Kickin' it old school...

I arrived at home late wednesday night last week. After putting some things away (dropping my bags inside the front door) I crawled into bed, exhausted. As I lay there I thought about how tired I was and naturally my mind pondered a reason behind the exhaustion. My thought process started with the recent events and quickly worked its way backward. Tossing and turning the night before in the bed of an Anchorage hotel listening to the sounds of the city. Staying up until two in the morning after pounding 86 beers between four of us in an end of the season celebration for the last crew out. Several days of breakdown and hauling thousands of pounds of camp equipment into storage for the winter. Four months of 16+ hour days back and forth between behind the scenes "keep the train on its tracks" mentality and the calm, cool, collected game-face around happy hour and dinner with new guests each night. As I lay there wondering, I realized for the first time that I had made it through another season. After that, it didn't take long to fall asleep.

The next morning I got a call from a good friend of mine, outfitter, and generous supplier of trips that help me pay my bills. I had at least four full days of working around the house to get caught up on everything, and Jeff wanted me to head down to a nearby steelhead river for a pre-season scouting mission. The timing couldn't have been worse, but maybe that made the timing better... so I opted to ditch the chores and hit the river.

We fished dark to dark both days. That is- headlamp to headlamp holding a rod. When it gets over 90 degrees in the afternoons on the dry-side steelhead rivers, you quickly learn the magic almost always happens in places and situations where the fireball in the sky isn't shining on the water. This seems to especially apply to the swing game.


The first day we set out to demo some new rods and had some good knocks here and there. I think all and all we probably hit 3-4 fish on the swing between the two of us with one nice hatchery hen making it all the way to the net. She came in about 7 feet of jogging-paced chop right off a shade line made by overhanging willows. We know she came up for the fly, because she ate it in the first ten feet of swing. I was about 60 feet above Jeff and heard the take she hit so hard, and within about a second was cartwheeling out of the water! Pretty awesome to see a hatchery fish act that way!

Sometimes Hatch-brats eat the swing too...

Morning of the next day was back to the old stomping grounds and scouting the go-to float for most of the fly guides on this river. We farted around with some nymphing and hit some fish on the move feeling out the changes in the river brought by high water. We had a few grabs swinging but it was a bit slow.

We pulled off early after breaking an oar and making it through a near catastrophic encounter with a sweeper (that story in a later post). After gaining our composure and trailering the boat at the get-out, we set out to track down Jeff's client for the next two days. Sure enough, we found him swinging a nearby run. After shaking hands and catching up, Keefer was jacked with steelhead fever. He had been into the fish for the last hour or so and had just landed a nice 12 lb wild buck. We shared the excitement and headed back to the truck with the happy angler to grab our rods.

Slamming into a sweeper= no hat crew

We reminisced over a couple beers and the "witching hour" approached as we rigged up our rods. Like most fishing conversations of this fashion, the subject quickly turned to the question of which fly to use. Jeff and I went back and forth between theories based on years of experience and the previous results of the weekend's scouting run. Keefer's response was three words- "Green Butt Skunk." Jeff and I smiled and Keefer didn't miss a beat. "Tied it myself, just got into tying this summer."

As a fly fanatic, I thought about if for a minute and my mind made it full-circle to the excuse that it had to be a color thing. I selected a black/chartreuse fly out of the box with a much better profile than any traditional wet fly. A few minutes later we all headed down the trail. I was second through the run. Jeff led with an intermediate sink tip and behind me trailed our good friend Steve. Keefer hung back sitting on the gravel bar enjoying the rest of his beer and watching us cast. The fish were rolling up through the run as the sun set behind the towering canyon walls.

Five minutes into our session Jeff hooked up in front of me. A headshake 70 feet off the rod-tip and the line came shooting back towards him followed by a few choice words. Jeff finished out the remaining 50 yards of the run and headed back up the bank.

I continued to fish hard as dusk quickly approached. I focused my attention on a soft seam on the other side of the river. I was in the zone. Cast after cast my fly swung through the slot. I heard a shout above me and turned to see Steve hooked up on a nice fish. Pick-pocketed- I couldn't believe it. Always a bittersweet feeling, I was happy for him and bummed when he lost the fish.

