What makes redfish so perfect? First, anglers can sight cast to them, thereby getting in some technical fishing. Second, pound for pound, redfish are a hard-fighting species. And finally, they’re just absolutely beautiful. Fly anglers can pursue redfish all year, but a fall fishing trip is ideal: Beginning in September and October, when late-summer heat gives way to more moderate autumn weather, redfish sense the falling water temperatures and change their behavior dramatically. Instinctively recognizing that their forage is about to disappear, they begin to feed heavily at all times and in places where they usually would not. When this happens, fly anglers interested in exciting sight fishing will want to target redfish in three specific habitats: High tide flats, low tide flats, and small creeks. 

High tide flats fishing, possible in only a few places in the world, is plentiful in the Lowcountry in autumn. Around the full and new moons the tides are abnormally high; water floods up into the spartina grass surrounding the creeks, creating a field of flooded grass in which redfish may gorge on crabs. As the stronger-than-normal current comes into the marshes, redfish take the opportunity to go deep in the grasses to hide from predators and procure an easy meal. When they stop to slurp up crabs in the shallow flooded marsh, redfish often stick their tails straight up in the air, which indicates their position to the fly angler hoping to sight cast with a fly rod and weedless fly. Determine the direction the redfish is headed and place the fly just a few feet in front of it. Make short strips just as he gets to the fly. Redfish anglers generally don’t suffer for lack of feedback, because redfish either hammer a fly–in which case line will commence screaming out of your hands–or spook off, leaving only a wake and shaky knees behind them. 

A low tide flat is a large muddy area that holds at least a little bit of water even at the lowest of low tides; redfish love these low tide flats especially because their number-one predator, the bottlenose dolphin, hates them. Dolphins love a meal of redfish, but they’re careful to avoid very shallow water, especially at falling tide. Low tide flats also usually feature numerous oyster mounds that serve as “structure” for redfish. Growing schools of redfish will swim around and around from one oyster bed to another, feeding on anything in their path as temperatures continue to dip. 

Redfish make long blistering runs in these large muddy flats because they have nowhere to go but out and away from the skiff. From fall through winter, Lowcountry low tide flats fishing provides exceptional sight-casting opportunities because the water is so clear: When you enter a flat you can often see the redfish exploding on baitfish and shrimp in large schools from 50 yards away. A trip to the low tide flat is also great for newcomers to fly fishing: Larger schools of fish mean anglers can usually get a few good shots before the school is spooked–and even after that, there are still more schools remaining. 

Creek fishing is my personal favorite for many reasons, but especially because I enjoy the idea of catching a big fish in a small creek. When you set the hook on a 30-inch redfish in a 10-foot-wide creek, you’d better have brought your A game because there’s no telling where that fish will decide to go. It may head around the corner 60 yards in the creek to wrap you around grass. It may try to break you off on the nearest oyster bed. It may head straight for you under the boat and out of the creek. Redfish like the shallow creek for the same reason they like the flats: These habitats are difficult for predators–both human and dolphin–to access. 

Redfish will push far up into the shallowest part of the creeks at low tide to feed and to hide–and that is precisely when we like to target them with fly rods. Pole silently up a tiny creek on a crisp fall morning and spot schools of large 20- to 30-inch fish busting on baitfish, their backs and tails out of the water–and shaky knees and intense memories are all but guaranteed.

The sights, smells, and sounds of the marsh draw angling novices to South Carolina every year; the delights of the fishery ensure that even the most experienced fly anglers never want to leave. Hiding in plain sight, a short drive and a world away from the East Coast’s bustling cities, South Carolina’s Lowcountry redfish are the only excuse a fly angler needs to schedule a fall road trip. 

Photos by Paul Doughty

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Fly Fishing the Lowcountry – Part One

The Lowcountry: Part Two – Species, Seasons, Selections

Fly Fishing the Lowcountry – Part Three: Migratory Species of the Lowcountry

The post Redfish Road Trip: Saltwater fly fishing first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Redfish Road Trip: Saltwater fly fishing appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

Today April 18^th, 2020, the Marco Beaches are closed. A few restaurants are serving to-go only and you can’t get to Ft Myers on Delta in the same day from here in Birmingham unless you drive to Atlanta. The return options are just as bad. So, let me tell you about Plan B. Start the day by checking your favorite Insta fishing posts. Most of those are posting reruns. Sort of like watching Gilligan’s Island. Watched a decent Costa Rica tarpon film this morning called, “The Jungle’s Edge”, posted by Venturing Angler. Thank you. This afternoon and after some honey-do’s I walked across the street to my fishing buddy mother’s house. She has an expansive front lawn. There I cast the 11 weight as if tarpon might slide down the cul-de-sac. Where’s the sun when need it. Stepped off 86’, my best. That’ll get you a whole lot nothing when the fish are really coming at you in a cross breeze and a bouncy chop. Not sure what the neighbors think.

Then I pulled out the Tail July/August issue out of the stack I maintain in my closet. I recalled a lobster tail recipe with fried plantain tostones that sounded yummy. Yep, that’s what it has come to. Cooking seafood recipes out of fishing magazines. My wife walks in from her own errands and curiously asks, “what’s this all about?” “It’s fishing week, baby” is all I can utter back.

She smiled as I scurried about in the kitchen about as well as if Andy Lee stepped down from the platform and handed me the push pole. We did manage to deliver a great meal, the two of us. Teamwork is always key when it is fishing week.

I am not sure tomorrow holds.

Leftovers, I guess.

S. Culp
Tail Subscriber

The post Plan B first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Plan B appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

I first came into contact with triggerfish in the Seychelles in the early 2000s. At that time, most saltwater operations concentrated on bonefish, but a number of enterprising guides were beginning to target triggers on the fly, and they realized the value that triggers represented as a gamefish. Having spent much of my saltwater career fishing in the Caribbean at that point, my focus had been primarily bonefish and permit. I distinctly remember wading across a flat with my guide when suddenly that first orange spade started waving at me. I was about to move on, still scanning for bonefish, when the guide put a hand out to stop me.

“Trigger!” he pointed. At first was I confused, but then I realized he was indicating the waving tail.

