Not all dry-fly fishing is the same.
Seeing trout poke their heads above the surface might be the obvious clue that you can play the dry-fly game. But the savvy angler recognizes subtle situational differences that can and should dictate some basics, like which fly pattern you choose and how best to present it.
I’ve learned over thousands of river miles rowed and waded that it all boils down to three modes. You’re either matching, attracting or mixing things up.
Figure out which hat to wear, when, and you’ll not only discover new dimensions of dry-fly fishing, you’ll also up your proficiency (and the fun factor) by leaps and bounds.
Let’s start with the easy stuff…
Matching
Well, okay… matching hatches is an acquired skill that isn’t always “easy,” but the basic premise is pretty simple. Trout are going to eat what they want to eat. When Mother Nature serves up a platter of certain bugs, your goal is to figure out what’s on the menu—e.g. decide if they’re eating mayflies, caddis, midges, stoneflies, etc.—dig into your fly box to find something that looks like a reasonable facsimile of the natural species and feed that to the fish.
For example, if you see an armada of gray or green drake mayflies floating downstream, and the trout heads are popping, you know what to do. Tie on a drake pattern and serve it up with an accurate cast.
Now, the thing is, no fly pattern in the world looks exactly like a natural bug. They’re all imposters. When you’re matching, the things you want to be thinking about, first and foremost, are size and profile. If your fly is about the same size and shape as the natural insects you see the trout eating, you’re in the game. Color is a secondary, though admittedly sometimes primary, concern. If they’re eating yellow or cream-colored bugs, sure, you want a fly in a hue that matches. If they’re eating darker bugs, you want a darker fly. (A Sharpie pen you carry in your kit might be all you need to make the same fly go from zero to hero.)
If the trout don’t eat your fly (and you know they saw it)… wait. Don’t bomb cast after cast with a loser. If I know I’m on the right hatch, but I’m getting refused, the first thing I do is size down. Go from a #16 to a #18 and try again.
If that’s not working, try a cripple or emerger pattern that mimics a more distressed and vulnerable bug that rides lower in the water.
If that’s not working, it’s time to assess other factors, like the size of your tippet, or probably more importantly, your ability to make a drag-free drift. I’ve seen a hundred times more old, big trout fooled with a perfect drag-free drift on 4X tippet than a dragging fly on 7X.
The point is… when it’s “Taco Tuesday” and there’s one major feature on the menu, all you have to do is match the bug, make a cast, present the fly as naturally as possible and if you do those things, you’re going to get bit. See? Easy.
Attracting
But what if you see a sporadic rise here and there, there’s not a blanket hatch and it isn’t so obvious what the trout are eating?
In those situations, you play the attracting dry-fly game. You want to make them an offer they cannot refuse.
This is, for all intents and purposes, what fishing grasshoppers or other terrestrial dry flies on bright summer days, or even throwing mouse patterns in the dead of night is really all about. Trout must eat, even when the prolific hatches have abated and there’s nothing specific on the menu. Large trout need more protein. They’ll even “remember” what a juicy salmon fly looks like, for up to a week or so after the naturals have done their thing.
This version of the dry-fly game is all about anticipating where the trout might be hanging out and then floating a Kansas City strip steak over their noggins and hoping for the best. Reading the water is the name of the game. So, look for changes in currents, colors, depth and structure… find the seams and bubble lines and drop it in the feeding lane.
Size, profile and colors all still matter. A “Stimulator” fly is that with good reason. Rubber legs on flies like Chernobyl Ants, Amy’s Ants and Turck’s Tarantulas give those flies lifelike action. Drag-free drifts can matter sometimes, but a twitch and some movement can also be the ticket.
This is the most forgiving brand of dry-fly fishing for the angler who might not have the most accurate cast or highly developed presentation skills.
While it’s true that trout eat most of their diet below the surface in the form of insect nymphs (mayflies and stoneflies) and larvae (caddis and midges) at any time of year—hence fishing nymph rigs is particularly popular at times when dry-fly fishing isn’t an obvious choice—don’t ever leave dry fly fishing completely off the table. You’re robbing yourself of the experience if you do that. Things like running down a river in a dory and banging the banks with hoppers… watching the trout follow and a slow, deliberate eat… might just be top of the game. It’s at least worth checking out.
Mixing it up
On the most prolific trout waters in America—places like the AuSable in Michigan, the Upper Delaware in New York/Pennsylvania, them Madison in Montana, or the Henry’s Fork in Idaho—this might be the most common scenario an angler encounters, and thus the dry-fly fishing “mode” you want to understand most. Rivers like these are considered hallowed, even holy, because they are both prolific in terms of trout and insect populations and at the same time, laden with complexity that makes them extremely difficult to master.
For starters, they’re natural bug factories. Add that to consistent flows of cold, clean water, and they’re also trout factories.
But a true bug/trout factory is all about diversity and conditions that change within minutes or hours, not days or months.
It’s never “bug A” this week and “bug B” the next. Instead, it’s about understanding an elaborate mosaic of mix and match that can frustrate… reward… giveth… taketh away, and so on.
That’s why the best of the best guides and anglers gravitate to these places.
To wit, I learned a valuable lesson about mixing things up just the other day while floating the Henry’s Fork in Idaho with my buddy Jim Dawson and guide Chris “Grizz” Andelin. There wasn’t a lack of bugs, but there wasn’t a prominent hatch of any one insect. Instead, there was a constant smattering of different options, and those famously hard-fighting Henry’s Fork rainbows were picking and choosing from a veritable smorgasbord. Caddis popping here and there. Pale Morning Duns showing up in fits and spates. The occasional leftover salmon fly. March Browns? Even a Callibaetis here and there… go figure.
So, what to do then?
Watch.
Wait.
Watch some more. Try to lock onto a specific fish. This is the scenario when a dry-fly angler’s patient observation skills matter most of all.
If the trout is eating PMDs at a 3-1 ratio versus caddis, tie on a PMD.
Then try to sync up with the fish’s feeding rhythm. Done well, that should work.
But if it doesn’t, I revert to a lesson I learned in Tasmania, Australia, fishing with my friend and guide Daniel Hackett, who taught me that sometimes you must “un-match the hatch.” Throw something very close, but just a tiny bit askew—mix it up—and see what happens next.
What do you have to lose? It’s just a game and just for fun. And more often than not, it happens in a beautiful place that you share with kindred spirits, which is what any type of fly fishing should really be all about.
*By the way, there are also different layers or “modes” of nymph fishing and streamer fishing as well, and I’ll get into those in other stories at another time, somewhere down the road. Until then go have fun and respect the fish, the water and your fellow anglers.