I continued swinging down the seam towards the bottom of the run. It was getting to the point of "feeling" each cast, as there wasn't enough light left to see where the load point was on the line. Sure enough, Keefer began "yeehawing" above Steve. Pick-pocketed again. Full darkness was upon us when I headed towards the beach. The group was buzzing with excitement on the walk back to the trucks. We had hooked three fish in the last half hour alone, with Keefer going 1 for 4 over the two hours prior. Come to find out- all seven of those fish were hooked on the Green Butt Skunk.

There's a lesson that goes with this story. There are a lot of crazed fly guys out there, myself being one of them. I sit at the vise for hours several nights a week creating something I thought of while standing in line at the post office the day before. What makes the perfect steelhead fly? Profile, movement, weight, color, flash... all these factors. There are some insanely good flies on the market nowadays. Hot-tipped rubber-legs, holographic  flash, UV polar chenille, sparkle brushes... the list goes on an on when it comes to materials found in some of today's top producing steelhead patterns.

The lesson is a simple as this: Don't forget about the go-to traditional patterns that started this whole craze. This doesn't just apply to summer and fall fisheries. Low and clear conditions on our coastal winter rivers often warrant giving these patterns a try as well.

When it comes to judging a fly's "sex appeal", I'm as guilty as anyone. I've got a box full of traditional steelhead flies I seldom fish because to me, nowadays it needs to be jazzed up a bit to catch fish. If you're looking for a place to invest some dough on a few traditionals to test this theory, look no further than your local Idylwilde dealer. Idylwilde takes many of the basic, more traditional patterns and ties them on high-quality hooks using better materials to make a sexier, more durable traditional steelhead wet fly. Getcha' some, and don't get caught second guessing the Green Butt Skunk!

Idyl's Green Butt Skunk

All good things come to an end...

The 2012 season flew by faster than any I've experienced in Alaska. It may have been the bazar weather patterns, late King run, or just overall good fishing and a great crew that made it come and go quickly. All in all, the season was a huge success as we celebrated the 40th anniversary of operations at Bristol Bay Lodge.

My favorite image from 2012. A Brock Dixon photo. 

Our Artist in Residency program is in its second year at Bristol Bay Lodge. Spawned by the creative minds of Steve Laurent and Bob White, this program consists of four very special weeks at the lodge. In addition to our hardcore angling program and insane fishing, guests get to experience some pretty cool stuff during any one of these weeks.

Agulowak shorelunch, arguably the favorite each week...

Beginning in July, Nashville Songwriter's Week kicked of the AIR program for 2012. Watching five talented writers perform in the raw with nothing more than their guitars is one most incredible experiences I've ever had. I love music, and to watch these guys write songs together was simply amazing.

Liquid sunshine

Songwriter's Week was followed by Writer's Week with John Gierach. I had never read much of John's work, although I always enjoyed his columns in Fly Rod and Reel. It was a real pleasure getting to know him at the lodge, where he shared a few minutes of his latest work each night before dinner. Come to find out, John is an avid steelhead fisherman and I look forward to bumping into him on the river soon.

Artemis with Wok bow

Next was Painter's Week with Gyotaku Printmaker Scott Wells. Scott was a guide favorite, because he's been a river guide for a long time and fit right in with the crew. Each night he would ink up a grayling or char and provide a step by step look into the process he uses to create his fish prints.

Kaiser the camp-dog

The Artist in Residence series finished up with Photographer's Week and Tim Romano. Tim has shot for multiple publications and is a main contributor to the Fly Fish Journal. We had a lot fun with Tim and it was great to see a photographer with such an aggressive drive for capturing images. He even spent several hours bobbing around the lake in a dry-suit, which was cool. Too bad he couldn't find Steve's missing lens-cap under the dock, worth a hefty reward of 10 snickers bars and a $20 bill. We're really looking forward to seeing some of his finished work and I'll post some images on here as soon as I can.

The trio

Beyond the Artist in Residency Program, the summer carried on like normal. A wet July brought a late but solid King run to our three King Salmon rivers and anglers were very pleased at the number of Kings hooked daily. High water this spring meant a lot of Kings holed up in sloughs, providing some pretty amazing opportunities to get into a pile of fish on the fly.

Summer stone

The rain finally quit for a bit and allowed the rivers to drop to normal levels by the end of July. The Dolly run was epic as ever with many upper 20" fish hooked daily at Birch. We had some of the best dry fly fishing we've seen in the last three years on the Wok and Pak. We had some really awesome hatches of bigger bugs like drakes and stoneflies and it was really great to have the fish key in on this food source. It's pretty amazing to catch fish on a 6" chunk of flesh in the morning and a size 18 Sulpher in the afternoon!