In my naivety, I asked what it was and he reaffirmed: a titan triggerfish. I actually had no idea what one looked like, or even if they took flies. Little did I know another species obsession was about to be born. The guide switched out my leader to some 20-pound test and tied a small crab fly on the end. The fish was slowly feeding in and around a small white hole on the edge of a flat, happily tailing as it went. I found the movement of the tail rather mesmerizing; it seemed to flop around with not much purpose as the trigger rolled in the gentle current of the incoming tide. By direction I dropped the crab into the white hole and let it sink. Once it had touched the bottom, I gave it one short strip and stopped. The puff of sand was enough to attract the attention of the titan, and it came scurrying over to investigate. I gave a slow pull and felt the nip nip as it tried to pin the fly to the sand. On the next strip, about halfway through, everything went tight and I slowly lifted the rod while simultaneously giving the hook a short strip set. The fish charged off and I remember marveling at the power in such a small fish.

Triggerfish are, in my opinion, one of the most underrated fish to target on fly. If giant trevally are the bulldogs of the flats, then triggers have to be the Jack Russell: small, pugnacious, ideas far above their station, and even GTs will steer clear of them. Triggers have no qualms about attacking much larger fish, and any diver will tell you they are a fish to be respected, especially when they’re protecting their territory or their nests. This particular trigger was heading for the drop-off rapidly, and I knew if he hit the razor-sharp coral there the game would be over. I leaned on him sideways, applying pressure, and finally managed to put a stop to the powerful run and bring him under control. Shortly afterwards I was cradling my first trigger, and what a weird-looking fish it was!

Although fishing for triggerfish follows a pattern, each interaction with them is unique. Never was there a fish with such independent character. Fly fishing for them is a technical challenge not unlike permit, but they are far more attainable due to their more aggressive nature. If they notice you on the flats they are often unafraid and have been known to come and check you out if you are encroaching on their territory. To catch one you have to find the right water and tidal height to locate them, select the right fly, and present it correctly. Then actually hooking the trigger presents its own challenge with that mouthful of teeth. Lastly, if you hook one, they have a nasty habit of scurrying off into a coral hole as fast as they can and either cutting you off or refusing to come out. For the uninitiated, this can happen before you even realize you have hooked it. Some days they absolutely hammer flies, and then other days nothing you try works. It’s this challenge and frustration that, like permit, make them such a fascinating fly rod species.

There are essentially four species of triggerfish from the family Balistidae that we target on fly, and although there are many more, most inhabit deep water. On the flats we find the titan (also known as moustache or giant triggerfish), the yellow margin (also known as the peach face triggerfish), the Picasso, and the gray. The Picasso is very small, a palm-sized one being a trophy. Generally in the Pacific and Indian Oceans we are targeting the titan and yellow margin and in the Caribbean the not-so-colorful  gray triggerfish. The  gray triggerfish is really only just beginning to be targeted.

Aside from their bright and colorful markings, triggerfish are defined by their almost human-looking teeth secured to incredibly powerful mandibles that make up a large proportion of their body. The triggerfish uses these hydraulics to quite literally bite coral, revealing prey underneath. You therefore do not want to get your fingers or peripherals anywhere near these snapping jaws for fear of losing digits. Almost as bizarre as its toothy maw is the ability of its eyes to rotate with a high degree of freedom; similar to a chameleon, it can look in different directions simultaneously.

Next is the trademark trigger in the dorsal fin that the fish can lock in place. This mechanism can make prying them out of coral holes particularly difficult. Although the colorings of each species are very different, on the flats it is their tails that make them so distinctive as they hunt. The titan has a large orange tail with a black band across it and a flat spade end. The yellow margin has a crescent-shaped tail outlined with yellow. The tail of the gray triggerfish is gray, although sometimes it looks like a small black flag. The Picasso is too small to tail and is normally found in very skinny coral areas.

To find tailing triggers you need to be in the right depth of water. In most reef systems they feed actively in that short window as the tide starts to push, allowing them access to the rich feeding grounds along the edges of the flats. They are particularly fond, it seems, of areas that have white holes and broken coral around which they can hunt, but also bolt into if they are alarmed. They also like the reef edge itself. The opportunity to stalk tailing fish therefore can be short, as they are harder to find once the water reaches a certain depth. On the whole they won’t make their way farther up onto the flats like bonefish and permit, instead preferring to remain near the coral edges. This is not always the case, however, and sometimes they will appear in odd places, or you will find them chasing each other when one encroaches on another’s territory.

Once you have spotted your tailing trigger what is the method of attack? To target triggerfish a 9-weight setup is the best, although in some instances you might get away with an 8-weight. The 9-weight is the perfect blend of lightness of presentation combined with the backbone to be able to apply pressure if the fish heads for the reef edge or a large coral head and you don’t fancy swimming to pry him free. Fly choices, as always, vary depending on the bottom you are fishing on, but normally my go-to flies are shrimp patterns such as Itchy Triggers, EP Spawning Shrimps, and small crabs such as Gumby Crabs in deeper water. Flies need to be fairly light to give a gentle presentation, and a good hook is vital. The Itchy Trigger is tied on a thicker wire hook and survives well. Weed guards are essential due to the nature of where you are fishing, and they avoid much frustration. Your ideal leader will be a tapered leader of 12 feet in length, 16- to 20-pound test. Nine feet is a bit short, and 15 feet can be tricky to manage with a shrimp fly, especially at close range.

You must approach stealthily, as triggerfish are alerted to your presence by crunching coral and water pushing from your legs. Tread as lightly as possible. There’s a fine line between being close enough for a comfortable and accurate shot, but not so close that you’ll spook it. Like all flats fishing, this really depends on your abilities. As with permit, your first cast needs to be your best, so gauge the distance by casting in another direction before you cast at the triggerfish. Some days they seem very skittish, others they’re totally emboldened.

Once you are in position, wait for the tail to come up before you make your cast. Not only will this give you the fish’s exact position, but also with its face buried in the flat the fish is less likely to become aware of your presence. You need to deliver the fly as close to its head as you dare and ahead of the direction it is facing. I know this sounds obvious, but when they are tailing they often roll around in the current and it can be very frustrating as they change direction just as you drop the fly. If the fish does not see the fly drop, then wait until the fly has sunk and the tail goes down before giving a long slow strip. This is normally enough for him to see the escaping crustacean and come rushing over to hit it. As soon as it comes over and tails on the fly, the fish is trying to eat it; so you need to give a short, sharp strip strike. The issue arises in trying to find a hook hold in that toothy mouth, so if you don’t go tight the fly will pop out. The big difference with a trigger and a bonefish or permit is that a triggerfish will continue to try and eat the fly, whereas other species will abort quite quickly. This prolonged game of cat and mouse can go on four or five times, sometimes even to the rod tip, which is why it is so exciting.

