When I was growing up in California in the 1970s, the Sierra trout opener in April was a big deal. Some of my earliest memories are of tagging along with my dad on a trout stream. He’d be sporting his fiberglass spinning rod teamed with a vintage Mitchell reel, and hanging from his shoulder, he’d have his beat-up old green canvas creel.
The inside of the creel was lined with rubber — that’s where your trout went. It had a long, skinny pocket where you’d put your packs of presnelled Eagle Claw hooks, and it had another exposed pocket in which a bottle of red Pautzke Balls-O’-Fire salmon eggs fit perfectly. Salmon eggs were hands down the bait of choice, and you wanted easy access to them.
Before long, I was sporting a creel of my own, as well as a bottle of eggs. I fished eggs and spinners and caught some fish before I reached a pivotal moment.
I was 12 years old, it was August, and I was on a family vacation. I was fishing Battle Creek near the town of Mineral, California, by myself. The weather was hot, the creek was low, and the fishing had been tough. I was hiking back to our camp when I saw a guy bent over cleaning a mess of trout. I said hello and asked him how he caught the fish.
“I got them on dry flies,” he said. He must have liked helping kids, because he invited me to take a few casts with his rod. I managed to get the fly into the water near a partly submerged log. Bam! Trout on and a fly angler was born. As soon as I saved enough money, I got a Fenwick rod, Pflueger reel, a floating line, and a sparse collection of mostly horribly tied department store flies. I caught fish mainly fishing off the bank, but occasionally, if the situation called for it, I’d wet wade in my pants or a pair of shorts. When my uncle got a leech attached to his thigh, I figured a pair of hip boots might be a good idea.
That was the end of my evolution as a fly angler for a while. I fished small streams, mostly, and caught plenty of fish, but then I reached another pivotal moment.
Dad and I had been fishing Hat Creek, and we ended up at Manzanita Lake, just inside Lassen National Park. Standing on the bank, we were amazed by the number of big trout we saw. I’d never caught trout like that in the streams I fished. I was determined to hook one, and I did, a beautiful 23-inch rainbow. At that moment, I realized what I’d been missing by fishing only streams. Lakes had trout, too, and for the most part, they held bigger trout than the streams. I was off and running again. I caught trout on fly gear while fishing the banks of lakes and reservoirs from
Lake Chabot in the Bay Area to Lake Almanor far to the north and at a long list of spots in between.
While I was hooking trout from the bank, I figured if I could get out onto the water, I’d catch even more fish, and so began my quest for a float tube. I’d seen them in magazines, but the investment was pretty big. In addition to the tube, I would need chest waders and fins. Plus, my mom said it was a no-go if I didn’t wear a life jacket.
I mowed a lot of grass, stacked firewood, and built a fence for my neighbor, but it was worth it, because the money I earned covered the cost of all the gear I needed with a little slush fund left over.
I was on the water, and as I suspected, I caught more fish from on the water than when standing next to it, but I learned really fast that float tubes have some limitations. Wind is a real bummer, and casting is a chore, because you’re low in the water. Your range is very limited, and if there is any boat traffic around, you’re a sitting duck. Yet I was on the water and loving it. Again, my evolution as a fly angler stopped.
Years went by, I became the editor and then owner of Fish Sniffer Magazine, and while I still fly fished, a lot of my fishing time was spent fishing with conventional gear. During that time, I went from having my own small powerboat to running big, sponsored aluminum sleds. Power boats are fun, there is no doubt, but I started noticing guys out on the water in peddle-driven kayaks, and I was intrigued.
Long story shorter, I took the plunge and got a peddle-drive kayak a few years back and immediately
fell in love with fishing kayaks. Since then, I’ve spent thousands of hours fishing from a different peddle-drive kayaks, and I can tell you without hesitation, kayaks are the best and final evolutionary step in terms of watercraft with applications for the fly-fishing community.
Kayaks Have Arrived
When they hear the term “fishing kayak,” some folks undoubtedly think of the $99 Splash Master sit-inside kayak they saw at the local big-box store last week when shopping for socks, a gallon of milk, and some antacid tablets. Buy that thing for fishing, and you’ll be getting $99 worth of misery and frustration. Plus, if you try to stand up in it, you’ll likely end up in the water.
A peddle-drive fishing kayak is another animal entirely. Let me say right out of the gate that I’m a Hobie guy, but there are lot of great peddle-drive kayaks on the market from many different manufacturers, and your mileage may vary. What I’m trying to do here is raise awareness in the fly-fishing community that something far better than a float tube or pram is available to fly anglers. Should you decide to take the plunge, do your research, kick the tires, and decide which kayak best meets your needs. I’ll say more about that later.
Kayaks as a Fishing Platform
Peddle-drive fishing kayaks come in a lot of different sizes and weights, but most of them have one thing in common. They were all designed to a large degree with bass fishing in mind, because black bass are the most popular game fish in the country.