An evening spey session...

Silver season came early this year and was very good especially early on. The fish were big, bright, and covered in sea-lice. A happy angler (and guide) even got a hold of one on the Wok, a river with no silver run to speak of. We finished the season with egg-drop fishing and the storm of the century. For four days it gusted to 70 mph but we were saved with an epic Silver Salmon fishery on the upper Togiak and egg-drop fishing for 100+ fish a day on the Wok and Pak. When those fish get hungry for eggs it takes serious talent to not keep them off your line!

The crew this year was by far one of the best I've worked with in the 10 years I've been with BBL. These are some of the hardest working guides in the industry, and we run them ragged 16 hours a day, 7 days a week for nearly 4 months. We take a lot of pride in how hard we work up there and our ability to finish the season strong, and these guys did it in a big way braving pounding rain and horrendous winds to get people on the fish. I can't say thank you enough, great job boys.

One of the rare times we captured them actually sitting down...

The images seen in the post were taken by Brock Dixon, a full-time guide on the White River in Arkansas. Brock worked his tail off for us this summer and managed to capture some pretty stunning images over the course of the season. If anyone is looking for a fishy guide down south he's your man, and he's got some pretty awesome fly patterns for those 30"+ browns.

Brock accompanied by Toad the rainbow

Guide's Night Out... The First Char Derby of 2012!

Setting up a lodge in Alaska is no small task. We show up three weeks ahead of time because it takes a full three weeks to get the job done. Starting with a just handful of crew, each week we have more and more manpower. We're now on the home-stretch with a full crew of over 30 staff members, all the camps set up, and lots of time to hit the water.

Gearing up

I picked up our first big load of freight a few days ago. While throwing boxes into the boats down at the landing, I got to thinking about how much food it takes to run an operation like this. I think our first big order was close to 6,000 lbs! My wife is the hostess here at BBL and the one responsible for all food ordering, inventory management, etc. She has had a lot of fun this year with doing some baking of her own, with a breakfast quiche the other morning and a batch of lemon bars that were to die for. I'm serious, we almost had our first guide's wrestling match over the last one.

If only she did this at home!

Last night we got out for our first Char derby and it was nothing shy of epic. Unfortunately, my camera crapped out with a dead battery after photographing the first fish of the night. I'll try and score some pics off the other cameras for posting later today. The mouth of our local river was a powerful and unforgiving scene, with stiff west wind blowing a steady 15-20 creating big caps where the river's heavy current meets the lake. The low sunlight was shining through towering snow-capped peaks, lighting up wind-blown spray like glistening diamonds. The scene was dramatic, almost indescribable with words.

Upon arrival to the river-mouth, we cut engine in the heavy current and started our first drift. Big Joe jumped on the oars, coaching new apprentice-guide, Bobby on casting a heavy sink-tip in the wind. The conditions were challenging- flogging away with big sink tips while trying to not fall out of the boat as it rolled and pitched up and down, side to side. Like always, it took a bit to get into the rhythm, but within a few minutes we had our first big flock of Arctic Terns dive-bombing into crashing waves gorging themselves on a fresh ball of salmon smolts. Like a scene from striper-fishing off Montauk, birds mean bait-balls, and bait-balls equal Char.

Big Joe coaching on Char setups

About three-quarters of the way down our first drift I punched another long cast into the wind. After two or three big mends and feeding it a bunch of slack, I tightened up on the swing and began the retrieve with long hard strips and the occasional pause. About half-way through my retrieve my smolt pattern suffered a crushing blow, and I hooked our first Char of the 2012 season. We hooped and hollered, and another hook-up in one of our other boats resulted in more laughter, screaming and fist-pumping- "Doubuuuuuuul!" My fish stayed deep with hard head-shakes, a good sign of a big Char. Within a couple minutes, we had the fish on the surface and in the net, a solid 9 or 10 pound buck. The fish was chrome-bright, typical for spring-time, and fat with a belly full of smolts. A few quick pictures and we released him to the black water, free to swim and gorge once again.

For the next couple hours, the situation repeated itself. Doubles, triples, yelling, laughing, fist-pumping, and picture-taking. A successful Char-derby is a beautiful thing. Last night's episode was one for the books.

The first Char of the 2012 season!

Life Lessons From Pike Bay

Layla meets Mr. Pike, compliments of Tom K.

