Tuesday Tips: Advanced Streamer Tactics for Fall Trout


Orvis’s Shawn Combs caught this 17-inch beauty on Utah’s Green River on a Mike’s Meal Ticket.
Photo copyright Douglas Barnes, Now Picture This

When the nights turn cool and leaves change colors, trout start to feed more aggressively, often abandoning their notorious wariness. The major insect hatches of the year are over, and a. . .


Orvis’s Shawn Combs caught this 17-inch beauty on Utah’s Green River on a Mike’s Meal Ticket.
Photo copyright Douglas Barnes, Now Picture This

When the nights turn cool and leaves change colors, trout start to feed more aggressively, often abandoning their notorious wariness. The major insect hatches of the year are over, and a long winter is coming, so the fish are driven to pile on the calories. Plus, brown and brook trout need to build up energy for the spawning ritual. As the fish battle for prime beds and mates, trout also become more territorial, attacking anything that invades their staked-out home turf. The combination of these behaviors makes fall the prime time to cast streamers, which the trout see as both high-calorie meals and alien invaders.

Although the standard tactic—casting a Woolly Bugger quartering downstream, throwing an upstream mend, and stripping the fly back—will often work, there are other sometimes more effective ways to fish streamers. Here are three tactics for fooling big trout this fall.

Size Counts
The old adage “big fly, big fish” can be especially true in the fall. Over the past couple decades, some Midwestern anglers have turned to throwing increasingly huge streamers, sometimes with two hooks and a length topping six inches, to target only the biggest fish in the river. This is a game for pros only, but the rest of us can apply this concept to our own fly choices. Big flies that offer a bulky profile and lots of motion in the water usually outperform more traditional feathers-and-hair patterns. The Hawkins Triple Double is a good example: featuring a rabbit-strip tail that undulates enticingly, Flashabou and rubber legs to a get a fish’s attention, and dumbbell eyes to give the fly a jigging motion in the water, this things just screams “eat me!”—especially when you use a variable retrieve. Tied on a size 4 hook, the Triple Double is not so unwieldy that you need an 8-weight to cast it. If you do want to chuck the truly monster streamers, try one of Mike Schmidt’s patterns, such as a Junk Yard Dog or a Mike’s Meal Ticket, or one of the many flies created by Kelly Galloup.


The wide head of the Junk Yard Dog pushes water and kicks the tail around, creating a lifelike motion.
Photo via orvis.com

Play Dead
There are times when, for whatever reason, the trout seem sulky and unwilling to attack your offering. That’s when you need to make them an offer they can’t refuse: an easy meal they don’t need to work for. Instead of stripping the fly, dead-drift it—as you would a nymph—through the strike zone, allowing the currents to give the materials some lifelike motion. This strategy works best where trout go to hide: along deadfalls and weedbeds, in deep holes, and below midstream rocks. Keep a fairly tight line, so you can quickly detect strikes, as the trout darts out of its lair to intercept the “crippled” streamer. You’ll miss a few fish with this method, but you’ll move trout that wouldn’t budge otherwise. The Rubber-Legged Bugger works great in streams that have good crayfish populations.

Double Up
Although most anglers have fished two flies before—say, in a hopper-dropper rig—fewer have fished two streamers at the same time, but this is a great way to discover which colors and patterns the fish are keying on. Start with a stout, 7-foot leader of 1X, and tie on the first fly. To the bend of its hook, add two feet on 2X mono, and tie on the second fly. The two flies should offer contrast: dark and light, flashy and subtle, etc. I will often start with a sparkly Tequeely up front and an olive-and-black Woolly Bugger behind it.

To cast this heavy rig, open up your loop and don’t try to reach spots too far away. If you are in a boat, cast your rig right to the bank and start moving the flies immediately. The best retrieve is a strip-and-pause, which causes the flies to dart and then “die” in the current. Trout will often strike during the pause, so be ready to hit it with a strong strip set.

Click here for a more complete discussion of fishing two streamers.


My last fish of 2014 wasn’t huge, but it had a big appetite for a dead-drifted Cone Head Bugger.
Photo by Phil Monahan

Fall fishing is affected by weather, temperature, spawning behavior, and a host of other factors. One day, the trout will hammer a moving fly, whereas the next they’ll require something “dead.” With several different streamer tactics in your arsenal, you’ll be best equipped to deal with changing conditions and give the fish what they want.