I know — you’re thinking, “Big deal, I fish for trout.” That’s cool, but think about bass fishing for a second. Those guys like to stand up and flip and rip and pitch and stuff like that. Notice I said “stand up.” Modern fishing kayaks are extremely stable and designed for you to stand on. Can I fly cast while sitting in the seat atop one of my kayaks? You bet! But I can cast even better when standing up on one, and I’m no ballerina. I’m big and clumsy, just like you.
The stability of a modern fishing kayaks results from pure engineering. Fishing kayaks, compared with paddling kayaks or old-school whitewater kayaks, are notably wide. For example, the kayak I use most often is 46 inches wide in the cockpit area. Width lends stability for the angler who wants to stand up, but hull design is also a major factor. Fishing kayaks also have a modified catamaran-style hull. They will lean to the side a bit, but that enlarged portion of the hull does not want to go below the surface, so there is a very positive “locking point.” In other words, although a fishing kayak will lean to the side a little, after that, there is no more lean. There are tons of videos on YouTube of anglers not only standing in their kayaks, but actually walking around on them.
Before I talk a bit about the types of kayaks available, let’s look at why you might want one. If you already are a float tuber, would you benefit from owning a kayak? Not only do I think you’d benefit, but I also think your float tube would be retired.
First, your range would increase greatly. I’ve peddled for 20 miles in a single day when trolling flies from a peddle-drive kayak. When was the last time you covered 20 miles kicking around backward in your float tube?
Next, the wind factor is greatly reduced. If it’s windy, you aren’t taking out your float tube, because you’ll get blown away. That’s not the case in a modern peddle kayak. I’ve been on lakes in 30-mile-per-hour winds when the wind came up fast and blew hard. I was able to navigate safely the almost three miles back to the launch area without a problem. I wouldn’t plan a trip when the wind is gusting at 30, but I brought that up to illustrate how capable peddle-fishing kayaks can be. Winds in the 10-to-15-mile-per-hour range won’t keep you from fishing effectively, and neither will chop and small whitecaps. Most peddle-drive fishing kayaks can navigate ocean waters, so hitting your local reservoir on a breezy afternoon won’t be a problem, and I’ll let you in on a little secret. When the wind is gusting and whitecaps are pushing across the lake, the subsurface trout action is often wide open.
When the weather is cold, I often wear waders when fishing from my kayak in order to stay warm, but during most of the year, I just wear water shoes and a pair of cargo shorts. A kayak is infinitely more comfortable than a float tube. In a fishing kayak, you aren’t sitting in the water, you’re on top of it, sitting in a state-of-the-art, fully adjustable mesh seat. My kayak seat has adjustable lumbar support, too. ’Nuff said.
Are kayaks as portable as a float tube? Yes, no, and maybe. There are huge kayaks —mine travels on a small trailer, is 14 feet long, weighs upward of two hundred pounds when loaded, and accommodates me, my 65-pound Labrador, Lucy, and a full range of camping and fishing gear. That’s not the kayak you are going to hike with over hill and dale.
On the other end of the spectrum, I have several 11-foot kayaks in my guiding fleet. The model I have has been described as the world’s most advanced peddle-driven fishing platform. It is a kayak with the soul of a paddleboard. It has no internal space or storage and an extremely stable 36-inch-wide deck, just like a paddle board, but it features a seat, rudder, and peddle drive. The hull weighs 45 pounds. My wife can pick it up and move it across the garage. Add the seat, peddles and rudder, and you are still below 60 pounds. Snap on a set of kayak wheels, and you can hike into those out-of-the-way locations where there are no boats or other kayakers.
Transporting it is simple. I slide mine into the bed of my big, muddy 4×4 truck, but you can easily put it atop the roof rack of a car, no problem. Heck, toss some tofu and wine coolers in the ice chest, slap the ’yak on top of the Prius, and you are ready for adventure.
In all seriousness, if you are a stillwater fly angler, you should give a peddle kayak some serious consideration. It will open you up to a whole new world of range and comfort, and you’ll be shocked how many trout you hook while trolling a big, fat Woolly Bugger behind the ’yak as you peddle from spot A to spot B. Sure, you don’t usually hear “trolling” and “fly fishing” in the same sentence, but if you are going to cross some open water, why not do it trailing a fly?
What Kayak Is Right for You?
A big part in deciding what size kayak is right for you will be determined by where you want to fish. If you are a big-water angler, say someone who fishes Eagle Lake, Pyramid Lake, and maybe the Delta for stripers and black bass, you will likely benefit from a big, heavy ’yak that offers a lot of comfort and internal storage. Large kayaks have hatches for stowing tackle and indispensable items, such as your lunch, and many of them feature horizontal rod storage. Mine has six internal rod-storage tubes inside the cockpit.
