“Fishing Without Casting,” by Jim Mize

Wearing clothes that blend with the background, using trees to break up your silhouette, and keeping all fly line off the water can help you catch more spooky summertime trout. Photo: Clare Monahan

Fishing small streams in the Blue Ridge Mountains during the Dog Days may lead you to question why you left the couch. Bright sun and skinny waters make the fish more nervous than a dad on his daughter’s prom night. Still, I did have a trip years ago that despite these conditions was not only productive, it was also educational.

I’ll spare you the details of how I arrived on this creek except to say that I was traveling on business during the first week of August and had just one afternoon to spend on this stream. The stretch of water I had access to had a waterfall at the midpoint; above the waterfall wild trout flourished and below it the trout were stocked. I fished both.

When I started at noon, bright sunshine fell on much of the creek. Only about fifteen feet wide, the stream ran through a hardwood forest. The water was low, but still cool. For the most part, the stream was a series of shallow pools and riffles. Sometimes, the water would flatten out into a long run, and there I would see several fish spread out taking up different feeding stations.

Long, shallow pools make it especially hard to sneak up on wary trout. Photo: Jim Mize

Approaching the stream, I noticed that without setting foot in the water I had spooked some fish. Alert no doubt for predators, the trout sent an early message that approach would be critical. The trout reinforced this message the first time I tried casting. As soon as my line hit the water, fish darted away like I had tossed in firecrackers. So, I eased back out, walked quietly upstream, and found a hole to just watch the fish.

I think it was Joe Humphreys that offered this instruction years ago, but if not, it sounds like something he would say. As I recall, he advised us to observe each stretch of water before fishing it. So, I found an old beech tree near the bank, stooped low, and used it to block my approach to the creek. In a crouch, I half walked and half crawled to approach the stream. Once against the tree, I slowly stood and peeked around the side to watch the fish.

Even on a hot afternoon, the fish were feeding. I could see them gliding gently back and forth, followed by their shadows on the creek bottom. Transfixed by what I saw, I leaned against that old beech for about twenty minutes before the idea finally settled in my mind.
If the fish were spooked by a fly line in the water, I would fish without landing one.

Fooling wild fish—even small ones—sometimes requires stealth and patience. Photo: Jim Mize

I had a Partridge and Orange Soft Hackle on a long leader, and it seemed like as good a fly as any. Wrapping my left arm around the beech for balance, I stretched my right arm holding the fly rod around the other side of the tree, leaned as far as I could, and gently let the soft hackle down to the water.

I was able to let the fly drift to the nose of a trout without the leader in the water or a shadow falling on the fish. I moved the rod tip to follow the fly, and it floated along without drag, just another bug in the water. Of course, you know what happened next or I likely would have forgotten this story after all these years. The fish sipped in the fly, I set the hook with a flick of my wrist, and then I led it to the bottom of the hole and landed it with as little disturbance as possible.

Looking upstream for the next hole with a large tree on the bank, I plotted my path to it without spooking more fish. And again, I dapped the fly on the surface and caught the fish closest to the tree.

Through the middle of the afternoon, I fished this way. Stocked trout or wild trout, the approach worked for both. The fish must have learned to avoid shadows and ripples regardless of whether the trout were born in a stream or a hatchery. Otherwise, they didn’t survive.

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As the afternoon wore on and the shadows began to fall on the water, I could approach the fish in a more traditional sense, easing in from downstream, and casting softly ahead of the fish. Still, I kept the leader long and avoided false casting over their heads. In some places, I could use the water behind me to create tension on my line and load my rod, making a water haul before I knew what to call it. That way, I made no false casts over the water.

Since that day, I’ve had many occasions to sneak up on fish as I did that afternoon. Usually, it’s when the water is low, the stream small, and plenty of cover lines the stream banks. Small Soft Hackles seem to work well, though I suspect any terrestrial would be just fine since the bug is falling in from above.

As sight fishing goes, this approach adds a new wrinkle, requiring a quiet approach, sometimes a crouch or crawl to the river, maneuvering a long rod through limbs and growth on the bank, without tangling up your fly and leader.

Still, there’s something particularly rewarding about fishing without casting.

Jim Mize tends to remember the fishing lessons that worked. Check out Jim’s new book, The Jon Boat Years, or buy autographed copies here.