lip at the rear of the pool provides a drag free drift through the sweet spot

Experienced anglers often do most of this instinctively, so it looks like they’re just casually moving around casting. The good ones always make it looks easy! If you’re newer to fly fishing or even if you’ve done it awhile but only get out a few times a year, it won’t be instinctive and you’ll have to think about it. This is just good advice, period. If you execute a good cast and drift in the right place the first time, you’ll not only keep your fly floating better, you’ll catch more fish!

Finally, on a similar note, carry your fly in your hand when you move from spot to spot. I see a lot of people who will let their fly drag behind them in the water as they wade up to the next pocket or run. If you do this, the best-case scenario is that you’re going to waterlog your dry fly. More often than not, you’re also going to hang your fly up on every rock and stick in the river!

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Dressing for Winter Fishing

The arrival of November usually means cold weather is not too far off, but it doesn’t mean that you have to quit fishing. Certainly the fishing for wild, mountain trout can slow down significantly as water temperatures fall, but tailwater trout and really any stocked trout will continue to feed well, even in the coldest of temperatures. In recent years, winter guide trips to Delayed Harvest streams have become a favorite of many clients, mainly because of the potential for really big trout.

In East Tennessee, the average winter day is not unbearably cold – at least not compared to many other places in the U.S. The coldest month of the year here is January where, in towns like Knoxville and Maryville, the average high is 46-degrees and the average low is 29-degrees. However, this is deceiving in a couple of ways. When most folks view this forecast, they don’t take into consideration that you’re only going to experience that high temperature for a couple hours out of the day. Additionally, in the case of Delayed Harvest waters, we’re usually fishing mountainous areas where there’s a little more elevation and the sun spends a lot of the day low and behind the ridgeline. In other words, you can easily shave another 5-degrees off those highs and lows and when you throw in a little wind, you’ve got a pretty darn cold day on the water.

So, a typical full day trip in the winter will go from about 9 to 5. If the forecast is for a high of 46-degrees, that will be more like 40-degrees on the stream, and you’ll reach that high temperature probably around 3pm. That means for the majority of the day, you’ll be fishing in temperatures in the 30’s. Unless you grew up someplace like Alaska, North Dakota, or Maine, that’s cold! Don’t get me wrong, it can be a ton of fun and it never feels as cold when the fish are biting, but to better enjoy your day on the water, you better know how to dress. Below are a few tips to prepare for a winter fly fishing trip.

  • Dress in Layers: You hear this advice a lot from the weather person on your local news but I don’t think they usually understand the difference in dressing in layers and simply dressing warm. If I’m just going out in the cold for a while, I can just throw on a heavy coat and a hat and be set. However, when I’m going to spend the day outside in the cold, I’m likely to experience a variety of changing temperatures and conditions. Dressing in layers allows me the flexibility of adding or removing layers as conditions and activity levels change.

 

  • How to Layer: There are three basic layers to consider. The first are the
    Long underwear with turtleneck top

    garments closest to your body, and their main objective should be to wick moisture from your body. If your body gets wet, from perspiration or anything else, you’re going to be cold, no matter what you’re wearing as an outer layer. Consider wearing a thin, synthetic “liner sock” on your feet and synthetic long underwear for your legs, arms and torso. Long underwear with a turtleneck top is a bonus as it gives an added layer on your neck.

The next layer is the insulating layer that is designed to keep you warm. Depending on how cold it is, this could actually consist of multiple layers. For the feet, a thick, heavy wool or fleece sock should be sufficient. The 3mm neoprene foot on the wader is also going to serve as insulation. For the legs, a fleece pant designed for cold wading is great and I also like traditional fleece lined pants. Up top, I typically wear a mid-weight fleece pullover followed by a heavier fleece pullover or jacket. As the day warms, I might remove the heavier fleece. Again, it’s a bonus if one or both of these upper layers covers the neck.

The third and final layer is the shell. Its purpose is to protect from wind and moisture. For your lower half, the waders serve as your shell. Up top, I just add a light to mid-weight rain jacket. The hood will act as a shell layer for your head.

  • The Extremities: By extremities, I’m mostly talking about your head and your hands. These can be the most challenging and most important to protect. The challenge with the head is to keep it warm without interfering too much with necessary senses like sight and sound. For that reason, I HATE wearing a hood, though sometimes it’s necessary on rainy days.
Under Armour Infrared Hood

I layer my head with a product from Under Armour called an infrared hood. It’s the same thin-layered garment you see football quarterbacks wearing under their helmets in cold weather games. It covers the entire head, including the ears, but doesn’t interfere with hearing like earmuffs do. It also has a piece that can be pulled up to cover the face on particularly cold, windy days. Because it is relatively thin, I can wear a traditional ball cap over it on milder days or a warm stocking cap on colder days. This is one of the best pieces of cold weather fishing gear I’ve found!

Fold-back Fingerless Mittens

The hands and fingers are the toughest part. Trying to keep warm while maintaining the necessary finger dexterity for fly fishing is one that I haven’t totally figured out. While there are fleece gloves and mitts with fold-back hand and finger pieces, they still leave your fingers exposed while fishing and the fold-back piece is just one more thing for your fly line to hang on. I prefer just standard wool or fleece fingerless gloves. They keep my hands warm and if the fingers start getting too cold, I take a break and put my hands in my pockets.

