These days, almost everyone owns a digital camera. It may be nothing more than a smartphone or a small point-and-shoot or something a bit more sophisticated, such as an action camera like a GoPro. Despite their ease of use, these devices are very sophisticated pieces of technology. They can solve some interesting fly-fishing problems, including ones you may not even know exist. You just need to think beyond the snapshot.
Teetotaling
As you may have noticed, dry flies, nymphs, and pupae come in a variety of colors. While I am not sure that having a fly pattern that is a perfect color match is all that critical, it’s often reassuring to know your fly is as close to the natural as possible. I used to seine nymphs from streams and lakes and pop them into vials of alcohol. Hours, days, or even weeks later, I would retrieve the vial and take a good look at the preserved critter. While the size and shape of the bug remained the same, immersion in alcohol often changed its color. I’d try to remember the original hue, but seldom got it quite right. Nowadays, the vial of alcohol has been replaced by a smartphone. A few shots of the living critter from various angles gives me all the information I need about its size, shape, and color. While a dedicated camera typically comes with better optics, most smartphones are more than good enough for this task. Just get as close as you can to the subject. I have a cheap Android phone that gives sharply focused images from about three inches. That’s plenty close enough for most insects.
Fly Tests
The majority of fly tyers design their flies to match a specific food item or to induce a positive response from the fish.
The design work is usually done inside the cranium, while sitting in front of a vise. Materials are selected, fussed with, and attached to the hook in some simple or elaborate fashion. Beer may or may not be used to facilitate the design process. The next step usually involves knotting the fly onto a length of tippet and throwing it at some fish. Sometimes these flies catch fish, and sometimes they don’t. Maybe it’s just me, but this seems like a rather haphazard way to go about things. If we could see how our flies look from the fish’s perspective, we just might spend more time catching fish instead of simply annoying them.
For most wet flies and streamers, a simple run through a bath, aquarium, Jacuzzi, or swimming pool will quickly tell you if there are any design flaws. Simple things such as balance, materials movement, and tracking can be easily evaluated this way. An aquarium has the added benefit of letting you see how the fly looks from below, which can pay dividends with dry flies and patterns designed to work in the surface film.
Tub or aquarium testing is about as far as most folks go with the design process. If you are really serious about developing a good pattern, though, I’d like to suggest an additional step. Film or photograph the fly in (or on) the stream, river, pond, lake, or wherever you intend to fish it. While this can be a bit more challenging, it can reveal important information about the way the fly looks and behaves that a run down the tub or a dunk in the aquarium won’t.
The effect of chaotic currents or varying water conditions can’t be duplicated in the comfy confines of the family bathroom. If it’s not possible to test in the target water (because it involves a long drive or flight), try to find some similar water nearby. A small stream or pond will often do nicely. Even if you live in the city, there’s bound to be something suitable nearby. Underwater photography obviously requires a waterproof camera or some sort of transparent waterproof case. Not surprisingly, the more you are willing to pay, the more options you have. If money is tight, $10 can get you a clear waterproof pouch that will work with most smartphones. You aren’t going to get National Geographic quality shots with a smartphone in a glorified grocery bag, but you’ll likely get more than enough detail to tie decent flies. If you do go this route, make sure you attach it to something that will float the phone. It’s hard to take photos (or make calls) when your phone is sitting at the bottom of the river or lake.
If you can part with $50 to $100, there are a bunch of waterproof point-and-shoot cameras that produce good photographs and videos. Fifty bucks will get you a camera that is waterproof to 10 or 15 feet and that can churn out loads of 5-megapixel stills or 720p HD video. Above the $100 price point, you’ll get 12-plus-megapixel stills and 1080p or even 4K Ultra HD video. I have a GoPro that is way better than I am as a photographer. You’ll also want to consider an extension arm (aka selfie stick). This allows you to reach out to more distant targets, which can be invaluable. You can buy one or make one. I have a three-way grip/arm/tripod setup that works great, but also use a do-it-yourself arm based on a stripped-down trolling rod with a suitable bolt glued to the end. While the three-way arm is more portable, the tuna selfie stick provides six feet of reach and is often the only way to get some shots. If you don’t have an old trolling rod handy, a piece of plastic pipe or wooden dowel can do the job. Yet again, whatever route you choose, add flotation if necessary.
While it is possible to shoot decent still images of your flies underwater, I’d like to suggest you take videos instead. The ability to see how the fly moves can sometimes be more important than how it looks. This is especially true with streamers and wet flies, which can respond to currents and retrieves in interesting and sometimes confounding ways. Video images may not be quite as detailed as stills, but with 25 to 60 (or more) frames per second, you’ll typically end up getting a lot more usable shots. If your camera has 4K video, each frame will have about the same resolution as an 8-megapixel still, which should be enough to see details that even the fussiest trout, carp, or bonefish won’t care about.
What About the Real McCoy?
It’s all well and good filming artificials, but what about the critters fish actually eat? Perhaps the easiest place for most folks to start is with aquatic insect emergers working through the surface film or adults riding on top. This will, of course, require you to put the rod down during a hatch, something most fly fishers are loath to do. But rest assured that it doesn’t take long to get some good shots, and you’ll likely learn a lot. Chironomids, which hatch almost year-round in many waters, often take a minute or so to break through the surface film. Mayflies tend to emerge somewhat faster, but you can usually get some good shots if you are organized and stay focused on the task. Caddisflies, so far, have proven too fast for me.
