My initial experience with deep-water fly fishing was at a rusty Victorian pier on the English Channel. I was a seven-year-old inner-city kid, and this was my first visit to the sea, a place I had only heard about. A couple of days before the trip, I asked my best friend, Steven, if he had ever seen the sea. He told me he had seen it on the “telly” (TV) and provided the kind of vivid description you’d expect from a young boy. He explained that it is even bigger than the golf course at Sundridge Park, where we hunted newts and occasionally got chased by angry men wielding clubs. As you might imagine, this wasn’t much help. After an interminably long train ride, I got my first view of salt water, and the planet instantly became a lot bigger. Water stretched all the way to the horizon, where my mother told me there was another country. I think she called it France.
My grandfather had loaned me his sea-fishing gear for this momentous trip. There was no rod or reel, just three hooks, sporting white feathers, securely knotted onto 50 yards of green cord. A simple wooden frame provided storage for the cord and a place for the grubby hands of a small boy. The fishing technique was called “feathering.” The flies were lowered over the side of the pier and dragged down through the water by a few ounces of lead. Once the gear had sunk deep into the swirling abyss (in all likelihood no more than 10 feet), you pulled on the cord to make the flies dance.
After what seemed like forever, but was probably less than 30 minutes, the cord started jerking in my hands. A few seconds later, my two spindly arms hauled a brilliant silver-and-green mackerel from the depths. The thing was huge. Prior to this moment, the largest fish I had caught was a six-inch roach from the dinosaur pond at Crystal Palace, which my school friends acknowledged had to be a world record (not even close). The mackerel was twice as long! According to my mother, who was sitting behind me in a rented deck chair, my voice was well past whistle register. That was the day I found out there are giants in the deep and that I could catch them.
How Deep?
It’s no secret that in most places, the largest fish are usually found in deeper waters. Occasionally, you’ll catch big fish on top, but most of the time, your fly needs to be closer to the center of the Earth to connect with leviathans. This isn’t too much of a problem when the bottom is 5 to 10 feet down, such as you’ll find in many of the California’s popular fly-fishing rivers. With some minor adjustments, such as adding a sink tip, split shot, or weighted fly, most of us can fish that deep effectively. But what if you are fishing in a lake or the ocean, and the fish are holding 20, 30, or even 50 feet down? Getting flies down that far and fishing them effectively is a lot more challenging, but by no means impracticable. You just have to use the right gear and fish it intelligently.
Lines
Without a doubt, the most important element in fishing deep is the fly line. While there are a number of highly proficient stillwater anglers who can use floating lines and indicator rigs down to 20 feet, a lot of skill is required to cast that much leader. This is challenging in a boat and next to impossible from a float tube. An intermediate line can be fished as deep as 20 feet, though you’ll usually need an anchored craft and water with no perceptible current. You’ll also need patience. It will take at least three minutes for the line to sink that far. I use this technique when conditions are suitable and I want the fly to have a long, slow ascent, such as in the early stages of a Callibaetis hatch. But once you get beyond 20 feet, you really need a fast-sinking line.
Perhaps the most widely used style of fast-sinking line is the integrated shooting head, initially developed and still sold by Jim Teeny. These lines feature a 24-to30-foot head typically connected to a brightly colored running line. The head plummets into the inky depths thanks to a generous dose of tungsten powder. The Scientific Anglers Sonar series, Orvis’s Depth Charge, Cortland’s Quick Descent, and RIO’s InTouch 24-foot sink tip are all based on the integrated head design, and all do an excellent job.
Sporting sink rates of 4 to 8 inches per second, these lines will be 10 feet down in just 15 to 30 seconds. The sink rate slows down a bit once the floating running line starts to impede things, but the fastest sinking versions are usually hitting 30 feet in under a minute. While these lines make fishing deep much easier, the density of these lines makes them pigs to cast. The key to a harmonious relationship with a fast-sinking integrated head comes from not doing three things: casting as if it were an ordinary fly line, false casting, and trying to cast the thing to the horizon.
Don’t Chuck and Duck
The first problem is that most folks try to cast these dense lines like a floating or intermediate line. This almost guarantees disaster. The term “chuck and duck” aptly describes the flawed technique many fly fishers use with these lines.