  • Adjusting Layers: Most of this is common sense. If you’re cold, add a layer. But it’s important to pay attention to your activity level because you don’t want to be too insulated while active and start to perspire. Perspiration during cold weather, once you become less active, can create a cold that’s hard to come back from and it’s a common cause of hypothermia when not addressed.

One of the biggest mistakes I see people make is overdressing for the car ride to the stream. Wearing too much in the car can cause you to perspire, particularly your feet, and you’re going to be cold all day. Wear the bare minimum of layers in the car, from head to toe, and add the additional layers when you reach the stream.

  • Fabrics: You may have noticed repeated references to fleece or synthetic fabrics. That’s a really important piece of the puzzle for staying warm, dry, and comfortable. Synthetic materials like fleece are not only more breathable, but offer insulating properties even when wet. Wool does the same thing though it is often heavier. This is important with all of your clothing in case you take a dunk in the stream, but it is particularly important with your gloves, as your hands will constantly be exposed to water while fishing.
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Winter Fishing in the Mountains

We’ve talked a lot about water temperature in many of these articles and for good reason. Things like approach, presentation, and fly selection can determine whether or not a fish will take your offering, but water temperature can determine whether or not a fish will take any offering! You can read in more detail about water temperature in A Matter of Degrees, but to keep it simple here, wild trout in the Smokies just don’t do a lot of feeding when the water temperature is in the 30’s and low 40’s.

Tailwaters are different because the water comes from the deep, insulated layer of a lake, and the water temperature remains relatively constant, regardless of air temperature. Stocked trout in a freestone stream are different because, well, they just don’t know any better. They were raised in hatcheries and were fed the same amount of food every day, regardless of temperature. But wild trout in freestone streams have never had that luxury, and in order to survive, their metabolism changes and they become nearly dormant. This doesn’t mean that they won’t feed at all but if you’re going to fish the Smokies in the winter, come prepared with a great deal of patience.

I spend more time looking this time of year than I do actually fishing. Blind fishing a run in the spring can be very productive because all or most of the fish should be feeding and they’ll often move up and down and side to side for food. In the winter they typically won’t move much for food and you need to put the fly right on their nose. To do this most effectively, you really need to see the fish. Take your time and watch the water, paying particular attention to the slower currents on the edges and lower parts of a run. Ideally, you want to locate fish that are up in the water column rather than hugging the bottom. Fish that are up a little in the column are more likely to be feeding.

If you can’t actually see the fish, look for flashes on the bottom. Any fish that is feeding will likely be picking nymphs off the bottom. When a trout eats a nymph off the bottom, they usually “tilt” their bodies sideways and you’ll see the flash of their lighter colored bellies. You may have to scope out several pools or runs before you see fish or fish activity. Experience will teach you the kind of water to focus on, but deeper, slower runs will usually produce better than fast riffles and pocket water this time of year. And try to pick the warmest part of the day, probably late morning to late afternoon.

Once you think you’ve located feeding fish, it’s time to think about fly selection. On warmer winter days, you may actually see some insects hatching. If you do, they’re likely to be small and dark: Blue Wing Olive mayflies, small black stoneflies or caddis, dark olive or black midges… Rarely anything bigger than a #18. On rare occasions, you may see fish feeding on the surface during one of these hatches. Small Parachute Adams or Griffith’s Gnats are a pretty good bet in those instances. Mostly though, they’re going to feed more on the nymphs, so black Zebra Midges, small Pheasant Tails, and small black or olive Hare’s Ears will be pretty good bets.

If I don’t see any kind of hatch, I may still try one of the above mentioned nymphs, but more likely I’m going with something big, like a stonefly nymph. It may be more psychological, but I feel like I’ll more likely get that lethargic fish to eat if I show him a bigger mouthful. Girdle Bugs, black Wooly Buggers, Yuk Bugs, and Bitch Creek Nymphs in sizes #10 – # 4 are personal favorites.

Girdle Bugs

Regardless of your nymph selection, you’re going to want it to drift as slowly and as near the bottom as possible. I like to use heavy flies and I like to use split shot. Take your time and adjust your weight regularly as you move to areas with different depths and current speeds. If you’re not hanging up on the bottom from time to time, you’re not deep enough. If you’re hanging the bottom every time, you’re too deep. Take the time to get it right. That fly needs to be right in their nose!

Adjusting your strike indicator (if you’re using one) can help too, but usually the answer is more weight. Most fishermen just don’t have their nymphs deep enough in the winter. A great way to learn about the effects of different current speeds vs. the amount of weight on your line is to spend some time fishing a fly you can see under water.  For instance, tie on a bright pink egg and watch how deep it sinks, how fast it sinks, and how it drifts with no weight, then 1 spit shot, then 2 split shot, etc. Try it with a strike indicator and without to learn how the indicator can impact the drift, too. This is just a great way in general to better understand nymphing, and sometimes you’ll even catch a fish on that trashy pink egg!

Again, don’t expect near the number of strikes that you might in spring. But if you’re just itching to get out of the house and are willing to be patient, you might just be surprised at what you find.

