The other morning, I found myself casting just downstream from a couple of well-heeled anglers who were sporting some rather fancy fishing gear.
Both appeared to have high-end graphite rods with reels that would have set them back at least four or five hundred dollars. I could tell at a glance from their vests they were both serious about both their fishing and their attire – less so, it seemed about their casting stroke. One was casting with long, smooth, graceful loops. His flies were landing on the water with a subtleness and ease that could only be described as impressive.
The other was casting as if being pestered by an angry wasp. The odd thing though, it was the angler with the less-than-perfect casting technique that seemed to be catching more fish.
The fellow with the less-than-perfect presentation caught fish because he seemed to know just where to cast.
From my vantage point, I could see the runs and riffles, as well as the several deeper pools that looked to have fish-holding potential. The angler making the graceful casts seemed to be casting and presenting his fly just short of the feeding zone, while the other fellow was placing his fly right in line and just ahead of fish that were actively cruising in search of food.
Being able to present your fly to fish feeding in a given area is key to success. Presenting your fly to fish feeding on the surface of the water requires accuracy and a subtle presentation – accuracy over distance.
Getting your fly to fish feeding below the surface requires a knowledge of where fish are feeding. Presenting the right fly to potentially interested fish is what fly fishing is all about.
As I stood there watching both anglers, I made a number of mental notes as to where the fish were most actively feeding, what insect hatches were coming off and what patterns I had with me in my fly boxes that might most closely match the hatch.
I also made a mental note of which waters I figured to move into once the pair upstream moved on.
It was a while that I watched and waited. During that time I learned something else from the two anglers. I began to realize just how bad my own casting habits have become.
While admiring the one angler with his smooth casting stroke and gentle presentation, a lot of my own casting shortcomings started to become all too apparent in the other angler’s casting technique. From tailing loops to back casts that every now and then touch the leaves on the branches behind me, I’m almost as bad at casting now as when I started fly fishing some 45 years ago. It’s just that now I choose to ignore my mistakes rather than correct them.
It’s not that I don’t know how to cast. It’s just that sometimes I get lazy.
If I make a back-cast that removes a leaf on a tree behind me, or stop too soon on my front cast, so what. I can usually live with my less-than-perfect casting.
I know I can always do better next cast.
Do I worry about my lees-than-perfect casting? No, not really. Do I catch fish? Yes. Maybe not as many as I could if I paid more attention to doing more things the right way. But then again, how many fish does any one person really have to catch?
All I know is that I may not do some things the way I should when it comes to casting, or even fishing for that matter, but I do know this: I certainly do enjoy being out there on the waters and that’s got to count for something.