Pro Tips: Catch More False Albacore with Topwater Flies

Written by: Capt. Gordon Churchill


The author shows off a gorgeous little tunny, which ate a Crease Fly.
Photos courtesy Capt. Gordon Churchill

If you’re a fly fisherman, then you love seeing fish eat your flies, like when you’re casting dry flies for trout or poppers for bass. And sight-fishing for bonefish is considered one of the more exciting . . .

Written by: Capt. Gordon Churchill


The author shows off a gorgeous little tunny, which ate a Crease Fly.
Photos courtesy Capt. Gordon Churchill

If you’re a fly fisherman, then you love seeing fish eat your flies, like when you’re casting dry flies for trout or poppers for bass. And sight-fishing for bonefish is considered one of the more exciting kinds of fishing. So how come when you come out to the saltwater to fish for false albacore, you use a sinking line and a weighted streamer . . . especially since an albie will hit a fly off the surface with even more reckless abandon than any of those other fish will? It baffles me. Too many anglers are told that they need a clear intermediate fly lines or a dark-colored sinking line to get albie bites. But it’s not true. I guarantee you that you can catch all the albies you want on topwater flies, and not miss a thing that you would have gotten by fishing with sinking lines.

There are a few things to look for and some things to be aware of, however. The one drawback is that, if you are one of those guys who likes to tell people, “We got on bait balls and caught fifty albies per day when we went to Cape Lookout!” this technique may not be for you. However, if the thrill of seeing a topwater bite from a 12- to 20-pound fish is something you want to experience, then read on.


When albies are busting on top, a surface pattern will stand out from all the bait in the water.

First of all you need a quality floating line, something that won’t kink up on you when the water temperature gets below 65. If the only line you have is a “Tropical,” change that thing out. Get the quality “Saltwater” line. It won’t kink up on you. Next, I’d say stick with a 10-weight rod. While you can use a 9- or even an 8-, the wind is going to be pushing your cast around and the heavier line will do a better job for you. Add to that the fact that really big fish of over 15 pounds (20?) show with regularity off North Carolina. I have found that 9-weights are allergic to 20 pound false albacore. Finally, you need the right topwater fly, and there are basically just two. First is a Crease Fly tied on a size 1/0 hook, with a body that is about the size of a man’s ring finger or middle finger. Much bigger than that, and it gets ignored; smaller and they might not see it. Crease Flies are what I fish with more than 90% of the time. The other is any random old popper that I use when fishing behind trawlers.


Look at how beat up that Crease Fly is, from all the albies it has caught.

So let’s say you are running the beach around Cape Lookout, and you can see that fish are feeding along the shore in about 15 feet of water. This is Situation Prime for Crease Flies. What often happens is that, as you move the boat into range to get a shot, the fish go down. It happens all the time. When it’s calm enough along the beach for the fish to be there and for you to get your boat in there, it’s also calm enough for them to be displeased with the sounds your boat makes. Cast a Crease Fly in this situation and when other people are disappointed by the fish moving away, you will get strikes. I believe this is because the fish, even though you might not see them, are still there, moving fast for the next feeding opportunity. Often you can see them streaking past the boat. The Crease Fly makes a nice noise, so they turn to look at it, see a minnow barely moving on top, and Blam! Fish on.

Perhaps the fish are in slightly deeper water. You pull up and make a cast into a melee of feeding albies, but your streamer gets ignored. There is so much bait that a small fly tied to look exactly like a glass minnow can’t get noticed. Again, the Crease Fly does the job. As it pops along on top, it sticks out like a bad song on your iPod’s “Road Trip Mix.” They’ll hit it usually as it is just sitting there between pops so don’t move it too fast. Get it in there, pop it with one handed pulls, and don’t move it out of the strike zone too quickly. When they strike, albies will often come right out of the water with the fly in their mouth. It’s pretty cool.


A final opportunity for topwater is the least obvious, but possibly the most exciting in terms of pure numbers. Fishing behind shrimping boats is a way to find fish around Cape Lookout on days when the fish aren’t feeding on top elsewhere. Boats pull up behind the trawlers, get in line, wait for the guys in front to hook up then take their turn. It’s traditionally done with a sinking line, either an intermediate or a fast sinker. The thought is that the fish won’t see the fly unless it gets down through the white water in the wake of the shrimper. Using a popper in this situation draws some exciting strikes to rival anything in fly fishing.

