Writing about steelhead fly-fishing etiquette, especially as it applies to Northern California, is an exercise in herding feral cats. You’ll never get all the critters in the same box at the same time. You’ll think you have them, but there’ll always be a few hiding in the bushes, refusing to agree with what you argue is right.
By its nature, etiquette is inexact and unwritten; it’s more about behavioral adjustments to perpetually fluid situations than it is about canonized pronouncements. Nonetheless, for the sanity of the passionate, every once in awhile, the subject has to be trotted out and examined in the glaring light of current times.
Etiquette is defined as “the customary code of polite behavior in society or among members of a particular profession or group.” Luckily, etiquette in angling, as in most things, is simply a matter of common sense and application of the (modified) Golden Rule: Don’t do anything unto others unless you have to, and then only do unto them as you would have them do unto you.
Really, that should be sufficient. But since I can, I’ll go on.
The key concept to consider, on which traditional sea-run-fish fly-fishing etiquette is based, is that anadromous fish such as steelhead and salmon are almost always facing upstream, noses cutting the current, more interested in what lies ahead than where they’ve been. Also, any fish that arrive in the water you are fishing, unless they’ve already spawned and are returning to sea, will likely arrive from downstream of where you are positioned. Logically then, we typically present the fly to fish from an upstream position, allowing the fly to swing downstream and across the current in front of them. To cover a reach of moving water, when we don’t know for sure where the fish may be or simply for the pleasure of doing so, we start from a position upstream, usually at the head of a run, riffle, or pool, and move downstream at a pace of one to three steps between each cast and each complete arc, or swing, of the line and fly.
The etiquette involved in almost all universally accepted swung-fly or Spey fishing is based on this principle and on the intrinsically connected idea that the water downstream of the already positioned, wading, stepping-and-casting angler is not to be infringed upon. If you’ve arrived first on the water, the traditional thinking established long ago on the rivers of Europe is that you have first and fair access to the water downstream.
This is all well and good until someone else arrives with the intent of fishing the same reach of water. At that point, what comes into play is a code of conduct that allows both anglers, as well as all anglers who subsequently arrive, to share the water equitably.
In its rudimentary form, considering the principle above, that code could be encapsulated as don’t step in downstream of anyone already working down the run, and once fishing, keep moving through the run at a steady and reasonable pace. It sounds simple, but of course, in practice, there is more than ample room for subjective interpretation.
For instance, what happens, when another angler arrives to share the water you are fishing, if you establish through behavior or words that you intend to stay fixed in your position and wait for the fish to come to you, rather than step and cast your way downstream? In this case, by not moving, you have in effect breached the centuries-old principle of etiquette and indicated that you are not interested in your right to first and fair access to the water downstream. I mention this scenario first because it pertains directly to steelhead fly fishing on the Northern California coast.
Then: Northern California Steelheading Etiquette
The principle of fair access to downstream water fits neatly for situations of moving water and particularly situations where the whereabouts or existence of fish in a given reach of water is in question. But what about situations where the water is essentially slack, or the location of the fish is observed, or if not observed, commonly known?
Accounts in print and film lead me to believe (I wish I could speak from experience) that fly fishing in the halcyon days of California’s North Coast steelhead and salmon runs was a bit like the Gold Rush. Instead of racing for glittering nuggets and dust, however, mid-twentieth-century anglers on the lower reaches of Sonoma, Mendocino, Humboldt, and Del Norte County rivers were hot-footing it for a living silver treasure. Their goal was “to be in the bucket when the fish were in.” Implicitly, that meant getting there early, if not first, staking your claim, and guarding your water against interlopers — very much like the early California ’Niners — all actions conducted in the spirit of (occasionally) cooperative competition.
