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Solve Your Fly Casting ProblemsWith the World’s Best Instructors By Capt. Tony Petrella(This article was published in the March issue of Florida Sportfishing) My client, who shall remain nameless because I sincerely wish to KEEP him as a client, was finally coming down from his euphoric high as we drove home. He had just finished his first night-snook trip, and although he was still a little bit dazed from the experience, “Chet” slumped in the passenger seat of my truck and simply couldn’t stop babbling about catching three slot-sized fish. “The CASTING was so far beyond my limits when we started that I didn’t think there was any chance in the world that I’d actually even hook a big snook,” he stammered in a very embarrassed tone. “I’ve gotta admit that I never even gave a moment’s thought to what the casting would be like down here. I just assumed it would be the same as pitching my three-weight for small brook trout back home in upstate New York. “Now I know what I have to work on before we go out again for that double-digit snook that I couldn’t get a fly to. This was some kinda kick-in-the pants. It was great! Really a lot more than I ever imagined. But next time, I’ll be able to make the cast!” THE CAST. Ah, yes. Therein lies the problem for “wannabees” as well as experienced fly-flingers who taste saltwater for the first time. Because, to paraphrase that wonderful line from The Wizard of Oz, “you’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto!” THE CAST. It is the single most important element in becoming a successful fly angler. Forget location. Forget fly pattern. Forget time of day and rising tides and falling barometers. None of that matters if you can’t cast! And yet, ah, and yet, the innocents come equipped with a $19.95 Bargain Basement Special that wouldn’t impress a bluegill let alone snook or redfish. And, even more sadly, they must have watched a Warner Brothers cartoon that had Elmer Fudd standing waist-deep in a trout stream flailing around as if he was being attacked by a swarm of Killer African Houseflies. The plain fact of the matter is that an awful lot of people mistakenly believe that fly casting means waving the rod lazily through the air seven or eight times before dropping coils of line on the water 15 feet from where they’re standing. I recently participated in a casting clinic sponsored by the Mangrove Coast Fly Fishers, the Sarasota chapter of the FFF. There were six Certified Instructors and 36 students. One of them was a fellow who had scoffed at fly fishing “because I saw those guys waving around their rods and figured I could make three casts with my spinning rod while they still had all that line in the air.” He quickly learned that it’s actually just the opposite. Properly done, there is usually no more than one “false” cast before the fly is laid upon the water. Which means that if a fly angler and a spin fisherman are drifting along a mangrove island 45 feet away, the fly angler usually can make four or five casts to every one made by the spin fisherman. The reason for that is simple. After casting, the fly angler only tugs on the line three or four times before making another cast. The spin angler has to reel all the way back before casting again. Do the math! But first, consider this: when Woody Hayes coached at Ohio State, he used to say “when you pass a football three things can happen and two of them are bad.” Captain Tony says “when you wave fly line in the air five things can happen and four of them are bad.” THE FIRST BAD THING is that your arm gets tired and you want to go home. THE SECOND BAD THING is that fish keep swimming. If you spot a snook cruising that mangrove shoreline 45 feet away and begin to furiously churn the air like a windmill before letting the line fall, chances are he’s now 65 feet away and your fly didn’t land anywhere close to his mouth. THE THIRD BAD THING is that ever since they were hatched, fish have feared things in the sky that are always trying to eat them. You know, pelicans, herons and such. Well, when a fish sees fly line fluttering around over its head repeatedly he thinks “wings!” and dashes for cover. THE FOURTH BAD THING is that repeated “false” casts—waving the line back and forth—eventually get sloppy and the caster ultimately either hooks the boat, or himself, or clumsily slaps the line down on the water. THE ONE GOOD THING that can happen is a good, crisp cast that results in a hooked fish! And I’m going to tell you something very surprising right now. Getting to that point is ridiculously easy. Stop laughing, please, because I’m not kidding! Remember the headline of this story? The part about the world’s best casting instructors? Well, they are with you every single day and will solve your casting problems instantly if you will only turn your head and WATCH your rod and line as you flick it backwards. Yes, the casting instructors I’m talking about are your own two eyes! Unfortunately, beginning fly anglers are so intent on learning this wonderful new skill that they develop tunnel vision and can’t focus upon anything except what’s in front of