Tail Fly Fishing Magazine Issue #75

Legend leg'end, noun.

[OFr. legende, LL. legenda

‘things which ought to be read’; Middle English in the sense of “the story of a saint’s life”]

1. Bob Popovics, 1948-2024.

Photo: Will Graham Scott Fly Rod Company Handcrafted in Montrose, Colorado

So Fly

Sardina is a unique monotypic genus, containing just one species: Sardina pilchardus! This popular baitfish is a favorite among saltwater fly anglers. Check out Al Quattrocchi’s creation, which pairs EP fibers with SF blend and flash giving it a realistic and enticing look that fish can not resist.

Al Quattrocchi

Photo:

Location X

Oh, baby! An angler in photographer Neal Rogers’ boat gets flipped off by a juvie tarpon off the Jardines de la Reina archipelago in Cuba. (Yep—he’s dad to Tail creative director Craig Rogers)

Photo: Neal Rogers

Strike Now

Pig trout or small hands? Right now, winter waters offer a top shot at bruiser trout. Artist Ed Anderson goes incognito off the Gulf Coast of Florida.

Photo: Capt. Lacey Kelley

Welcome.

I’ve been thinking about the concept of community lately, of what a community is, how it’s built, how the idea of community has changed in a digital world, and what can be done to strengthen the human relationships that are the tendons and sinews of every community. While such ruminations have been a pleasant break from my day job of writing what seems to be 10 million words a week, the tragic circumstances that launched these reflections were unwelcome in the extreme. The loss of the great fly tyer and fly-fishing mentor Bob Popovics to a hit-and-run driver just a few blocks from his home in Seaside Park, New Jersey, was, and is, and will long remain, a shock to the saltwater flyfishing community.

I assumed the editor-in-chief’s post at Tail magazine not long before the news that Popovics had passed, and as we pulled together a coast-to-coast tribute for this issue, the ensuing weeks of texts, emails, and phone calls—yes, actual verbal telephone communications!—quickly underscored for me the sense of community within the saltwater fly-fishing world. I didn’t know Popovics personally, so I am exceedingly grateful to Tail West Coast editor, Al Quattrocchi, for collecting and curating the words and images of our tribute to Popovics. “Al Q,” as he is affectionately known, was a longtime and close friend of Popovics. I know it was difficult for him to push through this assignment while working through his own grief. I also know that Popovics would have been deeply touched and honored by his effort.

While working through some of the background on Popovics, I was struck by one particular comment. Tail contributor Pete Barrett once wrote that Popovics was “one of the most influential fly tiers of the second generation of saltwater fly fishing pioneers.” The first generation was in the realm of

A.W. Dimock, Stu Apte and Jimmy Albright of the Florida Keys, Harry Kime of California, and Joe Brooks of practically everywhere. There were others in this great generation of anglers. If you don’t know these names, I encourage you to do a little digging on your own. These are the people who blazed the trail this community so deeply loves.

The second generation of pioneers, just to name a few, would have included Lefty Kreh, Flip Pallot, Harry Spear, Chico Fernandez, Bob Clouser, Steve Huff, Del Brown, and Mark Sosin. And Bob Popovics, of course.

It could be said that we are now in the third generation, or the third wave, in the evolution of our beloved sport. And it might be tempting to think that in this third wave there is little left to be discovered on this planet, or that there aren’t the quantum improvements to be made in gear and equipment that marked earlier innovative eras, or that there’s not a lot of pioneering to be done, frankly, in the world of saltwater fly fishing.

But I have a perspective on that line of thinking that I might not have had three months ago. I certainly wouldn’t have had it without the upwelling of community surrounding Popovics’ death. So, here’s what I’m thinking:

The legends in this third wave of saltwater flyfishing may not attain the mantle of general celebrity as did Ted Williams,

Jose Wejebe or Lee and Joan Wulff. It is the nature of modern life, and modern media, that we may not have blazing stars that sear across the sporting world in that fashion.

Yet, while there may not ever be another Joe Brooks or Lefty Kreh or Bob Popovics—although there may—this much I can guarantee you: There will never be another you, or another me. And there will never be a better time in saltwater fly fishing to build a community and share the values that those first- and second-generation pioneers helped shape. There has never been a better time for connecting.

This third generation—our third wave—is going to be about building community. And in this brave new world, every one of us has a better chance than ever before to be a legendary member of this community: A legend in the realm of building community, of sharing knowledge, and of welcoming new people into our fold. We have the models for just such an undertaking. Folks like Bob Popovics helped clear the path. The rest is up to us.

In that spirit I want to introduce a new era of Tail the magazine to Tail the community. Staff has joked about 2025 being the year of “Tail 2.0.” And there’s something to that. We plan on dialing up the energy here, with a new design, a new logo, and new ideas about storytelling. What won’t be new is the magazine’s commitment to authoritative voices.

Part of this introduction must be a heartfelt thanks to Joseph Ballarini, who founded this magazine 12 years ago. So many of us discover saltwater fly fishing, and we build a life around it. Joe discovered saltwater fly fishing, and built a magazine around it. The fact that he kept it cranking for a dozen years is nothing short of remarkable.

And I’m grateful that you’re already a part of the community. I hope you’ll help us build this third wave of saltwater fly-fishing community. I hope you’ll tell a friend what’s up with Tail. Actually, I hope you’ll holler the news from your favorite boat ramp or fly shop. Keeping a magazine alive and thriving isn’t easy these days. But when it comes to sharing our passions for saltwater fly fishing, we know the way. Moving forward, we’ll respect the past. We have the footprints of the legends to follow.

Tail 2.0. Let’s build it.

T. Edward Nickens Editor-in-Chief

On the Cover

The Beast Fleye.

Al Quattrocchi

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF T. EDWARD NICKENS

MANAGING EDITOR JAMES P. SPICA JR.

WEST COAST EDITOR AL QUATTROCCHI

CREATIVE DIRECTOR CRAIG ROGERS

SENIOR CONTRIBUTORS

AARON ADAMS, STU APTE, DAN BLANTON, CAPT. BOB BRANHAM, NICK CURCIONE, MARK B. HATTER, ANDY MILL, JON OLCH, GEORGE ROBERTS, NEAL ROGERS, CAPT. SCOTT SOMMERLATTE

Saltwater fly fishing is imbued with values of stewardship and conservation.

Tail Fly Fishing Magazine seeks to build the saltwater fly-fishing community through its print magazine, social media channels, and digital communications. The print magazine is published six times per year; print subscriptions also include access to the digital editions.

Publisher: Joseph Ballarini. Tail Fly Fishing Magazine, 2300 Alton Road, Miami Beach, FL 33140 | 305-783-2514

For editorial inquiries, contact: editor@tailflyfishing.com

For advertising inquiries, contact: advertising@tailflyfishing.com

For subscription and other inquiries, contact: admin@tailflyfishing.com

Catch us at: www.tailflyfishing.com

@tailflyfishing Tail Fly Fishing Magazine

In loving memory of John C. Melfi

Legendary fly tyer and celebrity angler, Bob Popovics, brought his magic to the Somerset Fly Fishing Show every year in New Jersey. Here he is in action, crafting one of his signature designs,

Photo:

The New Look

I’ve watched Tail grow in reputation since its inception a dozen years ago while other saltwater fly magazines folded. It’s the only fly magazine for sale at my favorite shop here in Connecticut because it’s the voice of saltwater fly fishing. I appreciate how you share techniques, tackle setup, and fishing opportunities from qualified experts so readers can develop their abilities and knowledge to be better prepared. And the Tail contributing editor roster offers an unmatched pool of knowledge. I’m optimistically looking forward for good things to come from Tail magazine in the future.

John Field Weston, Connecticut

“An unmatched pool of knowledge.”

That’s what we’re shooting for, John, and we can’t thank our team of writers, guides, and seriously fishy folks enough for helping us bring the game.

I’m looking forward to the new changes at Tail magazine. I very much enjoy what you put together, from the glossy quality and the great full-page layouts of stunning photography to the gear guide. “On the Table” and the cocktail page are unique and always interesting. While recently considering a 2025 trip to the Galapagos, I recalled an article I’d read in an earlier issue and was thrilled to locate Tail #62 so I could reread the article about the archipelago. I also reread “Big Flies for Big Fish” and the Capt. Rich Waldner article, which were both quite interesting. I’ve pretty much quit the online publications as there

Much has changed in the fishing landscape since Tail magazine’s first print edition in September, 2016. But not the magazine’s commitment to giving voice to the saltwater fly-fishing community.

are always other things that take priority while I’m on the internet. But I’m still a big fan of hard-copy magazines. Keep it up!

Jeff Ferguson Bozeman, Montana

Thanks, Jeff. We love the fact that you’re keeping back issues of Tail handy. Nothing says “home” quite like a tall stack of Tail magazines on the coffee table.

As a long-time fly guy, I would like to welcome the new team and extend wishes for exciting times to be shared. Moving forward, if you continue to produce the same style content, I would be extremely happy. Our fly-fishing community is tight, and the travel destinations, latest equipment, food and beverage recipes, and fly recipes, along with really cool sto-

ries told, keep me a Tail fan. And the stories about personalities found along the way can be legendary. We all have fish-catching stories—some with happy endings and some epic stories of fish fights with “oh no!” endings. Some of my best stories are about lost fish. I look forward to receiving each and every Tail magazine with anticipation of what I may learn next.

Garrett Van Iderstine Islamorada, Florida

We’re with you on the value of lostfish lessons, Garrett. Here’s hoping we have fewer of them in the future if we employ the skills we read about in the magazine.

Was it something we said? Hit us up at letters@tailflyfishing.com

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A TRIBUTE TO BOB POPOVICS –Friends of Bob Pop

22 46 36 52 58

With the passionate old soul of a patriarch and an inventive spirit age couldn’t suppress, Bob Popovics (1948-2024) embodied the best of the saltwater flyfishing community. Losing Popovics has prompted a time of soul-searching among guides, fly tyers, anglers, and fans. His friends Al Quattrocchi and Capt. Ben Whalley reflect on how Popovics changed their lives. And the trajectory of an entire industry.

COSMOLEDO ATOLL – Rasmus Ovesen

Cosmoledo offers what is likely the world’s best flats-based fly-fishing opportunities for giant trevally. For a saltwater fly-fishing enthusiast, Cosmoledo is a mystical Mecca surrounded by grand rumors, making it almost impossible to travel there without having sky-high (and perhaps unrealistic) expectations.

YOU LYIN DOG! – Nick Curcione

Teasing big fish with fake-news baits might be philosophically suspect, but it sure is a lot of fun. Our contributing editor breaks down the lies, untruths, and shady dealings that work best when trying to pull the old switcheroo.

PIECED TOGETHER – Cameron Luck

On his way to Florida for graduate school, a freshly minted grad student picked up a flyrod of questionable provenance from some dude who had posted it on Facebook Marketplace. Thousands of miles later, that rod proves that you don’t always get what you pay for. Sometimes you get a lot more.

THE REEL FREAKIN’ DEAL – Paul Conover

With design roots reaching back to Fin-Nor and Nautilus, Florida reelmaker Paul Conover knows what makes a saltwater fly reel tick. And blow up. And fall apart. Here’s an old salt’s take on how to make a reel that can handle anything you want to throw at it.

TRY THIS, NOT THAT – James P. Spica Jr.

Substituting new materials for the tried-and-true classics can supercharge a proven fly design. The venerable Clouser Deep Minnow is a perfect platform for experimenting with materials far beyond basic bucktail.

THE TAIL BEAT – TFFM Staff

What’s up, what’s going down, what’s coming out next in Tail, and how and where you can connect with our crew. 69 64 80 72 84 86

RIGGED

UP

On deck: Gear from Orvis, Loon Outdoors, Grundéns, Scientific Anglers, Maine Fly Company, Iko Print, Rocky Radios, Simms & Arcade Belts.

– TFFM Staff

INTO THE BACKING

ON THE TABLE: WHATEVER & GRITS –T. Edward Nickens

In the beginning was the lowly grit, and then along came the humble shrimp. Suddenly, shrimp & grits was a thing. But wahoo & grits? Wood ducks & grits? Bluefish & grits? Yep. This Southern staple is the starting point for one of the most versatile recipes you can pull out of a hat.

Q & Angling: GALVESTON FISHING CO. –James P. Spica Jr.

The folks at Galveston Fishing Company think they’ve stumbled onto some of the best saltwater fly fishing in the country. Believe them.

THE UNDERTOW: AVOIDING THE CLIFF EDGE – Tony Friedrich

At the American Saltwater Guides Association, false albacore and Atlantic bonito are stars in an effort to encourage “precautionary management.” Which means, essentially, “let’s not *%&# this up.”

Photo: Martin Ejler Olsen

T&T Amassadors Justin Rea and Rob Kramarz in the Florida Keys.

The entire Sextant rod family shares a smooth loading, quick recovery action that allows for precise accuracy at short distances without sacrificing the power and backbone necessary for punching flies at longer distances through the wind.

CONTRIBUTORS

Paul Conover

Paul Conover was born in Miami, Florida, in 1946, and worked in his grandfather’s machine shop manufacturing Fin-Nor wedding cake fly reels and parts. He later designed both the FR and Ahab series of fly reels for Fin-Nor, the original Nautilus fly reel, and founded Old Florida Fly Reels. He most recently founded Old Mariner Reels. More at oldmarinerreels.com

Nick Curcione

Contributing editor Nick Curcione is an internationally recognized outdoor writer, lecturer, and tackle consultant noted for his casting expertise and instructional clinics. He has authored four fly fishing books: The Orvis Guide to Saltwater Fly Fishing , Baja on The Fly, Tug-O-War, A Fly Fishers Game and The Saltwater Edge.

Rasmus Ovesen

Norway-based Rasmus Ovesen is a journalist and the marketing director for Flyfish Europe, the European distributor for Simms, Scott, Scientific Anglers, Lamson, and other top brands. A board member of the Norwegian chapter of the North Atlantic Salmon Fund, his Cosmoledo Atoll adventure is his first story for Tail magazine. More at www.instagram.com/rasmus_ovesen/

Al Quattrocchi

Los Angeles based-Al Quattrocchi is the West Coast editor of Tail magazine. He shares his life with his wife, Janet, and daughter, Quinn, while channeling his creative energy into his awardwinning design firm, Tornado Creative. “Al Q” has been a cornerstone of the flyfishing community for decades. More at alquattrocchi.com

Cameron Luck

Cameron Luck is a videographer, journalist, and fisheries biologist in North Carolina. His master’s research was a study of bonefish spawning behavior in the Bahamas. He is co-founder and executive producer of Actually, a North Carolinabased creative services company. His essay on a beater fly rod is his first story for Tail magazine. More at @camluckphoto

Craig Rogers

Creative director Craig Rogers is a full-time freelance graphic designer based near Philadelphia. When he’s not spending time with his wife Julie or sons, Chase and Bodey, he can be found driving back and forth to the Jersey coast in search of that first-light bite. Julie thinks he fishes too much but he vehemently disagrees. More at 3mldesign.com

James P. Spica Jr.