Continue with the slow draw, and as soon as you feel tension again give a short, sharp strip to try to set the hook. You may find that if you are not hooking up the fish may have destroyed the hook on the first attack, as they can completely mangle flies and even bite hooks in half. It is vital you don’t trout strike, or this will pull the fly away from the fish and leave it bewildered and suspicious. Triggerfish do have an amazing ability to backpedal in the water, so even when you think you have hooked it solidly you might end up with the fly spat back at you as they use the hook as a toothpick. I have had fish that have done this three times before I finally achieved a solid hookup.

If you have not hooked one before, you will be surprised at how powerful triggerfish are and how dirty they fight. They can swim on their sides in shallow water, and their first instinct is to head for deeper water and coral. This can be a depression on the flat or the reef edge. Either way, it’s not going to end well if you let them! As always in coral areas, keep the rod high during the battle, but apply as much side strain as possible to prevent it stuffing you in a hole. If this does happen it might not mean the end, as I have fished with a number of dedicated guides who pull out their goggles and go in after them. Even if they have locked the trigger, by touching the second spine on the dorsal it’s possible to drop the mechanism and pull them out by the tail. Be warned: He is going to come out really angry and will bite anything presented.

So where should you go to hunt for triggerfish? The prime spots are Christmas Island and the Seychelles. Some of the triggers on Christmas Island are the size of footballs, and I have been smoked good and proper on its expansive flats. You will find them on all the atolls of the Indian Ocean, and most guides in that area are well-versed in fishing for them. Some of the very best triggerfishing in the world is on the Nubian Flats of Sudan. Here, with a nearly nonexistent tidal fluctuation, you will find large triggers (some massive) tailing across the flats. Here they are the prime target, where ten shots in a session is not uncommon. You will also find  gray triggers on nearly all the reefs of the Caribbean, which have gone largely overlooked, except by a dedicated few, in favor of bonefish and permit. There are also some colossal specimens on the oceanside flats of Los Roques in Venezuela, and there are really good numbers in the southern Bahamas, such as around Acklins and Crooked Island. Here they can be targeted on white sand, which makes it particularly exciting.

So the next time you are wading across a flat in search of bones, permit, or GTs, if you see a waving trigger tail, I would highly recommend you go and have a crack. The visual element and prolonged interaction is highly addictive, and this is yet another species that can get under your skin. I have known many fishermen totally obsessed with them…. I am one of them.

Bio: Peter McLeod began guiding fly anglers for Atlantic salmon in Norway at the age of 16. He is the founder of Aardvark McLeod, international fly fishing specialists. Peter is the author of the acclaimed GT: A Fly-Fisher’s Guide to Giant Trevally (Merlin Unwin Books, 2016). For more information on fly fishing for triggerfish, you can contact Peter through www.aardvarkmcleod.com.

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The post Pulling The Trigger first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Pulling The Trigger appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

We at the magazine expect all of our contributors, when they get an assignment, to devote themselves to the project. When I assigned Mark White the task of writing a feature article on gyotaku artist Dwight Hwang (Issue #41), I knew he’d devote himself to it. I’d known Mark for a couple of years before I was involved with the magazine, so I knew he was enamored with all things Japanese. Mark had trained in the martial art of aikido for the better part of 30 years and spent several years running his own dojo (which is how we met). He had done sumi-e painting as well as nature printing, and he liked to drink expensive sake—so I knew this assignment would be right up his alley. And I knew Mark was itching to publish a feature article in a national magazine. In all, I felt pretty confident about giving him the project.

Frankly, I wasn’t really surprised when Mark turned in an excellent feature. I wasn’t even that surprised when Dwight Hwang produced our most striking cover to date (black and white—who knew?).

But what happened next, I never saw coming.

I was at home one weekend afternoon in August when I got a text from Mark. It was a photo of a man’s bare back with a tattoo of a Dwight Hwang print on one side: The Boil, a tuna chasing a flying fish out of the water. It was one of the prints we had used to illustrate the feature. The tattoo was beautifully rendered, but it was fresh; it had that raw, painful look.

“Holy crap!” I texted back. “Who is that?” It still hadn’t dawned on me. In that moment I was thinking that maybe Dwight had shared the photo with Mark, that one of Dwight’s fans had paid him the ultimate compliment.

“It’s me,” Mark wrote.

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

I called him.

“What on Earth possessed you to do this?” I refrained from adding, At your age. After all, there can’t be many people who decide, at age 62, to get their first tattoo—especially if they work in healthcare, as Mark does.

Mark explained that he and his son, Nate, had been planning to get a tattoo together for a while, but he wasn’t sure what he should get. Then the article came out. That cinched it. One Saturday morning found them at Ruby Red Ink in Achushnet, Massachusetts. Nate got a tattoo of a hibiscus in memory of Mark’s deceased mother, who had loved the flower. Mark was in the chair a bit longer—over three-and-a-half hours.

“Can’t imagine what that must’ve cost,” I said.

“Put it this way,” Mark replied. “For what I paid for this tattoo, I probably could have bought the original print.”

Although there’ll never be any question that Mark will devote himself to his work, I’m going to have to be careful about what projects I assign him in the future.

Tattoo: The Boil, rendered by Jared Ponte of Ruby Red Ink in Acushnet, Massachusetts, from an original gyotaku print by Dwight Hwang.

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The post Devotion first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Devotion appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

Anyone who’s pursued bonefish in the Florida Keys long enough has great stories to tell of these extraordinary fish, famous for their size and for the extreme challenge they present. All of these anecdotes are amazing, and as exaggerated as some may seem–I was skeptical when I first heard them, anyway–after nearly 20 years of fishing there I’ve come to believe just about anything I hear of these fabled creatures. As the late Billy Pate noted, “The bonefish here are big, and they all have names.”

The Keys do have a healthy bonefish population; however, there are fewer fish here than in other destinations, such as the Bahamas or the Yucatán. Veteran Keys anglers are far more preoccupied with size than they are with numbers. These seasoned bonefish anglers do not seek the schools of fish commonly found in other destinations; instead, they carefully stalk large and difficult singles and doubles (fish commonly in double-digit territory), calibrating their expectations to perhaps just six or eight encounters per day. Managing a few fish over a week’s wading the hard oceanside flats is an admirable accomplishment.

