Triangulating Angling

I’m not a math whiz or a wannabe physicist, but a few years ago, while reviewing video footage of myself engaged in a spirited skirmish with a beefy Seychelles bonefish, a geometric revelation occurred to me.

As I edited the tape, reliving the heart-pounding moment frame by frame, I watched my rod and the angle my body made relative to it, and also to that of the bonefish. With the benefit of the camera footage allowing me an observer’s vantage point, I noticed there was a relationship between this temporary triad of angler, fish, and rod.

Compared to the plethora of information on how to hook them, how to successfully land a trophy fish is rarely discussed in contemporary fly fishing literature—let alone how to do so with a Tenkara rod. That’s one reason I think the concept of what I’m endearingly calling “fish geometry” bears consideration. Another is to mitigate the chance of losing the fish of a lifetime. Although I would suggest the fundamentals of my theory become more critical when you don’t have a reel to bail you out, the principles of the concept are the same for both Tenkara and traditional rod-and-reel fly fishing.

Trigonometry time

As I studied each frame of that bonefish battle, I focused on three points: my rod tip, my body and the fish. Connecting those points in my mind’s eye, I realized they made a triangle. In some frames of the video the connected points made a right-angle triangle—that is, a triangle in which one of its three angles is 90 degrees. In other frames, the three points created an acute triangle, wherein each of the triangle’s angles is less than 90 degrees. And in still other parts of the footage, I could see the triangle that formed between me, the fish and my rod was that of an obtuse triangle, where one of its three angles was greater than 90 degrees.

Photo: Jessica Haydahl Richardson

Eureka

I felt like I was on to something. As I watched the footage again, I noticed that each type of triangle directly and consistently corresponded to the amount of control I had over the fish. It occurred to me that the type of triangle I could create and maintain during the playing of a fish helped determine, at any given moment, how much influence I had in the situation and, ultimately, how successful I’d be at landing the fish. Since you weren’t there in the editing suite with me, to visualize the fish geometry concept, imagine yourself, the angler, as the base of the triangle. Your rod tip, held above and in front of you, is the second point. Finally, the fish, some distance away is the third. Once the hook is set, this “fishing triangle” is activated.

Don’t get acute

In this exercise, if you have your rod tip high, with plenty of tension on the line, you’re essentially making a right-angle triangle. This is when you have the most control over the fish. Contrast that with when the fish makes a deep run and the angler lowers the rod tip, allowing the fish to take line. At this point, the angle between the base (you) and the fish decreases to form an acute triangle and suddenly you are just barely hanging on. As the fish tires, the angler begins to lift the rod again, creating a wider angle and regaining control. This process—the rod lowering and raising, the fish running and being reeled in—continues until the fish is brought in and landed. This is the essence of the thrilling fight that inspires later stories around the campfire.

Obtuse odds

What’s not typically talked about is what happens when the angle between the fisher and the fish becomes too great, creating an obtuse triangle. While the right-angle triangle provides the most control by allowing the angler to harness the power of the rod’s lower sections, we’ve all been in the situation when the rod is laid out too far behind us—typically when trying to net a fish—and the control we just had is once again lost. In this “laid out” position, the angle between the rod tip and the fish is too wide, i.e., too obtuse. Now, instead of fighting the fish with the butt of the rod, the angler is having to rely on the most flexible, least-powerful part of its construction. Just like when the triangle is too acute, when it becomes too obtuse, the odds tip in favor of the fish.

Tenkara technicalities

This is worrisome enough when you’ve got 100 of feet of line, 150 feet of backing and a sophisticated drag system on your reel to rely on. Using a Tenkara rod, the triangle theory is even more critical to landing powerful fish because when a fish attempts to run and the rod begins to straighten, there is no extra line to feed out. If the fish gets away and the acute triangle closes up, there is little chance of recovery; either the line or the rod will break. Likewise, if the angler creates a too-broad, too-obtuse triangle by drawing the rod too far back, relying on the softest portion of the rod to manage and steer the fish, the tip of the rod gets overloaded. This situation also almost always ends in a broken off fish—or worse.

A triangle that’s “just right”

As anglers, we have no problem discussing, hypothesizing, reading and reflecting on what it takes to hook up to a quality fish. But due attention should be given to how we compose ourselves once that fish triangle is activated. Being aware of what I call fish geometry will help you bring more fish to hand in shorter order. Avoiding too-acute or tooobtuse triangles in your temporary triad of angler, fish, and rod will ensure you’re engaging your equipment to keep steady pressure on the fish. By abiding the fish geometry concept you’ll hopefully maintain a 90 degree triangle that is, for our purposes, “just right.” When she had her geometric revelation, Karin Miller was fishing Zen Tenkara’s 12-foot “Kyojin” model, a stout stick designed to handle powerful gamefish.

Karin Miller