If you’re a California fly fisher, and especially if you’re a striper angler or a saltwater fly fisher, Dan Blanton needs no introduction here. In a career as an angler and writer that now spans five decades, he has pioneered techniques, flies, and destinations that today are what we all take for granted as the foundations of the sport, from shooting heads and flies such as the Whistler and Sar-Mul-Mac to the development of the striper fishery in San Francisco Bay and the Sacramento–San Joaquin Delta.
As an author and magazine editor for Angler Magazine, Fly Fishing Salt Waters, Fly Fisherman, Sport Fishing, Fly Fish America, and, yes, California Fly Fisher, and as a former member of the Outdoor Writers Association of California and the Outdoor Writers Association of America, Dan has made fishing for big, strong fish in the salt and in estuaries an integral part of American fly fishing. And his Web site, especially his bulletin board, http://www.danblanton.com/bulletin.php, has served as a place where anyone interested in learning more about multiple aspects of the sport, from striper fishing to angling for bluegills and carp, can meet and learn from other pioneers, experts not just in the United States, but around the world, from Australia to the Netherlands and beyond. We’ve learned a lot from Dan Blanton. Now we wanted to learn more about him.
Bud: Lots of people know you or have known about you for a long time, but your achievements have sort of eclipsed your origins. So: When and how did you start fishing, and when and how did fly fishing enter the picture? Who helped?
Dan: I started fly fishing at around 11 years old with an old Japanese bamboo rod my dad gave me — one of those combo fly-rod and casting-rod outfits. A friend’s dad was into fly fishing and also golf, and he would drop us off at the local golf course pond to fish for bass and bluegills. I caught my first fish on a fly there — a bluegill, of course. The ’gill was hooked, and so was I. I still love fly fishing for bass and bluegills in farm ponds.
I taught myself to cast, since I had no one I knew who could work with me. My dad didn’t fly fish. I read a book or two on the subject, but I can’t now recall which — one might have been the Scientific Anglers handbook on fly casting. I became a pretty good caster, though. I learned how to use shooting heads by fishing for steelhead and salmon on the coast, beginning with the San Lorenzo River, fishing with guys like Hal Janssen, Lew Morelli, Bob Evans, and others. I was in my teens then. I watched the old-timers of the era and asked a lot of questions — I got some good answers, and sometimes I got the cold shoulder. I figured out a lot on my own, too — trial and error. I kept my eyes and ears open. . . .
Bud: You’re famous as a pioneer of West Coast fly fishing for stripers — how did you get into that game on San Francisco Bay, and how and when did the Delta become an important fishery for you?
Dan: I caught my first striped bass on a fly at age 15 on a Joe Brooks, red/white Blonde from the Antioch PG&E power plant outflow, which is on the San Joaquin River, part of the West Delta. I was very interested in saltwater fly fishing at the time, influenced by writers like Joe Brooks, Stu Apte, and Lefty Kreh. I wanted to be a true saltwater fly rodder, so I left the Delta and spent the next 30-plus years chasing stripers in San Francisco Bay and rockfish and others on Monterey Bay. I joined the Salt Water Fly Rodders of America in the late 1960s, and was I proud to wear their club patch on my jacket, one of the few West Coasters who did.
I began fly fishing for striped bass in the California Delta in 1992 on Franks Tract (Franks is a family name — owners of the tract, once farmland, now a lake), located on the east side of Bethel Island. My longtime friend and fly-fishing associate, Jay Remley, had been encouraging me to give the Delta a try. Jay didn’t need to show me how to catch stripers on a fly, he just needed to point me in the right direction. I quickly fell in love with the Delta, spread my wings to venture out, and haven’t fished the coast for steelhead or salmon since. I just retired from guiding on the Delta after almost 20 years. I was a fully licensed captain, having passed the difficult 100-ton master’s test. I keep my RV and skiff at the Sugar Barge RV Resort and Marina on Bethel Island eight months a year — September through the end of April.
