Modern Steelhead Flies
By Rob Russell and Jay Nicholas. Published by Stackpole Books, 2017; $39.95 hardbound.
I’d never had the experience of a book disturbing my ability to get a good night’s sleep, but Modern Steelhead Flies raises so many interesting ideas and questions that long after I had switched off the lamp, I continued to lie awake, contemplating what I had read and what it might mean.
This restlessness began with merely placing the book in my palm and flipping quickly through it. The effect was almost trippy — page after page of bright, unnatural colors more typically found in a Peter Max painting than in a steelhead river. And the complexity! Many of the flies looked as if they had taken an hour to construct, rivaling the visual intricacy of traditional Atlantic salmon patterns. Others seemed utterly alien, with weird stuff poking out in ways contrary to the accepted aesthetics of fly-tying. Spiders from Mars. Jarring, wholly unexpected. Lovely.
The primary authors of Modern Steelhead Flies, Rob Russell and Jay Nicholas, feature the patterns of 59 experienced steelheaders, many of whom are guides. It’s therefore reasonable to assume these flies have proven themselves through success on the water, and by and large, the designs take advantage of ongoing innovations in materials and in tackle. The latter, in fact, has been particularly influential. As recounted in a chapter titled “The Intruder Revolution,” two-handed rods allow fly fishers to cast big flies, and as the size of flies has grown (driven, apparently, by the demands of testosterone), lines and casting styles have evolved to provide the necessary oomph for launching them. The argument, basically, is that the Intruder style of steelhead fly, a style initially focused on creating huge flies and said to be based on the principles of engineering, rather than aesthetics, is one of those game-changing innovations that has decisively shifted our approach to fly fishing for steelhead.
In the middle part of the previous century, the game-changing innovation in steelheading was the shooting head with monofilament running line, which was developed in Northern California. I wonder whether that innovation will be wholly superseded, at least for steelheading, by what’s been happening farther up the coast.
More than 300 flies are described in this book, and while many of them fall into the categories of “dries and skaters,” “traditional-style wets,” “shrimp and prawns,” and Intruder-based “half-chickens,” the sheer variety in visual appearance and colors necessarily leads one to ask just what it is that causes steelhead to bite these often bizarre-looking creations.
It’s a fascinating question, and to their credit, the authors include a chapter written by Lee Spencer, who has been observing for years the behavior of the North Umpqua’s summer steelhead. (His extraordinary book, A Temporary Refuge: Fourteen Seasons with Wild Summer Steelhead, was reviewed in our recent May/June issue). Spencer argues that these fish are not feeding when heading upstream to spawn, that they’re mostly inclined to ignore the flies we toss at them, and that if they strike a fly, the act might be more a result of predisposition and curiosity than of “innate aggression, anger, or fear.” A conclusion the reader might take away from this is that the critical issue for the design of a steelhead fly is whether it triggers the curiosity of a fish.
Of course, Spencer was observing summer steelhead in a particular section of a particular river, and it’s reasonable to speculate whether winter and spring steelhead or steelhead in other types of water behave differently. Rob Russell complicates the question posed in the title of a chapter of Modern Steelhead Flies called “What Matters in a Steelhead Fly?” by stating he believes there are motives behind a strike that range beyond curiosity. “The last 20 years we’ve spent chasing steelhead has taught us that they put a lot of food in their mouths, whether or not they ever intend to swallow it.”
The book’s coauthor, Jay Nicholas, worked for four decades as a fisheries biologist, and he is circumspect on the question of what leads to a hit, at least with regard to the implications for fly design. Upon initial consideration, he writes, “I’d venture that all the fancy new material alternatives are irrelevant, because I can combine [the traditional materials of] fur, feather, and chenille . . . and catch as many fish as anyone tying their flies with new-age materials and adorned with names that sound like they came from a punk rock band.” But he goes on to note that even the “subtle differences” that new materials bring to the appearance of time-tested patterns might have a role in enhancing the success of a fly, saying that “in my mind, the fly I tied to swim in front of winter steelhead in 2015 was worlds more exciting than the Thor I tied in 1970.” Could it be that we need to stimulate a sense of excitement in these fish?
If curiosity or excitement are the primary reasons why steelhead take flies, it would seem logical that through experimentation on the water, steelheaders would over time develop patterns influenced more by unfettered imagination than by the attributes of prey or by tradition. Perhaps that’s the unstated and maybe even unrecognized reason for the psychedelicized colors and shapes adopted by many of the patterns presented in Modern Steelhead Flies.
This book, however, does not just give us pictures of flies and their recipes. It also provides tying instructions for 14 representative state-of-the-art patterns, and these instructions are supported with well-composed and clear step-by-step photographs taken by Jon Jensen. Several versions of Intruders are tied, along with a reverse-marabou tube fly, a prawn imitation, an MOAL (Mother of All Leeches), and updated examples of a skater, a Muddler, and wet flies. There’s also practical advice for applying a variety of modern materials, including hooks, shanks, and tubes, plus tips on how best to use trailing loops for stinger hooks.
