Anticipation

The hint of near fifty-degree temperatures that teased us all a couple weeks ago got me into a very optimistic frame of mind about the coming fishing season. I did some pre-season beach scouting and once again began to tinker with gear that lay dormant as if in some form of tackle hibernation. I took hold of all my favorite rods and one by one gave them each a very familiar flex-test, making certain they would serve me well for another season. It felt reassuring to take hold of the graphite and fiberglass wands once again. And one by one I spun the handles of my most loyal fly, spinning and bait casting reels, simply to hear the sound of the spools revolving, and to feel the mechanism’s dependable smoothness. For the reels with line still on them I gave a quick test of the drags, just to make sure they too were smooth as silk and that there would be no binding or hesitation as this year’s future trophies would try their best to terminate the tenuous connection between angler and fish. I won’t go so far as to say I caressed the tackle, but I have a favorite fishing tee shirt that reads, “My rod and reel give me comfort.” Truer words were never spoken.

I pulled out my collection of fly wallets to take inventory of favorite patterns, those I have in adequate supply and those whose stocks I still need to replenish at the tying bench. Among the flies were a number of battle tested warriors, hackles sprung loose and thread undone from sandpaper-like mouth of one too many striped bass. And there were a few flies that had seen better days before the tooth-filled maws of bluefish clamped down on them and shredded them to bits. What a way to go! One of the smaller rain bait patterns instantly brought me back to the fall run at Montauk fishing with my buddy, Captain Adrian Mason, and all the bass, blues and albies that fly fooled into thinking it was something real and alive. In do time, I will return once again to that space with fresh flies, a renewed spirit and a new batch of fish to fool. I placed all those worn flies in a pile and contemplated for a moment tossing them in the garbage can but instead dropped them in a “retirement” container along with other flies that once before also enjoyed active duty. You never know when they might provide inspiration. At minimum, they deserve to live out their remaining years with others of similar persuasion. I can only imagine the stories they will tell.

I descended next into the basement where I keep my supply of plugs, lures and all other forms of terminal gear. I needed to make sure they too were ready to serve. My boat tackle bag was the first to receive my attention. The plug boxes were in pretty neat order since my first post-season maintenance routine usually begins with me straightening out my entangled plugs mess. But one box that contains many fall favorites had escaped my due diligence. It was plug chaos at best. I sometimes fantasize that those intermingled lure bodies and hooks might just be a sign of a plug mating ritual that will result in a spawn of new year-class swimmers for me to use without having to shell out more money. But that never seems to happen. The plugs just remain intertwined in some form of spiritual bliss until I come along and ruin their fun. What struck me was that a few of my favorites seemed in perilously short supply, a direct result of my inclination not to use wire leaders when monster bluefish maraud late season baitfish. I make a mental note to use higher pound-test fluorocarbon next season. A few of my favorite bonito and false albacore plugs are in really bad shape, perhaps even beyond hope. They are actually small, modified freshwater plugs and the pelagics just beat them up mercilessly. I will attempt some plug surgery to restore some dignity so they might enjoy at least one more season with me. I hate getting rid of old plugs so I work hard at restoration. That’s the least I would want someone to do for me! Prop me up, fix me up, stick me in a pair of waders, hand me a rod and give me one more season. I hope that goes on forever! Don’t we all?

Living ones allotted time around fishing seasons is much more than a life style choice; it is a way of living ones life. And part of that process is the anticipation that comes with the arrival of a new fishing year. Sometimes, it’s the best part.

Of Flies and Plugs

I was party to a discussion recently about the optimal size for a saltwater fly. As you might imagine that dialogue was quite lively, with individual preferences all over the lot. One of the anglers suggested a pattern of about two-and-a-half inches in length was his favorite go-to size since that dimension represented most of the bait he encountered. Another angler offered six-inches as his preference, since he tended to fish most frequently during those times of season when big baits were present. And yet anther opined that flies of at least seven-and-a-half inches are ideal if one wanted to really grab the attention of striped bass and feed them a fly of substance.