Nearly every bonefish I’ve taken in these hallowed waters has been while fishing on foot. Pursuing them from a poled skiff, however, is the best and most productive approach, especially when accompanied by a native guide who knows this fascinating archipelago. But despite the challenges, I savor wading for them.

Big Keys fish are sometimes found tailing in thin water, particularly early or late in the day when wind, tide, and temperature conducive to that behavior prevail, but most of my success by far has come while working deeper grass flats. As with permit fishing, the combination of added depth and darker bottom demand stronger light in order to see fish at a reasonable distance for presentation. I’ve spent lots of time stalking these fish in water from above the knee to perhaps thigh-high, but every so often I stumble upon a big one in very shallow water commonly associated with smaller 2- to 4-pound fish. These fish are ultra-challenging: They demand your A-game.

I typically wade out to a strategic position ahead of fishable light. As visibility increases with the rising sun, I intermittently wade down-sun very slowly, frequently remaining motionless (posting-up) for long periods to allow encroaching fish to swim silently into view. The approach is similar to what whitetail deer hunters refer to as “still hunting.” A typical Keys’ day winds down around 1:00 p.m. as shoreline waters approach 90 degrees and become too warm for bonefish activity. To save valuable time, I reposition by leaving the water, which enables brisk, stealthy moves to alternate sites on the flat, or a rerun of a juicy stretch without alarming any fish in the area. A second round of activity may unfold with a rising late-day tide and the sun off the water as sunset approaches.

Toward the end of the morning’s fishing on a hot day on Ohio Key, I egressed the water to reposition for one last run down the flat. Hustling to get back to deep water with what little time was left, I wasn’t paying much attention to the pockmarked coral bottom that bordered the flat along the water’s edge when I was stopped dead in my tracks by a golf-ball-sized burst of marl that caught the corner of my eye.

The ensuing adrenaline wave that flushed through me sharpened every sense–I looked hard, but saw nothing more….

A minute later a second puff appeared–about 10 feet uptide of the first– but still I could not decipher a bonefish. The white coral was dusted with bright marl that filled the coarsely pockmarked bottom like confectioner’s sugar, creating a numbing reflection off the bottom in the blazing midday sun. Not so much as the tip of a tail scratched the surface. I hunched low and cautiously moved up the shoreline to stay abreast of this phantom fish. Finally, about 30 feet uptide of the marl that initially captured my attention, a vapid ghost materialized as it worked its way like molasses over a patch of sparse brown grass. It was a very long bonefish.

Crouched low at the water’s edge, I quickly changed to a tiny, pale, unweighted fly to make the most of this opportunity and not spook this fish. I was fishing a 12-foot straight shot of 10-pound-test fluorocarbon and an 8-weight floating line.

Catlike, I continued up the shoreline, keeping my profile below the mixed-up vegetation immediately behind me, and I gingerly reentered the water well ahead of the big bone. With my focus riveted on this barely visible fish, I dropped to my knees about 20 feet off the beach and maneuvered from that position over jagged coral to get my shot–it was nasty.

Head-on distances can be difficult to judge from such a low position. Instead, I waited for a close crossing shot that allowed me a better feel for where my fly was positioned in the intense shimmer and gave me my best view of the fish’s response to my presentation. When the fish closed to within three rod lengths, I rolled out with a choked-up hold of the rod ahead of the grip, flicked a quick backcast and with a wide-open delivery I gently lobbed the tiny crab silently into the water about 10 feet in front of the fish and a foot inside its path.

The ensuing moments demand firm mental effort to remain calm and responsive … regardless how many big bonefish you’ve taken. My heart pounded as this fish approached. When it was a foot from where I sensed my fly had settled on the coral, I inched the crab with a single delicate nudge. With no change in speed, the bonefish veered ever so slightly in my direction and paused … but not so much as a tap or twitch of that long gray body.

This is a dicey moment with sophisticated bonefish and it was now my move. Rather than risking a brisk strip strike that would surely send this fish to Cuba if it hadn’t eaten, I opted for a slow, careful draw … and we were tight.

Hooking up with powerful fish at such short range often ends with a broken tippet the instant it begins, as fly tackle has little inherent stretch. A bonefish’s explosive response ignites far too quickly for human reflex; anglers must anticipate and maintain presence of mind to ensure quick, soft hands prevail that allow the fish to make it to the reel. I was prepared for a Category 5 response from this fish.

The bonefish’s reaction was immediately strange–a few headshakes followed by a short, tempered run that got it onto the reel … then a few more minor-league shakes. A second modest run drew just 40 feet of fly line from a light drag (I fish bones loose at the start and gradually tighten down as the fish burns out). At the end of that run, it shook its head some more and simply held its ground, much like a spring-run striper. Then–much to my surprise–it suddenly turned and swam right to me, as if surrendering without a battle. The bonefish casually circled in front of me before submitting to my legs on its side, mouth agape. Without removing the fish from the water, I cradled him upside down, wiggled the fly loose and set this strange fish on its way.

He lunged 10 feet and then resumed casually feeding. I was bewildered.

This was a very old bonefish–its shrunken lower tail lobe, worn ventral fins, and reddened belly made that clear. But even old bonefish are capable of fireworks when hooked. Its behavior was baffling–almost as though this wizened fish knew the routine, perhaps having been hooked, landed, and released many times during its tenure on that oceanside flat. Though this hefty bone never showed me my backing, it’s one of the most intriguing fish I’ve ever encountered … a fascinating interlude with a very old specimen of an ancient species.

Bio: Rhode Island writer and photographer Alan Caolo is the author of two books on saltwater fly fishing and has published in many of the major magazines, including Fly Fisherman and American Angler. We’re honored to welcome him to the pages of TFFM. You can visit Alan’s website at alancaolo.com.

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The post Acquiescence first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Acquiescence appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The autumn window opens around Labor Day, highlighted by a welcome drop in humidity and a perceptible cooling of daybreak temperatures. The hint of summer is still there so the fishing is comfortable, unlike late fall, when chilly mornings at Montauk in the surf leave fingers numb from gripping the fly rod and stripping line. Down along Jupiter’s beaches the cooling temperatures bring shivers to the pre-dawn magic hour.  Whether you fish Rhode Island, Cape Hatteras, or West Palm Beach, autumn will hold court until sometime in early to mid October, when fall barges in late in the month with rude, blustery winds. 