The fish slash at the fly from below, one after another. Many times you can see them as they come up in the clear water just off the wake. You don’t have to use your fancy Crease Fly or whatever fancy-head fly that’s being sold nowadays. Any popper with a foam head that can look like a dying finfish will get hit. Cast into the whitewater behind the shrimper, from one side. The fish will hit the fly in the white water, or along the edge, or when you least expect. But it will be right there and it can be amazing. Like, “Whoa, did you see that,” or “I can’t believe that!” Either way, I think it’s a lot more exciting than fishing streamers down behind a sinking line.

Capt. Gordon Churchill is a former North Carolina saltwater guide and the author of Fly Fishing the Southeast Coast from Skyhorse Publishing. 

 

Pro Tip: How to Cast Heavy Streamers


Big, lead-eye streamers, such as Schultzy’s S3 Sculpin, require a different kind of casting.
Photo via orvis.com

Heavy flies present casters with several troubling problems. We are all taught that good casting means throwing nice, tight loops and that high line speed makes for longer, more accurate. . .


Big, lead-eye streamers, such as Schultzy’s S3 Sculpin, require a different kind of casting.
Photo via orvis.com

Heavy flies present casters with several troubling problems. We are all taught that good casting means throwing nice, tight loops and that high line speed makes for longer, more accurate casts. When there’s a lot of weight at the end of the line, however, you need to rethink these rules.

If you throw tight, fast loops with a lot of weight at the end of the line, the results are shocking. . .literally. At the end of every forward- and backcast the heavy fly acts like a running dog hitting the end of its leash, bouncing backward. This sends shock waves down the line to the rod and screws everything up. When the fly bounces back at the end of your backcast, for instance, it introduces slack into your leader, which keeps you from achieving smooth acceleration. This often results in tailing loops that cause knots and rob you of accuracy.


This slack in the line also causes you to lose control of the heavy projectile, which endangers your person and your fly rod. Given a little slack, the fly drops toward toward the ground in midcast, which also causes problems—especially if it lines up perfectly with your skull.

The key to casting big flies, then is to slow everything down, widen your loops, and avoid sudden changes in direction. To accomplish all these, you need to learn the Belgian cast (also called the oval cast). Rather than moving the fly back and forth along a two-dimensional plane, the Belgian cast keeps the fly moving at all times through a three-dimensional pattern. This means that there are no shocking stops, extra slack, or dropping fly.


To perform the Belgian cast, you make a sidearm backcast and then a forward cast over the top, with a nice, wide loop. The name oval cast comes from the fact that, if viewed from above, your rod tip describes an oval, rather than a straight line. When you are making the Belgian cast, line speed is not important, but you must keep the line moving at all times to keep the fly from dropping.


The Belgian cast starts with a sidearm backcast, followed by an over-the-top forward cast.
Photo by Zach Matthews, Itinerant Angler

Video Pro Tip: How to Fish Around Rocks and Logs


The “cushion” of water in front of a midstream rock is good holding water for trout.
Photo via howtoflyfish.orvis.com

In this excerpt from the Orvis Fly Fishing Learning Center, Tom Rosenbauer explains why fish are found in front of midstream rocks and logs as often as they are found behind such. . .


See All Orvis Learning Center Fly Fishing Video Lessons

In this excerpt from the Orvis Fly Fishing Learning Center, Tom Rosenbauer explains why fish are found in front of midstream rocks and logs as often as they are found behind such obstacles. So the next time you’re on the water casting to the slick behind a rock or tree, remind yourself to make some casts to the front side, as well. There’s usually a good cushion of deeper water there that makes a fine holding lie.

Click here for the rest of the “Reading Water” lessons.


The “cushion” of water in front of a midstream rock is good holding water for trout.
Photo via howtoflyfish.orvis.com

Pro Tips: How to Make the Most of Your Bank Shots

By William G. Tapply


Stalking the banks can often produce surprisingly large trout.
Photo by Phil Monahan

Bill Rohrbacher and I picked our lunch site for the shade of the lonely cottonwood, the gurgle of the river, and the upstream view. The brown-and-yellow Montana plains rolled off to distant . . .

