The art of the missed hookset is nuanced and complex. Like most artforms, grasping one aspect of the missed hook set does not translate into a full understanding and mastery of the overall process. It takes a greater level of skill to miss the hook set on a trout after years of experience, but truly great fly fishermen and women do not succumb to complacency in the other aspects of the sport they love, so it follows that the art of missing hook sets is no different.
In my youth I fished a trout stream with reckless abandon. Wading fluidly with balance and precision. Leaping from boulder to boulder with confidence. Wading out, deep and often. When I spied a nice piece of water across the river, I went there, fished it, and moved on without thought to the why of it. Fishy water on the other side? Cross back, of course. Passing on a potential hook up for mere convenience seemed a waste. In my eyes, every spot, regardless of which side of the river it lay, held not only the possibility, but the probability that I might hook into a monster trout. I could persistently zig zag trout waters like this with a carefree foot and a smile on my face on every outing.
Getting skunked. It happens. But it’s not about catching fish, right? It’s about wading through a beautiful trout stream. The stillness of being alone with your own thoughts in nature. The rhythms of casting and mending line. Spending time with the people you care about. Are these not the special reasons we go fly fishing? Sure they are… but I still want to catch fish.
When picky trout make extended drifts a requirement for hooking up, I look for every advantage I can to give the fish a good, long look at my fly. Almost more than anything else I have found that if I can present the fly in a natural way, my odds of hooking up increase. Working for longer drifts means lengthening that natural presentation as well. The basic pattern of presentation is familiar. Cast. Mend as required. Maybe feed some line at the end of the drift. All require skill gained through experience and possibly instruction. But there is another rudimentary tactic that can give us a little extra if we need it. A simple method that any fly fisher, regardless of skill level or experience, can use to extend their drift. Move.
When I pulled off the road and parked next to the South Platte River, I knew I was returning to a special place.
Working with the wind is an attitude as much as a technique. For years, a windy day frustrated me, and that frustration carried over into the rest of my fishing and made for worse drifts, mends, and hook sets. In short, a windy day on the river tended to slowly burn my patience fuse and put me in a bad mood. Now I try to look at the wind for what it is – another problem to solve.
And I work with the wind to keep me tied to the river and my environment.
“Hey! Keep it tactical Shady.” And a smile. I miss it dearly.
Talking tactics is one of life’s great joys. I learned this from years in a fighter squadron but looking back I understand why talking tactics was so special. I realize that while the endeavors and communities are different, the men and women who move through them seek similar goals. Progress. Knowledge. The betterment of the whole. And, yes, a touch of competitive spirit that pulls us forward and requires our best. Engaging these “tacticians” in the fly fishing community and sharing those experiences has become one of the great joys of my journey with Wadeoutthere. Talking tactics with dedicated fly fishing men and women who passionately share their knowledge and listen for those ideas they know will move them forward. People like Domenick from Troutbitten.
The first time I fished Mammoth Creek, I drove past them. The fences were weathered grey and white cedar bleached by the sun. Faded and torn, the old coral melded into the tall grass along the river. Part of the landscape. I noticed them just before the gravel road took me up a small hill behind wide oak trees that reached over and made a tunnel for my small white truck. I drove on until I knew that those worn posts had been the landmark. “The Corals”. Then I travelled further through the beams of light that penetrated the trees and strobed off the white gravel until I found a spot where I could make a three point turn and drive back through my dust cloud towards The Corals and access to the river.