Tail magazine managing editor James P. Spica Jr. is a flyfishing writer and instructor in Detroit, Michigan. His work has been featured in American Angler , Covey Rise , The FlyFish Journal, Eastern Fly Fishing, and Kayak Angler. He’s a bit nuts over Cape Cod striped bass and false albacore, and South Carolina redfish, seatrout, and flounder. More at jamesspicajr.com

Ben Whalley

After a decade of guiding part-time, Capt. Ben Whalley left his corporate gig as a biochemist/ engineer in 2021 to guide full-time in Maine, tie flies, and advocate for striped bass conservation. Deeply influenced by the mentorship of the late Bob Popovics, his tribute to Popovics is his first story for Tail magazine. More at benwhalleyfishing.com.

Airshow.

Photo: Neal Rogers

Is your fly shop salty?

Do they carry Tail Fly Fishing Magazine? If not, let them know they’re missing out. Here’s a list of salty fly shops.

ALASKA

Mossy’s Fly Shop Anchorage, AK 907-770-2666 mossysflyshop.com

CALIFORNIA

Bob Marriott’s Fly Fishing Store Fullerton, CA 714-525-1827 bobmarriottsflyfishingstore.com

COLORADO

Front Range Anglers Boulder, CO 303-494-1375 frontrangeanglers.com

CONNECTICUT

The Compleat Angler Darien, CT 203-655-9400 compleatangleronline.com

FLORIDA

239 Flies Bonita Springs, FL 239-908-3513 239flies.com

Florida Keys Outfitters Islamorada, FL 305-664-5432 floridakeysoutfitters.com

Mangrove Outfitters Naples, FL 239-793-3370 mangroveoutfitters.com

Ole Florida Fly Shop Boca Raton, FL 561-995-1929 olefloridaflyshop.com

Orlando Outfitters Orlando, FL 407-896-8220 orlandooutfitters.com

ORVIS Ocean Reef Key Largo FL 305-367-2227 Orvis.com

ORVIS Sandestin Sandestin, FL 850-650-2174 Orvis.com

Sanibel Fly Outfitters Sanibel, FL 239-558-4345 facebook.com/sanibelflyoutfitters

Seven Mile Fly Shop Marathon, FL 305-440-3406 sevenmileflyshop.com

The Angling Company Key West, FL 305-292-6306 anglingcompany.com

The Tide Boca Grande, FL 941-964-2417

White’s Tackle Vero Beach, Florida 772-492-6203 Stuart, Florida 772-266-4010 whitestackle.com

GEORGIA

ORVIS Atlanta Atlanta, GA 404-841-0093 Orvis.com

The Fish Hawk Atlanta, GA 404-237-3473 thefishhawk.com

Florida Keys Outfitters in Islamorada, Florida, has been a can’t-miss Keys destination since 1989.

LOUISIANA

ORVIS Baton Rouge Baton Rouge LA 225-757-7286 Orvis.com

MARYLAND

Alltackle Annapolis, MD 888-810-7283 alltackle.com

MASSACHUSETTS

The Bear’s Den Taunton, MA 508-977-0700 bearsden.com

MONTANA

Frontier Anglers Dillion, MT 406-683-5276 frontieranglers.com

NEW YORK

River Bay Outfitters Baldwin, NY 516-415-7748 riverbayoutfitters.com

NORTH CAROLINA

Great Outdoor Provision Co. Raleigh, NC 919-833-1741 Charlotte, NC 704-523-1089 Greensboro, NC 336-851-1331

Winston-Salem, NC 336-727-0906 Chapel Hill, NC 919-933-6148 Greenville, NC 252-321-1308 Wilmington, NC 910-343-1648 greatoutdoorprovision.com

OBX on the Fly Manteo, NC obxonthefly.com

Sound Side Outfitters Swansboro, NC 910-708-1033 soundsideoutfittersnc.com

RHODE ISLAND

The Saltwater Edge Middletown, RI 866-793-6733 saltwateredge.com

SOUTH CAROLINA

Bay Street Outfitters Beaufort, SC 843-524-5250 baystreetoutfitters.com

ORVIS Charleston Charleston, SC 854-999-4985 Orvis.com

TEXAS

Bayou City Angler Houston, TX 832-831-3104 bayoucityangler.com

Gordy & Sons Outfitters Houston, TX 713-333-3474 gordyandsons.com

Grapevine Fly Fishing Grapevine, Texas 720.453.6878 grapevineflyfishing.com

Gruene Outfitters New Braunfels, TX 830-625-4440 grueneoutfitters.com

ORVIS Austin 10000 Research Blvd - B04B Austin TX 78759 512-795-8004 Orvis.com

ORVIS Houston Houston TX 713-783-2111 Orvis.com

ORVIS Plano Preston Towne Crossing Plano, TX 972-596-7529 Orvis.com

ORVIS San Antonio San Antonio, TX 210-812-3017 Orvis.com

Sportsman’s Finest Austin, TX 512-263-1888 sportsmansfinest.com

Swan Point Landing Rockport, TX 361-729-7926 swanpointlandingflyshop.net

Tailwaters Fly Fishing Co. Dallas, TX 888-824-5420 tailwatersflyfishing.com

UTAH

Fishwest Sandy, UT 801-617-1225 fishwest.com

VIRGINIA

Great Outdoor Provision Co. Charlottesville, VA 434-995-5669

Virginia Beach, VA 757-962-6618 greatoutdoorprovision.com

Taletellers Fly Shop Lynchburg VA 434-818-2007 taletellersva.com

WASHINGTON

Peninsula Outfitters Poulsbo, WA 360-394-1599 peninsulaoutfitters.com

The Avid Angler Lake Forest Park, WA 206-362-4030 avidangler.com

Retail Chains

Barnes & Noble—630 retail locations in the USA

Books-A-Million—260 stores in 32 states

Bass Pro Shops—95 locations in the USA

Dick’s Sporting Goods (select locations)—700+ stores in the USA

Field & Stream Stores—35 locations in the USA

Indigo Books—200+ stores under various banners

BAHAMAS

Blackfly Lodge Abaco, Bahamas 904-997-2220 blackflylodge.com

CANADA

Drift Outfitters & Fly Shop Ontario, Canada 647-347-7370 Driftoutfitters.com

Fish Tales Fly Shop Ltd. Calgary, Canada 866-640-1273 fishtalesflyshop.com

THIS “mountain of a man”

He was no beast, despite the name he gave to one of his most beloved oversized flies. He was a gentle giant. For years, acolytes old and young flocked to his home in Seaside Heights, New Jersey, where he hosted Tuesday night fly-tying sessions in his second-floor fly-tying room. They flocked to fishing shows across the country, to stand in line for a chance to simply see the man behind the vise. Then they flocked to his robust Internet presence, where Popovics gleefully nurtured a community of fly tyers that has changed the trajectory of an entire industry.

Popovics designed a host of category-smashing saltwater flies. Bob’s Bangers. Ultra Shrimp. Hollow Fleye. 3-D Fleye. Bucktail Deceiver. His Surf Candy helped kick off a craze over epoxy flies that has yet to wane. The

durability of the Surf Candy enabled anglers to catch more than one toothy fish on the same fly. When he designed the Beast Fleye, with its supersized large profile and mind-blowing castability, younger generations went nuts for a platform that was as much punk rock as Bruce Springsteen. The gray-grizzled pioneer had done it again. No one was surprised.

Bob Popovics passed away on November 1, 2024, after a few weeks of fighting for life after being struck by a hit-and-run driver. The loss has shaken the flyfishing world to its core. Few had reached the pinnacle as had Popovics. It could be argued that none had done so while remaining so humble.

Popovics was a U.S. Marine and a beloved businessman who ran The Shady Rest, a family-owned restaurant

with his wife, Alexis. He was a gardener of epic reputation, whose love of roses nearly eclipsed his love of striped bass crashing bait in the steep-walled New Jersey surf.

Popovics knew that if he fed the body and soul of whoever showed up at his door, wild-eyed over the sport of saltwater fly fishing, he would be seeding the next generation of passionate anglers. He was a rarity in any pursuit: He was a pioneer who pushed the edge of what was possible with one hand, but with the other always gesturing to those behind: Come on! Get over here! Let me show you how to do this!

He was a giver in a world of takers. He was a One and Only.

–The Editors

A TRIBUTE TO BOB POPOVICS

Photo: Al Quattrocchi

my mickey mantle

Looking back, the author sees the trail of good fortune—and the kindness of other anglers—that led him to Bob Popovics.

By Al Quattrocchi

–The Editors

Back when I was a wide-eyed, aspiring saltwater fly angler in my late twenties, I devoured every book and magazine I could find on the subject. I was hungry for mentors. This was back in the 1970s, and in those early days of reading Saltwater Sportsman, names like Charles Waterman, Hal Lyman, Frank Woolner, Joe Brooks, Lefty Kreh, Nick Curcione, and Harold Gibbs filled my imagination. Those dedicated anglers shared their worldly adventures on pages adorned with sexy flies and spectacular photography and I soaked it all up. It wasn’t until I moved to California and stumbled into the Bob Marriott Flyfishing store that things started to get interesting. There, I saw an A-frame sign bearing the enticing title: “Fly Fishing with Lefty at Hot Creek Ranch.” I couldn’t believe my eyes. I asked one of the shop employees if it was, indeed, the real Lefty. Whoever it was laughed and said yes, and then I was told there was a single spot open at the event. I booked it immediately, not even knowing where Hot Creek was, or the Eastern Sierras, for that matter. All I knew was that I would soon be headed north, driving a beat-up,

straight-shift VW Bug, with nothing in the rig but a fly rod, a Thomas Guide California Road Atlas, and the far-out chance to meet the great Lefty Kreh. I arrived at the famous Hot Creek Ranch, home to the eponymous private

spring creek, late on a Friday evening. I was single-minded. “Where’s Lefty?”

I asked the lodge owner. He told me that Lefty would be there bright and early the next morning. I hit the sack and woke up at sunrise like a little kid filled with the same anticipation of seeing Santa. Sure enough, Lefty arrived by Lear jet and was driven up the dusty dirt road to the lodge in an old pickup truck.

I waited eagerly at the breakfast table, hardly believing that one of my fly-fishing heroes was about to sit across from me. When Lefty walked in, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I began talking to him about all the great fly fishermen I read about as if I were reading stats off baseball cards. Lefty stopped me and asked, “Son, how do you know all these people?” I told him I’d read everything I could get my hands on, and that I was there with the sole purpose of meeting him and learning how to double haul. I wanted nothing more than to run to the beach with my fly rod and cast flies into the salt. Lefty grinned.

Then I asked Lefty about an amazing cover of the American Angler magazine that had just come out. It featured all the baitfish I grew up catching as a

This 1990 magazine cover featured Bob Popovics’ original “candy fleyes” for the first time in print. Photo: Al Quattrocchi

kid—rain bait, bay anchovies, spearing, and sand eels. Lefty told me it was the work of a guy named Bob Popovics from Seaside Heights, New Jersey, and that he was the most innovative saltwater fly tyer he’d ever seen. I guess Lefty saw the passion in my eyes. “I have a VHS tape Bob had just made for me on how to tie all his fly patterns,” he told me. “I’m trying to get Bob a pro-tyer gig at Umpqua Feather Merchants. I’ll send you my copy of the tape. All I ask is that you make a few copies for me, mail them back, and keep one for yourself.”

No one who knew Lefty would have been surprised. I, however, was stunned.

A week and a half went by, and every day I checked my mailbox as if I’d won the lottery. Finally, at the end of the second week, a manila envelope

it together.” And we did, like two moths glued to the glow of the TV screen. That experience was the beginning of an unforgettable journey.

That spring, Nick, who was working for Orvis then, invited me to join him up at the San Mateo show near San Francisco, one of the largest outdoor sporting shows on the West Coast. On the first day, I wandered around like a kid in a toy shop before returning to the Orvis booth for lunch with Nick.

I told him I used an old Thompson Model A, a type of non-rotary vise. Bob didn’t say much about it, but at a Denver fly-fishing show the following year, he and Andy Renzetti walked up to me and handed me a large box containing a Renzetti Master Vise. I couldn’t believe it. But Bob just smiled and said, simply: It’s time you tied on a rotary vise. Almost four decades later, it’s still the vise I use.

Bob saw the passion and potential in me well before I did. He had a special

A TRIBUTE TO BOB POPOVICS

arrived from Cockeysville, Maryland, signed by Lefty. I tore it open like a candy wrapper. I immediately called my buddy Nick Curcione and said, “Nick, I have the Holy Grail!” He laughed and asked what I was talking about. “Lefty just sent me a VHS tape of all of Bob Popovics’ early saltwater patterns,” I told him. Nick knew a treasure when he saw one. “Come over,” he said. “Let’s watch

He had a surprise. “I just ran into your buddy,” he said. “Bob Popovics! He’s here and he’s joining us for lunch!” I was speechless. Bob Popovics was my Mickey Mantle.

The three of us sat and had lunch together, and from that moment on, Bob and I were great friends. Friends for more than thirty years. This connection led to many fishing adventures in places like Martha’s Vineyard, Island Beach State Park, and Montauk Point.

One day, Bob asked me, “Q, what vise are you tying flies with these days?”

way of bringing talent out of people and opening their minds to what was possible. That’s the kind of person Bob Popovics was—always caring for his friends and lifting those around him with encouragement so they could improve. And it was always with that famous smile.

I love you, Pop! Always have, always will. And I will long toast you with a Crown Royal and commit that your legacy will live on forever.

A hand-typed note sent to the author from Lefty Kreh after their first encounter.

Photo: Al Quattrocchi

At the International Sportsmen’s Exposition in California, circa 1991. From top left: Nick Curcione, Bob Popovics, Al Quattrocchi, Scott Fine (original editor of Saltwater Fly Fishing magazine) and Aussie legend Rod Harrison. Photo: Sam Talarico, front center

“teach ‘em well”

Truer words were never spoken by no truer a man than Bob Popovics.

By Capt. Ben Whalley

In a craft that succeeds on its ability to imitate life, Bob Popovics and those he shared the stage with were legendary. What he likely didn’t realize, however, was the legacy he would leave behind on how to be a humble teacher and friend. That I will forever strive to imitate in his honor.

When asked to write about my re lationship with Bobby and what the future of our sport looks like after having been shaped by his life, I was paralyzed. Paralyzed by meeting the word count requirement, and paralyzed by exceeding it. Paralyzed by some how managing to reflect in words what an impact this incredible human had on my life as a fly fisherman, fly tyer, husband, father, and friend. Paralyzed by the fear of judgment in this modern world of social media and in stant reactions behind the safety of the screen. Why me? Why would anyone want to hear what I have to say about the late, great, Bob Popovics? Surely, there are dozens of folks who knew him longer, knew him better, and

can write a paragraph without leaning on the thesaurus for every other word. But then I hear Bobby, and I hear him reminding me: “Just write, Ben.” Anyone who knows me knows how difficult it is for me to put my thoughts into words. My brain moves a thousand miles a minute and my language

countless lessons in our Monday night chats, accidental FaceTime calls, text messages, and cherished visits to Seaside. Among many of those lessons are three I’ll pay tribute to while I have

this moment, in his honor: The power of observation. The importance of preserving history. And the commitment to humbly teach anyone willing to learn. In terms of the power of observation, Bob stressed its importance to better understand and translate your fishery to the most lifelike flies. I can hear him now reminding me of the old adage, “keep ‘em buggy!” Aside from the tangible product, however, remembering Bob reminds me of all the hours and late nights spent devouring books, old articles, and DVDs. The times sneaking away from the office to go test a new pattern. Watching the fish boil at that perfect pre-dawn moment after the birds had tipped me off. My first time attending The Fly Fishing Show in Marlborough Massachusetts, walking around the floor tentatively, too nervous to interact with anyone, but taking it all in. Each observation, every quiet moment of reflection and testing, led me to follow this crazy dream, and being able to do so with the support and mutual admiration of so many greats. Looking ahead to the future of this sport, I’m hopeful. Like many before

A TRIBUTE TO BOB POPOVICS

them and those still at the vise, pioneers like Bob and Lefty have gone ahead and left so much for us to learn from and lean on. Realizing Bob is no longer a phone call away, in many ways, has woken me up. The best way for any of us to honor these legends is to preserve the history they leave behind, ensuring we continue to pay homage to their decades of observations, lessons, and passion. Beyond just remembrance, understanding the evolution of techniques and materials is invaluable. As fly tyers, we are the inheritors of a rich legacy, and it is our duty to preserve that legacy—not only for ourselves but for future generations.