Trouble usually begins on the back cast. Momentum causes the end of the very dense line to snap down at the end of the back cast. This drives the fly down, usually to the same elevation as your head, but often lower. This is not a good place from which to start the forward cast. A really good caster may have the skill to rescue the cast, but most of us aren’t that good. What usually happens is that the caster executes a wide-looped forward cast (the chuck), hoping this will launch the fly high overhead. Nine times out of 10, the chuck does little to change the fly’s trajectory. To avoid being impaled by a fast-moving fly, the angler follows the chuck with the duck, an exaggerated genuflection, often accompanied by a grimace. If he or she is lucky, the fly travels just over the top of the angler’s head or to one side of the body. If not, Houdini-like moves will be needed to extract the fly from the head, back, or buttocks.
The safest and easiest way to deal with these lines is to cast them with a low-elbow sidearm cast. I could try to explain this, but it’s much easier if you log in to YouTube and check out the video titled “Lefty Kreh in Slow Motion.” In this short video, Lefty demonstrates the kind of cast that eliminates involuntary body piercings. One of the nice things about this cast is that you can deliver the fly just as easily on the back cast. This comes in handy if you have wind or obstacles (such as a cowering friend) on your casting side.
Don’t False Cast
Really good casters seem to have the ability to control fly lines through telekinesis. For these folks, it’s possible to false cast an integrated head without getting into too much trouble. But most fly fishers aren’t good enough casters. A slight error in tracking or timing may cause the fly to slap the water or hit the rod. Thankfully, the density of these lines means false casting really isn’t necessary. The line shoots far enough with just the head section outside the tip top. Simply get the colored running line close to the tip top using a basic roll cast. As soon as the line has rolled onto the surface, transition smoothly into the back cast and deliver the fly on the subsequent forward cast. The whole process takes just three simple arm movements.
Don’t Go for Distance
Murphy’s Law of Casting Integrated Heads states: “The more power you put into the cast, the more likely you’ll screw up.” These lines carry a lot of energy, even with relatively modest casting strokes, so you may find you need to dial things back. You should be able to cast 40 to 50 feet using a smooth movement of the arm that concludes with a low-powered snap of the wrist. The force of the snap isn’t that different from politely knocking on the bathroom door at a friend’s house.
Learning to Count
As soon as the line hits the water, start counting off seconds using the “one thousand and one, one thousand and two” approach. Theoretically, if you know the sink rate of the line, this will ensure you get your fly at the right depth every time. In reality, a number of factors, such as the size and buoyancy of your fly, leader length, and subsurface currents affect just how fast the line and fly descend. But the technique is good enough most of the time. If you know the sink rate of the line and how deep you need to fish, just make the appropriate count and start your retrieve. If you get bit, repeat that count. If not, add or subtract a few seconds with each cast until you hook up. If you don’t know how deep to fish, try starting with a five count and add a second or two on each subsequent cast. Keep adding seconds until you hook a fish or tap bottom. If you think you have hit bottom, don’t strike hard — that increases the chances your fly will become firmly attached to a tectonic plate, resulting in a tug of war you will always lose. Just gently pull on the line, and with luck, you’ll be able to retrieve the fly slowly back to the surface. Check the hook point, and on your next cast, reduce the count by a second or two.
Leaders
There’s no need for fancy leaders with sinking lines. Just knot 6 feet of 10-pound mono onto the end of your line and go fishing. This formula works for pretty much any body of water, fresh or salt. By all means, use a heavier leader if you like, but realize this comes at a cost. If you do snag the bottom, it’s going to take some hard pulls to break the leader. If you are fishing from a tube, the force may be more than you can apply without capsizing. There’s also the risk that your fly line may break. I’ve seen that happen on a couple of occasions.
Retrieves
For some reason, fishing sinking lines turns many fly fishers into metronomes. A steady-paced retrieve may work fine, but it shouldn’t be the only trick in your bag. I’ve seen countless fish follow a fly that moves at a steady pace, but show no inclination to kill it. Try to vary the pace of your retrieve so the fly momentarily slows down or speeds up. Just twitching the fly can sometimes do wonders for your catch rate.
