Fishing is a story . . . On a summer morning of fishing, I fish terrestrials in two different ways — first as a dry fly and then as a nymph.
The concepts of terrestrial fishing are largely centered around the dry fly. And I show that in the first half of this video. Target the edges and fish some of the middle stuff along the way. But the terrestrial fishing mindset — the concepts and strategies — are effectively taken over to a nymphing rig as well, often producing more and larger trout.
Fishing is a story . . . On a cool morning in August, I visited a favorite stretch of Class A water, with no plan but to see what the trout wanted to eat. In a few hours of fishing for wild trout, I fooled fish with nymphs, dry flies and streamers. This versatile approach is not only enjoyable, it’s often necessary. Because meeting trout on their own terms is the only way to make the most of a river. Cover water. Find feeding fish. Test theories . . . every day.
The Troutbitten Fish and Film series is here. Fishing is a story. It’s the woods and the water. It’s the trout, and the rivers that draw us streamside. And at its best, good fishing is a mystery to be solved with observation, theory and technique.
The new Fish & Film series from Troutbitten aims to tell that story.
There’s a process of evolution in our fishing that cannot be rushed. It’s better off being accepted. And yet, it might take the wisdom of age to ever understand that.
I’d argue that most anglers pursue fishing for the time-out-of-mind experience. Many styles of fishing allow for it, but surfcasting draws me in unlike anything I’ve ever done.
I think it’s the waves . . .
. . . It can be dead silent on that mountain, quiet enough to remember a place in time with no interruptions, a day that started in a bustling, wide valley and finished in stillness on top of a mountain.
. . . . . . The guitar amp, the voices, the conversations, the laughing and arguing, the engine noise and the truck’s rattles, the NPR opinion and the crackly speakers — it’s all gone. And it’ll stay gone for as long as I’m here on the mountaintop. This is real silence.
. . . There’s a segment of fly anglers who will never see streamers, nymphs or wet flies as a legitimate offering. That’s fine. Keep it to yourself.
There’s another segment of fly fishers who believe trophy hunting for big browns with big streamers is the only way to live out there. And everything else might as well be tweed hats and waxed catgut. That’s fine too. Keep it to yourself.
The majority of us are fishermen, just having fun, trying to catch a fish and then catch another one . . .
Accomplished and skilled fly fishing requires that you give part of your life to the river. That’s evident in the first few trips, and I think the depth of all this surprises would-be anglers. It intimidates some, and it captivates others . . .
I don’t know another time when I approached a slot with so much confidence. Better. Slower. This was it. At the end of the fishless drift, my certainly wasn’t questioned, it was simply re-informed. “Need more weight,” I said. It was an unforgettable, prove-it kind of moment . . .
An account of our last and favorite day in Patagonia . . . We walked the banks and waded through it all — a new slate for memories, a new proving ground for tactics.
This is one of the most amazing times to be on the water. Fishing through a snowstorm rekindles memories, ingrained from the novelty of tracking flies and fly line through the optical mystery of falling snow.
. . . This morning, I’m leaning on my favorite set of forgiving flies — just a handful of patterns I’ve noticed that our notoriously picky trout are more willing to move for and eat. These are patterns that draw attention and perhaps curiosity, but also don’t cause many refusals.
The willingness to meet luck wherever it stands, to accept what comes and fish regardless, is the fundamental attribute of die hard anglers, regardless of their region or the species they chase. We fish because we can, because we’re alive, willing and able, and because we mean to beat bad luck just as we did the last time it showed up.