For various reasons, some involving tackle limitations, the targeted waters in that era were slow-flowing estuary pools where fish would congregate in specific locations. This precipitated stationary fishing with lineups of wading anglers or with anglers in small, anchored boats or prams, all casting repeatedly to those specific locations. Although there may have been some step-and-cast or drift-and-cast fishing with a swinging fly practiced to search for fish when none were showing or seen, techniques back then primarily involved casting and retrieving the fly through a short arc — the old strip tease. Clark Van Fleet paints a vivid description of this fishing on the lower Eel in his 1951 book Steelhead to a Fly.
In this regimen, since the angle of fishing was mainly perpendicular to the current, anglers could and often did fish nearly shoulder to shoulder and in a manner involving a good deal of social contact. The desire for solitude may have been present, but again, looking at historic images, it seems that desire wasn’t always achieved or honored.
An etiquette governing the behavior of steelhead anglers toward one another on Northern California’s coastal rivers developed out of this stationary, group fishing. Because I’ve fished a fair bit outside of that part of the state over the past decade-plus, I see now that this etiquette is particular to our region and particular to specialized, estuary pool fishing. In essence, as related to traditional salmon and steelhead fly fishing etiquette, the value of first and fair access to water downstream is willingly relinquished for positioning in the lineup. In other words, “Go ahead and step in below or above. I’m already in the best position available.”
Today, on the Sonoma and Mendocino rivers, in the just-beyond-tidewater pools, you can still see this etiquette in play. If you arrive first, chose the most likely looking position, wade in, and begin casting to where you think the fish may be holding. If a fish shows itself, cast to it. Move to where it showed if you have to. Positioning can be fluid, but tends toward static if you know where the sweet spot is. The objective, as stated, is to find the bucket and be stationed for the best casting angle when the fish are in or will show up, one hopes on the next tide.
If another angler arrives, he or she may wade in at a reasonable distance above or below you. As long as the newcomer gives you a comfortable amount of room to cast and strip your fly, all is good. If the current is quicker, the swing arc will be larger, and the comfortable space may be greater than at slack water. The positioning is generally static — unless either angler begins to move up or down, which would allow the other angler to move at the same pace. If the anglers remain stationary for a period of time, either is free to pull out and take up a new station below or above the other.
Should more anglers arrive and join the lineup, the positioning tends to be even more static. The only way to get into the middle of the lineup would be to replace an angler who has vacated a spot. This can be tricky, though, because the others may slide toward the open spot to eliminate the opening. It can get weird if you’re the only one not acquainted with the rest of the group.
Should you hook a fish while in a lineup, but don’t need to move to land the fish, you may be able to retain your position in the lineup without incident. In this case, of course, to avoid tangles and flared tempers, if you are another member of the lineup, it may be the polite thing to reel in. Should you leave the lineup to land your fish, I suppose the retention of your spot is determined by your social standing in the lineup. You may find yourself unable to get back in and may need to reposition on one of the ends — or you may be welcomed back to your spot with salutations.
The salient point here is this: in stationary lineup fishing, the etiquette is typically governed by group social behavior, and that etiquette may have varying unwritten and possibly ambiguous rules, depending on the individuals making up the group and the river on which they’re fishing. If you’re new to this game or don’t participate very often, it can seem daunting or even off-putting — which, going back to the Gold Rush analogy, maybe the intention. Claims are being perpetually staked.
Now: The Spey Revolution
All of the above is predicated on the premise that each angler in the lineup is casting a single-handed rod and intending to maintain a generally fixed position. Should someone with a double-handed rod show up and try to work in, this only-in-NorCal estuary-pool fishing etiquette may go straight to hell, assuming that’s the least notable thing that happens. But here we are at the beginning of 2015, and the Spey rod revolution is more than just underway. I’ll go out on a stout limb and offer that throughout the steelhead’s range in the Pacific Northwest, including Northern California, the double-handed rod, be it Spey or switch, has firmly supplanted the single-handed rod in popularity, if not efficacy, among the brotherhood and sisterhood of steelhead anglers. In other words, people are using the things — and not just the occasional eccentric sporting a tweed cap, or the trucker-capped hoodie bro, or the svelte adventure femme, but everyone from the nondescript middle-aged Joe next door to the can’t-hold-her-down Gore-Tex granny. From the young to the old, anglers are snap-T-ing and snake rolling. They’re double Speying and single Speying. They’re even Perry Poking. Loops are sexy and loops are sloppy. D loops are drooping, and too many anchors are popping. And, hey, if you ask me, it’s all a beautiful sight.