By William G. Tapply


Stalking the banks can often produce surprisingly large trout.
Photo by Phil Monahan

Bill Rohrbacher and I picked our lunch site for the shade of the lonely cottonwood, the gurgle of the river, and the upstream view. The brown-and-yellow Montana plains rolled off to distant horizons all around us, and the sky was as big and blue and cloudless as advertised. But we had eyes only for the water. As we munched our sandwiches, we watched about a dozen trout sticking their noses out of a shadowy 50-yard band of shallow slick water that flowed inside the main current against the high bank.

We had each of those trout located. They were all holding within a yard of the bank. We knew they were big by their unhurried, no-nonsense riseforms. No flashy attention-getting boil, no splash, no noise–just those noses poking rhythmically out of the water. After lunch we’d work our way upstream and take turns picking them off, one by one.

We pointed our rod tips at them and tried to guess their sizes and what fly they might like to eat. It was fun, just watching them and knowing they were there, and we were in no hurry. Bill assured me that the fish weren’t going anywhere, and neither were we.

Then we heard voices. “Oh-oh,” Bill muttered.

Three men with fly rods materialized on the high bank. They gazed across the river and talked about it for a minute. Then they skidded down the steep slope, sloshed through the calf-deep water–just upstream from where our lineup of big trout had been feasting–waded purposefully out to their waists, and went to work.

They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, lobbed big neon-pink strike indicators into the heavy current in front of them, high-sticked them along with their rod tips, lifted and lobbed again. It looked monotonous.

Our bank-sipping trout, of course, had disappeared.

The three anglers stuck to it for nearly an hour and caught a few smallish fish before they reeled in, splashed back to shore, and wandered away.

Bill and I waited, and less than a half hour later, little noses began to poke up in the flat water that we’d been watching.

Bill stood up. “Okay, Grandfather,” he said. “Let’s go bank shooting.”

We spent most of the afternoon with those bank sippers, working slowly upstream from fish to fish, taking turns. We waded on our knees much of the time, keeping a low profile and stalking the trout from directly downstream. We used 6X tippets and black deer-hair beetle patterns. We made short casts–20 or 30 feet, no more–and we kept our false casts off to the side to prevent shadows and flashes from spooking the fish. Perfect casts–dropping the fly two or three feet directly upstream, so it would drift onto their noses–usually brought a strike. Imperfect casts, a couple inches off to one side or the other, produced nothing.


Bill Tapply sits on a riverbank in Montana, waiting for noses to appear.
Photo courtesy Vicki Stiefel

We didn’t exactly pick them off one by one. We never do. We spooked a couple of them by sloppy wading. I dropped the butt of my leader on top of one nice trout, and in that foot-deep water he “blew up”–Bill’s term–with a swirling explosion.

One trout spurned Bill’s repeated offerings. He cursed it inventively, changed flies several times, then knelt on the river bottom, pressed his palms together, bowed deeply, and said, “Okay, God bless you, dammit.”

We raised a few that we failed to hook, or hooked briefly before they came unbuttoned. One–we guessed he would’ve gone 20 inches–busted me off. We ended up landing five of them, three 18-inch browns and two slightly larger rainbows. Well, in the interest of full disclosure, Bill landed four of them, although he and I don’t really think of it that way.

On a famous Montana river where Eastern sports like me like to brag about 30-fish days, I was replete. I’d raised several large trout, hooked a few, landed one, and lost another. Each encounter was memorable.

Look Before You Leap
Bill is a guide, and he goes bank-shooting every day he’s got a client who’s willing to catch fewer trout and have more fun doing it. When he realized that I found it as addictive as he did, he decided I was okay even if I had gone to college, and we became friends and fishing partners. He began to call me Grandfather (I’m a full 10 years older, though he’s much trout-wiser), and he told me that all his friends call him Bubba.

After our great afternoon, we talked about the three guys who had sloshed right through a lineup of the biggest, most catchable fish in the river. “It doesn’t surprise me,” said Bubba. “Most guys, they figure big trout want the big water and that big trout make big splashes when they rise. Of course, they’re wrong.” He scratched his beard and grinned. “It’s ironic, you know? When people fish from drift boats, they cast as close to shore as they can. But when they’re on foot, for some reason they ignore the banks and wade in up to their bellybuttons.”

In most rivers, Bill has taught me, big trout actually seem to prefer the flat, shallow water that flows against the bank, inside the heavier currents. Sheltered under overhanging brush or tight against boulders, they lie there in comfort and tilt up at their leisure to sip whatever comes their way. Rarely do we find small trout in the skinny bankside water where they would be most vulnerable to predators. Maybe when trout reach a certain size, they think they’re too big to interest herons and ospreys. Or maybe they think they’re too smart and survival-tuned to get caught.