The fish get charged up in autumn as masses of baby bunker, silversides, herring, and mullet  drop out of the shallow coastal bays and rivers and begin to migrate in waves along the beaches. The ocean-going bait will often stop off with side trips inside coastal inlets to rest before continuing their journey. Striped bass; weakfish and bluefish; and tarpon, jacks, and snook down south; follow the bait buffet, which draws them from their summer haunts in the shallow bays, sounds, and rivers.

Fly-rodders are often amazed at the intensity of the fishing on one day, supremely discouraged the next as the bait and gamefish flee from one area and move on to the next. The bait, and gamefish like striped bass, may hold for several days until a weather change gives them a nudge to get back on the migration schedule.  A few gamefish will hold over for a week or so in one location as they seem to wait for the next wave of bait. 

Some of the best autumn places to fly fish are just inside inlets, like the entrance to the Manasquan River in New Jersey, or Sebastian Inlet in Florida, but there’s a mental game to be played out every morning. Some days the bites come rat-ta-tat-tat like a machine gun, one fish after another striking the fly, while another day is nothing more than practice casting. There’s no substitute for perseverance; those who fish the good spots every day will be rewarded with plenty of fish, while those who wait for the next fishing report will only score if they luck into a school. Each day is full of promise, yet tempered with nice surprises and occasional disappointments.

Some fly anglers get the heebie-jeebies and move around a lot in autumn, searching the beaches and inlet jetties for signs of bird play or tell-tale flashes of splashing water as gamefish chase bait to the surface. Driving quickly from spot to spot, these anglers often miss the action, relying instead on a buddy’s cell-phone call to alert them to a blitz that more than likely will vanish before they get their truck into gear. Being anchored to one beach or wading spot with no sign of life can be a fool’s errand, but persistence and working a spot thoroughly often pays off with more bites in autumn than running and gunning from one beach spot to another. If there are signs of bait, it’s probably a good idea to work that spot hard before deciding to move. 

The boat fly angler has many more options and after thoroughly working one spot, can quickly move to another, jumping one by one from one area to another until finding the right combination of bait, temperature, water clarity, and eager-to-bite gamefish. It’s a fishy game of hop scotch, played out by carefully working tides and times at each location before moving to the next.

Until he passed away back in 2009, Jack Gartside was an icon at Northeast winter fly fishing shows, and he loved to talk of his autumn adventures.  A quiet guy, he sat at his tying table working his magic with thread, feathers, and hair, and cheerfully shared his experiences with anyone who paused to strike up a conversation.  Although he primarily fished Massachusetts for striped bass, especially the rich waters around Boston, many fly guys from other coastal regions eagerly took notes while he talked about his fishing adventures in the autumn season, and they applied Jack’s techniques to their local waters. Jack was always generous with advice with a wry sense of humor that always made other fly fishermen smile, yet his funny quips had a serious purpose and helped make his points about the fly fishing tips and techniques he was handing out. You had to pay attention.

Jack liked to catch fish on the surface for the visual appeal and excitement of the topwater strikes, even if it meant catching fewer fish. He once said, “The best time to find fish feeding on the surface seems to be from three hours into the falling tide until dead low; and then the first three hours into the rising tide.” Jack believed that the current was strongest at these times, and this helped to concentrate the swirling pods of bait, which in turn lit up the appetites of striped bass. “If this period occurs in the early morning or late afternoon, so much the better,” he said, and that’s why so many of the best striped bass fly fishermen fish at these times. 

A big box of flies is not needed for autumn.  If you’re like Jack, you know a few surface flies will fool plenty of fish.  For quiet waters inside inlets, around marshes and salty creeks, bridges, and shallow sand bars, the Gartside Gurgler is a top contender. But these aren’t the small Gurglers of summer. Step up to a 1/0 or 2/0 long-shank hook and tie them with either bucktail for the tail, or with long flat-wing-style saddles for a long profile. The long saddles swing and weave behind the foam body with an enticing slow-motion dance that can really drive striped bass nuts.

For the quiet backwaters of autumn an oversize bright chartreuse Gurgler is a favorite that gets the attention of northeast striped bass and southeast Florida snook.  It’s a great pattern for early morning and at dusk when its gurgling action pulls striped bass out of the marshes.

In shallow water an intermediate line and Clouser Minnows are favorites for September striped bass, but in deeper water I often use an intermediate line with a 350-grain sinking head and with a bright-colored floating running line, like the Sci Anglers Mastery Express I’ve been using for quite a few years. The bright orange floating section allows me to visually follow the line direction, and I can even detect strikes as the running line twitches when a bass takes the fly.

A great surface popper is Bob Popovics’ Banger.  Snappy twitches with the line hand make it pop, while slow pulls make it slurp and slide.  Most fly guys with a “feel” for creating a lifelike presentation use a combo of both retrieves to fool eager bass.  A little trick is to cut the face of the popper on a shallow slant so it spits more water. The slant-cut foam body can also be rotated so the angle faces downward, creating a sort of swimming lip. With short twitches of the line the lip dives the Banger down an inch or so, creating a struggling action that bass can’t ignore. 

Surface strikes are very cool, and at dawn and dusk small striped bass will often feed so aggressively you can rack up a good score of a dozen or so fish in an hour, but if you want bigger fish get the fly down below the surface. The big girls won’t usually expend too much effort to chase baitfish on top, nor will they compete with the quick-moving younger bass, so a deeper presentation is needed to get a response. 

An extra plus for the Clousers is the jigging action on the retrieve. The up-and-down motion of the Clouser creates a more active presentation than a simple suspending fly, and the jigging action is enhanced if the Clouser is tied on a jig-style hook, like the Owner 5317 Wide Bend hook.  Other good flies for a jigging action are patterns tied with a weighted head, like the ubiquitous Popovics’ Jiggy, which is a perennial favorite. Fly patterns with jigging actions are often ideal choices for shallow-water weakfish or sea trout, and just as in spring, some decent-size tiderunners will show up in autumn. 