We finally had the chance to shake the dust off the fly rods a few nights ago. The 60 degree weather was just too tempting to pass up, and after not being able to fish the night before due to high winds- we were ready to get on the water. The work-days are always long up here, but this time of year we’re feeling the added pressure of trying to get a lodge and three outcamps opened up in time for the arrival of our first guests here in a few weeks.

Until it’s time to train new guides and get to the real test-fishing, the act of boating to a nearby river or down the lake with rods in hand just doesn’t happen. Instead, we find ourselves busy pounding nails and fixing snow-damage, loading and unloading a season’s supply of just about anything you can think of, splitting firewood, or scraping and painting… just to name a few. The days are long, the projects are numerous, and it seems like everywhere you turn you can see something that needs to be done.

The first few days at the lodge are a special time. The first crew inbound includes six veterans who have been with the lodge for many years. Each year, we step off that plane in Dillingham knowing exactly what we’re getting ourselves into, though sometimes we never know what to expect when we first show up at the lodge. We all have a routine that involves a lot of grunt-work as we get the long, painful process started.

Since we don’t have a way to get back to town for a day or so, we find that taking our time and being methodical about the whole process really helps increase the focus on safety. After all- we are in the middle of nowhere, and there’s a lot around here that could kill you in a heartbeat. At least, that’s our excuse for going a bit slower and taking a little more time to enjoy the “calm before the storm.” 

Perhaps it was this feeling that called us to the lake, or maybe it was the casual discussion of fresh pike as table-fare for the next night. Whatever the reason, I still find it a bit strange. The three of us that piled into the boat have guided for Bristol Bay Lodge for many years. The other two chumlies, Tom and Tyler, each work at and help run outcamps on some of the most coveted fly-water in the world.

We all started at the lodge, innocent rookies racing around chasing pike in the spring while the water was too high to venture up the heavy current of our nearby river. In a strange but comical way, you could almost compare it to three professional backcountry skiers deciding to head up to their local mountain to spend a few hours shredding the bunny hill. To us, pike fishing has been old-hat for many years.

For some reason, we decided last night would be a good night to introduce my English Setter pup, Layla, to Mr. Pike. Since our guide-boats are still hibernating next to the hangar, we piled into the Auburn, an all-welded aluminum V-hull which to me resembles an old battleship or ice-breaker. A couple hard yanks on the pull-cord and the two-stroke Yamaha jet fired with a sweet hum, filling my head with wonderful memories from past years. A light haze drifted from the motor as the engine warmed itself, with the pungent odor of outboard exhaust in the air. A quick ten minute cruise had us in the heart of Pike Bay, a long, shallow inlet surrounded by willows. The bear grass covering the shoreline was still brown and matted by the long, harsh Alaskan winter. I cut the engine and jumped on the oars.

The silence of a beautiful June evening was indescribable. My mind wandered and I recalled a wonderful conversation I had with a guest from the UK several years back. Phil enlightened me one day by helping me develop an appreciation for the silence we get in the Alaskan wilderness. For about five minutes, he wouldn’t let me talk, didn’t say a word, and didn’t fish at all, we just sat there in the boat listening to silence. A bit awkward at first, after several minutes I felt a wonderful sensation come over me and I couldn’t help but smile. Phil noticed my grin right away and proclaimed, “That’s why I come to Alaska.” He was right- it was amazing. Who would have thought I would be the one who needed to unwind and take it all in? I guess after being so wound up from guiding day in and day out, it was just the nature of the beast. I still thank Phil for sharing that special moment.

Tom and Tyler with a "dinner-fish"

I rowed over to a nearby weed-bed and Tyler and Tom started fishing. It didn’t take long for us to get into our first fish. Most of the pike in this lake are smaller in size, but it’s all about watching the take. Tom was fishing black, Tyler chartreuse. The two went back and forth, busting each other’s chops as fishing buddies usually do, pointing out casting errors and missed fish, each proclaiming one color is far better than the other. After landing (and missing) several pike each, I decided I would be on Tom’s side and favor the black fly, mostly because he was taking the brunt of Tyler’s comical trash-talking. We fished hard and laughed harder, like excited kids at a summer fishing hole for the first time.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that life will humble a person with age.  I always thought this would come more from making mistakes, falling down and getting back up, taking a wrong-turn in the path of life, and so on. It’s amazing to me how life humbles a person in a more subtle approach than I ever thought possible. The story of Phil and learning to appreciate the silence of the wilderness was an example of this. As I sat there with my two fellow guides laughing until my sides hurt, I realized this was another one of life’s subtle humbling moments.

