Most of us fly fish for trout in mountain streams. Since these fish typically weigh less than a pound, there’s not a lot of time or effort required to bring them to hand. The fish usually succumb to a raised rod and a few pulls on the fly line. But step into one of California’s large rivers, lakes, or the surf, and you’ll find the fish can be much less cooperative. Steelhead, big trout, and stripers are more than capable of ripping off an entire fly line plus gobs of backing. And things can get downright thuggish when you take a boat out onto the ocean. Fighting a tuna, shark, or tarpon can leave your arms feeling like useless jelly tentacles. When fighting big fish, it helps to know just how hard you can pull back.
Knowing how much pressure you can exert is even more important to the fish. It seems logical that being gentle and taking your time to land a fish would increase its odds of survival. Sadly, this is wrong. If you don’t know how to bring fish in fast, there’s a good chance they’ll die. Biologists have found that after 10 minutes of severe exercise, fish can develop lethal levels of lactic acid. Whatever you might think, a fish experiences severe exercise when it is hooked. After a prolonged fight, a fish may well swim off, but the odds are high that it will be dead within 24 hours. It’s more than a little ironic that catch-and-release fly fishers who don’t know how to fight a fish can end up killing more than meat fishers who keep the limit.
The majority of fly fishers have little or no idea how much force they apply while fighting a fish. There’s plenty of fish-fighting advice online and in fly-fishing magazines. If you keep back copies of California Fly Fisher, check out Nick Curcione’s piece in the April 2015 issue and Ryan Johnston’s in the April 2018 magazine. Both provide excellent advice from folks who have battled some truly big fish. This column is going to focus, instead, on optimizing the gear side of the fish-fighting equation. We’ll start at the hook and work back to the angler.
Busting Hooks
Ever wonder if it is possible to break a hook if you really crank down on a fish? While manufacturers have made definite improvements, there’s a limit to how much force a sliver of high-carbon steel can handle. Aside from an interesting paper from the Central Institute of Fisheries Technology (the Indian Council of Agricultural Research), I was unable to find published information on the topic of hook strength. So it seemed like a good time for me to sacrifice some hooks. A bunch of carefully debarbed, standard-wire hooks in sizes 10 through 16 were set into a block of high-density foam, knotted to 15-pound-test monofilament, and pulled on until something gave out. A calibrated spring scale measured the force at failure.
The size 10 hooks straightened out at just shy of 8 pounds and did so with an alarming bang. On one occasion, the hook hit my safety glasses en route to some dark and dusty part of the garage. I still haven’t found it. The 12s gave out somewhat less violently at 7 pounds, while the 14s held on valiantly until the scale registered six. For some reason, the 16s did not bend, but instead snapped just shy of 5 pounds. I had planned to test larger hooks, but the startling experience with the size 10s scotched that idea. Besides, only folks who are after big saltwater species apply more than 8 pounds of force, and their flies aren’t mounted on puny size 10 hooks.
While there’s always a chance that you’ll get flies tied on dodgy hooks, these results seem to suggest hook failure is unlikely under most fish-fighting situations. It’s time to move on to the next link in the tackle chain.
Snapping Knots
There are loads of books and online videos providing advice on good knots and how to tie them. No doubt you have read or watched plenty. But have you ever checked how good your knots really are? Just because an expert claims a particular knot has yielded 100 percent of line strength doesn’t mean the ones you tie will be that good. And I’m not talking about knots you tie sitting in a comfy chair while sipping a glass of ethanol or mug of caffeine. The knots that really matter are the ones you tie on the water, where your fingers may have some difficulty twirling, tucking, and cinching down that unruly whisker of monofilament. Throw in iffy eyesight and arthritis, and the probability that you’ll tie a perfect knot is quite slim.
To get a better handle on things, I started testing knots at the end of my fishing sessions. The fly was going to get clipped off anyway, so why not test the knot? I’ve always made sure to use the recommended number of turns and properly lubricate the knot prior to carefully cinching it down. I naively assumed my knots would be as good as the ones tied by the experts. The results were sobering. With 5X or lighter tippets, I was lucky if I got 80 percent of the rated tippet strength. The average was closer to 66 percent. This revelation prompted me to take a very close look at knots using highspeed video and digital microscopy. This revealed some fascinating things that I’ll be discussing in the next “Gearhead.”