Live baitfish don’t always aggressively hop around, and if you watch them carefully from a dock or bulkhead, they swim with a relaxed motion, at times appearing nearly motionless in the water unless attacked. That’s why some fly-rodders prefer the suspending presentation of a fly pattern that can pulsate with a snake-like action. The Bucktail Deceiver looks so amazingly lifelike with a swimming action you’d swear is a real bait fish. Another good choice is the Tabory Snake Fly with a bulky deer-hair head that also pushes water.  Both patterns can be tied small to imitate a silver-dollar peanut bunker, or large like a 12-inch herring, or in between to perfectly duplicate a 6-inch mullet or a pilchard. In shallow surf they’re a perfect choice with an intermediate line, but can also be fished very deep on full-sink or sink-tip lines. 

Back bay or surf, other good patterns include Polar Fiber Minnows tied high-tie style, any roundish silhouette baitfish tied in bright and dark colors with Enrico Puglisi’s EP Fibers, and several lengths and colors of Surf Candies.  There are infinite variations of these basic patterns that can be tied to imitate every baitfish that swims the coast. 

North or South, surface action or deep, along the beaches or in the back bays, autumn delivers superb fly fishing choices all along the East Coast. 

Pete Barrett has been fly fishing in salt water since the 1960s. He was a charter boat skipper for 30 years, and he was on The Fisherman magazine’s editorial staff from 1973 until his retirement. Pete has published over 1100 magazine articles and is the author of five popular books on angling. Pete is a Florida representative for the International Game Fish Association, and he’s currently an active member of the Atlantic Salt Water Flyrodders and the West Palm Beach Fishing Club. Pete lives in Juniper, Florida.

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Who Caught the First Bonefish on a Fly?

Running the Coast for striped bass

A NEW NORM FOR MONTAUK’S LEGENDARY RUN

The post Amazing Autumn Fly Fishing first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Amazing Autumn Fly Fishing appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

by Kristin Kovalik
Photos by Turneffe Atoll Trust (Chris Corbin and Kristin Kovalik)

Would you do it if it was easy?
If you’ve fallen in love you know it’s not always easy. But does that stop you from doing it? We fall in love with people, activities, pets and places. The memories and feelings remain long after the first encounter. If you’ve been to Turneffe Atoll in Belize you know what I’m talking about. The place is magical and not just because you can chase bonefish, tarpon and permit all day and not see another angler. The place is magical because it exists.
You fall in love with the beauty and the quiet. Turneffe has a way of making you pause, slow down and really feel the heartbeat. That feeling is a connection between the human spirit and the natural world and we’re hard wired to protect what we love.

The Price of Beauty
Located off the coast of Belize City, Turneffe Atoll is surrounded by the Caribbean Sea and at 30 miles long and 10 miles wide, it is Belize’s largest Marine Reserve. The Atoll has well-developed reefs along its entire margin while a network of highly productive back-reef flats, creeks, lagoons and lush seagrass beds string together islands and cayes of mangrove forests and white sand beaches. Ultimately it was the human experiences and connections with Turneffe’s beauty that led to the formation of the Turneffe Atoll Trust (TAT), the only non-profit organization working to protect and conserve the Atoll. Sustainable management of the fishery has been the highest priority and in 2009 TAT led an effort to pass Catch and Release legislation protecting the three main sport fish; bonefish, tarpon and permit. In 2012 TAT championed the Marine Reserve designation and the Turneffe Atoll Management Plan. Now the organization is expanding its conservation program further. Why? Because everything that makes Turneffe special to sport anglers, divers and snorkelers is also attracting developers. Despite the lack of modern conveniences on the majority of the Atoll, development pressures are increasing. Irresponsible and destructive projects like mangrove deforestation and dredging is threatening the health of the Atoll. Mangroves, seagrass and back-reef flats are interdependent and particularly sensitive habitats which act as fish breeding grounds, as well as habitat for juvenile and adult marine species. These habitats must be preserved in order to sustain Turneffe’s ecological and economic value. Doing nothing is not an option.

‘Tan saafly better than beg paad’n

To stand softly is better than to beg pardon (prevention is better than cure) is a Kriol saying in Belize. And a motto that TAT can relate to. Earlier this year TAT worked with ecotourism operators at Turneffe and the Belize Federation of Fishermen to formalize the Belize Fishermen and Ecotourism Alliance. Craig Hayes, owner of Turneffe Flats Lodge and founder of Turneffe Atoll Trust said the time was right for these two groups to come together.
“Both entities rely on healthy habitat and effective management to sustain the fishery and economically thrive. With commercial fishermen bringing local expertise and influence, and ecotourism bringing international connections and potential funding, this should be a symbiotic relationship. The time is right to work together as one voice to leverage our resources and support greater habitat protections at Turneffe Atoll.”
A partnership with the Alliance will be critical as TAT begins to legally challenge projects at Turneffe that don’t follow proper development guidelines and Belize’s environmental laws. The Alliance will help TAT educate stakeholders including fishermen and decision makers, and advocate for increased habitat protections. Easy work? No. Work that’s needed when it’s time to protect what you love? Absolutely.

The Lobster and the Conch
While fly fishermen from all over the world visit Turneffe and spend long days searching for tailing bonefish and permit, artisanal fishermen ply the waters searching for finfish, conch and lobster. For generations, livelihoods have been made or lost by fishing and Turneffe has been a major contributor to Belize’s economy and commercial harvest.
Turneffe Atoll has historically been known as one of the primary production areas for the Caribbean spiny lobster (Panulirus argus) and to a lesser extent, the queen conch (Strombus gigas). The two species form the most important components of the Belize fishery, representing over 90% of the total harvest in 2008, and an export value of US$10.3 million. However, as the numbers of fishermen increase, the harvest pressure is increasing too. Maintaining, or better yet enhancing, Turneffe conch and lobster populations is critical to the well-being of commercial artisanal fishermen and the economic cvalue of the fishery.

Prior to 2015 no adequate information existed on the queen conch or spiny lobster stocks at Turneffe Atoll, but that changed when TAT worked with a team from Montana State University to develop the first-ever comprehensive baseline survey and monitoring plan for queen conch. TAT’s priority for 2016 is to again work with the team from Montana State University and fill the information gaps by conducting a comprehensive baseline survey of spiny lobster at Turneffe. Findings will not only have applicability to conch and lobster management at Turneffe but throughout Belize and elsewhere in the Caribbean.