They are pretty smart. But they can be caught.


This nice brown was holding in about a foot of water next to the tall grass.
Photo by Buzz Cox

Bank-Shooting Tactics
Concentrating on the narrow bands of soft water near the banks has saved me from being overwhelmed by the size and complexity of big waters from Maine to Montana. Bubba has taught me how to step into unfamiliar rivers for the first time and consistently find feeding fish. I simply ignore the bigness of strange waters and concentrate on those rivers-within-rivers that flow softly against the banks.

Small trout waters are just like big ones, except–if you’ll excuse me–for their size. They contain the same complexity of currents and the same combinations of holding water and barren water as their outsize counterparts. On Western spring creeks and Eastern freestone streams alike, I concentrate my attention on the soft inside cushions of water. Trout like to lie with their sides almost brushing the bank, smack against logjams or under weed patties or in the shadows of overhanging bushes or tufts of grass, sometimes in water barely deep enough to cover their backs. Their delicate riseforms are easy to miss. They look like fingertips poking quickly out of the water.

In slow-moving skinny water, it doesn’t take much to spook feeding trout. Sharp eyes; delicate, precise casting; long, fine tippets; neutral-colored shirts and hats; and old-fashioned stealth are keys to stalking bank feeders. In the smooth, slack water next to the bank, trout have plenty of time to think before they eat. Anything tied to a tippet must behave naturally. It cannot drag, however slightly, and it must pass directly through the fish’s feeding lanes, because they will not move far to eat.

If we hunt hard enough, Bubba and I can usually find a few bank sippers eating off the surface, even when the river looks dead. We’ve had fine dry-fly fishing at midday while all the other anglers on the river were sitting on the bank waiting for the next hatch.

Bank sippers tend to be opportunistic feeders. Rarely is fly pattern the important variable in catching bank-feeding trout, although it’s fun how they can sometimes be maddeningly picky. Usually, it’s all in the approach and the presentation. Once you spot a bank sipper, pinning down its location is easy, because you have several points of reference–eight inches out and a foot down from that trailing branch, for example, or right on the inside seam of that tiny lick of current flowing around a boulder. Wear good polarizing sunglasses, because in shallow water you can often see the ghostlike shape of your target finning just under the surface. Get low, creep close, and position yourself for a straight upstream cast. Make your first shot count. Drop your fly two or three feet above him. Watch him as he spots it, flicks his tail, drifts under it, turns, lifts his snout, and shows you his open white mouth. Resist the impulse to strike too early, if you can.

Bank shooting combines the best parts of hunting and fishing, which is probably why it’s the kind of angling I have grown to love the most. Each fish is a challenge. It’s head to head, just that single trout and me alone on the river–or, even better, with Bubba kibitzing at my elbow. I don’t mind spending half an hour trying to catch it.

No two bank sippers are quite alike. Each one offers its particular challenge, and no matter which of us wins, the hunt provides me with another memory. It’s money in the bank.

Editor’s note: When I was the editor of American Angler, I had the pleasure of working with William G. Tapply for ten years before his death in the summer of 2009. Bill’s wife, the author Vicki Stiefel, has graciously allowed me to reprint some of his columns and articles here. 

Check out these great e-books by William G. Tapply (available on all formats including iPad, Kindle, Mobi, etc.):

And visit Vicki Stiefel’s new website and facebook page to learn about her new book, Chest of Bone.

How to “Hump Mend” with a Streamer on a Floating Line

When you’re fishing unfamiliar watcher–switching up tactics to find out what works–you probably don’t want to keep switching lines. So you end up just sticking with the floater. This means that . . .


When you’re fishing unfamiliar watcher–switching up tactics to find out what works–you probably don’t want to keep switching lines. So you end up just sticking with the floater. This means that you need a way to get your streamers down in the water column without the aid of a sinking tip.

In this video, Joe Rotter from Red’s Fly Shop demonstrates how he uses the hump mend and the give-and-go to get a good streamer presentation with a floating the line. The hump mend breaks the current’s grip on your line, allowing the fly to sink without being under tension. All you do is move your rod tip quickly upward about two feet and then back down. Once the fly begins to swing in the current, use a jigging motion and then the give-and-go, in which you feed bits of slack into your line as the fly swings.