My angling experience, like life in general, has been a great journey. A decade ago, I had my first Pike Bay experience as a rookie guide. Somewhere along the line came a fascination with species other than Pike, including Kings, Silvers, Chums, and so on. I even found myself a dedicated “trout-snob” for several years. Guiding and fishing other rivers on our program seemed to cause me to lose any desire to experience Pike Bay, and beyond using it as a training tool for young guides becoming accustomed to running a jet-boat for the first time, I really haven’t had any interest in being there at all. For one reason or another, I felt a calling to return to Pike Bay. The pike are still there.

It's good to be back...

We stumbled down the awkward stairs off the Pen-Air Saab and onto the asphalt tarmac. This year’s opening crew of six has a combined 78 years of experience at Bristol Bay Lodge, meaning as a group- we’ve stepped onto that pavement with pretty much the same emotions running through our heads 78 times.

Most years, Dillingham greets us with temps in the 40s and gray skies. We often laugh and shake our heads as the cold rain pounds us in the face on the walk into the airport. Someone always proclaims-“It’s like we never left,” referring to the autumn weather encountered the year prior as we walked the opposite direction, heading for home.

This year, the typical, “here we go again” or “what the hell are we doing here” facial expressions are different. After the usual handshakes and hugs, excited conversations fade to silence and confusion. We find ourselves looking left, right, and up towards the sky, expecting the mirage to dissolve into a reality of grey drizzle. But today the mirage is real. It’s almost 70 degrees without a cloud in the sky.

The last flight is on a DeHavilland Beaver, as our three planes are still in the hangar waiting to come out of hibernation. After arriving at the lodge, the crew follows through with the norm, spending the rest of the day and well into the night slaving away opening the can of worms that is a 40 year old fly fishing lodge in a remote part of Alaska. Everyone is smiling. We’re completely exhausted and covered from head to toe in dirt and diesel, but we’re all smiling- it’s good to be back.

My final project for the day is to get a head start on cleaning out my mouse-infested cabin so I can sleep without having to worry about dying from the Hantavirus. I begin to sort through my heaping pile of junk, but my eyes are drawn upwards towards the breathtaking scene in front of me. The midnight sun casts long shadows on the shoreline in front of the lodge. Snow-capped peaks are lit up with an orange glow above and below the horizon, mirrored on glass. Although I’ve seen it more times than I can count, the image is almost surreal, as if it were a painting. It’s good to be back.

Tonight, we’re exhausted once again after a full day of opening up the lodge. We’ve got power and water to the main lodge and a good start on emptying a hangar filled with boats and planes. Bob Dylan is belting his famous lyrics from my computer as I sit here in my chair, much dirtier than yesterday and now reeking of diesel fuel. The 70 degree sunshine has faded into an all too familiar scene. Crashing waves break the silence and last night’s beautiful peaks are invisible through gray rain-fog. It’s good to be back.

North to Alaska... A Review on the Slap-n-Tickle

Being a nomadic angler certainly has its ups and downs. A true devotion to hunting fish involves a lot of time spent traveling, whether on the road or in the air. This notion of going where the fish are also involves a TON of prep-work in order to be successful and see positive end results. With a little faith, all the research, planning, budgeting, and other aspects of the pre-trip will lead to success in the end, hopefully surpassing one's expectations. 

Recent prep-work has taken up much of my time as we get ready for another season in Alaska. This will be my 12th season guiding up north, and it really has been an incredible journey thus far. I will do my best to post updates several times a week from the lodge. I'm looking forward to another amazing season in AK!

One of Alaska's most beautiful offerings...

I've decided to put together a little review on one of my patterns available through Idylwilde, the Slap-n-Tickle. Believe it or not, it's more than just a snazzy name (don't ask)... and I have been successfully fishing this pattern since I created it several years ago.

McDonough's Slap-n-Tickle (olive)

If you've fished trout in western Alaska, chances are you've thrown a sculpin imitation a time or two. Sculpins are a primary food source for trout, char, dollies, and grayling on many tundra streams across southwest Alaska. Spending many seasons guiding on rivers across the Bristol Bay region has allowed me to study sculpins in great detail in their natural habitat.