Preserving the history of saltwater fly tying can take many forms, whether through written works, instructional videos, or perfectly staged photos. What’s critical is to give credit. A simple tag or acknowledgment helps ensure that the techniques, patterns,

and philosophies of past masters remain alive. As Bob once told me, “If we don’t have an accurate history, then it’s just your word against mine, and there’s no history at all.” In a world brimming with instant gratification and the pursuit of quick fame, it’s easy to add a new twist and call something your own. It’s far more difficult to stay eternal students, humble teachers, and never experts.

With skepticism, I was once asked how Bob Popovics could be my “mentor” when I live all the way up in Maine. Not able to answer eloquently, which for me is really no surprise, I brought it up with Bob in one of our late-night phone chats after his restaurant had closed down. After only a brief pause, he responded, “Call it what you want, but we got a good thing going!” That was perfectly followed by his infectious laugh and a shift in focus to more important things, such as my latest Beast

Fleye post having too much weight near the front and how less is more when it comes to bucktail. I’ll miss his laugh and I’ll miss his reminders through how he lived about focusing on what’s important and ignoring the nonsense.

Looking back on the time we had together, I am reminded of how grateful I am for all those I continue to learn from—from those who have invested their time in me, and most importantly, the friendships made along the way. If not for folks like Ian Devlin, Andrew Warshawer, Jason Taylor, and Brad Buzzi, I would not have had the tremendous honor of knowing Bob Popovics and calling him my friend. He was true to his core, gave selflessly of his time, and leaves behind a void we can choose to approach with determination and optimism. Knowing him was a privilege, and has honestly made me a better man. Rest in peace, Bobby.

Opposite: The beauty of the Beast Fleye. Above: Bob Popovics mentored countless fly tyers, but Capt. Ben Whalley of Maine was a soul mate from the first wrap.

A FOND FAREWELL FOR A LEGEND

No one quote could do Bob Popovics justice. We could fill three entire issues with tributes. But in the weeks after Bob’s passing, we were able to track down a number of Bob’s very close friends and family for a few memories and insights about this “mountain of a man.”

– The Editors

Photo: Tom Lynch

It’s an honor to call Bobby my best friend and the greatest fishing buddy ever. I will be forever grateful for the memories.

– Lance Erwin retired police officer and one of Popovics’ oldest and best friends, New Jersey

Bob always called us “brothers.” He used to joke that he was that “annoying little kid brother” that I never had. I couldn’t have loved him more if we were brothers. Time will eventually dull my pain and dry my tears, but it can never erase the memory of a thousand experiences we shared for 50 years. He helped me to be a better fisherman, but more importantly, to be a better person.

– Ed Jaworowski Villanova University professor, noted writer, photographer, and casting guru, Pennsylvania

Bob Popovics was one of the best fly tyers in the world and there was no better friend or anyone more innovative in saltwater. He was a great fly caster and angler; I was blessed to call him my friend.

– Bob Clouser fly designer and flyfishing icon, Pennsylvania

Bobby saw flies through a lens that most of us could never imagine. He studied bait underwater, tying flies three-dimensionally. For him, fly-tying wasn’t about creating something pretty—it was about solving a problem. He approached each challenge with purpose, whether through silhouette, size, movement, or castability. He saw specific qualities in materials that worked best for each application. He had a gift for simplicity and always kept his audience in mind. Bobby paved the way for all of us in saltwater fly-tying, inspiring us to see not just what is, but what could be.

– Al Quattrocchi writer, designer, and West Coast editor for Tail magazine, Los Angeles

Bob will always be remembered for his unlimited sharing with others. He freely gave his time, friendship, and expertise (whether it be the most innovative tying and casting techniques or worldclass rose gardening). He cherished almost daily excursions along Island Beach State Park, only a short distance from home. He held numerous fly-tying meetings in his home with fly casting across the street for many years before founding the Atlantic Saltwater Flyrodders. People like Bob just don’t come along that often. Thank you, Bob Popovics, and God bless.

– Steve Farrar noted fly tyer, New Jersey

Lefty Kreh told me for years that I had to meet Bob Popovics. When it finally came to pass, we developed an instant bond that blossomed into a lifelong brotherhood-like friendship. However, when it came to fly-tying skills, we were worlds apart. He was the unquestioned master while I, on the other hand, tied flies that no one ever asked for. I knew I had one right when he would ask if I tied it. I miss you, brother man.

– Nick Curcione flyfishing icon and contributing editor for Tail magazine

A TRIBUTE TO BOB POPOVICS

Photo: Ben Whalley

Bob’s legacy is characterized by his groundbreaking fly designs, his unwavering commitment to mentoring aspiring fly tyers, and his pivotal role in shaping the Renzetti Master Vise Series. His passion for teaching, nurturing, creativity, and growing the sport laid the foundation for the Renzetti Ambassador program, reflecting his dedication as a true brand ambassador.

– Andy & Lily Renzetti founders, Renzetti Inc., Florida

Bob Popovics’ contributions to fly tying and fly fishing will be recognized for generations to come. His sharing of knowledge, teaching of techniques, and mastery of materials are legendary. But to Bobby it was all about the “hang”: the camaraderie, the laughing, and the jokes. It was his humanity that made Bobby “the best.”

– Captain Paul Dixon Montauk and Florida Keys guide

Clockwise from top left: Photo: Tom Lynch, Photo: Lance Erwin, Photo: Tom Lynch

I first met Bob Popovics in 1978, when he welcomed me into his home, where he taught fly tying and casting to anyone eager to learn. His attic transformed into a fly-tying room, and his generosity left a lasting impression, sparking a friendship that would last a lifetime. In 1992, our group outgrew his attic, forming the Atlantic Saltwater Flyrodders (ASWF) in Seaside Park, New Jersey. Known as one of the greatest in the fly-fishing industry, Bob’s legacy lives on through his innovative designs and books, titled Pop Fleyes and Fleye Designs. Rest easy Marine, your watch has ended.

– Dick Dennis retired police officer, New Jersey

Bobby’s eyes glowed with excitement as he spoke about Tuesday Nights at Bob’s, his famous upstairs tying room in Seaside Heights, New Jersey, where everyone was welcomed. Lefty and other luminaries would drop in and the laughter and stories flew about. “It was jammed tight,” he would say. “The Staircase, too!” He also showed us the evolution of his Pop’s Fleyes vision. He was so damn proud. Bobby was a force of creativity and innovation. He will continue to be a significant landmark to our hearts for future generations!

– Andy Mill Millhouse Podcast

Bob was larger than life, with a persona to match. So kind, so helpful, so sharing, so innovative. I am extremely grateful for the friendship we shared for over 50 years, and I will miss him dearly. He was an even better person than he was fly tyer and fisherman.

– Shell E. Caris Shore Catch Guide Service, New Jersey

Pop was, above all, a teacher. His face would light up with a big, signature smile whenever he could share his passion for fishing and fly tying. He introduced countless people to the sport, always with respect for the environment, saintly patience, and deep humility. Passing on his patterns, he encouraged students to make them their own and refused to take credit for their work—a true teacher in every way.

– Jeremy Muermann son-in-law

My father had written a note—not quite a letter—but asked Bob if he would keep an eye on me when he passed. And he did. When I had trouble at home in 2018, Bobby was there for me. Fast forward to March of this year when I started tying flies again, and Bob was right there for me again. I will NEVER, EVER FORGET POPS! We had some amazing times fishing, talking, and being friends.

– Andrew Warshawer fly tyer, New Jersey

A TRIBUTE TO BOB POPOVICS

Photo: Tom Lynch

Bob Popovics is a fly fishing and fly-tying icon and, in my opinion, the greatest fly designer of all time. His Fleye designs have changed modern-day tying forever. His influence has touched so many and for me he was my hero. I am so blessed to have had him in my life, and his guidance, friendship, and mentoring helped shape my career forever. As great as Bob was in his craft, it was nothing compared to who he was as a person. His kind heart and spirit shined through to those who knew him.

– Blane Chocklett noted angler and designer of Game Changer flies, Virginia

When this mountain of a man stepped into my life, he made an impact that very few have ever reached. My only regret is how short of a time that I knew the man. Bob Popovics may be gone but he will never be forgotten.

– Carter Andrews celebrity fishing host, Florida

Bob was the coolest cat on the beach. He was kind and helpful to everyone on the sand. He was arguably the most respected and revered fisherman in the region.

– Tom Lynch photographer, Angry Fish Gallery, Point Pleasant Beach, New Jersey

Bobby had a way of making everyone feel special, even if just chatting for a minute. He cherished every friendship he built, new or old. He was generous and humble, sharing his time and wisdom freely with all who sought his guidance. His selflessness and encouragement lifted so many of us, leaving a legacy of kindness and inspiration that will never be forgotten. Thank you for everything, my friend.

– Captain Ben Whalley guide and fly tyer, Maine

Bob changed my life tremendously, and not only in fly fishing. He invited me on trips to destinations that amazed me, introduced me to people I would never have met without him, and showed me that the pleasure in everything is in the time spent with others, far more than the actual adventure. Most importantly, he made me a better person, and the example he set inspired me to always strive to be gentler and helpful to everyone. He was a true ambassador of our sport, but more importantly, an ambassador of kindness.

– Joe Carey manager

of Klees Bar & Grill, Seaside Heights, New Jersey

Bob was a mentor, a trusted adviser, and, most of all, a valued friend, to say the least. He was like the fun uncle to my daughter. His kindness, his words of wisdom, and his late-night humor texts will always be remembered.

– Scott Stryker fly tyer and wooden plug maker, New Jersey

Photo: Nick Curcione

I spent a day on Gardiners Bay off Montauk with Bob and my friend and guide, Barry Kanavy. The tide was perfect, and striped bass were lying in a few feet of crystal-clear water, facing into the current to pick off bait flowing by. Bob, on the bow, made flawless casts that didn’t spook a fish, hooking one after another with precision. Our friends on the Sea Lion II were having cocktails that afternoon and called us asking where we were. Bob replied, “We are having our cocktail hour right now!” Bob always put on a clinic.

– Sam Talarico photographer, Pennsylvania

Bob was truly one-of-a-kind, with a unique blend of talents that made him deeply respected and appreciated. I remember being on a friend’s large ship with him, watching as he carefully tested his designs, adjusting them while observing how they moved in the currents in a 550-gallon live well. Talented, innovative, passionate, and humble, he approached his craft with a generous spirit and an unforgettable sense of humor. His dedication and character left a lasting impression on everyone who knew him.

– John Abplanap noted angler and flyfishing industry insider

I first met Bob Popovics on January 9, 2005. I am from San Antonio, Texas, and went to hear Bob give one of his remarkable lectures in Danbury, Connecticut. I found a place against the back wall and watched and listened as he, like a true fisherman, reeled us all in. I had called him and mentioned that I was coming. He spotted me at the end and said, “Well, hello Doc.” As he shook my hand, I knew my life would never be the same. Bob instinctively made you feel your inner worth. Thank you, God, for men like Bob, on this earth and the water.

– Ned Lunt inventor of the light-cured acrylic Tuffleye, Texas

A TRIBUTE TO BOB POPOVICS

I was lucky enough to meet Bobby when I started guiding and we became good friends. We talked about fishing and fly tying, but as time went on, we spent more time talking about other things— roses, shellfish, and sports. We had a Boston/New York rivalry thing going. That’s what made Bob great, the fact that he knew so much and loved to share it.

– Captain Jamie Boyle Boylermaker Charters, Martha’s Vineyard

Photos: Tom Lynch

Bob made the world a better place. Trenton, Marines, his country, The Shady Rest, roses, fly fishing, teaching, community, friends, ASWF, and family. Bob made them all better. Alexis made Bob better and shared him with the world. Thank you, Bob, for being a friend. I will “Keep the Doors Open” at ASWF so you can pick up your next chartreuse tail.

– Brad W. Buzzi fly tyer and fly materials distributor, New Jersey

Sometimes he was a student, constantly learning and authentically interested in what you were saying. He was a teacher, sharing his mastery of so many facets of this life. Always, he was present and engaged, especially so when sharing a nice bottle of red wine with me talking all things food and fly. Bob was my friend, and I will always love him.

Bob was the embodiment of all things good about our sport. Teacher. Creator. Inclusive. Fair-minded. Positive. I always joked that he reminded me of the genie from the movie Aladdin. Bob was bigger than life, always smiling and creating magical jewels from a small metal device.

– Sarah Gardner and Brian Horsley guides in Harkers Island and Hatteras, North Carolina

Bob constantly served both as a protector of fly fishing’s history and an advocate of the sport’s future. He had a supernatural ability to cultivate both kinship and humanity. This is exemplified by all of those that he supported and encouraged in their endeavors whether it was at the vise or in other aspects of life. May his legacy be one of a truly extraordinary human, that we were fortunate enough to know of because of his love of fly fishing.

– Jason Taylor fly tyer, Virginia

– David Nelson Squimpish Flies, White Plains, New York

Photos: Tom Lynch

There is no way to sum up what BobPop meant to our community as an innovator, mentor, and cherished friend. How can it be that someone so obviously gifted was so naturally humble and welcoming to everyone? I can’t tie a fly of any type without Bob’s influence peering over my shoulder and without hearing his gentle encouragement. He set the standard, period, and I will always miss his wisdom, warmth, and generosity. BopPop FOREVER!

– Jonny King lawyer, pianist, composer, and fly tyer, New York

Bob taught me more about life than about fly fishing, which, in retrospect, was a lot, too. He was the big brother I never had. His friendship meant the world to me, and the times we spent fly-fishing, tying, talking, and laughing will forever be engraved in my mind. I will miss him dearly. I don’t think there is anyone else in our industry who has had such an impact on the people of the saltwater fly-fishing community. Bob was the “people’s champ.”

A TRIBUTE TO BOB POPOVICS

– Gene Quigley Shore Catch Guide Service, New Jersey

Photo: Tom Lynch

C OSMOLEDO

Atoll

By Rasmus Ovesen

by Rasmus Ovesen & Martin Ejler Olsen

It’s good to have a close friend nearby when expectations collide with reality.

I booked the trip over a year ago, and since then, I’ve waited with unbearable anticipation, feeling both hollow inside and acutely alive. Waiting for the departure date to finally arrive, I’ve been busy meticulously planning the trip, fine-tuning gear, tying flies, and indulging in unabashed daydreaming. As the start draws near, my distraction levels soar, much to my family’s frustration.