them. Most often that’s grass at a city park, where there are few snook or redfish lurking around the live oaks and Brazilian pepper trees. You see, unless you position your body in a sideways stance and actually look at your back cast, you will swear on everything you hold sacred in life that your rod tip is stopping at a point in the air that would be somewhere between one o’clock and two o’clock if the spot directly over your head was noon. In reality, your rod tip usually drifts somewhere south of the horizon and your fly line is lying behind you in a puddle on the grass. Which is a very bad thing. On the forward cast, or “presentation” stroke, the rod tip must stop about ten o’clock-high, after the tip has traveled forward on a straight line. This is usually called the “casting arc.” I refer to it as “the cone of power,” because that narrow path is what forces the fly rod tip to flex and ultimately throw the fly line forward as if it were a catapult. If you’re like “Chet” and have been a trout angler “Up North,” you’ve probably spent most of your time using a four-weight or five-weight rod to throw 20 to 30 feet of fly line. “The concept of STARTING my cast with 30 feet of fly line outside the rod tip and then shooting another 30 feet of line between my fingers is completely alien to everything I’ve ever done,” he said as we left the boat ramp. He’s not alone. The vast majority of northern fly anglers who come to Florida have never used an eight-weight or heavier fly rod. The exceptions are steelhead/salmon anglers from the Michigan/Ohio/New York arc, or pike and musky anglers from Minnesota and Wisconsin. But even they are unaccustomed to making long casts. Because we start our cast with 30 feet of line, the best way to improve your visual aids is to buy a black laundry marker before you ever buy that first fly line. Then measure off 30 feet of line and make a black mark 10 inches long. Measure off another 15 feet of fly line and mark it with three two-inch-long “hash marks.” Then measure 15 feet more and add a 10-inch long mark. Begin your practice session by setting a target on the grass 45 feet away from where you’ll be standing (30 feet of fly line plus a 10-foot leader plus some of the fly rod extending in front of you will equal about 45 feet). After pulling line off the reel (it’s called “stripping”) until the first black mark is at the tip of the rod, pinch the fly line under the fingers of your rod hand, look behind you and make your cast. Remember one basic thing: the fly always lands where the rod tip points last. That means you must aim the tip of your rod at that target lying out there in the grass. Practice that basic maneuver until your motion is smooth and easy. I refer to the cast as a “controlled application of power,” much like swinging a tennis racket, golf club, or baseball bat. You “swing” with your whole arm, NOT by snapping your wrist—which is absolutely the worst thing you can do in fly casting. Once that feels comfortable to you, simply strip a couple feet of fly line off the reel and hold it in your non-casting hand instead of pinching it under your fingers. Then make the same cast you just were doing, throwing 30 feet of line and the leader at your target. It helps to tie a small bit of bright yarn on the tip of the leader so you’ll know if your cast hit the target. When that feels comfortable, and your cast is on the mark, strip 6 feet of line from the reel. Get the black mark in the tip of the rod and make your regular cast, allowing the line to “shoot” between a circle you’ve formed with the thumb and forefinger of your “line hand.” Now you’ve covered about 52 feet of “water” (10-foot leader, 30 feet of line to the black mark, six feet of shooting line, and about 6 feet of rod extension). Then strip off another 8 feet of line, and repeat the process. Now you’ll see those 45-foot “hash marks” at the tip of the rod. You’ve just covered about 62 feet of water. Keep practicing. Once you toss the 60-foot mark outside the tip of the rod, you’ll be able to catch fish with a fly rod just about anywhere in the world! Here in Florida, the rod of choice is designed to handle an eight-weight line. That’s equivalent to a medium-heavy spinning rod, and it will be fine for most anything swimming around down here except tarpon. And don’t get put off by hearing somebody say “my fly rod was $600!” You can buy an extremely good rod made by Temple Fork Outfitters for $100, and it comes with a lifetime (yours) guarantee. The trick is in learning how to use that fly rod properly. Your best bet is to walk into a specialty fly shop and announce: “My name is…and I want to become a fly- fishing addict!” Within moments you’ll be outside, rod in hand, with the local expert putting you through your paces. Just don’t forget about the world’s best casting instructors. Because your own two eyes will teach you faster and better than anyone else ever will. * * * Capt. Tony Petrella (www.tightloopsflyfishing.com) spent more than 20 years as a journalist before becoming a full-time guide in Michigan and southwest Florida and a Certified Casting Instructor for the Federation of Fly Fishers. |