When it was my turn to speak, the response was measured and a bit hedged. I fly-fish throughout all of the Long Island seasons and in so doing come upon the entire progression of bait available around Long Island, from small shrimp and crabs in the early season to larger shad, bunker and herring as the season advances. Throw in some micro rain bait that we see in the late summer and fall and the entire spectrum of bait sizes are represented. There are certainly times when one must replicate bait as closely as possible in all aspects of conformity if consistent success is to be achieved – but that is not always the case. My arsenal of flies includes pattern sizes from about an inch-and-a-half up to about eight inches. But as you have read here many times before, the most important elements of a fly’s design embrace the characteristics not only of size but of profile, silhouette and contrast as well. That said, I do have one fly wallet just chock full of one fly size that I guess would qualify as a favorite; “…that size is 4-½ inches”. My response generated a question from one of my friends, “Why 4-½ inches and not 4 or 5 inches?” I smiled since that was a very logical question considering I am not an advocate of exact anatomical precision when tying flies.

My answer was simply, “That is the size of one of the most effective swimming plugs of all times.” I was referring to the class of swimming plugs most often associated with the Rebel 4-½ straight and jointed plugs and a similar Rapala and Red Fin series of plugs. The response brought a few quizzical looks from my companions and one asked, “What does that have anything to do with a fly?” I immediately realized that he must have never fished one of those Rebel plugs, for had he done so he would have never asked that question. I’ve lost track of the number of game fish species I’ve caught on that genre of swimming plug and I know of countless anglers from Texas to Maine who have had similar experiences with that “old school” plug and others like it. The successes are endless: largemouth bass, smallmouth, stripers, redfish, snook, trout, bonito, false albacore, Spanish mackerel, pickerel, pike…the list goes on and on. Over time, 4½-inch plugs have consistently gotten the job done. And over time a 4½-inch flies have performed equally as well.

What’s so special about those specific Rebels, Rapalas or Redfins, and what
do they have to do with fly design? First off, I believe the size and action of
those plugs have proven over time to be effective at motivating fish to
strike. Game fish being opportunistic want a substantial meal that appears in
peril, and they prefer not to expend too much caloric energy chasing
down dinner. These swimming plugs can be fished “lazy”, with subtle and
enticing action. The combination of size and action work in concert to present
what appear as easy pickings. To be sure, there are plenty of other smaller
and larger plugs that are as effective as the “4-1/2 inchers ” when employed
under the right sets of circumstances. But in my case and with others I know
who’ve enjoyed these plugs, a heightened degree of confidence is always
evident when one is tied on to the end of a leader.

The fly angler can achieve the many of the same plug results with the right pattern. I’ve known tiers who toiled endlessly attempting to create an exact fly replica of these swimming plugs - a few have come very close to doing so. Many of those flies perform well, and in all cases those that do have success are close size matches to the plugs. Replicating the unique action of a Rebel or a similar-style plug is a horse of a different color. That too takes some doing but successful replica flies have incorporated a variety of natural and synthetic materials and more than just a modicum of ingenuity. One particular fly design incorporates the use of a molded plastic swim lip secured to the head region of the pattern. This innovation gives the fly surprisingly enticing action…not quite the tight motion of the plugs…but close enough to be a stimulant to the fish.

There are no absolutes in fly-fishing - or any fishing for that matter. The only constant in the fishing equation is that fish drive our response to their behavior much more than we motivate their reaction to our flies, lures and plugs. When it comes to the size of a fly, experiment with different patterns under different conditions and always let the fish tell you their preference. And make it a point to keep some 4-½ flies at the ready.