Although the majority of the tyers who contributed their patterns are from the Pacific Northwest, and more than a few are from the Great Lakes region, the book also includes Californians justifiably well known in the steelhead scene: Jeff Bright, Hogan Brown, Tim Fox, Jason Hartwick, Brett Jensen, and Justin Miller. (One could also consider Ken Morrish and Rich Zellman as California bred, although both now live in southern Oregon.) Intriguingly, Hogan’s patterns are among the handful that resemble aquatic insects, no doubt a result of his long experience fishing and guiding on Central Valley tailwaters.
If you are a steelheader or f ly tyer interested in keeping up with recent evolutions in our sport, Modern Steelhead Flies is an essential reference for your library. Although at times the book raises questions that might interrupt your sleep, its ideas and fly designs may help you hook the fish of your dreams.
— Richard Anderson
The Saltwater Edge: Tips and Tactics For Saltwater Fly Fishing
By Nick Curcione. Published by Stackpole Books, 2017; $24.95 softbound.
The world of saltwater fly fishing has seen a lot of changes over the last 40 or so years, not the least of which has been in how we learn about it. As late as the early 1970s, if you wanted information on the salt, particularly on West Coast saltwater fly fishing, fellow anglers were your best bet. National outdoor magazines such as Field and Stream offered some saltwater coverage, and specialty titles such as Fly Fisherman, which was started in 1971, did it a bit better. Still, most of what was published was pretty general and skewed to East and Gulf Coast fishing. Lefty Kreh’s Fly Fishing in Salt Water, published in 1974 (and updated in 1986), was the first book that really detailed what saltwater fly fishing is all about. Along with covering tackle and techniques for a wide variety of game fish, it included a refreshingly good survey of West Coast saltwater fisheries and fishing. It’s a foundational work that’s still worth reading.
Since then, we’ve seen revolutionary improvements in rod materials and designs, in fly reels, fly lines, and leader and tippet materials. Specialty travel agencies have opened up new destinations that require little more of us than a week’s free time and a willing wallet. And while two saltwater-specific magazines have gone out of business, there has been an increase in the number of books published on the subject. Most of those are more specific than general. A title on fishing a particular area or fish — stripers in Connecticut or the California Delta, or a work on fishing the Texas or Louisiana coasts, for example — is now the rule, rather than the exception.
The Saltwater Edge, by Nick Curcione, subtitled Tips and Tactics for Saltwater Fly Fishing, isn’t Curcione’s first work on the salt. Along with many articles in regional and national magazines, Curione has written a general saltwater fly-fishing guide for Orvis and a guide to Baja fly fishing. But The Saltwater Edge is a different kind of book, neither a regional guide nor a general overview. What it does is take on and explore a handful of subjects relevant to saltwater fly fishing. There’s a useful chapter on f ly-line choice that advocates strongly for shooting heads, one with good advice on spotting f-ish, and another on using different types of line-management devices. There are well-illustrated chapters on useful knots and on some new styles of saltwater flies and poppers. It’s all clearly presented by a writer with an interesting narrative voice and no compunction about doing things unconventionally if it seems to make sense. That willingness to think outside the box, paired with Curcione’s nonangling background as a sociologist, are what set The Saltwater Edge apart from his earlier works — and from most saltwater books in general. The difference is particularly clear in the book’s early chapters and in one on using double-handed rods in the salt.
Starting to read The Saltwater Edge is like sitting in on an interesting college lecture, where the speaker first breaks down, then explores a subject that on the surface seems simple. Curcione begins with a discussion of the nature of both sport in general and angling sport specifically. That leads him to look at the self-imposed limitations that sport anglers set for themselves. (If it was just fish we wanted, bait or a purse seine would likely be more effective.) Fly fishing adds more limitations: baitfish imitations, rather than bait; relatively light tackle; a narrower range of depths at which a fly can be fished; restrictions on leader strength; the requirement and relative difficulty of casting the fly; the need to retrieve it by hand, rather than with a reel.
Angler attitudes on things such as how we attach value to a species also figure into Curcione’s ruminations. What do we expect when we set out to fish the salt? Is a permit better than a jack of the same size? Why bonefish and not rockfish? Is it only the relative abundance or scarcity of the species that governs our preferences? Curcione’s exploration of these matters isn’t intended to establish or defend rules or values for fly fishing, but rather to provide an intellectual understanding of just what’s involved. I suppose we could see those as purely academic concerns, but I think most of us would agree that it never hurts to know more, rather than less, about what we’re doing.
Curcione, it’s worth noting, is a true bicoastal angler, having spent years in both the Northeast and California, fishing and experimenting with fly patterns and tackle all the while. That’s a level of experience few angling writers can claim, and it gives his ideas increased credibility. He was an early adopter of double-handed rods on the East Coast, first using overhead casts to get distance off the beaches and then Skagit casts to f ish where back casts are limited by things such as seawalls and mooring lines. A move to San Francisco in 2008 brought him to the Golden Gate Angling and Casting Club, where he got involved with the club’s very active community of Spey casters. With the help of some of the best double-handed-rod casters on the planet, he became even more proficient, applying and fine tuning Skagit techniques to the beaches of San Francisco Bay, Southern California, and some of Honolulu’s deeper bonefish flats.