Sometimes it’s not the knot that’s the problem. I ran some tests a few years back after losing a couple of big trout on brand new 5-pound-test 5X tippet. My knots gave out at 3-1/2 pounds, but what really got my attention was that half the time, the tippet broke several inches from the knot. What initially appeared to be a knot problem was actually a tippet problem. I’d like to say this was an anomaly, but it’s happened quite a few times. That’s why I always run a couple of tests on each spool of tippet before I get to the water. I’d strongly suggest you do, too. Losing good fish to iffy tippet is total suckage.
Testing knots and tippets is quick and easy. Using your usual knot, secure a new hook to the tippet and pull two or three feet from the spool to wrap around a gloved hand. Put on some safety glasses (or sunglasses) and try slowly lifting something equivalent to the rated breaking strength. For anything up to 8-pound test, a one-gallon plastic water jug is perfect. One gallon of water weighs 8.34 pounds. I typically start at about 50 percent of the rated strength and increase in increments of a pound. To add a pound, just pour in a pint of water. If you don’t have a kitchen measuring cup, use a one-pint beer glass. If you need to test heavier tippets, use a larger plastic jug or a bucket.
Fly-Line Friction
When you lean into a fish, your fly line gets forced against the guides. I wondered if this might create enough friction to have a measurable effect at the hook. I looked online and in books, but was unable to find anything on the subject. So, being a nerd, I built a rig and ran some tests.
It turns out that guide friction does indeed have an effect, and the greater the rod angle, the larger that effect. A 1-pound reel drag setting with a single-hand rod held at 30 degrees above horizontal produced 1-1/2 pounds of effective drag at the hook — an increase of 50 percent. When the rod was repositioned to 60 degrees, the effective drag at the hook doubled to 2 pounds. Interestingly, when I adjusted the drag to 3 pounds (full drag on the steelhead-size reel I was using), a 30-degree rod angle didn’t increase the effective drag, but a 60-degree rod angle added a pound and a half of force. This would seem to suggest the effect is more pronounced at lighter drag settings, presumably due to the deformation characteristics of the line’s plastic coating. An increase of one pound of force at the hook probably isn’t too significant when fishing high-strength tippets, but if you fish with 4X or lighter tippets in waters that hold larger fish, it probably makes sense to compensate with a lower drag setting.
Astute readers will note that I have not discussed what happens when a fish takes line and tears off in an arc instead of directly away from the angler. This will undoubtedly increase the effective drag. I haven’t figured out how to test this particular situation, and the calculations for form drag and skin friction under such dynamic conditions are above my pay grade. Maybe a Caltech or MIT grad can provide some insight.
Guessing Drag
I think it is safe to say that most anglers set their drag by pulling line off the reel until it feels right. In fact, that seems to be the advice from many experts. Some even suggest using your lips to set the drag — pull line off the reel using only your l ips, then tighten the drag until you can›t pull anymore and the line slips from your mouth. No doubt these techniques protect knots and tippet, but what about protecting the fish? Your aim should be getting the fish to hand when it is tired, but not exhausted. Maybe it’s just me, but for catch-and-release fishing, this “feels right” approach seems outdated and wrong. We can and should do better.
Thankfully, there’s a simple solution. If you have one handy, a spring scale makes it easy to dial in your reel’s drag settings. Simply loop the end of your fly line onto the scale and pull it straight off the reel. It shouldn’t take more than a few seconds to calibrate the drag. If you don’t have a spring scale, just use the plastic jug setup described above. Now you’ll know exactly how much drag the reel produces for any given setting. If the reel drag doesn’t have numbers or marks, you can use a sharpie marker or fabric paint to identify the appropriate settings.
I suspect you’ ll be surprised how low your “feels right” drag setting actually is. I grabbed a steelhead-size reel and set the drag to what I guessed was about 2 pounds. The scale showed that it was actually set to just a pound. To see if this was a fluke, I set the drag on one of my tarpon reels to what seemed like 10 pounds. The reel began to yield line at just over 5 pounds. Perhaps you are better at this sort of thing. There’s only one way to find out — do the tests yourself.
The drag force you are measuring with this technique is static friction, often referred to as startup inertia. This is a measure of the force needed to start the reel spinning and is what the fish will feel when it comes tight to the reel. Not surprisingly, this is always higher than the kinetic friction, which is the amount needed to keep the reel spinning. While it is possible to f ind some older reels with a significant difference between the drag’s static and kinetic friction, this isn’t a problem with most modern reels. Get the static setting right, and you’ll usually be fine.