As Pablo Neruda wrote in his poem On the Blue Shore of Silence I need the sea because it teaches me. I don’t know if I learn music or awareness, if it’s a single wave or its vast existence, or only its harsh voice or its shining suggestion of fishes and ships. The fact is that until I fall asleep, in some magnetic way I move in the university of the waves.So the next time you find yourself fly fishing at Turneffe, taking in the beauty of the sea, allowing it to be your teacher and feeling that connection, the kind of connection that makes you fall in love with the natural world – take a moment. Ask yourself, what am I doing to protect what I love? What can I do to make sure the beauty and the magic remains for others so they too can feel the love?

Turneffe Atoll Trust has launched a two year campaign to raise awareness and funding for the protection of Turneffe Atoll. For more information about the conservation programs mentioned in this article and to financially support the efforts to keep Turneffe a healthy saltwater fishery and beautiful place visit www.turneffeatoll.org

READ MORE CONSERVATION BLOG POSTS:

LAB GROWN TUNA?
DECLINE OF THE STRIPED BASS
BONEFISH AND TARPON TRUST SYMPOSIUM 2017

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The post Turneffe Atoll, Belize first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Turneffe Atoll, Belize appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The last striper has barely ended its annual fall migration when my friends and I start thinking about warmer waters in the coming spring. This is the time for the annual gathering of stripers for the cinder worm spawn which begins about the first week of May. When the water approaches the 60 degree mark in the shallowest and darkest of salt ponds, the conditions are ripe for localized worm populations to become active. It seems early in the season as these relatively tiny bodies of water are a new discovery for me, but I love every moment of it. Better yet, the early activity in these shallow waters makes the worm fishing last longer since the bigger bays and creeks don’t get going for another week or more. When the worms are hatching, every striper in the area seems to know about it, and they all show up for the feast.

It was a windless and unseasonably warm May afternoon and we were adrift on a mid-sized South Cape embayment when my companions thought they saw raindrops — the scene shifted in my mind to something more like hatching bugs and rising trout. This first encounter with marine worm spawns was many years ago but the memory is still vivid. As my friend and I moved closer we saw cinder worms swimming all around us. The feeding fish were all stripers, and we thought they would certainly take our baitfish patterns. How wrong we were and we quickly learned that there are few more selective fish on earth than striped bass in a “worm hatch”. We are still learning!

The timing and location of the worm activity is local and often secretive. It differs by size, species, coloration and movement of the particular worms present. For the scientific folks among you the cinder worms are Polychaetes which refers to their segmented bodies, and are of the Nereis genus. This grouping includes hundreds of species of worms including sand worms and clam worms . The literature in the scientific community describes them as 1 – 3 inches long with a head that is usually olive and a body that is pinkish. As noted before this varies quite a lot. All are burrowers though that develop paddle tails when they spawn. During this time, they swarm to the surface releasing sperm and eggs in a frenzy. Then, the adults die and the eggs sink to the bottom. The right conditions are a matter of contention including lunar phase, diurnal responses and the temperature of the mud and water.

Regardless of all the science, in early May the most common of these creatures in my favorite waters are small (size 6 or 4 hooks) and tan or root beer in color. They swim with the tips of their tails in a stiff jerky motion. Getting the fly to look right in the water is of paramount importance, and time has proven to us that coloration differs on a location by location basis. Most scientists who have studied these worms agree that the worms move so little from their natal mud that they have developed almost like subspecies. In slightly varied environments, the same species can span a range of hues from tan to almost red but all the worms in these micro-environments will be the same. One salt pond will have tan worms and another nearby will have red ones. Permanent markers in pink and red are a must with your tan flies to adapt to conditions. You can also tie a selection in a bunch of different colors, but a successful pattern one day may not be the right choice for the next. I have hundreds of failed patterns that prove that. Also, there are often so many worms present that it is difficult to get your imitation in front of an actively feeding fish. As the years went on, we tied flies that worked subsurface most of the time and some newer versions with foam gurgler-type heads to keep them on the surface creating more disturbance as they moved. Our earliest attempts at these imitations were tied with marabou or yarn bodies, all in red with black heads but they proved far too delicate and were too flexible as well. Newer flies are more restrained in their wiggling movements and much tougher rabbit strips with the skin left attached to the fur. But on our first day fishing amid all this activity we knew nothing of how the flies needed to appear.

After that first unsuccessful exposure, we were back the next afternoon again on a rising tide and with similar weather conditions. This time, we had worm flies we copied from trout patterns made of chenille, modified in size. There was no internet available to us then to get more information quickly, but we did manage to catch a few fish. Our best results were from either drifting the flies like nymphs as we do for trout, or keeping them near the surface with short twitches. Fishing in current flows the fish roamed less and held position more like trout in a stream which gave us something familiar to look at. These flies were not long lasting and fouled frequently so the approach was soon discarded. We continued to work on our ideas for a few weeks. Then, as suddenly as the “hatch” began, it was over. There was not a worm to be found and the stripers wanted baitfish again.

The next spring it was the third week of May and my phone rang after 9:30 at night which is far from usual. It was a friend who had been out looking for stripers and found the beginnings of the worms for that season. I was not living close to the fishing at that time so I left work early, drove an hour to the Cape and launched my kayak in a small cove. To avoid spooking the fish in the shallows, stealth was necessary. Carefully the stern of my little craft was slid onto a sandbar to hold my position while casting. It was 6:00 pm and the wind which had gusted strongly all day was down. There were a few worms around but little activity. I chose a simple rabbit strip fly I developed over the winter and cinched the #6 hook tight to my 16 pound tippet. Casting to slightly deeper areas in front of me where a few fish were starting to feed, I used short inch-long twitches of the fly that made it appear lifelike among the few worms. My first cast was short, working a spot only 10 feet from the bow of the kayak, but it was met by an immediate strike that proved to be a 22 inch fish. That was followed by 4 or 5 others of almost the same size, which was better than I expected in such a small area. The number of worms seemed to be increasing quickly when I noticed a small movement of water in a tiny tongue of current about 20 feet away. The tide was dropping and it was likely the fish would move soon but cast after cast my offering was ignored. The fish moved a lot of water with each natural it consumed, and finally it found my fly among the now hundreds of worms.