Curcione would be the last person to claim that Spey casting is the answer to all saltwater situations. He’s clearly a fan of single-handed rods for tough, deep-running fish and for fishing from a boat. But for the wading angler, he’s a double-hand zealot, and he spends a full chapter of The Saltwater Edge explaining and illustrating the casts and how to handle retrieving, striking, and landing fish with the very long rod. After reading this chapter, even diehard single-handed anglers will be hard-pressed not to admit this style is worth a try.
Some readers may wrinkle their noses at his occasional plugs for the tackle company he represents and the rod line he helped design. And if you like your fly-fishing information in paragraph-sized bytes, you may find Curcione’s occasional academic bent and discursive style off-putting. But boil it all down, and The Saltwater Edge has a double haul of useful and innovative information that should appeal to thoughtful anglers. Despite its subtitle of Tips and Tactics, it’s a book well suited to a few contemplative hours in the comfy chair.
— Larry Kenney
Tenkara — The Book: A Complete Guide to the Techniques, Gear, History, and Philosophy of Tenkara, the Japanese Method of Fly-Fishing. A Manifesto on Fly-Fishing Simplicity
By Daniel Galhardo. Published by Tenkara Press, 2017; $24.00 softbound.
Before reels were developed, anglers attached their lines to the tips of their rods. Obviously, these anglers lacked the convenience of being able to shorten or lengthen the line quickly whenever desired or to fight a fish with a reel’s drag, but those deficiencies don’t seem to have been serious impediments to angling success and might even have enhanced it by forcing the angler to focus more on technique and tactics, rather than tackle.
This historical form of fly fishing without a reel is still practiced in Japan, where it is known as tenkara. Nine years ago, Daniel Galhardo, a fly fisher and resident of San Francisco at the time, traveled to Japan with his wife to visit her family. At a tackle shop there, he learned of tenkara and, intrigued, purchased a rod, line, and flies. As he angled with this gear and gained proficiency, he writes in Tenkara — The Book, “I realized what my fishing had been missing: simplicity. With tenkara fishing was simple, unencumbered. Tenkara brought back childhood memories of fishing for fun. And I was fascinated by the thought that this simpler form of fly-fishing was also more effective than the fly-fishing I knew.”
Galhardo became a convert and then a passionate promoter, creating the company Tenkara USA in 2008, “determined to introduce the complete method of tenkara, honor its history, and make sure we do not throw away hundreds of years of refined techniques.” This book helps fulfill Galhardo’s objective, serving as an instructional manual that also immerses the reader in the culture of tenkara. One way to look at Tenkara — The Book is that rather than use tenkara to introduce anglers to simplified fly fishing, including with Western rods and reels, as was the intent of Yvon Chouinard’s excellent Simple Fly Fishing (reviewed in the May/June 2014 issue of this magazine), it introduces anglers to a Japanese approach to fly fishing that uses minimal tackle and is both simple and sufficient unto itself.
The lack of a reel, use of a line of fixed length connected to a long rod, flies fished as lures, rather than as hatch matchers — these are the heart of tenkara, and are considered its positives, not its limitations. Galhardo describes the characteristics of this tackle and recommends setups (using the rods he makes) for different types of water, and he also discusses how to get the most benefit out of tenkara gear. To help novice tenkara anglers climb the learning curve, Galhardo begins the book with an eight-page “quick guide” that focuses on essential basics.
One of the aspects of tenkara that Western fly fishers will surely find fascinating is its flies. Although Galhardo notes that any fly can be used with tenkara, tenkara anglers in Japan tend to stick with one fly pattern, and that pattern doesn’t necessarily imitate a specific insect. Tenkara flies also tend to be tied reversehackle style, with the hackle tips pointing out over the front of the fly, much like Neil Patterson’s Funneldun dry-fly design. Unlike the latter, though, tenkara flies are usually fished subsurface, where the motion of the reverse hackle gives the appearance of life, especially when the fly is manipulated with rod and line by the angler.
Although Galhardo weaves his personal journey with tenkara through the text, this book, first and foremost, is intended to teach. It goes into considerable detail regarding tenkara casting techniques, reading the water and how to fish it efficiently, various methods of presentation, and advice on how to play and land fish, both of which can be tricky with the long rods used by tenkara anglers. Pictures show sections of stream and where and in what sequence the angler should present the fly, giving the beginner a notion of tactical approaches. Tenkara’s differences from Western fly fishing are at times surprising, such as with the preferred grip, which has the index finger pointing up along the handle. There is much here, though, particularly discussions of fly manipulation and presentation, that will have utility for fly fishers who might otherwise have little interest in switching to tenkara.
This book is being published nine years after Galhardo launched Tenkara USA. Now a publisher in addition to a tackle distributor, he clearly used this time well. With more than 211 pages, Tenkara — The Book is full of information, and it likely addresses all the important questions a novice might have. The writing is clear, succinct, and well-supported with photographs and illustrations. It is also interactive, with QR codes that allow the reader to access videos on the Internet. In all, Tenkara — The Book is an outstanding resource for anyone interested in understanding tenkara and in successfully applying its concepts and methods of fly fishing.
— Richard Anderson
