Observant readers will notice a new byline for this column: Robert Ketley, who also writes our “Gearhead” column. Rob has both an analytical mind and a huge amount of experience in fishing lakes, and his advice is as solid as that of our previous and now-retired columnist, Trent Pridemore. We‘ll likely be combining both the “Gearhead” and “Stillwater Fly Fisher”columns into one, perhaps as soon as the next issue, to offer Rob a broader platform for his ideas and recommendations.
Like many Brits, my introduction to fly fishing was on still waters. In fact, I didn’t even know you could fly fish on rivers and streams for a number of years. This may sound odd to most Californians, who typically learn to fish on trout-filled streams. It’s not that the UK doesn’t have streams with trout, it’s just that the majority of waters are private, especially in southern England, where I grew up. To fish these waters, you had to be born into an upper-class family, know the landowner, or have the kind of money that can buy access. My family couldn’t check any of those boxes. The only places where an angler from the “lower classes” could fly fish were on the water-supply reservoirs, and so that’s where I learned the trade. I realize now that my fly-fishing apprenticeship was somewhat unique, even for Brits. My father was a very successful competition fly fisher in the 1970s and early 1980s. As such, the way we fished was directly influenced by competition rules and his intensely competitive instincts. Every aspect of tackle and technique was directed toward catching as many fish as possible. Quite often, we’d be in the boat and on the water as soon as legally possible, fish hard all day, and wouldn’t touch dry land until an hour after sunset. In the middle of summer, that meant 13 hours of fishing. There would often be changes of location, tackle, and technique as he figured out where the trout were and what flies they’d take. Being a somewhat naïve kid, I assumed this was how everyone fished.
I did not inherit my father’s interest in competitive fly fishing, but there’s no denying that many of his lessons have stuck with me. The following isn’t a “big reveal” of secret tips or an exhaustive, indepth analysis of stillwater techniques. It’s just a summary of the elements of success gleaned from a decade of competition-style fly fishing. If you have the time, you can dig around on the Internet and find articles and videos (of varying quality) that cover this information in more depth. I’d definitely suggest checking out videos from Brian Chan and Phil Rowley. They cover a lot of techniques, with plenty of solid science to back them up.
The Goldilocks Zone
While there are certainly times when trout will seek out the deeper parts of a lake, most of the time, you’ll find them in water less than 25 feet deep. This is where a lake produces most of its trout food and thus is where you’ll usually find feeding fish. I like to think of it as the Goldilocks Zone.
Perhaps the quickest way to find these prime feeding grounds is to go online and look for a lake contour map. You can find detailed maps for many California lakes and reservoirs. If all else fails, pay attention to the slope of land surrounding the lake. If an area has a gentle slope, there’s a good possibility it continues underwater.
Bird Watching
I’ve lost count how many times birds have led me to feeding fish. Make sure you keep your eyes peeled for swallows, which can cover a lot of water as they search for insects. Once they locate a hatch, they’ll make loads of low passes over the water, sometimes even plucking insects off the surface. If the birds move to another spot, be prepared to follow them. They might have eaten their fill, but it’s more likely the insect activity in the area you are fishing is petering out, and they have located another hatch.
Terns, gulls, and grebes can be great for finding schools of baitfish. You can pretty much guarantee there’s bait near the surface when you find the birds making lots of noise and diving. If they are sitting on the surface and occasionally looking under the water, there’s probably a school underneath. The birds may be resting between feeding binges or waiting for trout to force the bait up through the water column. This is when it can pay to prospect with suitably sized streamers on a sinking line.
Pattern Recognition
Recent fishing reports, local knowledge, and electronic fish finders all play important roles in locating fish, but the truth is, you’ll have more success if you can decipher the water in real time. The ability to read the ecosystem at any given moment greatly enhances your chances. This is without a doubt the biggest problem for folks who learned how to fish on rivers and streams. To start with, there’s a difference in scale. The upper Sacramento or Truckee are cozy little waters when compared with even a modest-sized lake. Almanor, Crowley, Davis, or San Luis are such big chunks of water that it’s hard not to feel overwhelmed. Compounding the problem is the lack of flow. We learn how to fish rivers and streams by understanding how flowing water reveals where fish feed. Take away the flow, and everything looks the same.