Over the past weeks, with big fish on my mind, I’ve sent my children to school without their lunch packages or the necessary swim gear for the Friday swimming lessons. I’ve sent my daughter off to her piano lessons with her music sheets left on the dining room table. I’ve returned from grocery shopping

trips with only a fraction of the groceries on my list. And, at one point, I nearly brushed my kids’ teeth with facial cream instead of toothpaste. My thoughts have been elsewhere. They’ve circled around Cosmoledo and its giant trevally.

UNDER THE TROPICAL SUN

Cosmoledo is a legendary atoll in the Seychelles. Here, eroded volcanic craters and palm-fringed sandy beaches break the vast surface of the Indian Ocean. Below its shimmering azure-blue waters, pearlescent flats and diverse coral reefs are alit with sunlight. The atoll is famous for its fantastic flats fishing for giant trevally, drawing fly-fishing enthusiasts from around the globe for decades.

The atoll’s lagoon is teeming with permit, bonefish, triggerfish, bluefin trevally, barracuda, Napoleon wrasse, and groupers. Outside the reef edges, where the depths drop dramatically, you might encounter wahoo, tuna, sailfish, and marlin. However, despite this incredible diversity, it is the giant trevally that has put Cosmoledo on the world map and earned it the title, “GT Capital of the World.”

For a place as species-rich as Cosmoledo to be famous for its giant trevally fishing says something about the fish’s cult status among hardcore saltwater fly anglers. It also says something about the sheer number of giant trevallies that sometimes swarm the atoll’s flats.

Photography

On foot and unguided, Martin Ejler Olsen scans Cosmoledo’s flats for giant trevally.

In fact, it’s impossible not to get swept up in the hype when traveling to such a legendary destination. I’ve tried to manage my expectations, but as my friend Martin and I finally board the plane to the Seychelles, my hopes are as high as towering cumulonimbus clouds. If I close my eyes, all I see are vivid images of GTs frantically colliding with flies in huge cascading explosions. In other words, the potential for disappointment is enormous. And this fear only intensifies as we arrive in the Seychelles’ capital, Mahé, check into the Eden Blue Hotel, and start hearing the irrepressible rumors about the fishing during the previous week.

The group we are about to replace caught more than 200 GTs in six days of manically intense fishing, during which the atoll had been brimming with hunt-

moledo Atoll, he pops me an unfair question: “If you had to choose, would you rather catch a 45-inch GT or a huge milkfish?”

He is very well aware that (A) I’ve hooked 11 milkfish on previous trips to the Seychelles, but haven’t landed one yet; (B) that milkfish is the only primary sportfish in the Seychelles— among them GT, bonefish, triggerfish, bumphead parrotfish, and permit—that I haven’t yet caught; and (C) that it is high on my wish list. He also knows that I‘ve lost three GTs over a meter in the past due to bent hooks and broken leaders and that I’m desperate for revenge. It probably gnaws at me that Martin still holds the record between us with a 45.7-inch GT from Farquhar Atoll. Now we’re heading to what is likely the best GT destination in the world,

“Okay! What if you could choose between a grand slam—a 47-inch GT, a permit, and a bonefish— or a big milkfish. But you’d have to pay for the milkfish with a kick in the nuts?”

ing GTs. The lucky buggers lost count of their catches and experienced some of the best fishing in the atoll’s recent history, including three monster fish over 47 inches. Our flight out to the fishing ground is tomorrow, and suddenly, I feel paralyzed by FOMO—the Fear of Missing Out.

TOUGH CHOICES

Martin loves a good conundrum, and as we board the propeller plane to Cos-

and with rumors swirling about how excellent the GT fishing has been this past week, surprise is written across Martin’s face when he hears my answer: “A huge milkfish!”

Martin rolls his eyes and raises the stakes. “Okay! What if you could choose between a grand slam—a 47-inch GT, a permit, and a bonefish—or a big milkfish. But you’d have to pay for the milkfish with a kick in the nuts?”

He grins smugly as I think for a min-

ute. My response comes in the form of a question: “Can I put on a protective cup?”

Of course, I want to catch giant trevally! But bitter experience has taught me that being myopically fixated on catching specific fish can backfire. And, as it turns out, what awaits us will emphasize this crucial point.

On our first morning on the water, the weather is on our side: Lazy, woolly clouds dot the saturated blue

sky, and glowing sunlight floods down from above. The calm, azure water that blankets the atoll’s pearly flats reflects the intense tropical sun, creating the illusion of a sea below a layer of sparkling diamond dust.

Our guide moves the boat with the motor to the first fishing spot of the day, a scarred coral edge inside the atoll. The engine goes quiet. The guide takes his position on the poling platform at the back of the boat, and as he starts pushing

us along the reef edge, our eyes automatically begin scanning the water for giant trevally. Just a few days ago, the guide tells us, schools of GT were hunting along the coral wall among sharks and other predators, all in a frenzy of foaming water, panicked prey fish, and clouds of whirling blood and flickering scales.

I can picture the whole scenario vividly in my mind. But no matter how intently I peer out over the water and try to pierce the reflections on its oily

surface, I don’t see a single giant trevally. And even though his gaze is both sharper and more vigilant than mine, neither does the guide.

The day passes as we explore several of the spots that were teeming with activity earlier—places where giant trevally crashed into the flies of ecstatic anglers, and peeled off backing in furious runs. Today, however, the silence is deafening, and the contrasts stark. I can’t help but wonder if last week’s

Most fishing on Cosmoledo is done from poled skiffs, a stealthy tactic required for skittish flats fish.

guests realized just how lucky they were.

By late afternoon, Martin and I conclude that we need to adjust our expectations. We haven’t seen a single giant trevally all day. The guide doesn’t say it, but he must be thinking it: You should’ve been here last week.

There’s no telling why the fish aren’t around. Maybe it’s because the baitfish have dropped off the flats. Maybe it’s because the lagoon water temperatures have risen to unfavorable levels after a week of spring tides and intense sun. Or perhaps the fish have retreated to deeper water to feast on a reported hatch of red crabs? All these theories, however plausible, are ultimately irrelevant since we can’t change the state of things.

The last time something like this happened, my friend and I spent an

entire week stubbornly chasing phantoms. This time, we know better.

OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS

By late afternoon, we agree to explore other options. The guide has just received confirmation that none of the other boats have seen any giant trevally, so we head to a shallow flat in hopes of finding bonefish or triggerfish.

I have an ace up my sleeve in the form of a new articulated shrimp fly I’ve developed. Tied with a floating, semi-transparent carapace, quivering spey hackles, and carefully balanced weight, it can be fished just above the bottom. I’ve named it the Joint Pop-up Prawn. It looks alive and realistic in the water, and the moment I spot a large bonefish gliding over the fine coral sand

of a shallow flat, I forget all about giant trevally. I’m now completely focused on getting within casting range and presenting the shrimp fly to the fish.

Bonefish, especially smaller school fish, aren’t necessarily the most challenging fish to catch. Large, solitary ones, however, can be extremely wary and finicky. Nonetheless, I instantly get a positive reaction. Upon casting and starting my retrieve, the bonefish changes direction and accelerates. When it hits the fly, everything tightens, and fly line starts pouring through the guides.

Clockwise from top left: Fairy tern in silhouette. / Yellowmargin triggerfish. / On the hunt. / Cosmoledo bucket list— the giant trevally. / Fire in the sky.

Rasmus Ovesen (left) with a stunning 30-inch permit, a rare trophy that inhaled a tan Alphlexo Crab before taking off on a wild run.

Soon after, the reel sings its triumphant song.

Even the notoriously moody triggerfish respond instinctively to my new fly. We find a few along a so-called finger flat, where swaying grass belts rise from the bottom between knobby coral structures. The bites, unfortunately, result in a broken leader first and then a bent hook. The whole experience, however, is invigorating.

There are still a few hours of fishing left, and I could happily settle for targeting triggerfish and bonefish for the remainder of the day, or the week, for that matter. But suddenly there’s a call over the guide’s radio: A large school of milkfish has been spotted at the western entrance of the lagoon, and the fish are now daisy chaining, feeding on filamentous algae on the surface. This is an incredible opportunity I can’t let slip by.

Fifteen minutes later, we are drifting a tidal seam. Over 5- and 6-foot-deep water, algae, grass, and other biomasses are being carried into the lagoon by the tide. Large schools of milkfish feast on the surface with their mouths wide open. An area the size of two or perhaps three soccer fields is teeming with fish.

I recognize the scenario. It may seem easy to connect with a fish in this vast feeding frenzy, but appearances are deceiving. Milkfish are highly vigilant and anxious creatures. If you get too close with the boat or cast across the school, an explosion of panicked fish will follow, and they’ll flee in collective groups. The more this happens, the slimmer your chances become of catching any of them.

We select a specific school of fish, calculate its course and trajectory, and position the boat. The perfect milkfish cast is long and powerful, stretching the leader out in front of the fish. I give it my best shot, then maintain contact with the fluorescent green algae fly at

Clockwise from top left: Bonefish on the flats. / Jiggin Magma Shrimp. / Titan triggerfish. / Schooling milkfish can be caught on imitations of green algae.

the end of the leader. The take can be subtle if a fish inhales the fly. There!

I set the hook and feel the sudden weight of the fish, and it all comes back as I’ve experienced it before: The glistening silvery explosion on the surface as the fish realizes it has been hooked and the state of immediate panic that causes the fish to flee at an alarming speed. The fish takes the entire fly line and disturbing amounts of bright orange backing with it, and leaps three feet out of the water time and again. It changes direction, leaps and leaps,

and the tortured hiss of my fly reel’s drag doesn’t stop. Chaos rules in the boat, and in my agitated mind. We all know that much can go wrong, and that it usually does. But I’m probably the only one in the boat who is fully aware of just how much is at stake, and how desperately I want to land this fish.

I’ve heard stories of people spending hours taming a fish such as this, but I have a different plan. As the guide takes up the chase with the boat, I apply maximum pressure on the fish. Fifteen minutes later, the fish still hasn’t freed

itself of the hook, but is now exhausted to the point that it no longer makes any sudden runs. Instead, it circles stubbornly around the boat, causing the cork in the rod handle to creak and groan.

The fish is practically impossible to bring right at the boat, but with enough brute pressure, I raise it towards the surface a rod’s length away. And that’s when we realize that the only net aboard is the one the guide uses for bonefish, permit, and triggerfish. It is hopelessly short and small, and this is when the tragic takes a turn towards the comical.

Rasmus Ovesen with his first milkfish—a 40-inch bundle of explosive muscle power.

PHOTO FINISH

In the back of the boat, the guide fumbles around, and after a few minutes of suspicious clattering, pops up next to me. He proudly wields the landing net haphazardly tied to the push pole. It’s a desperate MacGyver stunt, and things go downhill predictably fast. The fish is too big for the net, which now flops around like a limp noodle at the end of the pole. With each wild swing at the fish, the guide looks less like he’s trying to land it and more like he’s trying to knock it unconscious.

About 20 minutes have now passed, and lactic acid is starting to build up in my exhausted arms. No matter how much pressure I apply to the fish, it simply won’t give in. A familiar feeling of

being hopelessly outmatched begins to set in, and I fear that either the small hook will wear out or the leader will suddenly snap. It has all happened before.

And then comes the turning point. I hear the guide calling on the radio, and shortly after, another guide boat rushes towards us at full throttle. A large, long landing net is tossed into our boat, and with a sudden surge of confidence, I turn the fish one last time. The fly rod strains to the breaking point, but I manage to steer the stubborn fish toward the waiting net. As it slides over the rim and the mesh encloses the fish, I let out a roar that has been pent up since my very first trip to the Seychelles.

My dream has come true, and after 11 failed tries to land a milkfish, a

new feeling washes over me—a sense of gratitude and relief. The feeling intensifies as I free the fly from the fish’s oval, toothless mouth. The hook is almost entirely straightened out, and it probably would have lost its hold if the fight had continued much longer. As I released the silver-armored, 40-inch fish back into the water, a broad smile spreads across my face.

I love those trips where the dream fish strikes at the last moment, after setbacks, hopeless prospects, and Sisyphean struggle. On this fish, however, I could have been happy with a bit less drama.

I turn to Martin, and he pulls me close with a big congratulatory hug. I breathe another sigh of relief. I was half expecting that kick in the nuts.

COSMOLEDO ATOLL

Cosmoledo Atoll, located in the Seychelles Archipelago in the Indian Ocean, is renowned as one of the top fly-fishing destinations in the world, and is famously called the “GT Capital of the World.” Anglers can also target other exciting species like bonefish, milkfish, permit, triggerfish, bluefin trevally, and barracuda. To preserve the sustainability of its fishing ecosystem, Cosmoledo operates on a strict catchand-release policy. This commitment to conservation makes it a dream destination for fly anglers seeking adventure in one of the most remote and rewarding fishing spots on the planet. For more info, check out www.alphonsefishingco.com

When BecomesAnglingObsession

YouLyin’ Dog !

A baited-and-switched sailfish falls prey to a line-through tube fly. Photo: Neal Rogers

Making the case for the time-honored— if slightly dishonorable—bait-and-switch.

by Nick Curcione

My former students should not be alarmed to learn that back in my professor days as a criminologist, fly fishing was never far from my mind. I once attended a seminar on consumer fraud during which the speaker gave a very good account of what is known as the bait-and-switch tactic. We’ve all seen it: It’s a deceptive business practice whereby customers are lured to a store by the promise of sale items, and then discover that the bargain is sold out or is vastly inferior to a more expensive product that—surprise!—just happens to be readily available. Aggravating, for sure. But if you fish for sport and, particularly, if you do so with fly tackle, don’t climb up on your high horse. You might want to think about how this business strategy can put more fish on your hook.

Anyone who fishes with a hook and line is practicing the art of deception. Except for snagging—a detestable practice—the objective is identical: To entice a fish into striking the offering

being presented. Whether the offering is bait or an artificial lure such as a fly, the striking fish gets something for which it didn’t bargain. Choosing to use an artificial for this purpose is generally considered to be a more challenging endeavor since it isn’t the real thing and is therefore likely to be less attractive to the fish. It doesn’t smell just right and it doesn’t taste right, so it had better look or swim or sound just right. A noisy popper chugging across the surface incorporates multiple elements but whether it works or not is going to depend, in part, on the manipulative skills of the angler.

Add to the challenge the fact that fly anglers choose a compromised delivery method—casting a weighted line versus a weighted bait or lure—that is necessarily difficult to cast and covers far less water than can a conventional or spinning angler, and suddenly that high horse starts to look a bit too tall. When an angler is trying to coax a fish to each something inedible, the

deception factor must be magnified. Lefty Kreh knew this to his core. He could not have come up with a more appropriate name for his famous fly pattern, the Deceiver.

Herewith I call to my lectern the angler’s bait-and-switch, a ruse that involves initially attracting a fish by means of some sort of teaser that is withdrawn at the opportune time and substituted with a fly. Deceitful. Dishonest. Effective.

GUILTY AS CHARGED

Not to squeeze the criminology metaphor too firmly, but there are two circumstances I can think of in which a fly angler might consider shelving guilt for pleasure. The most widely recognized goal is coaxing a fish to a fly. There are two reasons for doing so. First off, it may be the case that initially the fly by itself may have aroused little or no interest. Notwithstanding one’s craftsmanship at the fly-tying bench, the creation is still a fake and on its own it may be completely disregarded

by your intended quarry. Or, even if the fly is very enticing, circumstances may be such where it’s not possible to present it to where a fish can see it. In situations like these, the teaser is used to draw the fish to within striking distance of the fly. And there’s also a special circumstance where a fish can be coaxed to a more suitable body of water. Let’s look at this first.