A few years ago, I set out to create the perfect "dude-friendly" sculpin. That is, a pattern that not only fishes well, but produces results when fished by beginner to novice level anglers. A good sculpin pattern can be broken down into four main traits: profile, weight, movement, and size.

McDonough's Slap-n-Tickle (tan)

When looking at a natural sculpin, the most apparent features are its profile- an oversized head and flared gill plates. The Slap-n-Tickle is tied with Laser Yarn, a material that holds its shape in the water and doesn't detract from the fly's ability to readily sink. Laser Yarn is also very easy for anglers to cast once it gets waterlogged, making these sculpins fishable on a 5 or 6 wt. rod. The red soft hackle fibers breath like natural gills, and a decade of guiding in Alaska has taught me that 9 times out of 10, sculpin patterns tied with a hint of red outperform those without.

The two tungsten rattle beads add sound and vibration, knocking against each other as the angler strips the fly. They also add a good amount of weight to get the fly down quickly. Sculpins need to sink immediately because the fish-zones we target are generally pretty small. If the fly moves a foot or two as clients mend it in attempt to get it down, more often than not it's fishing out of the zone completely. This fly sinks very quickly and requires very little mending, mostly for presentation.

The combination of bunny, polar chenille, soft-hackle, and grizzly maribou allows the fly to swim and breathe naturally without completely collapsing in the current. The stinger-hook prevents short-strikes and missed hook sets, making the day more enjoyable for the angler, and the guide.

Happy angler, Happy guide. A nice leopard on the Slap-n-Tickle.

The Slap-n-Tickle mimics a fairly large sculpin and doesn't require an 8 wt. to throw. Fish it on a 5 to 7 wt rod, slap it in next to the bank or around structure with a light mend just to get the head pointed at an upstream angle. Pause briefly to let it sink a bit, then use short, erratic strips with a low rod tip and hold on tight. Fish crush this fly all throughout the retrieve, but I've been amazed at how often it gets eaten "on the mend" as it's sinking. A good guide bug is one that almost fishes on its own, the Slap-n-Tickle falls into this category for me.

Get Your Head in the Game! Five Tips to Better Fly Tying

I have always been possessed with the question of what lies beyond the next mountain. An innate desire to explore burns from deep within, perhaps fulfilling the very existence of my soul. This feeling is part of being a McDonough, as it’s easily seen in the personalities of both my father and his father. I’m sure this same question played a large role in my ancestors making the move to America from Ireland generations ago.

"What lies beyond the next river-bend?"

Naturally, the desire to explore carries over into my fishing. A big part of being an avid fly fisherman is embracing the curiosity of what lies around the next river-bend. I love looking at a new piece of water and deciding on how to attack it with a fly rod. I’ve been skunked on new water time and time again, but what comes after the skunk has made me a better angler.

Processing everything on the way home- “Was I fishing the right flies? Was I fishing the right water? What changes will I make in my plan of attack for the next day?” Whether it’s after a thorough skunking, or several months prior to a trip, it’s the task of figuring out these questions that really gets my head in the game. In the end, “getting ‘er dialed,” as we say, is the best feeling of all. This satisfaction is the very root of why I fish and guide.

An exploratory float deep in the wilderness of British Columbia

I find that the prep-work for an upcoming trip is almost as fun as the trip itself. It’s a way to come into the trip with my head in the game and really attack a new fishery. This mentality is easily applied when I narrow things down and use flies as my starting point. You need flies to catch fish on a fly rod. I am very passionate about flies and all aspects of tying and creating them. It’s easy to do a bit of online research or go into a local fly shop and purchase flies for an upcoming trip. Not that I’m trying to discourage this approach, but I find that I get more into the game if I tie my own flies. I also enjoy tying new patterns, whether it’s mine or those created by other tiers.

While not in Alaska, chasing steelhead across much of the Pacific Northwest has kept me from doing a whole lot of flats fishing. A quick trip to Mexico with my wife a few years back was more a vacation-vacation than a fishing vacation. We spent a few days down south on the Yucatan and had fun figuring out the bonefishing. I had nothing more than an 8 wt. rod and a small box of loaner flies- like I said, it wasn’t really a fishing trip. All in all, we caught plenty of little bones, had a couple brief shots at permit, and developed a fascination with fishing the flats. I vowed we would return for a “fishing-fishing” vacation to a flats destination somewhere in the world, only this time we would do it right.