The 10-Minute Drag
The $64,000 question is how much drag you need to bring a fish to hand in under 10 minutes without jeopardizing the hook hold or knots. Quite frankly, for most trout, a setting of 10 to 20 percent of your knot strength is probably fine. For example, if you are fishing 5-pound-test tippet and have an actual (not guessed) knot strength of 3 pounds, a drag setting of 8 ounces should be enough to tire the fish in under five minutes without seriously jeopardizing the hook hold or tippet. If the fish is still going strong after five minutes, bump the drag up to 12 ounces or a pound. Once the fish is ready to net, reset it to 8 ounces. That’ll help avoid a premature release if the fish spooks at the last moment.
For larger fish such as stripers, snook, and tarpon, it’s probably best to start with the drag set at 20 percent of knot strength. For a 20-pound tippet with a knot strength of 15 pounds, that equates to a drag setting of 3 pounds. If the fish is particularly large or fit, you can crank the drag up to as much as 50 percent of knot strength after the initial run and then drop it back down to 20 percent when it’s ready to land. Of course, if the fish is heading toward coral, kelp, or mangroves and a 50 percent setting still isn’t enough, you can either crank the drag up to 80 percent or palm the spool. I used to palm the reel back when my “feels right” drag settings were way too low. I don’t palm spools anymore. I think it’s a bit too dicey when you are working close to the limit of knot strength. Unless it looks certain you’ll lose the fish, keep your palm off the reel and trust the drag.
One final note on drag settings. You may want to assess the reel’s kinetic drag if you are after fast-running pelagics such as tuna or billfish. These species can take a lot of backing off the reel, which reduces the effective diameter of the spool and increases the drag felt by the fish. Start by setting the drag using the static test described above, then remove the fly line and about a hundred yards of backing. Attach a spring balance to the reel end of the backing and pull line off the reel. Pay close attention to the reading on the spring balance as the spool yields line. If it is higher than your initial static test number, back the drag off to compensate.
Rod Angles
Many freshwater guides advise their clients to keep the rod tip high. This is because they want to make sure you land the fish, instead of popping the tippet. There’s no denying that a nearly vertical rod can offset the ham-fisted antics of fly-fishing newbies, but despite what the guide might say, a high rod isn’t the best way to put significant pressure on big fish. A high rod creates a longer lever, which works against the angler, but makes very little difference to the fish. This isn’t much of a problem with fish under five pounds, but once you start targeting fish in the double digits, you and the fish will both benefit from a lower rod angle.
To get a better handle on this, I ran a couple of simple tests. A single-handed 8-weight I don’t really like was pressed into service. The reel drag was set to 2 pounds, and after running through the guides, the end of the line was looped over a spring scale that was nailed to a fence post about 30 feet away. An assistant (also known as my spouse) kept an eye on the scale. A smart phone clinometer app helped keep the rod at 30, 45, and 60 degrees above horizontal. I donned safety glasses, primarily to look cool, but also to avoid blindness should something go very wrong. Walking backward helped mimic a fish taking line.
The results were quite startling. When the rod was held at 30 degrees, it felt as if I was pulling as much as lifting. I could easily manage this for 10 minutes without breaking into a sweat or cramping up. My assistant said the spring balance registered two and a half pounds. Raising the rod to 45 degrees resulted in a significant increase in effort. Quite honestly, things were rather uncomfortable, and I doubt I could keep this up for ten minutes. Despite the discomfort at my end, the spring scale still registered two and a half pounds. As expected, things got way more unpleasant at 60 degrees. This is the sort of rod angle you’ll see depicted in many fly-fishing action shots. It took considerable effort to get the drag to slip, and I found myself wincing. I doubt that I could keep this up for more than five minutes. The spring scale still read two and a half pounds. It seemed futile to try with a vertical rod.
I started the tests at 30 degrees, but there’s no reason you can’t fight fish with a lower angle. In fact, I measured the angle I typically use to fight big fish and discovered it ranged from 10 to 20 degrees. So unless you are a body builder who treats fly fishing as a substitute for lifting weights, keep the rod low when fighting big fish. The fish will still experience 100 percent of the drag and you won’t end up with a bad case of jelly arm.
Before your next big fish trip, take a few minutes to test your knots and tippet, and properly set the drag on your reel. When you do hook up, keep the rod low and let the drag do its job. In all likelihood, you’ll be able to bring every fish to hand in well under 10 minutes, which means they’ll have way better odds of survival. As Lee Wulff stated, “A game fish is too valuable and too precious to be caught only once.” Given the declining state of so many of our fisheries, this is more important than ever.