Many inshore species frequent locales I refer to as “bad neighborhoods.” These are structure-laden waters that can range from rock outcroppings and kelp beds to drilling platforms. What they all have in common is the advantage that accrues to the fish in its bid for freedom. When you hook a fish under these conditions, the outcome is often decided quickly in

the fish’s favor. You are either cut off or the line and leader are hopelessly fouled. Either way, the result is a very premature release. One way you can hedge your bets in situations like these is to coax the fish out away from potential hazards and the best way to do is with some form of chum.

There is a grouper episode with the late Harry Kime that must go down as a classic example of this strategy. Harry, a California pioneer of early saltwater fly fishing known for affixing a belt leather drag patch to the rim of the iconic Pflueger Medalists, had taken an impressive number of species on fly, but grouper had evaded him. Years ago, at the former Bahia Pez Vela lodge on Costa Rica’s northwest coast, one of the

guides came in with a pair of 50-pound class grouper he hand-lined and that were headed to the kitchen. Harry said he would like to land such a brute on fly, but the guide related what a tough time he had prying these fish from their rocky lair even with his 200-pound test line. At dinner that night, Harry devised a game plan. The next day, he and the guide spent the early morning hours catching small blue runners that were kept alive in the bow of a panga that was partially full of sea water. When they got to the spot the guide referred to as the “grouper hole,” they began chumming the area with partially stunned blue runners. It only took about six of these baits to draw from the depths what Harry estimated to be

Gotcha! On the hook at Guatemala’s Casa Vieja Lodge. Photo: Neal Rogers

about a 40-pound class grouper. The guide immediately started to drift the skiff away from the rocks, throwing out a blue runner every 20 feet or. This went on for a distance of nearly 100 yards, and all the while the grouped tagged along, gulping down the easy prey. Finally, when Harry felt they were safely out of range of the rocks, he cast a Tutti Frutti fly–a fly he designed–and the grouper was bonkers for it. After a hard-fought tug-o-war, Harry eventually managed to get his prize alongside the boat. There was already enough at the lodge for several dinners, so he dislodged the fly and revived the tired fish. The grouper slid back into the depths. And was now noted on Harry’s list.

NOTHING BUT A HALF-TRUTH

It’s anyone’s guess as to whether that grouper would have gone for Harry’s fly without benefit of the blue runners being used as chum. But there are countless scenarios in which a baitand-switch strategy is necessary to draw strikes from fish that are ordinarily unimpressed with what’s on the end of a flyline. Billfishing is a prime example.

Back in the 1990s, my good friend Jeff Solis was the first angler I know of who had the opportunity to cast a fly and hook a striped marlin that had not been teased to the boat. He was fishing Magdalena Bay in Baja when he intercepted a school of marlin that was tearing into a pod of mackerel. The marlin were sufficiently aroused and

they were in casting range, which are two critical factors that must be present to stand a decent chance of hooking one of these fish on fly. Jeff made a cast into the melee and on the third strip he was on to a billfish. The marlin made a characteristic blazing run, went airborne, and threw the fly. This is big-game fly fishing with the volume at its maximum setting, but the only way to experience it on a consistent basis is to use a baitand-switch strategy.

It sounds like a simple strategy—an artificial or a whole or strip-bait (or combination of the two) is trolled behind the boat to get the attention of any long-nosed bruiser in the area. But figuring out basics like what type of teaser to use, what speed it should be

Bait, switch, and hookup on the fly. Photo: Neal Rogers

trolled at, and how far back from the boat it should swim can take a great deal of time on the water. An experienced guide is well worth the investment. And if the ruse works, the angler will have all they can stand just dealing with a giant fish in a very large ocean.

To up your chances of getting that shopper behind the boat to close the deal on your shady bargain, especially when using live bait as a teaser, the boat handler should take the boat’s engine in and out of gear to help close the

the bait’s lower jaw. If the mono is cut at a sharp angle, it can be pushed through the lower lip of many baits. Otherwise, use a bait needle or hook to make a small opening. Tie the two tag ends together and you have a bridle loop. A plastic zip tie is a good alternative to the mono. Tie a snap swivel to the tag end of the teaser rod’s line and clip it to the loop and you’re ready to go. This setup has proved quite successful on striped marlin, sailfish, bull dorado, and roosterfish.

The object, of course, is to attract the larger predator fish, not feed it. Since it is hookless, there is less chance that the fish can make off with the bait. If that happens, particularly with roosterfish, the game is usually over. For this reason, rather than place the teaser rod in a rod holder, it’s best for someone to hold the outfit so they can react quickly and pull the teaser bait away from the fish. The ideal scenario is to get the bait completely out of the water so the angler can immediately present the fly. No one can read the emotional state of a fish momentarily deprived of what seemed like a sure-thing meal. But you can bet that they are almost always eager to strike at the next thing that hits the water.

Opposite, from clockwise: Bait-and-switch brought in this monster GT from the Seychelles, with John Wolstenholme (left) and Alec Gerbec. Photo: Keith Rose-Innes. / Pelagics aren’t the only fish susceptible to deceit. Photo: Craig Rogers. / Moving in for the eat. Photo: Al Quattrocchi

the angler presents the fly. The experience of having this high-speed apex predator home in on your fly can easily overload one’s emotional circuits, but to get an optimum hookset it’s important to resist trying to set the hook before the fish has turned with the fly in the corner of its devastating jaw.

CHUG IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT

distance and keep the bait alive for as long as possible. That’s why you want your teaser rig to be hookless, and an easy way to do this is to fashion a simple bridle.

Take a short length of 50- or 60pound test hard mono—about 10 inches is a good start—and thread it through

In Southern California, Capt. Conway Bowman has teasing mako sharks down to an art. Many mistakenly believe that sharks will strike at practically anything put in front of them, but this is often not the case and is rarely the case with makos. These sharks can be drawn close to the boat by means of a chum slick, but getting them to strike a fly is a different matter. They’re curious, but often very wary. To get them into a striking mode, Conway typically uses a whole, hookless mackerel in conjunction with a marlin trolling skirt that he deftly casts in front of the mako. He draws the fish to within easy casting range then yanks it out of the water as

Casting a teaser on a plug or spin rod can serve the same dual functions of attracting fish and drawing them into fly casting range. At Christmas Island, I had a friend cast a hook-less plug adjacent to an inshore reef, and as a result of this two-man ruse I was able to cast to and land four trevally that otherwise would never have been drawn to my flies. To begin with, I couldn’t possibly have covered so much water simply by fly casting. Secondly, I would not have been able to induce the level of excitement generated by trevally repeatedly attacking the noisy, water-spewing plug. By the time my flies came into view, the trevally were enraged. And hungry. And very willing to strike.

The same technique from such a South Pacific paradise can be used to target species such as reef-hugging amberjack and chopper bluefish and striped bass. They’re all attracted to large, noisy, surface chuggers that push a lot of water. There are flies that simulate this, but nothing matches the commotion and the casting range of a heavy plug designed for this very purpose. Neither the plug nor the fly is what the fish bargained for. Is it a fair game? I couldn’t say. But it sure is a fun one.

A cooler full of bait, lies, and deception.

Photo: Neal Rogers.

PiecedTogether

A nearly-broke college student and an oft-broken TFO Mangrove flyrod discover that they are a match made in fishing heaven.

By Cameron Luck

January 2017

“Focus, man! Bones at 2 o’clock, moving left to right, 50 yards.”

Justin’s directive came as a mashup of whisper and command. I’d been furiously yanking line off my reel, and was now more concerned about my backcast than the fish.

“Give it one more cast and let it drop.”

My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in the fiberglass beneath my feet. Never mind the fact that I could barely see where the hell I needed to put the fly. Were those bonefish? Or shadows? Or clumps of muck? One last false cast and I let the line slip through my hand, shooting the fly. There was that split-second of silence, in which all things

seemed possible, followed by a not-so-quiet plop and the water erupting directly in front of me. Suddenly, not all things were possible.

“Spooked them,” Justin sighed. I think he saw my slumped shoulders. “No worries though, we’ll find more.” I exhaled loudly, having no idea I had been holding my breath during the entire episode. I hung my head and sat down, looking at the rod sitting in my hands and wondering what the heck I thought I was doing standing there on that bow trying to cast at a bonefish.

Not two weeks earlier I had been cruising down Interstate 95 from North Carolina, music pumping through my car’s

speakers, mapped to an address some kid off Facebook Marketplace had given me for a meet-up to buy his used flyrod. I was on my way to Fort Pierce, Florida, to start a graduate program studying bonefish, and I knew I couldn’t just show up with the hand-me-down fiberglass Pflueger currently bouncing around in the backseat of my Toyota. Twelve hours after leaving home I was staring at a not-so-gently used 8-weight Temple Fork Outfitters Mangrove. Everything I had read said an 8-weight was the one rod to have in South Florida, and TFO’s warranty meant the world wouldn’t end when a broke graduate student broke it.

When I pulled up to the seller’s house, the fellow was standing by his truck with the flyrod leaned up next to him.

I didn’t need a closer inspection to tell that the rod had been through a rough patch or three. Its blank was brown by definition, but the various sections certainly disagreed on what shade.

“Anything I need to know about it?” I asked, in that let-me-get-out-of-here-quick negotiating tone common to Facebook Marketplace deals.

“Not really, man,” he replied. “It casts just fine, but maybe a little slow for me. I work at a tackle shop and got a deal on something else so figured I’d let this one go.”

That sounded pretty good. Like at least he hadn’t fished the rod out of a dumpster somewhere. He looked pretty

Opposite: The author’s hard-used, second-hand 8-weight fly rod opened the door to new worlds. Above: Ferrule and line. / Road-trip portrait. Photos: Cameron Luck

young, younger than me by maybe a few years, although I honestly had no business calling him a kid. I think I had just turned 23 that year.

“By the way,” he continued, “don’t worry about the sections being different colors. If you break one, you can just get yourself another. Heck, this rod has at least two sections from my buddy’s rod so we would only need to send one back for repair.”

I smiled at the idea of the rod being a Franken-rod of sorts. It seemed to give it a kind of soul. After waving the rod over my head a couple of times to convince him I knew what I was looking at, I handed him cash and jumped back in the car. I was tired of the drive, but stoked for the future, and the guy mentioned the fishing where I was headed was top-notch.

It was the opening chapter in what has been, for me, an epic series of chapters with a flyrod I could barely afford.

phrase interesting and me alert. We sat on the shore with sandwiches in hand, watching milky brown eddies form as the muddy river surged past the creek mouth, when a pair of shoulders parted the water with a surge of power. A greenish back, possibly even purple, appeared for an instant and then pushed through a shallow section before resubmerging again.

“Hey, toss me that 8-weight,” said Paul. “Dog salmon are pushing upriver to spawn, but keep your eyes open for bears.” Paul had been adamant that I bring that mismatched Mangrove, but up until that moment I hadn’t been sure we would actually need it. Ten minutes went by as Paul moved farther upstream, casting a leech blindly towards the edges of the river.

And then, suddenly, a 50-year-old was headed my way, sprinting across loose pebble shoreline in full waders with the flyline attached to a mature salmon pointed in the general direction of the sea. I imagine the sentiment “There he is!”

S eptember 2017

It had been just over a week since my buddy Paul and I had paid someone to unceremoniously deposit us into the middle of nowhere, Alaska. We’d logged 50 miles of paddling packrafts down the King Salmon River, and more than 15 miles of hiking up and down creeks for seven days straight, and the grind was beginning to wear on me. And that’s not to mention the psychological effort that went into saying “Hey Bear!” in every conceivable way just to keep the

quickly turned into “Oh shit, there he goes!” as the salmon headed for deep water. And at that moment, any sense of exhaustion was immediately lost on us as we proceeded to spend the next hour casting to these beautiful, if partially rotting, creatures. As the day came to a close with the sun still high in the sky, I had caught my first ever dog salmon and even a small king salmon on my trusty Mangrove, a rod that by its name alone had no business on the banks of the King Salmon River. I’m sure the fish would agree with that statement, but I don’t think I put that 8-weight away for the rest of the trip.

From left: Chum salmon on the release. Photo: Cameron Luck / In the author’s hands during a wilderness packrafting trip on Alaska’s King Salmon River. Photo: Paul Rudershausen

December 2018

Grabbing a fly rod and the warmest winter clothes you own takes a special kind of motivation, one a few folks might consider mild insanity. But a buddy of mine back home was in town and had invited me for a chance to chase false albacore in North Carolina before the holidays moved in and the fish moved on. The northeast wind from earlier in the week had shifted slightly, causing white spray to rake across the bow. We were both shivering, but we weren’t going anywhere—fish were breaking everywhere. At the bow, I ditched my heavy jacket to get some mobility, and started false casting frantically as albies beelined across the bow. They were moving quickly, and with the double haul still a mere concept for me, speed and coordination were in short supply. And I felt pretty good: There was no indication of wind knots in the leader, and the heavy fly smacked the rod tip only a couple of times.

That was progress. The line was going out and my Clouser kept landing in the water. I was figuring this game out. I snugged the rod under my arm and began rapidly stripping

line in, trying to get my fly to channel a fleeing baitfish. My stripping hand stopped abruptly as the line went piano-wire tight. An albie snatched my fly from its path and began its mad dash. Just like that, I had connected with my first false albacore of the year, and a decent fish, for sure. I was definitely figuring this saltwater fly thing out.

A few minutes later, we had the fish alongside the boat, and I raised the rod to bring the leader into my outstretched fingers. I can still see it: The fish on its side, glimmering silver-green, my hand grasping for the leader. And then it all went limp, with a snap, crackle, and pop. The rod parted, with the top section banging my knuckles. Broken. Right where the Clouser’s dumbbell eyes had collided with the blank a few minutes before.

And just like that, I realized I had more to figure out. And I knew I’d be without a rod for a least a few weeks, which meant that one false albacore was the only false albacore I would see that year. The new section of rod would look nice though, and would add to the Mangrove’s character. Silver linings, I thought. I’ve learned that looking for those is part of the saltwater flyfishing game, too.

From top left: Two rods, including the well-traveled Mangrove, at the ready in the Bahamas. / The author with one of his first bonefish on the fly. Photo: Justin Lewis / Casting with the Mangrove on the north side of Grand Bahama. Photo: Austin Trigg

May 2018

The wind wasn’t more than a whisper as the sun crossed the eastern horizon. I stood on the beach with my rod buried in my crossed arms. At that point, after a year of field work in the Bahamas, I had seen thousands of bonefish. I had caught 20 or so, I’d guess, but always with a more experienced angler at my shoulder. Never solo. I was hoping to change that.

of that whisper: “One more and let it drop.” And I can still visualize the way that fly landed. The cast was anything but graceful. It was on target, though, and in that moment, that’s all I could have asked for. The fly landed, and the fish paused. I skittered the crab over the sand, and one of the bonefish pitched its tail upwards. One final skitter from the fly was met with tension and suddenly all the extra fly line at my feet was launched mid-air in front of me. Time froze for a

Sand, tracks, memories, graphite—what else do you need? Above: The

he broke it again last fall fighting a

Scanning the edges of the grass and white sandy bottom, I knew for sure I was missing fish. I began to walk, slowly making my way along the beach with the sun over my shoulder, triple checking everything that moved. I was watching a group of mojarra move along the sandy edge of beach when three bonefish appear in my peripheral vision, over a large open circle of sand. They couldn’t have been 30 feet away, and had been camouflaged over the grass. This was the chance.