Most big waters offer drive-up launching, so a hefty kayak isn’t going to be a liability. You’ll slide it off your truck or trailer directly into the water, so you’re not worried about dragging the kayak any distance over dry land. Conversely, if you are someone who likes hitting ponds and high mountain lakes that require a little hiking to get to, a smaller, lighter kayak might be just what the doctor ordered.
You may have noticed that the shorter, 11-foot kayak I mentioned is only 3 feet shorter than my the huge one, and it’s nearly as wide, but is significantly lighter. Here’s why. Length and width give the angler the stability needed to stand up, so even with a much lighter fishing kayak, you won’t see a huge reduction in length and width. What you do see in the lighter kayaks is less vertical height and little, if any internal storage. Most lightweight fishing kayaks have strapping points and bungies on the fore and aft decks for attaching gear, strapping down rods, and such.
As I said, there are a lot of brands and models of peddle kayaks out there, and I have my preferences, but I don’t know what might be best for you. Do some research, jump on some online forums, and ask questions, then drop by a kayak shop and ask more questions. I buy kayaks online at this point, and they are delivered to my house, but I wouldn’t advise that route for a first-time buyer. At a shop, you can compare apples and bananas first-hand, and most shops are staffed by hard-core plastic-boat enthusiasts who will guide you down the road to success.
By working with a shop, you can figure out what accessories you want, too, and they will do the drilling and installing. Ask if you can watch. These days, I do my own customizations, adding USB ports and mounting sonar units and more, doing it all right in my driveway. However, for the first-time buyer, drilling a hole or holes into your brand new plastic boat is more than stressful. Watching a pro rigger at work will boost your confidence when you decide to work on the kayak yourself.
A shop can also hook you up with someone like me. I’d say 80 percent of the folks taking guided kayak trips with me and my partner come simply to try out a fishing kayak. They want to try before they buy, and that’s an outstanding idea. We’ve had several folks leave the lake and go directly to their local shop to buy a kayak. They were very interested in purchasing a fishing kayak, but had some questions and concerns. Getting out on the lake addressed those issues, and then they were ready to hit the water on their own.
Kayak Gear
Regardless of what type of kayak you decide works best for you, there are some other things to consider.
First and foremost, you absolutely must be wearing a life jacket at all times when on the water — no exceptions. Life jackets save lives. End of story.
Your kayak will come with a rudimentary paddle. You must have a paddle when launching and retrieving your kayak. Your peddle drive is for open water. You don’t want that drive dragging along the bottom of the lake. The peddles can be raised and lowered easily. When you launch, you’ll use your paddle, and you’ll use it again when coming to shore.
A paddle is also handy to have for making subtle movements on the water. Kayaks are very nimble, and a light stroke with the paddle will make them move forward, backward, or rotate.
My big kayak came with a huge, double-ended paddle, and I used it for a long time, but I got sick of it taking up so much space along one side of the kayak, so I picked up a 60-inch single-blade aftermarket paddle, and I absolutely love it. It gets the job done when I need it, and the rest of the time, it stows easily next to my seat, out of the way.
Do you want a sonar unit? Again, this is a personal choice based on the type of waters you fish. For me, a sonar unit is a must. I want to know what the underwater structure looks like, what the water temperature, is and how fast I’m moving. If your kayak has an internal hull, you’ll mount the transducer, the part of the sonar unit that sends out the pulses that the unit’s computer interprets into an image on the screen, inside the hull. On kayaks without an internal hull, you can still run a sonar unit. You just have to run the transducer on a transducer arm beside the kayak. This sounds complicated, but everything you need comes in a kit. Connect part A to part B and part B to part C, and you’ve got sonar, simple as that. To power the sonar unit, most of us use a small, lightweight lithium-ion battery. My battery runs the sonar unit and cameras and charges my phone.
Mounts and accessories abound for fishing kayaks. Most kayakers who have been in the sport for a while have highly personalized craft. At first, you’ll fish out of the kayak as it came from the store, and then, based on what you experience out on the water, you’ll add and cup holder there, a rod holder here, and perhaps a USB plug for charging your phone or running a camera. Really, the sky is the limit in terms of modifications. It all comes down to your needs and creativity. One aspect of kayak fishing that many anglers don’t consider is a landing net. That is one area where most of my clients struggle. That 18-inch fly-fishing net isn’t going to cut it. You need something larger and longer. I have a telescoping net that scopes out to 60 inches. I’d say 36 inches is the minimum, and an adjustable net is easy to transport, but offers ample reach out on the water.
Netting a fish beside a kayak seems simple until you try it, with the trout playing hide-and-seek by shooting back and forth under the kayak. The trick is getting on the peddles. A little forward momentum will put the fish into the sweet spot for the scoop. We call that “putting the fish in the bucket.” Practice makes perfect, and you should expect to miss a few until you get the hang of it.
Finally, I know there are some retired folks reading this. You aren’t too old to take up kayaking. I was right around 50. Not only is peddling a kayak easy and relaxing, it’s also great exercise. You can tell your significant other you are going for a workout . . . with your fly rod.
