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Master Fly Fishing: Getting into the Water for the First Time

I’ve taken guided trips in Belize to catch bonefish on a fly.  I’ve fished the upper Colorado River for trout with friends to waste a morning or afternoon. Even when I was in the habit of going fly fishing regularly, I would never consider myself a fly fisherman.

Fly fishing is something I want to master. In fact, catching a Tarpon with a fly is at the top of my bucket list.  Watching someone cast a fly rod is poetry in motion. I could watch an effective caster all day long in awe. So why, am I not better?

It’s not as if I haven’t prepared in some ways. A few years ago, I bought an inexpensive fly rod and reel to fish a nearby stream. It is a 3/4 weight set up, so I could practice on panfish. The plan at the time was to wade the streams and just see what happens. I guess life got in the way, because I never got around to getting out into the water.

I also have a nice fly rod and reel combo to catch Redfish and Speckled trout down at the coast. Learning how to fish saltwater bays, to read currents, tides, temperatures, and wind, and to captain a boat for the first time – all this was frustrating enough without adding the mastery of a new skill on top of all that. It was too much; hence, all my equipment has sat collecting dust.

The Start of a Journey

Being asked to provide content for International Sportsman was an honor, an overwhelming one at that. The internal conversation went something along the lines of, “Where do I begin?” “Why would anyone want to read my thoughts on whatever topic?” “Who am I…I’m just me..?”

I’ve gotten over those questions, so much so that I’m working on multiple articles. I am putting myself in the readers’ shoes because my goal is to bring new people to the sport. Since fly fishing is relatively new to me, not only am I going to share my advice on getting started with spinning gear and to get to the water to catch fish, I’m also bringing you along on my journey into something new, sharing my steps, lessons I learn, and how I can apply those lessons to the bigger picture of fishing. Join me as I master this skill — all the way to my first Tarpon.

A few days ago, on the verge of being stressed out, I decided to get away from my desk and the project I was working on and head outdoors. I grabbed the fly reels out of the garage and made my way to the local fly-fishing shop. After an hour, I was all set: backing, line, leader, tippet, and a small selection of flies, along with an elementary understanding of what I needed to do before getting on the water. After a quick search on what knot to use to tie flies to the tippet, I was on the water practicing my cast again for the first time since I was in Belize three years ago.

It was ugly. Yet, I was “casting.” The initial fly that I tied on the tippet was a wet fly, meaning you fish it below the surface. I quickly realized that with all of the algae growing on the rocks, I needed a dry fly which would stay on top of the water. After struggling with another knot, I continued down the stream.

The water at my entry point to the stream was a little over my ankles. It was a great spot to practice my cast, but I knew the fishing was going to be non-existent. As I started downstream, I found some holes and pockets of activity. A better fisherman would have easily been able to get some casts into these places, but since it was my first day, I saved myself the trouble of getting my line snagged in vegetation.

The water was clear as I walked along, and I was able to scout ahead for a good spot. Just as I thought: fish were there to be caught, but I was just lacking in my skill to actually do so successfully. I continued downstream. In the places that I was confident I could cast, I was able to strip line and have a fish, sometimes even multiple fish, chase. My confidence was building. I even had a couple of bites. Setting the hook was a foreign skill and I quickly remembered I was out of practice. I adapted. Since I was seeing action but missing opportunities, a smaller hook would increase my hook up ratio. I changed flies one more time, this time to the smallest dry fly hook I had purchased.

Cast.

Strip.

Strip.

Strip.

Cast.

Stip.

Fish on!

I was catching fish and having a blast. Panfish are called such because they will never outgrow a frying pan. The fish I was catching were nothing to brag about, let alone write an article about, but the point of my writing is that you may find my story relatable and see that fishing can be successful and fun even if you’re not catching big fish.

Even if I had not caught a single fish, I have considered this outing a success – I was sharpening skills that I use all the time on larger species: reading the water, looking for activity, being rewarded because of the clear water and instant feedback, all while learning and working on mastering a skill that I’ve been wanting to improve upon, fly fishing.

In the end, I caught two different species, landing a total of four fish. My mood was better, and I  wasn’t as stressed. I’ll call that a success.

Keep the lines tight!

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