I also fished extensively in Central and South America, beginning in the early 1970s. I, along with Bob Nauheim, Doc Bergmann, and Stan Inouye (all gone now), pioneered a lot of that fly fishing, including tarpon on Costa Rica’s Rio Colorado. In 1973, we were the first to catch tarpon on a fly there. I taught the first Costa Rican guide to cast a fly and catch a tarpon on one. Mexico’s Sea of Cortez on the Baja peninsula was also my playground, beginning in 1970. We’d tow our own boats down and camp for two or three weeks at a time. I may have been the first to catch a roosterfish on a fly down there, but that’s only a guess I was one of the early pioneers of those Pacific fisheries, and I led many angling groups to various lodges back in the 1970s and 1980s, specializing in fly fishing for marine game fish — including billfish.
Bud: Part of those pioneering efforts involved innovations in flies and tackle that we now tend to take for granted — shooting heads, for example, and sinking lines. Where did these innovations come from, and how did we get from the early days of innovation to the setups we have today?
Dan: Shooting heads have been around for decades, with the Sunset Line and Twine Company coming up with the first ones, made from braided silk. Scientific Anglers produced the first tapered, plastic-coated heads back in the early 1950s. There were only a couple of densities, and none sank fast enough to dredge deeper rivers and ocean waters. Myron Gregory was the first to use a homemade lead-core head in salt water to catch rockfish off North Coast jetties. He showed Bill Schaadt the lead head, and Bill took it from there to many other venues, including San Francisco Bay. From those early years, we worked with companies like Sunset and SA to develop more sink rates so we could cover the water column like the proverbial tent. Fly-line companies like Airflo, RIO, SA, and others are constantly developing new densities, tapers, and specialty lines as the demand dictates. Today, we’ve never had it so good when it comes to quality fly-line selection. Ditto for fly rods.
Bud: And of course, you’re also known for the flies you developed, especially the Whistler and Sar-Mul-Mac, but also the Punch series and the Sea-Arrow Squid and Bay-Delta Eelet. What kind of problem-solving went into the development of those flies? And what led you to further innovations on them — the development of the Flashtail versions and the use of the 60-degree jig hook in place of J hooks?
Dan: Answering this would take a whole article or column. I’ll give one example based on a specific need: I engineered the Whistler in 1964 — I say “engineered,” because that’s what was done. I didn’t develop the fly to imitate or emulate a specific baitfish. I wanted a fly that would compete with the longtime productive lead-head bucktail jig. The local gear anglers were kicking our asses tossing red/ white lead-head bucktail jigs, and I wanted a fly that would dip and dive like a jig, that would push water waves (a plus in turbid water), that would have the profile, in the round, of a deep-bodied baitfish, and that would suggest a variety of bait species. I wanted the fly to be non-fouling when cast, and I wanted it tied on a short shank hook to prevent the bucktail wing from fouling, to increase frontal weight, enhancing up-down movement, and for better purchase. Short-shank hooks are much harder to work free than longshank versions, which leverage themselves out. The fly worked as hoped right off the vise the first go-round. It was a white/ red “Mickey Finn” color, and it killed the stripers, outfishing the gear guys by a significant margin.
The one problem with a fly with a short-shank hook when fishing for bass species is that they are “headhunters,” nailing a fly at the eyes, engulfing it. This goes for sublegal-size fish, too. I was gill-hooking a lot of undersized fish, killing many. I met a Texas striper fly angler named George Glazener, the Lake Texoma striper fly-fishing guru, and he showed me one of his flies called a Spinster, tied on a 60-degree jig hook. The light blinked on, and I’ve been tying them on a jig hook ever since. Most hookups are in the top or corner of the mouth. Gill hooking was markedly reduced, and dropped fish are rare. Today, I tie everything I can on a jig hook, including nymphs, crabs, and shrimp flies.
I started putting flashtails on my Whistlers in 1970 after having my ass handed to me by Mark Sosin fishing for snook on the Rio Colorado, Costa Rica. Mark was using a bucktail jig with a few long strands of Mylar extending past the bucktail wing — a flashtail. That afternoon, I tied a couple of Whistlers with a flashtail of a few strands of 1/64-inch silver Mylar extending past the wing about an inch. Those flies turned the table on Mark — I slammed them with the FT Whistler when we went back out that afternoon, and I’ve been tying them with flashtails ever since, including my Flashtail Clouser, which Umpqua calls “Blanton’s Flashtail Minnow.”