It’s a beautiful sight until the entire gallery of long-rod revolutionaries descends on a river, all wanting to swing the same sweet flowing run, or until they join the lineup on a famous estuary pool. Spey fishing was invented on the British Isles, where game-fishing rights were closely controlled. Fishing these rivers wasn’t available to everyone. It was intended only for the landed class, and they certainly didn’t anticipate crowds.
Again, etiquette is defined as the customary code of polite behavior among members of a particular group. And the Modified Golden Rule says Don’t do anything unto others unless you have to.
But, the option to “don’t do anything unto others” has long since disappeared with the population boom. There are fewer steelhead, fewer great steelhead rivers, and more folks casting 100-foot bombs, eating up vast tracts of liquid real estate with each swing, competing for these scarce fish, which are more highly coveted each year. Often the rules aren’t written anywhere, nor are they typically or conveniently posted on a tree by the side of the river for each entrant to study before commencing to fish.
Etiquette takes time to develop as group behavior evolves to support a commonly held notion of satisfaction in the practice at hand. Here in Northern California, the practice of Spey fishing for coastal winter steelhead, as we know it today, has not been around long enough for a strong regional etiquette to evolve. What etiquette we do have is only recently imported from rivers farther to the north, which in turn came from the rivers of Europe and the highly regimented British/Scottish sport of Atlantic salmon angling. And those unwritten rules may not always be harmonious with Northern California’s specialized regional code.
Conflicts and Solutions
So we finally arrive at the fulcrum of this exercise. I’m not saying that codes of etiquette for the lineup and for the step and swing are necessarily right or wrong, but the existence of both in close proximity can create an opening for conflict.
You’re a new steelhead angler in Northern California with a two-handed rod, or you’re an experienced single-hander reapproaching the river with your newly acquired 12-foot 6-inch 7/8-weight with a 500-grain Skagit head, 10-foot T-14 MOW sinking t ip, 3 feet of 12-pound Maxima Ultragreen leader, and dazzling pink-and-orange tube fly. What do you need to know to play well with others on the waters you’ll fish with your State of California fishing license?
First of all, even though fishing with double-handed rods is very versatile and can be applied to many situations effectively and enjoyably, even to stillwater fishing, know that if you bust out your long rod on a popular estuary pool and find yourself in a lineup of single-handed casters, even if you were there first, you may simply need to adhere to the regional etiquette, rather than the traditional European etiquette. Remember, in this unique environment, the right to downstream water means less than position in the perceived bucket. If you want to cast and step through the estuary pool and a lineup is present, as long as there are single-handers throwing shooting heads, you’ll most likely have to do it without fishing the bucket.
On the other hand, if you are fishing well upstream from estuary water, aiming to search a reach of moving water with a swinging a fly, the traditional etiquette — where the right to downstream water takes priority — should be in play. And it’s here that problems are most likely to arise. Possibly because of our specialized coastal etiquette, not every angler in Northern California, even among fly anglers, is in tune with fly-swinging etiquette.
Let’s say you arrive first at a run well above tidewater. The run is well-defined, with a broken-water riffle at each end. Step into the run wherever you’d like — most will start at the head or upstream end of the run, but being first, the choice is yours. Work your way downstream, casting, swinging, and stepping between casts until you feel you have exhausted the likely water where a fish may be holding or resting. While you are working your way down, another angler arrives at the same run and wishes to swing flies through the same water. What should happen?