After that first trip with Justin, I had spent hours after work in the parking lot of my apartment building, casting at cars as they came and went, practicing my double haul, hoping for moments like this one. Any money I made was immediately lost to tying materials. Late nights before early mornings were spent replaying YouTube fly tying tutorials. My hands had been held long enough. I knew everything required to catch those fish, I just needed to know I could do it alone.

To this day, I can see the fish pause, and hear the voice

second before the sound of my line ripping through the water brought me back to reality. The fish had fallen for it all, and now I was just along for the ride. Finally, I smiled. Finally Years and who-knows-how-many fish later, I still think back to these memories. I still remember that flyrod leaning against that Florida kid’s car, and how I knew in the moment that this was a sport worth exploring. It started as a challenge—could I really do this?—but it became a vessel for adventure. Every time I see that rod hanging on my office wall, with its mismatched and sun-faded sections, chipped epoxy, and worn cork handle, I’m reminded of how clueless I was the day I bought it, and how unprepared I was for all the fish and experiences that rod would bring me. In its present condition, I’m not sure that it’s worth all that much. But I can promise you this: You’ll never, ever see it on Facebook Marketplace.

Opposite:

author still fishes with his road-tripping TFO flyrod. In fact,

false albacore on Tail editor T. Edward Nickens’ boat! Photos: Cameron Luck

THE REEL FREAKIN’ DEAL

The only thing to stay constant over more than a half-century of

saltwater fly reel design? They’re all round. Photo: Joseph Ballarini

One of flyfishing’s early gear pioneers breaks down the inside story of saltwater fly reels

By Paul Conover

My grandfather had a machine shop at 15th Street and Flagler Avenue, and his friend, Charlie Stutz, made the old Tycoon rods that were legendary for their ability to subdue worldrecord-sized fish. In 1957, the rod company and the Fin-Nor reel company combined to form the brand Tycoon Fin-Nor, in a shop near the west end of the Miami airport. Ten years later, Fin-Nor released the famed “Wedding Cake” fly reel that set the saltwater flyfishing industry on a new course.

In those days, most fly reels were made by machinery with a human operator. There was no commercially available CNC equipment until the 1970s. Most shops in that era charged by the day, and I remember that my grandfather charged $50 per day. Making a Fin-Nor fly reel required several individuals and a week’s time. Therefore, a Fin-Nor

fly reel cost $250 to manufacture, so add a 40 percent profit, and you could have a new, in-the-box, factory-direct Fin-Nor fly reel for $350. And that was 50 years ago. These reels were only for the rich, and while there were several manufacturers of less expensive reels, few were up to the rigors of the big bad fish encountered.

In my travels, I have been in many saltwater fly shops and heard just about every possible position and opinion as to how a serious fly reel should work. When I say serious, I mean any reel with a retail cost over $300. I’ve written this article to educate, in simple terms, on the process of making an informed purchase of a fly reel intended to catch saltwater sport fish in saltwater environs. There are many great saltwater fly reels on the market. Most are good, some are great. Claims to be the best saltwater reel are mostly marketing. Even the aesthetic of fly reels can be deceiving: I have seen reels that are absolutely stunning in looks but they are weak as kittens. Ask if the $1,000 fly reel you are considering can survive a drop test. I would not bet an expensive fly trip on a beautiful, but flimsy reel.

COST

Costs involved in manufacturing a fly reel are significant. Intricate computer-generated designs, machinery, materials, finishing, assembly, packaging, shipping, dealers, rent, utilities, excise taxes, and marketing costs have made it difficult for an American manufacturer to make any money on a reel. And I haven’t even mentioned payroll and advertising. Most consumers would be shocked at how inexpensively many foreign machine components are made. U.S.-based manufacturers have little chance of competing on cost.

There is a proven trick to making a lower-priced highquality saltwater fly reel. Start at zero, make a simple design, with minimal parts, and low overhead costs. The smaller

The prototype of the famed Fin-Nor “Wedding Cake” saltwater flyfishing reel. Photo: courtesy of the American Museum of Fly Fishing

the company, often, the lower the cost. And just because a company is small doesn’t mean there is less quality. Smaller manufacturers generally have higher quality control and scrutiny to detail, and often have better warranties and customer service. Price is not a component that guarantees quality.

Today, reels are made with sophisticated, computer-driven machinery. While it used to take a week to make one reel, you can now make 25, or more, in just one day. You would think the price would come down, but in fact, it continues to rise. Some of this is materials, some is the sophisticated equipment used, but undoubtedly some is driven by marketing.

DRAG

Drag, or the force it takes to slow down the revolution of a spool, is the most important part of any saltwater fly reel. If you are fishing with a light tippet, this becomes a critical issue. You don’t need 25 pounds of drag to fight a fish; in fact, few people realize that 2 pounds of drag is quite a lot. Most reels have a palming rim on the outside of the spool, which allows the angler to set a light drag and use a palm on the spool rim to add immediate, direct, and adjustable pressure. One consideration is the possibility of denting the palming rim if the reel is dropped. There are designs that have addressed this issue, so put this on your list of questions to ask.

Another type of drag is the lock down, or full drag. These are popular especially with Florida Keys tournament anglers who fish with heavy leaders and tippets. When the fish is close, they point their rod tip towards the fish, lock down the drag, and pull the fish to the boat. This is extreme fly fishing, and not something the average angler will do. I have seen expensive fly equipment actually fly out of someone’s hands when that tired tarpon sees the boat and decides he isn’t done. Having a fast-acting lever, rather than a traditional drag knob, makes it easy to set your drag in one place, lock it down, or release to free spool. This is nice when adrenaline is sapping your dexterity, but if you are new to saltwater fly fishing, a standard drag knob may be easier to master.

One key component of a saltwater reel is a sealed drag system—in other words, the components are sealed from water and particulates which can degrade them, or prevent them from running smoothly. Make sure the saltwater reel you’re purchasing has an actually fully-sealed drag system— many do not.

DRAG MATERIAL

There are many types of drag materials used on fly reels. Carbon fiber is the new standard material. I have heard it described as “buttery,” and to be sure, carbon fiber drags

are smooth. But the term “buttery” doesn’t spring to my mind. Carbon fiber drags are inexpensive to manufacture, so consumers are often told by retailers that this is the “correct” drag material. Carbon fiber, however, is unforgiving, has a tendency to gall when any foreign substance is introduced, and can allow excessive heat build-up.

In the beginning, felt from old pool tables was used for reel drags. It was quite smooth, but had too little grip and no compression. Natural cork has been widely used for drags since it was first employed in Fin-Nor reels. To make a drag on a fly reel required a sheet of natural cork. The first cork drags were made from sound-dampening cork inserts used in the galleys of DC-7 aircraft, and in my opinion, there still is no better material for a fly reel drag than natural cork. Cork compresses, will absorb salt and grit, will hold lubricant, dissipates heat efficiently, and can be easily cleaned. I personally have cork disc drags that are over 60 years old with countless fish caught, and they are still smooth as glass.

SPOOLS

Many saltwater reels are large arbor reels. A large arbor looks cool, helps to some degree with line retrieval speed and line drying, and is easier to manufacture, despite not making the reel any lighter in weight. However, the downsides are many. When the arbor on a reel gets larger, you lose line capacity, so manufacturers compensate by making the spool wider. This creates issues as the line is much harder to put back on the spool during a fight with a fish and the reel undergoes serious side-to-side torque.

Outside spool diameter is the key to any advantage when it comes to fly line retrieval, or storage. The bigger the outside diameter, that larger the coils and the fewer the kinks, which translates to easier casting. And the larger the diameter, the faster the retrieve. Picking up line quickly is an important issue if a fish runs towards you.

Some fly anglers like to switch spools, and a center hub mount will allow this. Fresh water reels have been made this way for a long time. I brought the center hub, sealed drag to the Nautilus reel in 2002. But in all honesty, I have been saltwater fly fishing since 1952, guided Biscayne Bay for 20 years, and I have never changed a spool. With today’s lines that are looped, it is as easy to change a line on a reel than to change a spool.

STARTUP INERTIA

When a fish begins running, startup inertia is the “hump” your reel needs to get over before the drag engages, or reengages, during the fight. Your fly line and backing must not overrun the reel if the fish starts, stops, and starts again.

This is not easily measurable, although a broken tippet can suggest a reel with issues in startup inertia.

Other than the bearing inside the drag system, the least resistance to startup inertia comes from the weight of the spool, or the lack of it. Look at the reel you are considering to determine where the weight mass of that spool is. If the weight mass is towards the center, its chances of low start up

inertia are greater. The availability of a low drag setting and palming rim are also factors in startup inertia of a fly reel.

OUTGOING CLICK

Believe it or not, the clicking noise when a fish is running is not something found on the best saltwater fly reels. It is an idea borrowed from trolling reels and spinning reels, as the

Reels galore: Lined up for action at Kay Fly Lodge in Mexico’s Ascension Bay. Photo: T. Edward Nickens

click alerts the angler that a fish is on. But when fly fishing, if you need a clicker to tell you that you are in a fight, you may not be paying enough attention.

Clickers are unnecessary, and they may also be disruptive. Not only is every click a slight hesitation on the drag, but it is a siren telling all around, including the fish, that you hooked up. It is the one part that will likely fail, or wear out, on your fly reel. Personally, I would rather hear the line tension sing in the breeze.

And my strong feelings about a reel click likely have to do with the fact that I grew up fishing with a notorious guide and czar of Biscayne Bay named Bill Curtis. He had two absolute rules: Make no sound, and retrieve with your dominant hand. You could not get on his boat otherwise.

SPOOL AND HOUSING PORTING

Porting on a reel simply refers to the holes machined into the reel. A reel needs porting to help to dry the line after fishing. Many reels today are ported nearly to the brink of not being there at all. Over-porting, although eye-catching, greatly reduces the strength and integrity of the reel due to the loss of so much structural material. Think about durability and dependability when selecting a fly reel. While manufacturers get quite creative with their designs, nothing is stronger in every direction than a round hole, and it is easier to manufacture. Round holes get the job done and keep the cost down. They don’t look sexy, but they work.

WEIGHT

Fly anglers today seem to value ridiculously light weight in their reels, with the reasoning that their shoulders will feel better after a day of casting. I hate to tell you: It’s your cast that needs work, not the weight of the reel. Of course, a lighter rod and reel setup will cause less fatigue, but there is a balance between weight and strength. In short, it’s not easy to manufacture something that is both strong and light. If the reel is actually engineered and designed to be as light as possible but maintain its strength integrity, you’ve found a winner.

Balance is the most critical part of your fly rod/reel set up. I have had many highly-regarded anglers put an empty reel on a rod and say “it balances well.” Maybe, but it’s not fully loaded until it’s been spooled with backing and flyline. Balance is, to a degree, a personal choice. Don’t ever buy a reel based on weight alone. Load it with line and see how it feels when you cast the whole setup. Some of the finest fly anglers don’t consider weight at all because their rig works for them.

BACKING CAPACITY

How much capacity do you need? If you have 200 yards of backing out while fighting a fish, you and your rod better be in top shape. In all my years, the only place 200 yards of backing has mattered is on the beach, while fishing on foot. There is absolutely no reason for more capacity than this, especially if you are in a boat and can chase a fish down. Most fish in saltwater will require 100 to 200 yards maximum.

One note of caution while putting backing on any reel: If you pack line on too tightly with a spooling machine, and then while actually fishing you retrieve it all by hand again, which will be far looser than with a line-winder, your line may not fit properly back onto the spool. Take care to leave some room and not to pack the backing and line as tightly as possible when setting up your new reel. Installing line manually is the easiest way to save your reel and fly line while keeping everything consistent.

DIRECTION CHANGE

Do you really need easy direction change in your reel? Direction change means the line also has to be removed and installed in the opposite direction. Do you own a trolling reel? Do you own a bait caster? The line on these reels only goes on one way. Not so on a fly reel. The main reason for easy direction change is so your fly shop doesn’t have to stock both retrieve directions of any reel. This way, they can install either direction when the reel is sold.

Always make sure what direction, or hand, you will retrieve your fly line with. I was taught to reel with my dominant hand. I cast right, and I wind right. Most fly anglers my age were taught this way. Today, it is more common (for right-handed casters) to cast right and wind left, like a spinning reel. This is perfectly appropriate as long as you are comfortable. The main issue is to pick a direction and stick with it. If you are new to fly fishing, try a friend’s set up, or ask a fly shop to help you figure out your retrieval hand. Once you have your equipment configured, it’s a real problem to change.

In saltwater fly fishing you are going to encounter harsh environs and serious, angry fish. You are also going to encounter many people with strong opinions. Don’t let this variety of perspectives lead to frustration. Do your homework. Find a fly shop you trust. And get ready for a new relationship to adrenaline.

Try This, Not That

Off the coast of New Jersey, Neal Rogers introduced a fall-run striper to a Clouser Deep Minnow tied in a sand eel pattern.

Photo: Craig Rogers

Substituting

materials in a classic fly pattern— such as the venerated Clouser Deep Minnow— can change everything.

By James P. Spica Jr.

Fly fishing has always represented the marriage of tradition and innovation. We’re always balancing between a lapse into pure nostalgia—handmade rods, centuries-old techniques, natural materials—and a swan dive into a technological arms race as we build ever lighter gear and faster flats boats. It’s akin to a respectful, informative détente. Despite what purists on the one side, and new hip kids on the other, say, in fly fishing, the classic is always shaking hands with the contemporary.

The practice and art of fly tying is just the same.

Flies were tied with only hooks, feathers, and fur until fairly recently, in the grand scheme of things. Other materials were slowly, by degrees, introduced into the oeuvre and at present, the variety of fly-tying materials boggles the mind and doesn’t show any

signs of shrinking. And while there are many tying materials that are virtually the same, it’s truly incredible—and to me, deeply interesting—what introducing a new material, or substituting one material for another, can do for how a fly performs.

Substituting one material for another generally serves one of two main purposes. The first is simple utility: You

don’t have the material called for and you can’t get your hands on it. We’ve all been there.

The second, and more interesting, is how materials determine a fly’s performance. Too often we get a recipe, and follow it, and the fly works as promised. Or not. But each material has characteristics all its own, and thus absorbs water, swims, and wiggles just a little bit differently. Understanding how to use this to one’s advantage opens up new vistas.

To dive into this, let’s start with a simple fly, rather than one that has two dozen steps and more ingredients than Bolognese sauce. Not only do changes make themselves more apparent, but any fly tyer can mess around, get creative, and enjoy themselves without having to learn a complicated technique or spend hours on a single fly.

To wit: the Clouser Deep Minnow.

HOW IT ALL STARTED

Bob Clouser’s iconic and ubiquitous fly is likely the most versatile fly ever created. It looks like a minnow or small fish, and nearly all fish eat smaller fish. I’ve used a Clouser minnow to catch redfish, sea trout, flounder, snapper, barracuda, salmon, steelhead, bluefish, striper, false albacore, pollack, brook trout, brown trout, rainbow trout, pike, smallmouth, largemouth, crappie, bowfin, freshwater drum, carp, pickerel and others that I’m forgetting. Not a bad list, but nothing like the nearly 90 species of fish Lefty Kreh is said to have taken with a Clouser.