If you are lucky, you’ll arrive at a lake and find lots of fish making splashy rises on water unruffled by wind or waves. Days like this can provide some of the most intense fishing you’ll ever experience. In the UK, it was not uncommon to see hundreds of fish rising to large chironomids during the aptly named “evening boil.” Catch Almanor’s famous Hexagenia hatch on a windless evening, and things can seem almost surreal. It’s hard not to hyperventilate when you are surrounded by large fish hurling themselves at big bugs.
But most of the time, you are going to have to contend with a light to moderate breeze. If there’s a good hatch, the fish will probably be feeding, but you’ll have a harder time seeing them. This is when you need to tap into your powers of pattern recognition, something our brains are thankfully quite good at. Basically, you are looking for ripples or small waves that are different from their immediate surroundings or moving in the “wrong” direction. If you’ve seen trout rising in a riffle, you’ll have a general idea of what to look for. Online videos can help you figure that out, but there’s no substitute for being on the water. A trip to a lake with a knowledgeable friend on a club outing or in a guide’s boat is a really good way to shorten the learning curve.
Drifting
If you are in some form of watercraft, don’t be too quick to drop anchor. Sure, there are times and places where having an immobile boat makes perfect sense, but don’t assume this is always the best way to fish. Some hatches can cover a lot of water (I’ve seen chironomid hatches covering more than 25 acres), and the fish will often be spread out. A drifting boat allows you to cover more water, which means your flies will be seen by more trout. The basic technique is pretty simple. Cast downwind and retrieve at a rate that keeps your flies barely moving. The stronger the breeze, the faster the retrieve. (If your laid-out line starts to develop slack during the drift, you’re retrieving too slowly.) If you notice areas of water that are slightly calmer and more silvery than their surroundings, try to get your drift to run through them. These features are called “wind lanes” and will often hold more trout. If the f ish are rising, the smoother surface can make them easier to spot, so you can adjust your drift to cover each rising fish. The fish will usually be moving upwind, while you are moving downwind, so you’ll get only a few casts before the fish are behind you and out of range. Casting to actively feeding fish in a wind lane is very exciting, especially when you cast to a rise and a second or two later see the fish take your fly or feel a thud on the line.
Keep Your Flies Wet
The math is very simple — the longer your flies are in the water, the greater the chance you’ll get bit. While it’s possible a hatch will go on for hours, don’t bet on it. Sometimes the action will suddenly switch on and an hour later just as suddenly turn off. If you spend 10 minutes faffing around with your gear, eating lunch, or texting friends about the great bite, you’ll miss fish. Don’t waste time on anything but fishing during a hatch.
You’ll also want to make sure you fish every retrieve to the very end. Most successful stillwater fly fishers practice something called “the hang,” which involves leaving your flies in the water for just a few seconds before starting the next cast. It’s quite common to have takes right next to the boat. It’s also quite common to miss takes right next to the boat because you hurried things up. There are plenty of details online about on how to hang. Check them out.
Teamwork
Quite often, there won’t be any obvious surface action, so you must make some educated guesses. This is when it can make sense to work a team of flies. Placing three different fly patterns on your leader, where legal, can help locate fish and figure out what they are eating. You’ll want to use a relatively long leader, with 15 or more feet between the end of the fly line and the final (point) fly. Place the heaviest fly on the point. In general, it’s best to retrieve your flies slowly, but don’t be afraid to speed things up or move them in brief spurts.
Obviously, working three flies on a long leader is going to increase the risk of casting tangles. You can learn advanced yoga poses to remove flies from various parts of your anatomy, or you can cast with an open loop. The choice is yours. Thankfully, casting with an open casting loop comes naturally to a lot of fly fishers. You won’t cast as far as you can with a nice, pointy loop, but your flies are far less likely to get involved in aerial combat. If your loop is really wide, you may have trouble getting all of the flies to lay out properly. The solution to this headache is to stop (check) the cast just before the line fully unrolls. That usually forces the leader to unroll and drop the flies in straight(ish) line.