Regardless of whether the second angler is fishing a single-handed or double-handed rod, if he or she wants to fish the same reach of water as the first angler, because that first angler is practicing the downstream swing, the newcomer should observe the existing angler’s right of first and fair access to the water downstream. That means starting in well above the first angler, assuming the run is long enough to accommodate two anglers.
There is no hard-and-fast rule as to how far “well above” is and whether or not a run can accommodate two anglers, but generally, you will know when you arrive and assess the situation. You may need to take a moment to observe how the first angler is fishing before determining how far above you should go. In this situation, you should also cast and step your way downstream at a pace that works comfortably with the angler below. And the angler below should now realize he or she needs to move at a steady pace downstream. A tricky situation arises if the newly arrived angler takes a stationary position upstream of the already casting-and-stepping angler. Should the first angler finish, then want to fish through the run again, the second angler would effectively prevent fair access to the water downstream. Whether or not this is egregious could be debated on the grounds that the second angler becomes the first angler once the first angler steps out of the run and therefore gets precedence. But I would argue that once “rotational” angling is established in the run, as long as any anglers remain and intend to rotate through,
Spey-fishing etiquette should apply. I hear the feral cats wailing. . . .
Upon arriving at the water and seeing another angler already fishing, should you speak to the angler before doing anything? For the most part, unlike lineup fishing, swinging flies — with a single-handed or double-handed rod — is a solitary activity; the less said, the better. As a default, you might rely on the “Don’t do anything unto the other” rule, unless you feel it is necessary.
One such case might occur on a short run where two anglers might be a crowd. Here, you could approach quietly and ask, “Do you mind if I start in above you?” The first angler could say, “Yes, I do mind,” and you’d be obliged to move on to other water. But in my experience, I’ve found it very rare for any angler to object to this question if politely asked. In fact, many angling friendships have begun with this question or with a polite conversation about sharing the water.
Sometimes, on a large enough piece of water, all that’s needed is a wave or a nod and walk to the head of the run. Generally, the first angler will then know the water will be shared and that he or she should fish at a pace that doesn’t compromise your own fair access to the water downstream.
An exception to the downstream water rule would come into play when the run is exceedingly long. It could possibly be considered kosher to jump in downstream of another fly-swinging angler if you thought it might take at least an hour and a half for the angler above to reach the position where you started in. But even then, you are treading on very thin ice. Some anglers can cover a lot of water very quickly. In this case, it again would be best to ask the already stepping and casting angler if it’s OK to wade in well below. This point of etiquette may vary from river to river and region to region. In this instance, be prepared to hear “No” and err on the side of respect. If in doubt, start in well above or move on to another run.
There are other situations to consider, as well.
If you find yourself the point angler and another angler has stepped in upstream to follow you down, to be considerate — and to save yourself the ignominy of having a fish hooked between you and the bank in the water you’ve just covered — you may want to pay attention to where you’re wading. If you were already working your way down when the second angler arrived, by rights, you could march down the middle of the run. However, it would be very much inadvisable for you and aggravating for the person upstream. Not only could it be unsafe, but steelhead have a propensity for holding on the edge of the current. Wading too far out might only push them farther out, or more likely, spook them off to a place where neither you nor the other angler will reach them with a fly. In this scenario, especially when fishing with a friend, it may be more educational for you to wade a shallower line and make a shorter cast than the second angler. Should the second angler connect with a fish while wading a deeper line or making a longer cast behind you, smile and call it a teaching moment.