In the most basic terms, the Clouser minnow is the fly-fishing equivalent of a bucktail jig. It’s got weight up in front, and a body made out of fur from

a deer’s tail. More specifically, a Clouser minnow has a clump of bucktail and some weighted dumbbell eyes (affixed closer to the eye) tied to the top of the

hook, and another clump tied to the bottom of the hook, just forward of the weighted eyes. Because the weighted eyes are tied to the top of the hook, the fly flips upside-down while swimming, so that the hook point will “ride” up and avoid snags. This also means that the bucktail on the bottom will ultimately be the top of the fly as it’s fished. Often a little bit of flashy material is added, but it’s about as simple as a fly can get. And simple often catches more fish.

When choosing a fly, I tend to think about five characteristics: Sink rate, how the fly’s materials move in the water, castability, durability, and the realism or attractive qualities of the fly. And all of that is rooted in the materials that make up the fly.

For the Clouser, bucktail is the chief material used for the body. Compared to many materials, bucktail is fairly stiff. It holds its shape in the water, and each

The author’s collection of Clousers, many tied with synthetic fibers. Photo: James P. Spica Jr.

Non-traditional Clouser Deep Minnows entice spotted seatrout to the fly. Photo: James P. Spica Jr.

hair is slightly kinked. These characteristics combine to make a fly that holds a predictable profile while under water. A Clouser “pushes” water, displacing it to create vibrations that gamefish use to locate their prey. One could tie Clouser minnows with bucktail till the end of time and be as happy as a fish-catching clam, whatever that is.

But if we don’t have bucktail or we want to change how the Clouser minnow performs for a specific situation, it’s time to think about substituting one material for another. All of the following will have some sort of bearing on how the fly gets in front of the fish, how the fish sees it, and how it works in the water. That’s the beautiful thing about fly tying: The one doing the tying gets to make all the decisions.

SYNTHETICS

Flashabou and Krystal Flash, Enrico Puglisi fibers, Squimpish Hair, Polar Fibre, craft fur, and Supreme Hair—the universe of available synthetic fibers is ever expanding. In general, they provide a variety of advantages. Their colors don’t fade and the dyes don’t run, and synthetics are durable, which makes them an easy choice for flies that need to survive toothy or violent fish. If you’re targeting fish such as mackerel, bluefish, or barracuda, synthetics will hold up and be worth the extra cost. Synthetics also tend to hold their shape, whether through outright stiffness or by not clumping. This leads to a third advantage: They usually shed more water during the cast, and therefore cast a little easier, although they can take a bit longer to sink than wetted-out natural fibers.

If you need a fly to cast seamlessly and survive a lot of fish, consider adding synthetics. I’ve made a lot of Clouser minnows replacing bucktail with synthetics. An all-flash Clouser, made out of two colors of Ripple Ice Fiber, is ideal

for fish that are attracted to some sparkle, or fishing very turbid water.

Another advantage to using some synthetic fibers to make a Clouser is that certain materials, such as Super Hair or Supreme Hair, are translucent. Many fish prefer glassy, partially see-through baitfish imitations. False albacore are notorious for this preference. The Clouser minnows I tie for albies are made of Super Hair and a little flash.

Certain synthetic materials, such as Super Hair and Ripple Ice Fiber, are made with significant kink in them, which serves to push a lot of water. Fish feel these disturbances when looking for prey, and synthetic materials can definitely ring the dinner bell.

One disadvantage to using a synthetic material on a Clouser minnow is that its upside-down design fosters fouling. Bucktail just doesn’t foul very often, so check your synthetic-built Clouser minnow for fouled materials every few casts. It’s usually an easy fix.

Another downside to some synthetics is that they don’t breathe and move in the water like certain natural materials. There are some situations where this is a problem, but there are others in which it simply doesn’t matter. If you’re stripping the fly very quickly, targeting less picky fish, such suppleness isn’t much of a factor.

NATURAL HAIR

Hair comes in such a range of characteristics that it’s hard to generalize. Soft hair tends to come from smaller animals such as rabbit, squirrel, and fox. Stiffer furs come from cervids like elk, deer, and moose. Elk, deer, and moose furs are chiefly used because of their relative

From top: Switch-it-up catches include bluefish / flounder / striped bass.

Photos: James P. Spica Jr.

durability (for a natural material) and their stiffness. If you need part of a fly to hold its shape, like the head or wing or a clump to prop up some softer material, reach for elk, deer, or moose hair. The tail from a deer has the perfect combination of movement in the water and holding the fly’s shape, so it’s no wonder that it is the classic Clouser’s chief ingredient.

However, if a fly is going to sit longer between strips, you want a material that will undulate more in the water. It needs to look alive, even when not being retrieved. The bucktail on a Clouser moves a lot of water, but doesn’t wiggle as much when at rest. An absolutely deadly Clouser minnow, especially for bonefish and carp, is one made of fox fur or squirrel tail, which are softer and breathe more when the fly is sitting still.

Stiff furs, especially elk and deer hairs, are natural weed-guards. If they’re protecting the hook point, your fly will brush off weeds and grasses with more ease. When tying a Clouser minnow for fishing around particularly grassy or weedy flats, consider using bucktail for the tail, but elk hair for the head and wing, and flaring the fur with strong, tight wraps of thread. This will eliminate the need for a mono or wire weed guard. Stiffer furs will also push more water.

Cervid hairs are also hollow. While they provide the stiffness needed to push water, provide structure and to hold shape, the air trapped in each hair can affect the sink rate of the fly. When trying new materials you’ll need to consider the tradeoffs involved.

From top: Switch-it-up Clouser Deep Minnow flies. A synthetic fur Clouser, a great mudminnow imitation. / A Super Hair Tutti Frutti Clouser is nearly see-through, just like albies like ‘em. / A blurple craft fur Clouser with bead-chain eyes for shallow, clear water. / Getting crabby with a marabou Clouser. Photos: James P. Spica Jr.

FEATHERS

Flies have been made from feathers since fly fishing began. Feathers, being delicate and ephemeral in nature, were the perfect material to imitate the dainty bugs floating on the surface of a stream. Feathers provide the most movement of any type of material, especially very subtle movement and undulation. They also can add a natural look to a fly, with the natural barring and mottling on many birds. Feathers, simply, make a fly more lifelike.

While feathers aren’t a normal substitution on a Clouser minnow, two well-known patterns directly related to the Clouser involve saddle hackle feathers. The Half-and-Half streamer is the combination of a Clouser and a Deceiver, with feathers for the tail. And the Crazy Charlie, in its original form, had a feather wing rather than calf tail, to imitate the small minnows that are a big part of a bonefish’s diet. A Clouser minnow made solely out of marabou feathers makes a great crab imitation that wiggles enticingly when sitting on the bottom.

Unfortunately, feathers are the least durable of fly-tying materials. While some are more durable than others, expect your feather flies to get chewed up more quickly than ones made out of fur or especially synthetic materials.

AT THE VISE

When you sit down at your vice and begin to think about tying a fly, consider the materials at your disposal, the fish you’re chasing, the fishing situation, and the performance you expect from your fly. Then, have at it. Combinations of these materials will allow you to take the venerated Clouser Deep Minnow design and mold it to your specific fishing situations. And what’s better than catching a fish on a fly you designed—on the fly—yourself?

BEAT

DON’T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT US

Tail’s shiny new Strip Set newsletter brings all the briny breaking news to your smartphone or desktop the first Friday of every month. Geek out with industry news, gear launches, Tail-worthy destinations, and opportunities to meet and mingle with Tail staff and contributors. Sign up anywhere you find us—Facebook, Instagram, and www.tailflyfishing.com

STRIPMAGAZINE’SSET

DON’T MISS...

Catch our contributors in live action:

On February 2, West Coast editor Al Quattrocchi and Jim

with Jamie Howard, for a Bob Popovics tribute. Catch Al at theflyzone.net & alquattrocchi.com

On February 2, Capt. Ben Whalley is teaching a fly-tying class at the Bobbin the Hood Event put on by Schultz Outfitters in Ypsilanti, Michigan, and another February 22 at Eldredge Brothers Fly Shop in Cape Neddick, Maine. Ping him at benwhalleyfishing.com

ON DECK FOR THE MARCH/APRIL ISSUE:

Chico Fernandez: Our contributing editor dishes on popper madness. He thinks popper fishing doesn’t get the respect it deserves. You gonna argue with Chico?

Return of the Mangroves: In 2021, a year after Hurricane Dorien smashed the Bahamas, Tail editor-in-chief T. Edward Nickens joined a crew with the Bonefish & Tarpon Trust to replant mangroves on the East End of Grand Bahama. He recently returned to check on the seedlings—and monitor bonefish populations with a 9-weight.

Lefty Kreh: Behind the scenes at the new biopic documentary

Tarpon: The Ultimate Timeline. Did Michaelangelo really paint a tarpon? Are tarpon really older than Tyrannasourus ? Hold on to your long-billed hat for a few more weeks and find out.

…since the natural world is nowhere larger or more awe-inspiring than by the sea, coastal fly rodders fish in a very special place. Here, in the ocean’s compelling vastness, they face the most powerful fish on earth while standing close to the origins of life and hearing the whispers of eternity.

– Ed Mitchell in Fly Rodding the Coast

SPORTSMAN

Jon Olch

A close cousin of the Atlantic permit, T. Africanus

Your neck gaiter design is outstanding. It fits perfectly. Snug but not tight. Light weight, too. The fabric is supremely comfortable and shaped to avoid exposing skin at the bottom of the neck.

“Equally, the gaiter covered my nose from sunburn, yet left enough mesh space to breathe easily. On top of that, I found it nearly impossible to fog up my sunglasses, even in sweltering heat and humid conditions. Immediately, the 2nd GEN gaiter became my favorite gaiter.

There were other pleasant surprises as well. I learned that I could drink any beverage directly through the mesh without lowering the gaiter. This saved fumbling around with the gaiter, where invariably I would normally wind up smearing my sunglasses with the sunscreen that I applied earlier in the day. Also, I learned that having mesh over my ears (rather than solid fabric), made it much easier to converse with my skiff guide, especially in windy conditions. These are fishing advantages, not just clothing tweaks.

After wearing the gaiter for several days, it hadn’t stretched to the point where it fell down my face. After washing, the gaiter did not shrink to an annoyingly tighter fit, either. The fabric dried quickly and didn’t retain lingering fish smells. Stylistically, I came to appreciate the fabric composition, which avoids the uncool stark white underside of most other gaiters.”

Jonathan Olch

RIGGED UP

The latest in gear and technology tried and tested by our staff of experts.

GEAR \ BOAT \ GARB

MAINE FLY COMPANY RODS

It’s not easy to find a made-in-the-USA rod under $500, so when we see one, we take notice. Maine Fly Company, in Yarmouth, Maine, is a small operation hand-making what it calls “small batch fly rods,” all of which (except for custom work) can be had for fewer than five fat Benjamins. The two saltwater models—the Casco Bay series in 8-weight to 10-weights and the Penobscot Bay series in 7- to 9-weights—are workhorse rods of tremendous quality designed by folks who fish striped bass around the Northeast. These rods are punchy without being overly stiff, and, if our abuse level is any indication, they are extremely durable. The hand-made heritage is evident in the fit and finish of the wrappings, components, and cork. And in case the worst happens, all Maine Fly Company’s rods are backed by its lifetime guarantee. $399-$489 (maineflyco.com)

IKO PRINTS GYOTAKU FISH PRINTING KIT

The Gyotaku printing technique began as a way for Japanese fishermen to record their memorable catches while on the boat, using rice papers and Sumi ink, a mixture of burnt lamp oil, animal glue, and perfume. It has since evolved into its own exquisite art form. It can be a painstaking and intricate process, but getting started is now a snap with this complete kit that includes a 6-ounce bottle of Sumi ink, five sheets of Xuan (rice) paper, brushes, porcelain paint bowl, and easy-tofollow instructions.

$45 (ikoprints.com)

SCIENTIFIC ANGLERS

AMPLITUDE SMOOTH TITAN GT

There are few fish that will test your gear like giant trevally. The Scientific Anglers Titan GT line, built on the popular Titan Taper, is meant for the rigors of chasing bad-to-the-forked-tail GTs. These fish are massive, violent targets, so the tropical core of this line is rated at 65 pounds, and the welded loops at each end are rated at 100 pounds.

The Titan GT is part of the Amplitude family of lines, with its AST Plus slickness technology, and this one is overweighted by one line weight and designed to throw large, heavy flies towards distant feeding fish.

$100 (scientificanglers.com)

ROCKY TALKIE 5-WATT RADIO

These powerful walkie-talkies might have been designed for backcountry users scaling mountains and navigating whitewater, but they have a solid place in a saltwater tackle bag. The IP67 waterproofing is rated to one-meter submersion and the entire unit is designed to drain off water— whether it’s from mountaintop snow or an Everglades gullywasher. The shatterproof screen that protects the units from mountaintop tumbles also armors them from drops off a poling platform. Their utility for saltwater fly anglers is unlimited: Skiff to skiff communication, staying in touch with your DIY buddies wading the far side of the flats, radioing where the blitz is on without alerting half the coastline. And getting your buddy at the lodge bar to double up on the suds order so you don’t have to leave your beach chair. The battery holds a charge for five days, and while the radios are listed with a maximum 35-mile range, that’s probably a stretch in the real world. But over open water, two to eight miles is definitely in the ballpark. $180 (rockytalkie.com)

LOON OUTDOORS SILICONE FLY-TYING MAT

We bring along fly-tying kits when we travel, and being able to tie a fly on the fly has saved our bacon countless times. Rental houses, hotel rooms, and campsite picnic tables aren’t really set up for tying flies, however, so this tying mat from Loon Outdoors will provide an organized workstation quickly and without fuss. The silicone material provides great grip to nearly every surface, and small magnet panels inset into one corner of the mat work great to keep hooks and beads handy and ready to use. The mat folds up and comes with its own zippered pouch, so it’s as travel-ready as we are. $37 (loonoutdoors.com)

GRUNDÈNS CHARTER JACKET

It rarely rains on our fishing trips, so we don’t know what you’re doing wrong. But with an easy-to-stow and quick-todeploy rain shell like the new Charter Jacket, you’ll never outrun your coverage. Despite its light weight, the coat boasts storm-worthy upgrades such as adjustable cuffs, adjustable hood, and a full-length storm placket over the zipper to shed wind-driven rain. The jacket is built with a waterproof/breathable membrane rated to 20k/20k, which nearly redlines the performance meter. It has a nice touch of stretch, and the entire jacket rolls, stuffs, and smashes into its own hood, so you can stuff, smash, and jam it into the corner of a tackle bag or deck hatch and forget about it until the thunder grumbles. $300 (grundens.com)

RIGGED UP

ORVIS SUPERFINE GLASS 888-4

8-WEIGHT ROD

Fiberglass has been making quite a comeback in recent years, and these rods are more performanceoriented than the noodle sticks your grandfather cast. The slow-action nature of fiberglass has usually relegated it to small-stream and trout-fishing application, but with contemporary rods such as Orvis’s Superfine Glass series using stiffer S-glass, longer-distance casts and bigger flies become possible. We’ve fished this 8-weight for redfish and sea trout, and it can launch large, dumbbell-eyed flies a long way across the marsh. Fiberglass is more durable than graphite, too, so when fish run under the boat, the rod will happily take the deep bend without fear. All components are saltwater ready. We like a slightly over-weighted fly line on this rod.