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Legends of the Fall – Hunting Brown Trout

It’s the time of year when certain folks seem to be whispering more at the fly shop. They’re isolated in corners and peeking over their shoulders before saying too much. They’re talking about brown trout. Big ones. Somebody mentioned seeing a decent one around Metcalf Bottoms – about 18-inches. A younger guy innocently asked, “Since when did we start referring to 18-inch browns as ‘decent’?” The older guy replied with a grin, “October.”

The Smoky Mountains is largely thought of as a fly fishing destination where the appeal is to catch wild trout in a beautiful place. But as a whole, you don’t expect to catch particularly big trout. After all, rainbows rarely exceed 15-inches and brook trout rarely get any bigger than 10-inches in the Smokies. They’re both almost exclusively bug eaters, and after 3-5 years, they simply can’t support their weight with the bugs available, and they die. But when brown trout reach about 8 or 9-inches, they begin eating minnows, and crayfish, and mice, and birds, and small rainbows. They live 10-15 years and reach lengths of 30-inches in the Smokies!

Fish that size don’t get caught often. Brown trout only live in a handful of rivers in the Smokies to begin with. They’re extremely cagey and for much of the year, they do most of their feeding at night – it’s illegal to fish the park at night. So, outside of the occasional big brown caught at dusk, or dawn, or after a good rain, we don’t get a lot of good shots at these guys. Until late fall.

Brown trout tend to make their spawning runs after the fall foliage has turned colors but before the last leaves have fallen. In the Smokies, that’s usually late October or early November. They typically move to shallower, more visible areas of the stream and are spotted by far more fishermen then. When they’re actually on the nest (or redd), we leave them alone. Not only is it just bad ethics, but they have other things on their mind than food at that time. But in the weeks leading up to the spawn and in the weeks to follow, their appetites are enormous!

In the weeks leading up to the spawn, they’re on the move searching for suitable nesting areas, often where they were originally hatched. This is when many fishermen are hoping to get their shot at a trophy. A number of folks have booked me during this time, thinking a seasoned fly fishing guide will be their ticket to success. While I can certainly help locate the fish, there is a whole lot that has to go right to catch him. It’s not just having the right fly at some secret honey hole!

Most people aren’t willing to put in the time it takes to catch one of these fish. Unless you’re just going to depend on luck, you have to trade fishing time for looking time. You may not spot one at the first place, or second or third… And once you do spot one, you’re not done looking. You have to watch him for a while to figure out his pattern: how he’s feeding, where he’s feeding, when he’s feeding, IF he’s feeding. You then may have to spend a pain-staking amount of time sneaking into a position where you can cast to him without spooking him.

Assuming everything has gone your way up to this point, you may only have one shot at him and a bad cast will kill the deal. And if he does eat and you do hook him, you’re problems have just begun. Now you have to fight a 25-inch trout in the fast, rocky waters of the Smokies! But it’s all worth it when it does come together and you become one of the lucky few. It’s the stuff legends are made of.

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Tips for Warm Weather Wading

June is here and that means things begin to make another seasonal change here in the mountains.  I always look forward to warmer weather because I get to shed the waders and enjoy the feel of cool mountain stream water on my legs and feet. I also enjoy the freedom of movement I have without waders.  But the absence of waders also exposes you to a few more risks.

Mountain fishing involves moving.  You move through the water, you move over boulders and you move through the woods where you encounter sharp sticks, prickly bushes and undergrowth, poison ivy, and a variety of critters.  For these reasons, I always encourage people not to wear shorts when wet wading.  A pair of long, synthetic “quick-dry” pants will provide you the same level of comfort while still giving your legs much needed protection.

Wading boots are also a must.  I frequently see fishermen attempting to wet wade in Chacos or some other type of river sandals, and I cringe every time I do.  A good pair of wading boots will not only provide you with the much-needed traction of felt soles (or Vibram), but will also offer ankle support and toe protection.  You will definitely want both when navigating the rocky bottoms found in all mountain streams.

If you already have waders and boots, note that the boots are oversized to fit over the 3mm neoprene foot of the wader. Consider purchasing a pair of neoprene socks for wet wading.  These will not only make your boots fit, they will provide a layer of padding and insulation.

Great Northern Water Snake

Critters are another thing to be aware of when fishing in the summer months.  Snakes are the biggest concern for most people but they aren’t much of an issue. While we do have two poisonous snakes in the Smokies, Copperheads and Timber Rattlesnakes, most of the snakes encountered by fishermen are harmless water snakes.  I spend nearly 200 days a year in the park and probably see one or two poisonous snakes a year.  The Great Northern Water Snake is a fairly large water snake that is often mistaken for a Cottonmouth, a species we do not have in the Smokies.

Senseless

On a guide trip this spring, I came across a dead rattlesnake at the edge of the stream.  Someone had obviously bashed its head in with a rock.  There is absolutely no reason for this, and in the national park (and I believe the state of Tennesse), it is illegal.  If you encounter a snake, poisonous or otherwise, just leave it alone and move on.  They don’t want anything to do with you either.

What I try to keep an eye out for more than anything else, especially during the summer months, are hornet nests.  They love to build these things on low branches above streams.  If you see one, steer clear and move on to the next hole.  And when you do, make sure it is still well out of range of your back cast.  Hooking a hornet nest can ruin your day in a hurry.