But fear not. If your casting isn’t great, there’s a simple solution that’s effective and fun. It’s the famous “loch style“ technique developed by the Scots and Irish. This is a drifting boat technique, though you can use it with a float tube, pontoon boat, canoe, kayak, or paddleboard. Instead of casting the fly line, you simply lay out the leader and flies with a pick-up-and-lay-down cast. With about 10 feet of fly line out of the tip of the rod, you can lay out the entire leader in a relatively straight line. Once the flies are in (or on) the water, you slowly draw them back by raising the rod. The speed of this retrieve depends on how fast you are drifting and what you want the flies to do. Most of the time, you’ll want the top fly to draw a slight wake or dance on the top of the water. That’s why this particular fly is called the “bob fly.” This mimics flies struggling or moving in the surface f ilm and can quickly get the attention of any nearby trout. The middle and point flies can remain underwater or can also be drawn up to produce a wake. The bob fly may draw the fish in, but don’t be surprised if they take the middle or point fly. What’s so cool about this style of fishing is that you see the takes up close, and they’re often dramatic.
Be More Attractive
For more years than I can remember, moving-water fly fishers have debated the merits of imitation and presentation. Is a fly that looks like the real McCoy better than one that moves like the real McCoy? When it comes to still waters, there are times when you will want to add attraction to the equation.
Trout are curious creatures and will investigate anything that looks like it might be food or could lead them to food. It’s the reason why folks who troll for trout will often run a set of shiny flashers ahead of their lures. I’ve got underwater videos of trout darting over to check out a silver-bodied GoPro camera as it was lowered into the water. You can take advantage of this natural curiosity by adding a particularly bright or flashy fly to your leader. Try running a bright streamer pattern along with flies that represent a caddis or midge pupa or mayfly nymph. The fish may take the streamer, but don’t be surprised if they grab one of the insect patterns.
Retying Knots
If you usually fish on waters where the trout weigh less than a pound, you’ve probably not had a lot of trouble with snapped hook knots. As such, it might seem somewhat OCD to suggest that you retie a knot after a spirited fight or after you’ve landed a big fish. Fish in lakes are often larger than their flowing-water brethren, and their fight frequently involves leaps and head shakes. If the water is clear, you may even see the fish spinning around like clothes in dryer. Under these circumstances, the knot may be forced toward the back of the hook eye. Indeed, it may go back and forth several times as the fight progresses.
Despite what you may think, the inside of many hook eyes does not present a smooth, curved surface. The process of forming the eye involves bending the wire around a hard metal post. This creates a highly concentrated force that can flatten the inside surface of the eye. I put a bunch of hooks under the microscope and found flat spots on all of them. On expensive hook brands, the defect was usually limited to the back of the eye, but it extended around almost half the circumference with cheaper brands. Another problem with the hook eye is that the end of the wire may not form a full circle, which leaves a small gap at the back. The end of the wire can have a sharp edge, and some even have a small nick, likely caused by the bending tool.
It should come as no surprise that skinny mono that gets dragged over the flat spot or is forced against a sharp spot will incur some damage. It may not be enough to cause the knot to fail during that particular fight, but a subsequent tussle may be enough to cause a premature parting of the ways. Loop knots, which allow the hook to move freely on the tippet, are way more prone to this sort of damage. In fact, you don’t even need to be hooked up. The simple act of casting can mar the end of the loop as the fly flips back and forth. Invisible to the naked eye, this damage shows up quite clearly under a microscope.
In a competition, losing one fish, especially a big fish, can be the difference between winning and just competing. The stakes aren’t as high in recreational fishing, but no one likes to lose a fish, especially to a “bad knot.”
There are bound to be many stillwater experts who will disagree with some or all of the above. Indeed, there are going to be times when the trout disagree, too. All I can tell you is that the above helped my father win many competitions and has helped me catch trout in still waters for almost fifty years. That’s not a bad track record.