Resist the temptation to get too close to the insect. Many point-and-shoot cameras won’t focus much closer than a foot. You don’t want to end up with lots of shots of blurry blobs. Once you locate a suitable subject, get the camera under the surface and start shooting from directly below, where it will be framed by the wonderfully named optical manhole (Snell’s window). The insect will be silhouetted against the sky, which exaggerates some details and suppresses others. Once you have a few seconds of manhole video, slowly move the camera away from the insect (you don’t want to create unnecessary ripples) so that the fly transitions from the manhole to the mirror. You’ll notice that the sky disappears and is replaced by a reflection (hence the term “mirror”) of the underlying water or bottom structure. In the mirror, the fly will look quite different, due to factors such as the refraction of overhead light and the reflection of light from below. If at all possible, try to place some of your favorite patterns next to the natural so you have direct comparisons. If that’s not possible (it seldom is), try to take separate shots of your flies in the same water.
For photographing nymphs and crustaceans in flowing waters, you’ll usually need to evict them from the streambed. The best way to do that is to shuffle your feet or turn over rocks and catch them in a seine net such as Midstream’s Riffler. Once the water clears, lift the net so they get flushed downstream and follow them with the camera. You probably won’t get a lot of detail in fast water, but you will see their general color and how they move, which are important parts of the fish-fooling metric.
I suggest being bold and taking shots of naturals and artificial flies in all the waters you fish. Some places may be more challenging than others, but I am willing to bet you’ll be surprised how many assumptions you have about things that are wrong — often very wrong. Not convinced? Here are some observations from my explorations in three very different waters.
Clear Foggy Waters
Many years back, I lowered an expensive waterproofed Nikon DSLR camera into the Fall River during a heavy Pale Morning Dun hatch. I was expecting to see loads of nymphs twitching in the water and maybe even signs of feeding fish. Looking straight into the water, you could clearly see the bottom six feet down. I figured a horizontal view would be just as clear. What I found was actually more like a London fog. A few nymphs were visible, but only when they were less than two feet from the camera. It turns out that even in the seemingly clear waters of the Fall River, microscopic mineral and organic particles scatter light, creating a pale gray haze. Maybe trout have sharper eyes than the camera I was using, but it reminded me how important it is to get the fly close to the feeding fish. Perhaps energy conservation is not the only reason why a trout doesn’t move too far to intercept nymphs.
Greenout
Anyone fishing low-elevation lakes or ponds in the summer or fall will be used to planktonic algal blooms turning the water some shade of green. One lake I fish for bass often develops blooms that have a yellow/green color. I wanted to see if I could make my flies more visible to the fish under these challenging conditions. I glued a load of my favorite flies in a variety of colors to a clear Perspex sheet and lowered it into the water. The bloom wasn’t that thick, so I expected to see most of the flies from a few feet away. I started with the camera one foot from the sheet and slowly moved it away a foot at a time. Even at one foot, some of the flies were starting to disappear into the green haze. By two feet, black and green had disappeared into the murk and even the “highly visible” chartreuse was struggling to show. At three feet, the only thing I could make out was a glow-in-the-dark pink, a hint of dark red, and sparkles from strands of silver Krystal Flash and pearlescent Flashabou. The contents of my bass fly box have changed dramatically as a result of this test.
Mirrors in the Surf
Surf stripers often go nuts for baitfish patterns fished on intermediate lines. Due to the density of salt water and strong, wave-induced currents, unweighted flies fished on intermediate lines usually run about a foot below the surface. Since stripers typically swim a bit deeper, I had assumed that the underside and sides of the fly would be the most visible parts and had tied my flies accordingly. What I had not considered is the importance of the mirror in salt water. That’s right, the mirror exists in the surf, too. In between the foam and commotion of breaking waves, it reflects anything that swims below. Unlike many freshwater venues, the surf mirror is a tan color due to light reflected from the underlying sand. Flies with backs that contrast with tan, such as blue, black, or chartreuse show up strongly. Flashy materials do, too. Not surprisingly, flies with tan-colored backs do not. Perhaps smaller surf-zone fish have evolved tan-colored backs to camouflage them when viewed against the sand and also in the mirror. These tests led to me to develop flies that are 100 percent flashy materials with a coating of blue, black, or chartreuse paint along the back. I call them Fuel Rods, because they glow like uranium fuel rods. You know you’ve got something right when a succession of large stripers charge after your fly as it sweeps through a rip or across a trough.
Cast Tracking
Cameras can also help us improve our casting. Sometimes our casts don’t go right, even though we are pretty sure we are doing everything correctly. A common problem is casts that hook to the left or to the right, instead of dropping the fly neatly on the trout’s snout. This is caused by the rod tip (and hence the line) not following a straight-line path. The problem can be hard to diagnose and correct, since you can’t see yourself casting. Your smartphone can remedy this deficiency.
First of all, set it to video mode. Press whatever icon or button you need to start filming and place the phone by your right or left foot, depending on the side from which you cast, so that the camera is pointing straight up. Now pick up your rod and start casting. As soon as you get a hooked cast, say something to tag the offending stroke. Replay the video on the phone at normal speed or use one of the slow-motion video apps if the action is too fast. If you need a larger screen, load it onto a tablet, laptop, or desktop computer. What you are looking for is some twist of the wrist or a curved motion of the forearm that causes the rod tip to follow a curved path. If you are having difficulty seeing the rod tip, use a brightly colored line or put a bit of brightly colored tape just below the tip ring and the middle ferrule.
The bottom line of all this is that for fly fishers, a camera has far more utility than for just shooting trophy pictures.