Hornet Nest

If you do accidentally get too close and get stung, DO NOT start swatting!  This triggers a pheromone that signals all other hornets in the area and one or two stings can turn into dozens.  Just get far away from the nest as quickly as possible.

Yellow Jackets are also common in the Smokies and typically build their nests in the ground.  As with snakes, your best solution here is just to pay attention and watch where you are stepping.  Of course, if you are allergic to either of these, come prepared with an EpiPen or other treatment.  If you’re not allergic, most stings can be easily treated by immediately and thoroughly rinsing the area.  Applying an anti-itch medication will also provide relief.

Mosquitoes, noseeums, and other biting insects are not a huge problem when you’re on the stream but can be as soon as you step away from the stream in the woods or on the trail.  On the stream, you’ll mostly just be harassed by gnats that don’t bite, but love to hover around your face and get in your eyes.

The best prevention for all of these, of course, is good old-fashion bug spray.  Bug sprays with higher concentrations of Deet seem to be most effective, but be careful when using them.  Deet has the ability to melt plastic, and getting a healthy dose of Deet heavy bug spray on your fingers can wreck a fly line.  Just avoid spraying it on your palms and finger tips.  If you’re one who likes to spray your hands and rub it on your face, just spray the back of your hands and rub it in that way.

 

Of course, anytime you’re maneuvering through the woods, there’s a chance of picking up a tick.  Deet based bug sprays will help with that, too.  I still try to check myself periodically, particularly at the end of the day.  If you do find one on you, there’s an easy way to remove it.  Squeeze a dab of medicated lip balm (the gel type that comes in the squeeze tube) onto your finger and smear it on the tick.  It will immediately release itself from your skin. Cool, huh?!?  I always keep a tube of Carmex in my first aid kit for this reason.

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Flies: Yallarhammer

No fly holds near the lore among East Tennessee fly anglers as the Yallarhammer. It has long been known that the native brook trout that reside in Southern Appalachian mountain streams have a weakness for brightly colored flies, particularly if that bright color happens to be yellow. But before endless varieties of fly tying materials were so easily available from local fly shops, mail order catalogs, and the Internet, early fly tyers had to use feathers from local birds that they could shoot themselves.

A woodpecker known as a yellow hammer because of its bright yellow feathers and hammering beak was quite abundant in the area and provided a perfect source for fly tying materials. Over the years, numerous variations of the Yallarhammer (taken from the local pronunciation) trout fly emerged but the photo above is thought to closely (and legally) resemble the original. It was fished as a ‘wet’ fly, most often drifted and swung through pockets, riffles, and plunges.

The Yallarhammer also has strong ties to the state of Alabama. Their state bird, the Yallarhammer is most often associated with a confederate regiment based in Alabama that wore Yallarhammer feathers in their hats. Tennessee Volunteer fans may even be familiar with a Crimson Tide cheer that uses the term: “Rammer, Jammer, Yallarhammer…”

As a trout fly, the Yallarhammer was so popular that locals nearly shot the poor bird to extinction. It is currently a protected bird and the possession of its feathers will likely land you a citation before landing you a trout! But the Yallarhammer fly still lives on as modern fly tyers now substitute dyed dove and quail feathers for the original flicker feathers.

Pattern:

Hook: #10 TMC 5262 (or equivalent)
Thread: Brown 6/0
Tail: Golden Pheasant
Body: Yellow Floss
Feather: Primary dove wing feather, dyed yellow

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Paper or Plastic – Contrasting Bamboo & Graphite Rods

Between two evils, choose neither; between two goods, choose both.

– Tryon Edwards

There are few smells in this world that can tell such a story as the aroma that is consumed when opening the tube of a bamboo rod. With every flirtatious breath of varnish and cane, images too elusive for mere words or photos dance through twitching nostrils and settle softly in the mind. It’s a perfume that instantly conjures simultaneous images of classic trout water, sparsely hackled dry flies, fedoras, pipe smoke, fine Kentucky bourbon, and perfect memories of past fishing trips that are not entirely my own. Somehow, there is a connection to fish, streams, mountains, and fishermen who met long before me. Each time the final rotation is made around those metal threads and the cap is removed, it’s as if the Genie has been released from the bottle, and the very spirit of fly fishing has been summoned.

I’m hardly a purist but I do take pride in the fact that my first trout came on a dry fly with a cane rod. This did not happen by design, however, and was certainly not the result of any quest for nostalgic perfection or anti-technology-damn-your-plastic-rod doctrine. It was my granddad’s rod, a worthless old Montague production rod from the 1930’s that’s sentimental value is now priceless, but back then, its only value was that it was better than the rod I had. The rod it replaced, my first rod, was a K-Mart special that came neatly packaged with a reel, a spool of backing, and a 7-weight, level fly line. A burgundy blank finished out with a black plastic reel seat, black foam handle, and gold tipped, black wraps on the guides; it measured 8-feet in length, probably 3-pounds in weight, and had the casting action of a stiff garden hose.