Bud: You’re not alone among the pioneers of the angling we enjoy today — you’ve known and hung out with the likes of Del Brown, Lefty Kreh, Bill Nash, Ed Given, and George Smith. What kind of synergy developed out of knowing and fishing with these other innovators?
Dan: Well, we all began collaborating on how to solve various problems, from fly tying, to line development, to ferreting out good angling destinations and how to fish them. Putting our heads together and working as a team at times helped us solve shared problems more quickly.
I recall the first time I met Lefty Kreh. He was writing his first book on saltwater fly fishing and wanted to include a chapter on San Francisco Bay stripers. He knew of me from “The Salt,” my column in a club newsletter, from limited magazine writing, and from word-of-mouth reputation. He came west and fished with me a week on South San Francisco Bay. The first day, we fished from my little 14-foot tin skiff. The wind was blowing, pushing us across the flat like a sailboat with its spinnaker out. I just couldn’t control the boat — no electric motor then. Lefty asked me if there was a hardware store nearby. I responded yes, and off we went to purchase a length of fairly heavy chain and rope — my first drag chain, used to slow down the drift and control the boat in a stiff breeze. It worked like a charm, and we caught lots of fish from that flat. Lefty and I have been like family ever since — collaborating on lots of fly-fishing subjects.
Bud: I’ve been focusing on striped bass and saltwater angling, but you are an equal-opportunity angler: pretty much any species, from bluegills to blue water and from white bass to pike. I’ve heard Ken Hanley say of someone hooking their first fish in the salt, “Uh oh — trout guy.” A lot of us know only one aspect of the sport and have trouble readily adapting to others when we try them. What are the benefits of fishing for all kinds of species that will take a fly?
Dan: Discovery! Discovery of new and interesting target species, new angling environments, new challenges — and more satisfaction of our passion. I’ve never met a fish that I didn’t like that will eat a fly — fresh or salt water or somewhere in between. I’ve caught just about everything that will eat a fly, including frogs and crocs. I have a few uncaught species on my bucket list — the golden dorado, for example. I was able to scratch off the Amazon peacock bass a couple of years ago. I love fishing Australia’s Gulf of Carpentaria, because there are 54 different species of fish there that will eat a fly. I’ve caught maybe 40 of them, and they are all good. My favorite? Queenfish on top.
Bud: I hear that lately, you’ve gotten into fly fishing for carp. What hooked you on that species?
Dan: Yes indeed! The most recent species that has my total attention is the common carp and a few variations. They are one of the most challenging species to catch on a fly. You really have to be on your casting game, have good eyes, make perfect presentations with the right fly, and even if you do everything right, they still might not eat. They are every bit as challenging as permit and are as spooky as bonefish in three inches of water with an osprey looming overhead. I’ve caught a few — on my best day, landing nine of a dozen hooked. I was ecstatic! I consider myself lucky to land one in two outings. I’m a novice at the game, but I’m learning more about this challenging species each time I target them, and of course, I learn much from others, including my carp mentor, David McKenzie, and from books like The Orvis Beginner’s Guide to Carp Flies. Carp are everywhere, so if you’re inclined, give them a try.
Bud: As an author and magazine editor, you’ve done a lot to promote and support the sport, especially saltwater fly fishing. Some pioneers were content simply to go fishing. What motivated you to become a writer, spreading the word? Part of that is supporting a community of fly fishers via your bulletin board, which has regular posters from all over the world. What value do you see for the support in developing and sustaining such communities?
Dan: Some would say it’s because I just can’t keep my big mouth shut. From the time I was a very young angler I always wanted to share my fishing experiences with others who I thought would appreciate an inside track — “The Keys to the Kingdom,” as Dave Sellers used to say on my bulletin board. I loved networking — still do. Sometimes, however, I felt as though I might be fouling my own nest, and maybe I was at times, but I liked helping people get into our passion and be successful at it. It has been profoundly worth it in the long haul. “An unknown river has no friends.”