Selecting a Saltwater Fly Rod

Whether one is a novice or seasoned angler much thought typically goes into the selection of a new fishing rod, especially if it is a fly rod. While the experienced fly fisher will most likely be adding a specialty rod to an already established arsenal of gear, the newcomer is often seeking an all-round fly rod to handle diverse angling situations and conditions encountered around Long Island. Fly rods fall into the equipment category of “no one size fits all”. But for the inshore saltwater angler the selection process is made a bit easier since there are in fact a few rod styles and designs that best meet the needs of anglers who desire to toss flies to striped bass, bluefish, weakfish, false albacore and bonito. There are some pundits out there who still shroud the process of fly rod selection in opaque mystique, but buying your first saltwater fly rod need not be an anxiety filled event.

There are fundamentally two types of new entrants into the world of saltwater fly-fishing, those who have converted from freshwater and those whose initiation into the sport is through a baptism by saltwater. If you fall in to the former category you would be well served to leave many of your freshwater experiences and habits behind, especially as they pertain to casting a fly rod. In saltwater, the entire casting process slows down and the dynamics of loading a rod take on more significance.

When selecting a rod, the most important consideration is to actually cast a few models so that you have a feel for what all the labeling lingo really means. And cast the rod with some form of fly resistance at the end of the line. I always get a kick out of the parking lot cowboys who revel in how far a rod can cast without the effects of bulky fly resistance, and without the effects of actual fishing conditions. One time while on a tarpon trip in Florida I stopped at a fly fishing shop a cousin of mine frequented. The proprietor of the store raved about a new 12- weight model he had just received in stock and twisted my arm to give it a try. So out into the parking lot we went. It was a very fast-tip rod with a 13-weight sinking line spooled to the reel. That rod was like a rocket launcher. I threw several casts out of the parking lot and into the street and had no remaining fly line on the reel. It was one of those “gotta have this rod” moments, until I was brought back to reality by the facts that there was no big fly on the tippet, there was no wind, there were no rolling tarpon to frazzle my nerves and I wasn’t trying to balance myself on a small casting platform while listening to a cantankerous Everglades guide bark out distance and watch face commands at me – “Tarpon 11 o’clock, 25 yards…cast, cast, cast!” I resisted the temptation to shell out a few hundred bucks for that rod and maintained faith in my tried and true travel rod. In the end, we landed two tarpon on the fly that trip and jumped a few more.

Most fly rod blanks are described as having parabolic actions that are full-flex, mid-flex or tip-flex in their design. Simply put, this means slow, medium and fast action blanks. If you envision a blank loading under the weight of a line being false cast, a full-flex blank will behave much like the designation implies, the flex will be spread throughout the entire blank, from the tip to the butt section. A mid-flex action involves those portions of the blank from the tip to the mid-region of the rod. And lastly, a tip-flex rod will have most all of its action contained in the tip section of the rod. This latter form of rod action is most commonly referred to as being “fast”. Most saltwater fly anglers will opt for rods that are mid or tip-flex models. One advantage of a mid-flex rod for the new fly angler is that the action is much more forgiving of the casting errors that typically come with the learning process, and before a level of consistent casting proficiency is achieved. On the flip side most anglers I know choose fast tip rods. In average to good casting hands tip-flex rods can load heavier lines very effectively and efficiently, and adjust well to those fly rodders who like to step-up their lines one size. As well, a fast tip can offer quick loading for speedy shots at cruising fish. Either action would serve you well for most all inshore applications.

If I had to choose one size fly rod as a standard all-arounder for Long Island use it would be a 9-foot, 9-weight, fast-tip model. That type rod is one I employ for about 75% of my local fly-fishing. It gives me range for most all of my beach, boat and kayak fishing for bass, blues, bonito, albies, Spanish mackerel and weakfish. I occasionally can size a 10-weight line on it and I can effectively fish a 300-grain sink tip. While the 9-weight is my go-to fly rod I must admit to enjoying the benefits of a 10-weight when throwing larger flies or when I go dredging with very high-grain sinking tips. I will often resort to an 11-weight when tossing large top-water popper for big, tenacious bluefish.

A good entry level 9-weight need not break the bank either. There are quite a few models on the market right now that are moderately priced. If you’d like a few recommendations shoot me an email and I’ll suggest a few.