The next chapter...

Here I am, a few years later spending much of my free-time in the evenings power-tying for an upcoming saltwater trip. As the Alaska season quickly approaches, I should be tying flesh and sculpin patterns. Instead, my fly tying table is crowded with packs of E.P. fibers, Tiemco saltwater hooks, and artificial crab-eyes.

McDonough's Tarpon Toad

The decision to take the plunge and tie most of the flies I will use on the trip was a big deal, as I’ve never tied any saltwater flies. Although crossing over into this genre of fly-tying was inevitable, it has taken some time to get the hang of it. As usual, learning some patterns has been easier than learning others. Frustrating at first, figuring out the process has inspired me to write this blog with a few basic tips on becoming a better tier.

Got crabs?

McDonough's 5 Basic Tips to Better Fly Tying

1. Tie a lot- When you struggled after ditching the training wheels on your bike, what did your parents tell you? “Practice makes perfect.” I can’t stress this enough. You can’t reach the next level in your tying ability by only tying a few times a month. My life is as busy as that of anyone I know, and I still manage to tie several nights a week (Being young with no kids helps). Even if it’s a quick thirty minute session, tying several times a week will make you a much better tier.

2. Cross genres- Like my recent situation learning saltwater patterns, tying different flies and different styles of flies will go a long ways in making you a better tier. I know a lot of people, guides included, who only tie certain types of flies. If you’re most confident tying dries and nymphs, spend some time learning to tie streamers. If you’re a “meat-chucker” and you enjoy nothing more than tying big juicy streamers, take the time to practice tying small emergers. Learning hand-eye coordination while working with different sizes and styles of materials and hooks will really help you tie all your flies much better.


3. Step out of your comfort zone- This plays on tip #2. Crossing over into new genres and learning to tie different styles of flies is all a part of stepping out of your comfort zone. Challenge yourself with learning new patterns. Set a goal to get to a point where you can look at a fly, dissect the materials and techniques used, and tie it on your own. When you reach this goal, challenge yourself with new materials.  If you are uncomfortable spinning deer hair, spend a few weeks tying mice, bass bugs, or sculpins. Look for patterns that use a material you haven’t used much and go for it. When you get comfortable with one material, challenge yourself with something completely different.


4. Use quality materials- Do some research and buy quality materials. I’m all about supporting your local fly shop. Generally, these guys could use the business and most are all about helping you figure out what you need or don’t need. Fly shops are often staffed with at least one or two decent fly tiers who will offer good first hand advice on buying and using certain materials. Choosing this option versus ordering online also allows you to look over the materials prior to making your purchase. Not all feathers are created equal. Buying from your local shop provides you the ability to assess the different grades and sizes of materials and figure out what is best for you.


5. Buy quality tools- I have tied on the full gamut of setups, from the most basic jerry-rigged improvisations in Alaska to the top-of-the-line benches found at most shops. I’ve been stuck at remote river-camps in Alaska using a set of vise grips in place of a vise for several weeks at a time. It took me a long time to admit that buying quality tools would help me tie better flies. By quality tools, I don’t mean the industry fad or the latest and greatest. By no means could I ever justify spending $600 on a vise, or $50 on some fancy retractable bobbin. However, spending a little extra on quality tools will help you crank out better flies in the end.

Ceramic bobbins, although a bit more expensive, help prevent accidental thread-cutting on the sharp edge found at the tip of a cheaper bobbin. Buy good scissors! It’s impossible to overemphasize the importance of good scissors, and several types of good scissors. Buy a good set of hackle-pliers that actually hold the hackle. There are many different styles of hackle-pliers on the market today. What you choose should be based on personal preference, but one thing is for certain- they need to actually hold the hackle as the tier applies a fair amount of pressure. Go to your local shop and test out a few sets on their bench to find out which works best for you.

I plan on doing a lot more on this topic (tip #5) in the future, but the bottom line is- spend a little extra coin on tools. You don’t need the best that money can buy, but having quality tools will help you tie better flies and it will make your tying experience more enjoyable, which will ultimately lead to you tying more often.

I will get into more specific fly tying tips in future posts, but these five pointers have really helped me become a better tier. My father was a great teacher of basic fly tying back when I was a young boy. Although he continues to be a great mentor, figuring it out from there was up to me. I've learned to appreciate these five tips through my own journey that has molded me into the tier I am today.

Get your head in the game! October on the Klickitat