Somehow, its companion reel was even less impressive. While better suited in capacity for a 4 or 5-weight line, it tightly enveloped the packaged 7-weight line and about 10 yards of 20-pound backing. And as advertised on the package, the reel did have an “adjustable” drag. If you flipped the switch on the back of the reel up, it clicked and provided minimal resistance when pulling out line. If you flipped the switch down, the reel silently exclaimed, “Oh shit!” and the spool rotated at 8700 rpm’s with the slightest tug of line. The result, of course, was a rat’s nest of fly line inside the reel with little knotted loops of plastic peeking out of each port in the spool.

At the time, I wasn’t aware of the physical differences, much less the cultural differences of bamboo and graphite, so neither played a role in my decision to “upgrade” that first rod. The fishermen in my family, including my granddad, were almost exclusively bait and spin guys, so in addition to having no real instruction as a budding fly fisherman, I had no preconceived moral perceptions regarding the material used to construct my rod. Instead, I somehow had it stuck in my head that a rod with a cork handle was better than one with a foam handle, making my granddad’s old Montague the obvious choice over the K-Mart rod. In no way was I a bamboo fundamentalist and truth be known, I went to bed nearly every night staring at the Orvis catalog and dreaming of a brand new, shiny graphite fly rod. I was a helpless lump of clay in the hands of the fly fishing marketing machine, and I wouldn’t rest until I could secure the funds for the genuine graphite Orvis Superfine fly rod of my dreams.

With an arsenal now obscenely exceeding 25 rods, a time when I hoped, dreamed, scrimped, and saved for one – just one – nice graphite rod seems like a lifetime ago. Even longer go, when I was a kid, it was shoes. If I could just get my feet in a new pair of those Zips, my speed and vertical leap would undoubtedly increase to unprecedented levels. And with an Orvis 7’ 9” 5-weight Far and Fine rod, all of my casting woes would immediately disappear and I would instantly begin catching all of the fish that had been eluding me.

To my disappointment, when I eventually got that rod, my casting and fish catching prowess remained pretty much the same. However, even as a novice, the new, high-end graphite rod’s superiority to my previous rods was undeniable. It was lighter, crisper, and more responsive. It was modern, and cool, and just plain sexy! And it would start a trend lasting more than a decade of graphite addiction. Every year something a little lighter, a little faster, and a little sexier would hit the market and I would be first in line to own one.

Bamboo rod purists would likely equate this to selling my soul to the devil. Aside from the moral and ethical legitimacy of strike indicators, there is rarely a fly fishing topic that incites more passionate debates than trying to determine the superior material for fly rods: good old-fashioned split cane versus the new space-age graphite materials. The proponents on either side possess unshakeable convictions and will argue with a ferocity not seen at even the most heated of presidential debates. And much like presidential candidates might debate the advantages of change versus experience, the pro graphite contingent will argue that their candidate is stronger and lighter and far more capable of zinging much longer lengths of line in the air, while the bamboo party will claim that graphite has no life – no soul – and has no real connection to the line or fish. They see graphite rods as lifeless, plastic sticks designed for heaving rather than casting a fly line. They think people who fish with graphite rods are communists.

I eventually broke the addiction and my preferences even started to change when I finally had the opportunity to fish with a good cane rod. My experience had only been with the cheaper production rods of the 30’s and it turns out that there were not only much better quality rods being made back then, but the cane rods being made today are nothing short of fantastic! Passing judgment on all bamboo rods based on my granddad’s Montague was the equivalent of judging all graphite rods by my first K-Mart special. But I still can’t passionately take a stand on one material being superior to another.

I’m not sure if there is a right answer. A big part of it probably has a lot to do with where you fish. For instance, suggesting that a cane rod is the better choice for tarpon fishing in the Florida Keys is a pretty tough sell. If we’re being honest, the real determining factor is more likely personal style. As a teen, I went to school with kids that jumped on every trend from leg warmers to parachute pants. Other kids went the preppy route, while others went with the thrashed denim, rocker look. All of these options served the primary purpose of clothing the kid, but as an individual style allowed the kid to tell the world who he was – or at least who he thought he was. Are we not, in some regard, doing the same thing with our choices of fly rods and gear?

In most situations, a fly rod, whether bamboo or graphite, is quite capable of executing effective casts and catching a lot of fish when in the right hands – it’s the chef, not the skillet. What it should boil down to is which rod brings you the most pleasure. I once heard legendary fly fisherman, Joe Humphreys, tell a story about a debate he had with another legend of the stream, Ed Shenk. Ed liked to fish with very short fly rods. Joe asked him why he fished with such short rods when they put him at such an obvious disadvantage. Ed told him it was because they are fun.

There was an awkward period as a teenager when I was preppy and an even more awkward phase when I wore parachute pants. Now, neither fit my style. As a fly fisherman, there have been periods of graphite obsession, and periods of bamboo obsession. Now, both fit my style. I am at peace with the realization that I don’t have to pick one side or the other because, doggone it, I like them both. Out of the far too many fly rods I own, five of them are bamboo, and for day in, day out fishing, I tend to prefer the versatility I get from good graphite rods and find them to be the most useful, practical choice. But I still fish very frequently with my bamboo rods because they’re not impractical, and well, they’re just plain fun… And there’s just something about that smell.