If you’re sharing a run with other Spey fishers and connect with a fish, should you step back in and continue to work down the run, or should you pull out and return to the head of the run to rotate through again? This circumstance might also provoke differing views from different anglers. The most polite thing to do, after playing a fish extensively, even is if not landed, would be to step out, enjoy the moment, and return to the head of the run, letting the next in line have fair access to the water downstream. But this seems to be only in practice on smaller runs. On larger runs and larger rivers, where angler spacing can be generous, I’ve mostly observed anglers continue to fish down the run after landing a fish — unless the angler must travel far down the bank to land the fish. In which case, walking back upstream and starting back in just below the upstream angler might be dangerously close to a “low-holing” foul. What do you do when sharing the water with others fishing different methods? For instance, how do you respectfully share water with an angler practicing upstream nymphing techniques? That’s a tough one. If the other angler was there first, you might as well leave the water to the upstream nympher; stepping in above would be a breach of etiquette. However, after discerning that an angler is indeed progressing upstream, rather than down, and you really want to fish the run, you might step in below and begin working your way down through the water that’s just been fished. Perhaps a swinging fly will tempt a fish that a free-drifting fly didn’t. Again, communication is likely in order here to avoid tension or conflict.
The same goes for sharing the water with stationary anglers either fishing conventional tackle or casting flies. If they were on the water first, and you discern they’re not moving, you should be able to start in above them, fish down to within reasonable distance — don’t swing your fly into the water they are fishing — go out and around, step back in, and continue downstream. You cannot expect them to cast and step just because you have shown up and want to cast and step.
Conversely — and this is perhaps the most exasperating, all too common infringement of basic fishing etiquette — if you are already swinging down through a run and another angler jumps in below you, throwing spinners, spoons, worms, roe, plugs, or flies, blocking your right of fair access to the so very promising water downstream, what do you do?
You could blow a gasket. You could howl and scream. You could start a fistfight. You could win that fistfight — or get shot, knifed, or pummeled with a rock, and your fishing day, maybe more, would be over. Sadly, in most low-holing instances, the interloper has no clue that a code of conduct even exists. An angler’s etiquette pamphlet is not handed out with fishing license sales, though that idea doesn’t seem so terrible. As long as we have public water and more and more anglers are taking up the Spey rod and Spey fishing, casual, if not clueless fisherpersons will be low-holing serious fly-swinging anglers. It’s going to happen, and it will continue to suck. Maybe all that can be said is “Don’t be that guy!” Don’t be a low-holing killjoy, and when the shoe is on the other foot, don’t be the belligerent, wounded low-holee.
In this scenario, perhaps it’s best to take three deep breaths, assess the situation for a moment, and make a rational decision. It’s quite possible you can fish down to them, then go around and resume below. You’ve lost a little water, although with any luck, you’ve not lost the bucket. But you’re a good angler; if there’s a fish to get, you’ll get it. Or if the person or persons appear reasonable, you might reel up and approach the newcomer cordially, explaining that you were intending to work your way down the run. It’s likely you’ll work out a way to share the water equitably. Admittedly, that’s a bit Pollyannaish. If the situation appears hopeless or threatening, pull out and move on. A confrontation can ruin your day, and fishing days are too precious to ruin.
Finally, what if the person that steps in much too close below you is a fellow Spey fisher? Wouldn’t you assume they’d know they’re in violation of the basic tenet of Spey-fishing etiquette? It could be that they don’t. Maybe they’re new to Spey fishing, even if they’ve been fishing steelhead on the California coast for 50 years. If it really steams you, perhaps the best move is to approach the person with calm conversation. You’ll know right away if they’re intentionally being rude. If so, just move on and add them to the list of people who are not your friends. If they are unaware of proper Spey-fishing etiquette, once you talk a bit, they’ll likely realize their gaffe and be the wiser for it.
Revolution Requires Evolution
A large part of etiquette is patience and understanding. Assess each situation and use common sense. And when communicating with anglers of all stripes, do so in a courteous and positive manner. I once read about steelhead fishing etiquette, “Expect people to do the right thing, and usually they will.” I don’t know if I fully agree. But I do know that with revolution you get evolution, and evolution takes time. Evolution needs success and failure. Evolution needs you, and evolution needs me. When we are on the water and interacting with other anglers, whether we know it or not and whether we want to or not, we are shaping etiquette. An angler’s experience tomorrow will be affected by our behavior today. In this great experiment called democracy, which includes public fishing, there are few absolutes. There is only what we do.
Let’s all try to do the right thing.
