Tag: wet flies

My journey in pursuit of trout with the fly began over 40 years ago with a new fly rod and instructions to cast and drift a fly. What a gift that was. The woods and waters of Pennsylvania, the Appalachian Mountains and beyond have brought a life of admiration for the wilderness, forests, wildlife, and a thirst for “what lies beyond the next bend in the...

"Now you know people say that trout feed 90% of the time underwater and that may be true. The problem is we don't usually know what they're eating, so there's a lot of mystery involved and a lot of trial and error.  Join us and we'll show you some tips on subsurface fishing for trout.... 150 years ago trout fishing was done solely with what today we would...

Frank Beals was one of the only park rangers in my recollection who knew fly fishing. Sadly, I was never fortunate enough to meet angling scribe and “Trout” author Ray Bergman’s Yellowstone National Park legend, ranger Walter “Scotty” Chapman. So my ancient memory of Beals’ kindness at the West Entrance will have to do. Because he loved...

I like to listen to music when I tie flies. It reinforces a free thinking mood, and if you looked inside my fly boxes, you’ll know I’m not very good at following patterns, recipes, and instructions. Some would call that attention deficit disorder, though I prefer to think of it as improvisation. The other day I got to thinking about music, and how there...

OKAY, so, by way of comment on my last column, “salmo” baited me into a topic.  With all due respect to Duke Ellington, let’s talk about swinging flies. Thing is, “swinging” wet flies—be that on a steelhead river, or in a trout stream—is nothing new at all.  Isaak Walton had swinging wet flies down, hundreds of years ago.  And in my family...

ONE DAY LAST SUMMER, I was fishing a small, undistinguished local trout stream, and as I released one of its small, undistinguished local trout, I noticed that the hackle on my Adams had unwound and was trailing loose. But when I reached for my fly box to replace the ruined fly, I found myself wondering: Did the fish I was releasing tear that hackle loose...