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The Perfect Fly

“While the snow whorled, the old men would work at the desk with the glow of bemused gods, forsaking reason and good sense in their search for the great concoction, the random mating of fur and feather and colored thread that would break new ground in piscatorial seduction, speak in the language of pure appeal, fascination, enticement, allure, the perfect corruption, hooked bribe, deadly enchantment, a come-on no fish could deny, something beyond mere interest, something exotic and irresistible. No combination was too distasteful or out of bounds, no creation too shocking.”

– Harry Middleton, Rivers of Memory

Tying flies just seems to be a natural progression for any avid fly angler, though it becomes more of an obsession for some than others. Some possess a romantic ideal of catching a fish on a fly that they’ve crafted with their own hands while others simply fish so much and burn through so many flies that they see fly tying as a means of stopping the bleeding, a practical means of saving money. Many more enter the world of fly tying with delusions of grandeur, possessing an unbridled optimism and certainty that they will be able to catch more or better fish by filling a void with a creation not yet imagined by the world’s tying minds and not yet available through their local shop’s selection. That 29” brown trout under the bridge is just a bead-head-bright-green-bodied-pink-tailed-red-rubber-legged nymph away from being caught! I began with similar delusions and like most tyers, still have them. Somewhere deep in the creative recesses of my mind, I surely hold the key to the ultimate creation: The dry fly that won’t sink, the nymph that won’t hang the bottom, the streamer with just the right “waggle”…. All tied in such a unique, unprecedented way that trout will come from neighboring pools just to get a taste…. The perfect fly.

However, the budding fly tyer is quickly faced with the reality that there is an art to this fly tying thing and that an unspeakable number of very imperfect flies will be born at the vise before the perfect fly can ever emerge from the dubbing dust, especially when you begin the task as I did, with a shortage of funds and a surplus of stubbornness. Determined to teach myself rather than spend time and money taking a class, my first of many mistakes, my response to the overwhelming myriad of materials and tools confronting me was to purchase a starter kit. Fly tying kits aren’t a bad way to get started at all; especially when you have one personally assembled for you by someone at a fly shop who can get a feel for what flies you’re interested in tying. But I opted for the pre-selected, company kit that was assembled probably more as a means of ditching materials that wouldn’t sell than as something to ease my transition into the art of fly tying.

The kit regretfully came from one of the large catalog companies, cost $150, and was advertised as having everything I’d needed to start tying flies: vise, tools, hooks, materials, and a book to show me how to do it. To no real surprise, the materials were extremely low grade, with the provided colors apparently selected for patterns no longer in production. Or someone thought red and yellow were the two universal colors for everything from hackle and marabou to chenille and dubbing. The pocket sized book turned out to be equally disappointing with about twenty pages that included such detailed instructions as: Put hook in vise. Attach thread to hook. Tie feather to hook. Dub body. There were no technique pictures, no definitions, and really only about five illustrated patterns. So I tied a few mutant Wooly Buggers with massive, 10” yellow tails that included even the thick stem, red bodies that were plump at the hook bend and skinny near the head, red palmered hackles that ended about halfway up the body, and a thread head the size of a marble.

I also tried my luck with dry flies but due to limited materials, the fact that I really didn’t know what the materials were, and that I had no discernible skills, they didn’t quite turn out like the ones in the fly shop. They did look exactly like mayflies – assuming we’re talking about mayflies that have been smashed on your car windshield and spread a few times with the wiper blade. They consisted of 2” tails that pointed down because I tied them too far back on the hook. The body was a thick, lumpy mass of mangled fur because I didn’t know how to spread and twist dubbing on a thread. The hackle was big and soft since I was using broad saddle hackle from the kit. You mean there are different types of hackle? And to finish it off, the hook eye would be inaccessible, covered over in thread wraps since I never left enough room to wind a head. That actually may have been a cosmic favor – the universe suggesting that I might want to reconsider attaching this monstrosity to the end of my tippet.

I eventually put all the pieces together and twenty years later, I can say that my flies do catch fish, they look kind of pretty, and I’m finally to the point where I’m saving a little money. In fact, as a commercial tyer, I now even get to say I’m making money, but if I’m being honest, most of my profits go right back into materials to tie more flies – the circle of life. There are people that solely make a living tying flies but I’m not one of them. Other than offset some other expenses, all commercial fly tying has really done for me is significantly change my perspective on the value of a fly. It didn’t take long before I went from, “They want $2.00 for one fly?!” to “They only get $2.00 for a fly?!”

Making the jump from recreational fly tying to commercial fly tying also has a way of stifling any creative ambitions you once may have possessed as you become confined to a one person assembly line of feathers and fur, repetitively producing dozens of the exact same fly. I get hit from two sides as I try to keep many of the bins full at the local fly shop while still keeping my own boxes full for guide trips, constantly replenishing staple patterns routinely sacrificed to high tree limbs by eager fly fishing virgins. Still, that creative yearning never goes away and routinely creeps up and distracts me while I’m four dozen deep in a fly tying shift of redundancy. An hour later, I’ve aborted the task at hand and have tied six Parachute Adams with pink rubber legs, chartreuse hackle, and a spinner blade for a tail.