Video: How to Swing Flies for Steelhead

Lots of anglers catch Great Lakes steelhead by drifting egg patterns and the like, but the more traditional method of swinging flies for these fish is becoming increasingly popular. In this great full-length episode of The New Fly . . .


Lots of anglers catch Great Lakes steelhead by drifting egg patterns and the like, but the more traditional method of swinging flies for these fish is becoming increasingly popular. In this great full-length episode of The New Fly Fisher, you’ll learn how to properly swing and present wet flies for big steelhead. There’s more to it than you may think. Bill Spicer joins John Valk from Grindstone Angling on the Saugeen River in Ontario to learn many techniques that will help any fly fisher.

Master Class Monday: How to Know When a Trout Will Take Your Fly

You won’t find numerous trout feeding every time you fish a trout stream, but you do run into this situation, there are ways to find the one trout that is more likely to take your fly. Dave Jensen . . .


You won’t find numerous trout feeding every time you fish a trout stream, but you do run into this situation, there are ways to find the one trout that is more likely to take your fly. Dave Jensen gives us some clues for finding the trout most likely to eat. It’s a great fly-fishing lesson and another example of how observation of fish behavior can help you be a more successful angler.

Watch for further installments of Master Class Monday every week here at Orvis News, in the Advanced Tactics playlist our You Tube Channel, and on the new Advanced section of our Orvis Fly Fishing Learning Center.

Click here for all Master Class Monday videos.

Video Pro Tips: Do Leaders and Tippets Expire?

In the past few months, we’ve posted a great new video series called “Getting Started in Fly Fishing,” from Brian Flechsig of Mad River Outfitters in Columbus, Ohio. Now, they’ve launched a new series called “Q&A.” It’s a pretty self-explanatory title, . . .


In the past few months, we’ve posted a great new video series called “Getting Started in Fly Fishing,” from Brian Flechsig of Mad River Outfitters in Columbus, Ohio. Now, they’ve launched a new series called “Q&A.” It’s a pretty self-explanatory title, methinks.

In this episode, Flechsig answers the question “Do leaders and tippet have an expiration date?” So, if you buy a spool of 4X, how long will it last before you have to replace it? Flechsig’s answer is illuminating: it’s less about time and more about exposure to UV light. Keep your leader and tippet materials out of the sun, and you’ll get more out of them.

Podcast: Stream Access Now! With Rob Parkins


Rob Parkins is an expert on stream-access laws.
Photo courtesy Rob Parkins

Stream Access Now! is the title of a very useful guide produced by Backcountry Hunters and Anglers (available on their website or on the Orvis Fly Fishing Learning Center), which gives you the stream-access laws for all 50 states, plus some fascinating . . .



Big News: Orvis Fly Fishing Podcast and the Orvis Hunting and Shooting Podcast are now available in their entirety on Spotify, which will update automatically when we upload new content.

Stream Access Now! is the title of a very useful guide produced by Backcountry Hunters and Anglers (available on their website or on the Orvis Fly Fishing Learning Center), which gives you the stream-access laws for all 50 states, plus some fascinating essays on the varying ways that states treat stream access. In this week’s podcast with Rob Parkins, Public Waters Access Coordinator for BCHA., he details how laws vary from state to state, how you can find access points, and dos and don’ts of fishing on both public and private lands. It’s essential knowledge for the traveling angler, particularly if you don’t fish with a guide and are unsure of the legality of entering a stream in a state where you have not fished before.

In the Fly Box this week, we have the usual mix of great questions and suggestions from listeners:

  • If my fly comes back with empty caddis cases on the hook, does that mean the caddis hatches are over and I should not fish a caddis?
  • Are sea-run Pacific steelhead any more delicate than Great Lakes steelhead?
  • If I harvest a deer, should I try to use any of the hide for fly tying, and how do I deal with it?
  • Is it okay to fish a click-and-pawl reel for smallmouth bass, and does reel “balance” matter?
  • Why don’t people fish much with winged wet flies anymore?
  • How do I keep my Double Bunny Rabbit strips from getting stiff?
  • How can I see my dry fly when looking into strong glare?
  • What is the best camera for capturing the brilliant colors of fish?

If you don’t see the “Play” button above, click here to listen.


Rob Parkins is an expert on stream-access laws.
Photo courtesy Rob Parkins