If the fish are working baitfish, but seem to have lockjaw, there are a couple of retrieves you might want to try. They have saved the day for me and my friends on several occasions. The first retrieve involves moving your fly at warp speed. I call it the vertical rip. I got this technique from my friend Rudi Ferris, who uses it to extract salmon from anchovy bait balls. The idea is to let the fly sink down to the depth of the fish and then rip it back to the surface as fast as you can. I find the easiest way to do this is to use a hand-over-hand retrieve, though a long, fast conventional strip also works. The sight of your fly heading up to the surface at breakneck speed seems to trigger a feeding response. Even if the fish has just eaten, its brain says “Kill.” I’ve used the vertical rip on trout, largemouths, smallmouths, striped bass, and rockfish. I have no doubt it will get the attention of many other predatory fish. If nothing else, it helps gets your blood circulating on a cold day.
The other technique is the reverse of the rip. In this situation, your retrieve is measured in inches per second. Takes can happen anywhere in the retrieve. One second you are gently pulling on the line, and the next your rod has formed an alarming parabola. Takes close to the surface are not uncommon, so don’t be in a hurry to pull the fly from the water. I suspect the reason this retrieve works is that the fish are plowing into schools of bait, using their speed and bulk to stun or injure as many fish as possible. The slowly retrieved fly mimics a baitfish that has been injured and is slowly floating to the surface. Predators love easy prey.
The slow retrieve really paid off last October at a Northern California lake. The weather was very unsettled, and even the locals running downriggers were having a hard time getting fish. We launched the boat knowing the odds were stacked against us. It took a while, but we eventually found a stretch of water sheltered from the worst of the wind. The fish finder showed a school of smelt holding 25 feet down, accompanied by several large fish. Standard retrieves didn’t seem to interest them, and the rip was no better. We switched to the inching retrieve, and our luck changed. Within the space of 45 minutes, we hooked three fish, the smallest of which was a 23-inch rainbow. One rainbow followed my fly all the way to the surface, but I couldn’t seal the deal. It was easily 30 inches long and looked just like a steelhead.
Into the Abyss
There’s plenty of great fly fishing off the California coast. A short boat ride will often put you on top of reefs teeming with fish. If you get out before sunrise or in the fog, you’ll often find the fish close to the surface. Blue, black, and olive rockfish typically congregate in large schools, and they’ll usually pounce on any baitfish imitation. Most of these fish are in the 12-to-16-inch range, but there’s always the possibility you’ll find some absolute bruisers in the mix. A 20-inch rockfish will put a very serious bend in any fly rod.
During low-light conditions, you’ll catch plenty of rockfish with a fast-sinking integrated head. But once it gets light, rockfish tend to head down toward the reef. If you want to keep fishing, you’ll likely need to get your fly down 30 or 40 feet. You can do this with the integrated head if there’s no significant current, such as you’ll find on a gentle neap tide. You can also gain an extra 10 feet if you cast up current and let the line swing down current before starting your retrieve.
But once the water really starts moving, you’re going to need a line that drops faster than most integrated heads. This is when you’ll want to switch to a shooting head made from 25 to 30 feet of T-14 or T-17 tungsten line. These lines sink at up to 9 inches per second, which means your fly should be in the kill zone within a minute.
Many folks knot T-14 or T-17 heads onto a monofilament shooting line such as Amnesia or Slickshooter, since the thin mono doesn’t impede the line’s descent the way a coated shooting line does. I used to do this, but always found the mono hard to handle, especially when something truly thuggish got hold of the fly. These days, I simply loop 30 feet of T-14 onto the front of my integrated head. That gives me a shooting line that’ll sink fast and also be easy to hold onto. Believe me, if a lingcod comes off the reef and latches onto your fly, you’re going to have a serious fight on your hands. If the fish gets back to the reef, it’s game over. This is why you don’t want a leader that equals or exceeds the breaking strength of your fly line.
Sometimes the fish will hug the reef, deep down, or the current will be too fast for the tungsten line. This is when most sensible people break out conventional gear or motor back to the harbor. I’m not sensible. I slip a 1/8-ounce or 1/4-ounce bass angler’s worm weight onto the leader. The rig is far from elegant, but it works. I have fished as deep as 60 feet using this setup. A word of caution if you try this: don’t use any conventional casts. Just flip the line out as if you were Czech nymphing and waggle the rod from side to side to feed out the rest of the line. While fishing deep may not be everyone’s cup of tea, there’s no denying it’s the most likely way to catch the fish of a lifetime. It’s simple to do and doesn’t require a lot of fancy tackle. Most of the time, all you need is a fast-sinking integrated head and the ability to count.