Many don’t know this, but I was very involved in the Fly Casters Inc. fly-fishing club — aka the San Jose Flycasters. I was its president in 1971, bulletin editor for a few years, and was also its fish master a number of years. I wrote a column called “The Salt” for the club newsletter (we called it a bulletin) for many years. The newsletter was sent to every other club in the country and to some abroad, to f ly-tackle manufacturers, and to whomever else we thought might be interested. This is how I got started in writing for the major magazines. It was also responsible for my meeting and becoming a lifelong friend of my mentor, Lefty Kreh. Ironically, later, in the 1990s and 2000s, I wrote a column for Fly Fish America called “The Salt.”
I was also an early director of the Northern California Council of the Federation of Fly Fishers (now the International Federation of Fly Fishers) and later a one-term director of the FFF. I was very active in all for many years and received a couple of awards for my contributions: the Arnold Gingrich Memorial Life Membership award in 1990 for my contributions to fly fishing through my writing and, later, the FFF Silver King award for my contributions to saltwater fly fishing. Lefty Kreh was the first recipient; I was the second. I’m proud of those two acknowledgments of my contributions to this sport. I’m also extremely proud of being inducted into two fly-fishing halls of fame — the Northern California/Nevada Council of the IFFF Hall of Fame and the Catskill Fly Fishing Center and Museum Fly Fishing Hall of Fame.
Almost 20 years ago, I started a fly-fishing Web site, mainly to promote my outdoors writing/guiding/speaking career, but I wanted more than that from the site — I wanted to be able to continue interacting with fly anglers, networking, sharing information, and making friends the world over. “The Board,” as it’s commonly called by the Blantonville community (a name coined by the late Bob Nauheim), has been a huge success all these years. It was the best thing I could have ever done to further my career and to stay engaged with the fly-fishing community, worldwide.
Bud: You’ve also fished all over the world — from Mexico to Australia. If you had to limit yourself to just one place, where would it be, and why?
Dan: Hands down, Australia salt water. No place I’ve fished has a greater variety of fly-devouring game fish than Australia — both coasts and the Gulf of Carpentaria. No place has more devoted saltwater fly anglers and innovative fly tyers who just happen to be our cousins and actually like us Yanks. I’ve got a ton of fly-fishing mates in Australia who would take me fishing anytime if I were to show up on their doorstep again — I’ve been there four times for three weeks or more at a time.
Bud: One of the spin-offs of the bulletin board has been the annual Striperfest held in the Delta to raise support for conservation efforts there. How did that come about, and what’s the current state of its efforts, given the challenges faced by the Delta and by water resources throughout Northern California?
Dan: The first Striperfest — a Dan Blanton Web site function — was held in 1997, a gathering of board members who started fly fishing for striped bass on the California Delta after being introduced to the fishery via The Board and articles I wrote about it. It was a barbeque held at Russo’s Marina after a morning’s fishing, and initially, the purpose was just to thank me for hosting The Board. From there it morphed into Striperfest, the largest fund-raiser to support California striped bass and Delta conservation. Anyone wanting to know its history and what Striperfest has accomplished can read all about it by going to my Web site and clicking on the “Conservation” link and then “Striperfest.” It’s all there. I’m extremely proud of Striperfest and grateful to members of my board community, who support it, the tackle industry, which has long and generously supported the raffle and sponsored the Web site, the NCCIFFF for holding the funds, and finally the Sugar Barge RV Resort and Marina, which has hosted the event and sponsored me personally for more than a decade.
Bud: Here we are at the traditional Silly Tree Question: If you were a tree, what kind of a tree would you be?
Dan: You know, I’ve never thought about what kind of tree or animal I might be. I’m a fisherman — a fly fisherman. I guess, though, if I were a tree, I’d have to be a hybrid, a mix of two trees: a willow and a great oak. The willow is my favorite tree, because it’s often found on the shores of farm ponds and lakes, providing shade for bass and bluegills. A willow is a “fantasy book” tree, whimsical and beautiful, and appeals to my sense of artistry. It’s flexible and bends with the wind and time. I think to a certain extent, I’m a bit that way — but I also can be slow to change, and I’m often stubborn: unmoving about certain things, unbending like a great oak. Oh, hell — who wants to be a tree? Dogs piss on them. Let’s go catch a carp on a fly!
