A Simple Striper Streamer

I have tied many fly patterns over my twenty-plus years in search of stripers in the Sacramento Valley, and some memorable moments have played out at the end of their hooks. One particularly fond memory involves my friend Joe Shirshak, and a craft-fur fly with a silicone head.

A gorgeous, sunny day set the stage in the north Delta. Autumn leaves were falling. A few leafy stragglers in scarlet, orange, and yellow stood out against the wind-tossed canopy dyed muted butterscotch and cinnamon. Fog hovered over the tidal water, and steam puffed from our breath — we looked like two friends smoking cigars after a good meal. There was a pleasant chill in the air. We were wearing light sweaters and tightly knit caps. Joe and I had just had an epic few hours catching countless fish on the outgoing tide on a new pattern I had recently tied. Striped beauties, 8 to 20 pounds, had tested our arms. One behemoth pulled my 14-foot boat up tight against the current until Joe’s leader snapped just before the tide went slack.

So there we were, Joe and I, satiated and tired, and we decided to nap during the still tide. I anchored, and we curled up on the small casting decks like cats full from a generous bowl of milk. We waited for the tide to change.

I awoke first to the sound of the water softly lapping the hull. I noticed the leaves floating past — incoming tide. I woke up Joe. Time to fish — early afternoon. I yanked the motor alive, we headed to where the incoming tide flows off a shelf, and I dropped anchor. Joe is old school, refusing to use a stripping bucket. He stripped line onto the deck and flicked the silicone-head fly into the water, then lifted the rod up, raising the fly to the surface, and started swimming it perfectly next to the boat. He only had time to say, ”Andy, that’s a good-looking fl . . . ” when wham, an explosion of water sprayed our faces, sending both of us recoiling backward, with me almost falling out of the boat. Joe’s rod yanked down, almost breaking over the gunwale. Soaking wet, he somehow hung onto the rod, landed the striper —18-1/2 pounds, if an ounce — and I released it. We looked at each other astonished and began cracking up laughing.

I think the fish liked that fly. I know Joe did. It’s not hard to make. Here is how to tie it.

Begin by placing a 3/0 Gamakatsu SL12S hook in the vise. Attach a strong white thread behind the eye and wrap back three-quarters of the way to the bend. Select a clump of fluorescent yellow craft fur and tie it in at that point, extending about two to three hook lengths beyond the bend, spreading the fur around the shank and winding over it back to the bend. Trim the tag ends, advance the thread to about a third of the way up the shank, and repeat with a clump of yellow craft fur so that it tapers into the previous clump. Repeat this again a little more than halfway up the shank. Add any flash, if you want to, at this point. Finish the body by cutting, tying in, and wrapping to the eye two or three inches of Enrico Puglisi’s Sommerlatte’s Blend Foxy Brush. (You can also make your own dubbing brush.) That finishes the body and head. Comb and preen back all the layers — it should look tapered.

Next, coat the head. Open a tube of clear waterproof silicone and, using a bodkin, place several small dabs around the front of the head behind the hook eye. In a small bowl, mix one-third soap and two-thirds water to make a solution in which you can dip your fingers so that the silicone doesn’t stick to your skin. Dip your fingers and spread the silicone dabs evenly back over the brush material. Smooth it back, blending the dabs into the material. Next, choose a pair of your favorite large streamer eyes and place them on the head with a small dab of silicone over each eye. Blend that into the head and add more silicone until you have a relatively even head, stopping short of the bend. Let it dry for 24 hours. You’re finished

The silicone layer creates a slick covering, allowing the fly to glide erratically in the current, tantalizing any intended quarry. The variety of color combinations is left to your imagination. Give it a swim, and you, too, can add to your life’s list of memorable moments. Oh, and consider bringing a towel — just in case.

— Andy Guibord

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