Okay, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but I have, for whatever reason, had some really bad ideas for fly patterns. They were all born of what, at the time, seemed to be sound theory but in retrospect are pretty difficult to justify. Despite these failures in fly tying evolution, over the years I have created some flies that turned out to be very productive, but I don’t know how original any of them really are. The patterns I create most often tend to be variations of already established patterns, posing the question of what actually constitutes an original fly pattern.

Fly tying is much like cooking in that regard. Very rarely is a brand new recipe created anymore. Rather, traditional recipes are often tweaked to create a slightly different flavor or texture. If I cook ground beef and put it on a bun, it’s a hamburger. If I add cheese it’s a cheeseburger. If I add sautéed onions, it’s a cheeseburger with sautéed onions. But if I make the same thing on different bread it becomes a Patty Melt. If I use chartreuse grizzly hackle on a Parachute Adams and add pink rubber legs, is it simply a Chartreuse, Rubber-Legged Parachute Adams, or is that enough variation to be considered an original pattern warranting a clever new name?

What is it that even motivates so many fly tyers to attempt so many new patterns when the old standards seem to work just fine? Is it an attempt at something better or merely an attempt at something different? Is it for the fish’s benefit or our own? Maybe it’s because with a new fly pattern comes new hope. Success with a particular fly, whether it is an old standard or a new concoction of your own design, really just seems to boil down to personal confidence. When you have confidence in the fly with which you’re fishing, you naturally fish it harder and fish it better. It’s funny how that works. I know that the Muddler Minnow is a fantastic fly and that it works. It’s probably one of the top five freshwater streamers ever created but while I’ve been in the company of numerous fishermen who catch several fish and big fish on it, I couldn’t catch a fish on that fly if I cast it in a trout tank at the local boat show. It has just never worked for me and I suppose that’s because, for whatever reason, I just don’t fish it with confidence.

What I’ll really never understand are the flies that go in and out of “style” – not necessarily with fishermen, but with fish. Some flies have been staples for me since the day I started trout fishing while others seem to fall in and out of vogue. I used to tie and fish a fly called a Mallard Minnow that, back in the day, would catch any kind of fish in any kind of water. I thought about it once and realized that on that fly, I’d caught rainbow trout, brown trout, brook trout, smallmouth bass, largemouth bass, rock bass, striped bass, bluegill, gar, carp, catfish, walleye, and salmon. It probably would have also accounted for saltwater fish if given the chance but at some point, it just quit working. It was a fly in which I once had total confidence and unmatched success and I haven’t had a fish so much as look at it since the late nineties.

Why is that? Are flies to fish what clothes are to us? Do they have fly shows every spring to feature the latest trends? Maybe that large brown trout behind the stump is rolling his eyes at my Mallard Minnow, telling his rainbow trout friend, “That is so 1995.” Are there also trout with retro tastes that are looking for fly patterns from the fifties and sixties? If so, I suppose that’s why a good old standard Wooly Bugger would top my list as the perfect fly. Like a basic pair of blue jeans, it seems to always be in style. But if it just had a propeller at the head….

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Rob’s Hellbender Nymph

Since we’re talking about big browns this month, I thought it only fitting to feature one of my favorite flies for big brown trout. While I have caught a number of big browns on small flies over the years, most of the big guys in the mountains have come on larger stonefly nymphs. This is a little bit misleading as most of the large browns I’ve caught in the Smokies I spotted before I fished for them. And when I spot a big brown trout, I almost always tie some sort of stonefly nymph imitation to my line. Who is to say I wouldn’t have caught those same fish on a #20 Zebra Midge had I chosen that fly?

I’ve always said that fly selection is 45% scientific, 45% experience, and 10% dumb luck. The scientific aspect comes in when you choose a fly to specifically imitate something that the fish are known to be feeding on. For example, if you see sulfur mayflies hatching, you see fish feeding on them, and you choose a sulfur mayfly imitation, you’ve more or less made a scientific decision. If you go to the stream and tie on a Royal Wulff for no other reason than you’ve always done pretty well on a Royal Wulff, you’ve made your decision based on experience. And of course, if you choose to fish the purple and green fly for no other reason than it looks neat, you’re pretty much depending on dumb luck!

All three methods have been successful over the years but the first two are usually more reliable because you have something at least somewhat logical and reliable to base the decision on. Even when your logic may be incorrect, such as choosing a sulfur to imitate a perceived sulfur hatch when the fish are actually eating caddis, you tend to have more success because you have confidence in your fly. When you have confidence in your fly pattern, you tend to fish it longer and better.

My tendency to select a stonefly nymph when I fish to a big brown trout comes from scientific reasoning and experience. I’ve studied the aquatic entomology of the Smokies and know that there are a lot of stonefly nymphs in the streams. I also reason that a larger morsel of food, like a stonefly nymph, would be more enticing to a larger fish. And I’m also relying on experience – I’ve caught a lot of big brown trout on stonefly nymphs over the years.