As I strip-set the hook, the fish hesitated then ran toward the mouth of the cove. I rocked the kayak free of the sand, and began paddling quickly with my left hand. The fish was pulling me and my little craft out of the cove and as we gained speed the paddle became a rudder. I prayed aloud that the leader would hold as the Nantucket sleigh-ride continued for several minutes. Finally the kayak was alongside the striper, a great fish which measured 42” that I carefully revived and released. By then, it was pretty dark and as I deployed my lights it became obvious that we were in the middle of the bay at least a half-mile from where we had started. It had all been kind of a blur of time and space. I paddled back to my truck, as anything else that night would have been anti-climatic. One thing should be noted however lest it be overlooked. The sparse number of worms at the beginning of this night helped me get my imitation successfully in front of more fish.

A few days later it was time for us to go back to that same cove on foot. We found a few fish feeding and worked hard to cover as much water as possible. There’s a lot of private property in that area which makes access difficult. It was in the process of working around that marshy area that we stumbled on a small acre salt pond with one outlet to the bay. Though the pond was very little it was full of feeding stripers. The fishing was very good. When the action was over, the only difference found was the smaller body of water was a bit cooler as there was a spring-fed area. The temperature must have delayed the “hatch” by a few days. We’ve learned that generally ponds and even bays with small outlets that do not drain completely on each tide tend to have longer lasting spawns, but temperature is a factor that needs to be watched. Also, if you are ready for the lack of sleep involved, false dawn the morning after a large spawn will often find stripers cruising areas where dead or dying worms injured during the night are carried by the current, and they are feeding actively on baitfish that have congregated there.

Most anglers think this worm activity is only a spring phenomenon and for some species of worms that is true. However, there are other worms in the marine environment active at other times. I’ve encountered some in very early spring before the stripers arrived to eat them and occasionally located some nice white perch as a result. Other worm populations have been spotted at warmer times of the year, often after small bays have become so warm that stripers have left them until fall. These appear to be Neris virens (sand worms) and Neris succinea (clam worms) which in our locale seem to appear later. There have been some in winter (look like virens) as well along shallow beach fronts that were locations where cold weather populations of cod once fed. This past fall, fishing creek outlets for the last of the migrant fish, we caught bass on Clouser minnows and hooked sandworms as well. I wonder if worm flies would work there?

OTHER BLOG POSTS ABOUT STRIPED BASS:

MIRACLES OF THE FALL
STRIPED BASS ON THE FLY
STRIPERS PAST AND PRESENT

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The post Northeast Worm Spawn first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Northeast Worm Spawn appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

There’s not just one, though. There are actually several of them, the more major ones include the legendary Bahia Honda Bridge, the Seven-Mile Bridge, and some of the other smaller bridges around Summerland & Big Pine Keys.  For us fly anglers, the best thing you can do during this hatch is set up on the oceanside flats and wait for the fish to come by. Another option is to have your guide bring you down the edges of the flats to hunt for fish. You can also hit some of the deeper channels and set up shop there but that is usually where the bait chunkers are tossing pinfish and other baitfish which usually freak some tarpon out. Again you can’t go wrong setting up in known tarpon holes like the like the bridges previously mentioned & Channel 2 and Channel 5. Remember, Bahia Honda became well known for a reason. The hatch usually occurs around the lowest tide of the full moon in May or June. A late outgoing tide (afternoon), around 6 pm, in conjunction with the full moon is the ideal time to be on the water during this exciting time of year. That, of course,depends on when the moon is full. The moon phase calendar for 2013 has the full moon on a weekend Saturday, May 25, so this year it is expected to be early.  In years past where conditions have been sub- optimal, despite the full moon in late May, the  worms held out until the first week of June. The full moon is May 9, there is a good chance the worms will wait until around June 7 when the moon is full again. Maybe, there are never any guarantees. Ambient air temperature, water temperature and humidity levels all play a part in the initiation & timing of the hatch

In other words, the timing of the hatch is a moving target about as dynamic as casting a tasty toad to rolling tarpon….You just never know. If you focus on the places you tend to have the biggest concentrations of fish and you try to time you stay for when the expected hatch is, you will be successful.No one has ever been able to pinpoint the exact time of the hatch, but many are within days. The key is to be on the water when the worms make their run which usually means booking 2-3 days on the flats.Can one suffer through a few days of fishing on the flats while monitoring for a most magnificent natural event?

We’ll find the strength to endure it.

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The post Palolo Worm Hatch first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Palolo Worm Hatch appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

Jesse and Peter are currently traveling through the southern United States hugging the gulf coast filming their newest project.  An upcoming feature in Tail will detail their kick ass voyage through the gulf states and the many people, flies and fish they meet along the way. Here’s a message from the guys currently in central Florida….

Hey everyone, Jesse and Peter here from Broke and Fly Productions.
Just giving you heads up on the fact that we are currently working on our new film project and would love to have you follow us via our social media outlets on Facebook and Instagram.This project has taken us through some amazing fisheries along the gulf coast of Texas, in the Louisiana marsh,  and Lake Seminole at the Florida/Georgia line.  We are now taking it slow, chilling in Central Florida enjoying some of the local sites and some great food, beer.
Filming for this video has lead us into long days on the water and even longer nights of driving from spot to spot. We have fished with some epic people along the way and can’t wait to share more of the trip with everyone in the near future, so stay tuned.

If you like tarpon, redfish, snook, bass, and bluegill on the fly, then you will want to take a peek at some some shots from our latest project and stay up to date with our travel log.  There’s a full length feature coming in Tail Fly Fishing Magazine this spring.
Tight lines!
Over and out.

About Broke and Fly

BROKE AND FLY is the brainchild of two idiots. Peter Husted and Jesse Males. We are all about proving that you don’t need a million dollars in equipment or some fancy location just to make sweet fly fishing related content.
Sometimes all it takes is a little adventure in order for two fly fishing junkies to come together and make something happen. Other times it takes 5 bottles of whiskey, 150 crappy french beers, the worst tequila you can imagine, and 7 days stuck on a french island in the caribbean.
This whole train wreck started after we decided to meet up on a joint film trip on the french island of Guadeloupe. Having never met one another before the trip, since Peter crashes in Denmark and I spend most of my time in Costa Rica, we knew this would be an interesting trip.
The last one pretty much sums up how Broke and Fly was born. ​
SO…WHERE IS BROKE AND FLY GOING FROM HERE?
We plan on continuing to work on film projects whenever possible and invite you guys to tag along via our social media links as well as our vimeo channel.   Judging by the way things went in Guadeloupe, I would say we have some pretty kickass adventures still to come!

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The post Fly fishing the gulf states – Broke and Fly first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Fly fishing the gulf states – Broke and Fly appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.