Golden Stonefly Nymph

Some of my favorite “go-to” stonefly patterns over the years have been old standards like a Tellico Nymph, a Bitch Creek Nymph, and a Girdle Bug. I always liked the coloring of the Tellico because I thought it best represented a golden stone, which seems to be the most prolific big stonefly in most Smoky Mountain streams. I liked the flat, two-tone profile of the Bitch Creek Nymph. It seems to produce a nice rocking motion on the drift. And while the Bitch Creek Nymph does incorporate rubber legs in the design, the additional rubber legs on a Girdle Bug always seemed to give it a much more lifelike appearance.

So what did I do? I took what I thought were the best features from each of my favorite stonefly nymph patterns and blended them into one fly. The result is Rob’s Hellbender Nymph. It has the flat, elongated, two-tone profile of a Bitch Creek, the multiple rubber legs of a Girdle Bug, and a color similar to the Tellico.

I weight these flies with lead wire that is flattened to provide that rocking motion in the water. I not only tie them in different sizes, usually #10 – #4, but I tie them in different weights. To get down fast in deep, fast runs, I like a lot of weight, but I prefer a lightly weighted one when casting to a brown trout in the shallows.

For whatever reason, offering flies in different weights tends to be too confusing to customers at a fly shop so commercially tied patterns like this one are typically made available in one uniform weight. So the ones you find in a shop like Little River Outfitters are going to be lightly weighted so the fly can be fished in slower, shallower water. To get them down quickly in deeper, faster runs, just add the appropriate amount of split shot.

While I may choose something like a large streamer when searching for big browns, this fly has become my “go-to” for a large brown that I have spotted first. Of course, every situation is different and there will be countless circumstances that suggest otherwise. But next time you’re in the Smokies with a big brown in your sights, see what he thinks about this bug!

Learn more about Smoky Mountain hatches and flies in my hatch guide.

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Flies: Rob’s Hellbender Dry

As about anyone who knows me can tell you, I’m terrible at self-promotion. The worst. So it should come as no surprise that I’ve never featured one of my own patterns in the newsletter. Usually I opt for more standard or classic patterns. But this is a good fly and it’s good this time of the year, so here you go!

I started tying this one probably 4 or 5 years ago, and if you’ve fished with me in the summertime or fall, you’ve probably fished with it at some point. Heck, you might have even caught a fish on it. It started as most fly patterns do for me, as a modification to an existing pattern. If you’re not a fly tyer or maybe if you’re new to it, you may not realize that fly tying is a lot like cooking. You can make up a recipe totally out of your head. You can follow an existing recipe step by step. Or you can take an existing recipe and modify it to better suit your taste. I’ve done all of the above over the years.

Just before this pattern was born, I was having success with a fly called a Neversink Caddis, a great little foam pattern named for the Neversink River in New York. But I got to thinking about a yellow foam body fly with a little flash. So I tied a Neversink Caddis with a little Krystal Flash under the wing. Then I thought about how great it would be to have a yellow foam body fly with a little flash and some rubber legs. So I tied a Neversink Caddis with a little Krystal Flash under the wing and rubber legs on the side. Then I started thinking about how well it might work if it was still buoyant, but rode a little flatter on the surface. You get the idea.

There comes a point where you change so many things about a chili recipe that it’s no longer chili. And after the fourth or fifth modification on this fly, it was no longer a Neversink Caddis. It was it’s own fly and it was catching fish. A lot of them. I was fairly quiet about it but had more than a few guide clients that started asking for the fly at Little River Outfitters, and it wasn’t long before Daniel asked me to tie some for the shop.

Bottom View

I’ve done some commercial tying in the past and it’s a grind – a whole lot of work for not much money. I remember when I first started fly fishing, I’d go to a fly shop and say, “Seriously? They charge $2 for one of these?!?” After I began tying commercially, tying hundreds of dozens of flies, I remember saying, “Seriously? They only charge $2 for one of these?!?” Needless to say, I wasn’t jumping at the chance to get back into the commercial tying game.

So I went a different route and submitted it and another nymph pattern to a large fly distributor. If accepted, you send samples with tying instructions, they mass-produce them, and you collect a royalty for each dozen sold. Pretty neat. It doesn’t add up to much but I collect a check at the end of each year that’s enough to take my wife to a nice dinner. I have other original patterns that I keep intending to submit but never seem to get around to it. Maybe this winter.

So that’s how the fly came to be. It’s a good fly pretty much anytime between late April and early November, but I like it best in the late summer and early fall when the water is low. In low or flat water, high-riding, bushy flies get refused a lot, and I have trouble keeping more sparsely dressed flies afloat. But Rob’s Hellbender floats great, sits lower and flatter on the surface and seems to produce strikes when its high-riding counterparts fail.

It falls under the attractor category, as it doesn’t really imitate anything in particular. I’m sure it mostly gets taken as a stonefly or hopper. Either way, they eat it and you need some. If you want to tie it, the recipe is below.  Or better yet, buy a bunch at Little River Outfitters so I can take my wife out to dinner.

Rob’s Hellbender Dry
Hook: 2xl dry fly hook #14 – 10
Thread: 8/0 yellow
Underbody and rib: Thread
Body and Head: Yellow 2mm foam (tan, chartreuse, & orange work well, too)
Underwing: Pearl Krystal Flash
Wing: Deer hair
Hackle: Brown rooster
Legs: Tan barred Sili-Legs

Learn more about Smoky Mountain hatches and flies in my hatch guide.