$549 (orvis.com)

ARCADE BELTS

You can hold up your pants with a dock line if you want to, but these nifty belts bring a level of comfort and utility to keeping your pants in place that pays off in the salt. We like a couple of offerings. The Adventure Belt is the stretchier of the two, lightweight and low-profile and perfect for wading flats and beaches. When the weather turns snotty, we go for the Hardware Belt. It’s still stretchy, but is paired with a strong buckle that’s stout enough to cinch down waders and hold the heaviest fishing pliers. The no-metal build means carefree use in salty environments, and it also makes airport security lines just a bit less trouble.

$35-$40 (arcadebelts.com)

SIMMS FALL RUN COLLARED JACKET

This is the Goldilocks of shells: Not too warm, not too wispy, just right for that run to the reef or winter seatrout hole. A slick-as-owlsnot exterior shell moves effortlessly under layers, and is treated with a DWR finish to protect a stuffing of PrimaLoft Black Echo insulation in the body, sleeves, and hood. Zippered handwarmer pockets keep stripping fingers toasty and nippers handy.

$160 (simmsfishing.com)

INTO THE BACKING

Gettin’ Gritty | Galveston Fishing Co. | Managing Albies

Photo: courtesy of American Saltwater Guides Association

ON THE TABLE

No shrimp? No problem. No grits? Big problem, because the Southern breakfast staple is the perfect companion to just about every fish.

Whatever & GRITS INTO THE BACKING

In the beginning was the grit, and the grit was cooked in water and served with salt and pepper and butter, and it was good. But it was not awesome. And then along came a match made in the Southern part of heaven: The grit met the shrimp, and the Southern culinary canon has never been the same.

These days, you just about can’t swing a possum in the South without hitting a plate of shrimp and grits, but I’ve come to understand shrimp and grits as both a recipe—suitable for breakfast, lunch and dinner—and a genre unto itself. I’ve cooked shrimp and grits aplenty, but also mahi and

grits, Spanish mackerel and grits, bluefish and grits, bluegill and grits, crab and grits, and deer, duck, goose, and grouse and grits, to boot. There’s never been a single failure.

The secret to the success is to stir up a rich gravy of bacon drippings, blistered tomatoes, green onions, garlic, and skillet frond, and infuse the grits with a hearty cheese. While there is nothing wrong with grits seasoned simply with salt and black pepper and a pat of butter or a dollop of molasses—and I have eaten them this way by the 5-gallon bucketful—such a straightforward offering short changes the wonder of the grits.

Grits are a blank canvas, and you can paint them with just about any fish that’s worthy of a fork. While this recipe lets the subtly sweet taste of wahoo shine with nothing more than salt and pepper, you can dial up the flavor punch, if you’d like. Mahi doesn’t mind a dusting of Cajun seasoning. If it’s bluefish in the skillet, I add a few drops of Liquid Smoke to the gravy. Fish that hold their shape and texture when cut into steaks work best, but there’s no reason you can’t sauté lighter fish such as seatrout. Or go whole Southern hog and fry up a few bone-in croaker for the plate. That’s how we do it down he-yeh.

Story and photos by T. Edward Nickens

INGREDIENTS

Serves 2

Grits

½ pound fish

6 slices cooked bacon, chopped

20 cherry or grape tomatoes; slice 10 in half

1 bunch green onions, finely sliced

½ cup Vermont white cheddar cheese, shredded

Cook grits according to directions on package. About 5 minutes before done, add Vermont white cheddar cheese and stir until

While the grits are cooking, fry bacon, reserving half the grease. Remove, cool, and crumble bacon. Season fish with salt and pepper, and sauté in bacon grease. Remove from pan. Add tomatoes, green onions, and garlic to pan and sauté. While cooking, pierce whole tomatoes with a fork and press into pan to express the juices. Add a squeeze of lemon to the gravy. If more liquid is needed in the gravy, drizzle olive oil into

Spoon grits on to plate, and top with the tomato, bacon, and onion gravy. Add fish, and garnish with lemon slices and greens.

WHAT IS A GRIT?

Grits are made from coarse-ground dent corn, a.k.a. field corn, which hold a bit less starch than sweet corn. Grits are processed in a number of ways, and come as instant, quick, and stoneground grits. Only the last one is acceptable. Stone-ground grits include the kernel germ, which gives them a pleasing texture and taste. They take longer to cook than the others, but you’ll fill those few minutes preparing the fish and gravy. White grits have a more delicate flavor than yellow grits that I think pairs better with fish.

For the best flavor and texture, choose a stone-ground grit with directions that suggest you rinse them a time or three to float off the extra chaff and hulls. Those are the least-processed and the tastiest. Can’t find them in your neck of the swamp? Bless your heart. Head over to foodforthesouthernsoul.com

INTO THE BACKING

GALVESTON FISHING CO.

GALVESTON, TEXAS Angling & Q

By James P. Spica Jr.

The Galveston, Texas, area is a huge complex of bays and flats where anglers can target redfish, black drum, seatrout, sheepshead, and flounder, all with a fly rod. Galveston Fishing Company, a relative newcomer to the scene and the only fly shop on Galveston Island, was started by Capt. Eric Trout and Capt. Stacy Lynn in the autumn of 2022. Trout served in the Marine Corps and worked in nursing for 15 years prior to devoting his life to the sport of fly fishing in his native Texas. Tail magazine had a few questions for Trout for our first installment of “Q & Angling.”

TFFM: How did the shop start?

Trout: I’ve been a flyfishing guide out on Galveston Bay since 2016, and I saw the sport just kept getting more popular,

and I thought it would be cool to have a fly shop on the island. Nothing like that existed. I didn’t know it could sustain itself, but as fly fishing the Galveston Bay complex got more popular and more people got into it, I thought it was the right time to go ahead and open the shop. I got with Capt. Stacy Lynn, who worked with me on opening the shop, and we’ve been open two years now.

An angler comes in from out of town. What fly will they not leave your shop without?

The Redfish Cracklin. It’s an awesome fly.

Sight Cast Fishing’s brushy, buggy Redfish Cracklin is a customer favorite.

What’s a unicorn day for your area—a day when the fishing promises to be so good that it’s almost worth closing the shop and fishing yourself?

I would say, of course, full sun. And add a light wind. You want some wind but a light wind, probably about 5 or 6

knots. Air temperature in the low 70s, and tides on the low end of normal.

Do you have guides through the shop?

We guide, and we have a group of guides that we work with, so what we’ll do is when you call us, we’ll put you in touch with a guide that we know and recommend and trust, a guide we’re positive is going to give you the best trip.

A customer only has one day to fish, and it’s the worst conceivable conditions, safety notwithstanding. What advice do you give them?

The worst conditions are super windy, especially if the wind’s got the tide blowing in on a gray day. If you’re in a skiff, get out right at sunrise, try to stay in the lee of the wind, and find birds working. Then try to push up as shallow as possible into the cow pastures that are flooded at that time. If wading, I would say basically the same thing. While you can’t work the birds like you can from a skiff, try to get out as early in the morning as possible and try to get shallow. That said, a lot of times these big blows will put the fish deep. If nothing’s in the shallows, don’t be afraid to wade out a little deeper and cast into three or four feet of water and let your fly sink.

What are some gear items you wish more customers knew about?

We use nets to land fish. Using nets is better on the fish, easier on the angler to manipulate, and works better than landing them by hand. Down here I’d like to see more anglers on the boats using nets to land fish.

And deck shoes and deck boots. Grundéns deck shoes and boots work really well and that’s some of my favorite gear that I use out here.

I’d also like to see people invest more in their foul-weather gear. You need to seriously consider quality and value. It makes a massive difference. People buy cheap foul-weather gear and they end up being miserable when it leaks and doesn’t last. There’s a huge difference when you’re using the higher quality stuff.

What’s the most unexpected item a customer has asked for?

We had a lady come in to ask if we could take some flies and make some boutonnieres for her daughter’s wedding. One of the guys who worked at the shop at the time was able to tie her up some really pretty boutonniere flies, and they actually used them.

Do you host trips to destinations, and if so, where do you take groups?

We host one destination trip per year. I take anglers to Ascension Bay lodge for a week every summer for six days of fishing for permit, bones, and tarpon.

A customer asks for a recommendation on where to get a great carryout to take out on the water with them. Where do you send them?

For breakfast burritos in the morning, it’s Café Canela’s. For sandwiches on the boat, Anton’s Po Boys are awesome. That’s a Houston sandwich shop, but you can find them at a few stores around here. For a local spot for sandwiches, it’d be Old Moon Deli.

What’s your favorite thing about the fishing around Galveston?

When the fishing’s on around here, it’s one of the best redfish fisheries around. I know I live here, and getting people on the water is my business. But it is truly amazing.

INTO THE BACKING

Shop co-owner Capt. Eric Trout of Galveston Fishing Co. practices what he preaches.

UNDERTOW THE

Unmanaged species such as false albacore and Atlantic bonito support enormous recreational fishing communities. It’s time to fill the void of science and regulation before they’re in trouble.

Photo: courtesy of American Saltwater Guides Association

AVOIDING THE CLIFF EDGE

By Tony Friedrich

There was a time not long ago when the recreational angling community looked down upon certain species of saltwater

fish. There were fish that tasted good and fish that didn’t. The former were usually the target species. The latter received the derogatory label as “trash fish.” Freshwater anglers discovered the value of fish beyond the table long ago, as catch-and-release fishing ignited a movement. The saltwater community is a generation behind, which helps explain why some saltwater fisheries managers have a difficult time understanding and evaluating the value of a catch-and-release fishery. Abundant fish populations drive the fishing econ-

omy. It’s simple: If people have a good chance of catching many fish, they will fish more frequently. Fish have a value far beyond filling the cooler and as subjects for the clichéd “grip and grin” shot.

There was the beginning of a mindset shift when the angling community began to value species such as billfish, tarpon, and bonefish for reasons beyond table fare. Anglers will spend untold dollars to pursue these species. They attract anglers from around the globe. Not long ago, tarpon were hung from scales and rusty nails as a way for anglers to brag about their catches, while bonefish were used for offshore trolling baits. In domestic waters, at least, those times are largely in the past. There were management changes and conservation victories for these species that went a long way in ensuring their availability for generations to come.

Several species in the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico are highly valued by anglers but have little scientific knowledge and no legitimate management. Managers refer to these fish as “data-poor species.” Frankly, managers use this term

In 2025, it is hard to imagine that it is perfectly legal to keep 100 Atlantic bonito or kill as many jack crevalle and albies as your boat can hold.

as an excuse to not manage them. Some of these species are becoming critical to guides and recreational anglers due to regional and coastwide downturns of marquee species such as striped bass, snook, and redfish. Angling communities consider jack crevalle, Atlantic bonito, and false albacore (little tunny) as “day-saver” fish. If a primary target is more elusive than expected, these three species present a higher probability of tangling with a hard-fighting fish. These days, these three species support months of income for fly fishing and light tackle guides from Massachusetts to Texas. While their behavior and geographic bounds may vary, each species is classified as a coastal pelagic, and is considered data-poor and unmanaged. In 2025, it is hard to imagine that it is perfectly legal to keep 100 Atlantic bonito or kill as many jack crevalle and albies as your boat can hold. Combine this with the decline of the most critical species on two coasts, and we have reserved a seat on a runaway train to depleting our fisheries. Our community of guides and recreational anglers can’t afford to lose another fish.

GETTING OVER THE HUMP

The biggest hurdle to management is the lack of science. If we don’t know where a species spawns, how old they are when sexually mature, the range of the population, or population dynamics, there isn’t much information to drive decision-making. A semblance of common sense would drive managers to support a precautionary management framework until better science is available. Precautionary management, or “guardrail management,” as it is sometimes called, is straightforward. Instead of waiting until a species is in peril and in need of last-ditch regulatory effort, precautionary management applies rather liberal regulatory frameworks to prevent a species from slipping into danger. This can be done with minimal, if any, disruption to commercial or recreational fisheries.

Unfortunately, that is not the norm. The lack of data leaves us in management limbo, even while species with adequate science decline.

Three years ago, the American Saltwater Guides Association (ASGA) launched the Albie Project to focus on

false albacore as the sad writing was on the wall with striped bass. The population decline for stripers meant that fishing effort would shift to species such as false albacore and Atlantic bonito. With no protection via regulations, that shift does not bode well for those species.

ASGA guides deployed around 200 telemetry tags over three years, which enabled us to track false albacore up and down the coast. Telemetry tags emit a unique sound that is picked up by receivers. It is similar to cell phone towers detecting your phone when you are on a road trip. Additionally, some 1,000 traditional tags have been deployed. These more basic tags require the fish to be recaptured and reported to gain insights into survivability, growth, and movement. Through the Albie Project, we record on the GotOne app the length of each albie and bonito released. Finally, DNA is collected from these fish to understand population dynamics and when these fish become sexually mature.

The data is pouring in. The fastest albie traveled from Martha’s Vineyard to Florida in less than 20 days. Forty percent of the false albacore with telemetry

Above Left: An onboard tagging station. Above Right: Tony Friedrich of the American Saltwater Guides Association shaking hands and moving the needle for conservation. Photos: courtesy of American Saltwater Guides Association

tags made the trip from Massachusetts south to North Carolina. Those same fish appeared in large numbers off the coasts of South Carolina and Florida. We have confirmed that our false albacore fishery is one connected coastal stock.

WE’RE COMING FOR YOU, JACK

Good work begets good work. The success of the Albie Project opened the door for a new opportunity, the Jack Project. Jack crevalle is another data-poor coastal pelagic species, highly valued by fly and light tackle anglers. We know very little about the species, and there are no regulations on it. Redfish are struggling in much of the jack’s range, and fishing effort for jacks is likely to increase.

To get ahead of potential problems, ASGA is partnering with Dr. Jennifer Rehage of Florida International University and Dr. Marcus Drymon of Mississippi State University to perform long-overdue research on this underappreciated species. The five-year research project will deploy more than 120 telemetry tags and hundreds of traditional tags, record catch data on the GotOne app, and take DNA samples for stable isotope analysis. This research has one goal: Empower managers with the necessary data to conserve a worthy species. Fisheries conservation is a marathon, not a sprint. It takes years to perform the meaningful science and even longer to implement regulations. It is difficult to be patient when real businesses and the resources they depend on are on the line.

We took the albie and bonito management issue to the South Atlantic Fisheries Management Council first. There was some support for management but not enough. The final decision was to monitor the fishery and report on it every three years. Next, we tried the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission. There was concern

about additional resources needed to develop formal Fisheries Management Plans (FMP) for albies and bonito. It’s crazy. Fisheries managers will manage a species such as spiny dogfish, which generates a not-very-impressive $4 million dollars of dockside value. Meanwhile, practically nothing is done on two species that support almost a million directed trips annually.

Rebuffed but resolute, we decided to try state-by-state. This strategy is far more time-intensive, but it is paying off.

We have a positive outlook for the future thanks to recent news from the coast. North Carolina is in the final stages of implementing guardrail management for albies in state waters. If harvest increases by 200 percent, management is triggered for both commercial and recreational fisheries in the state. On paper, that might not appear to be much of a victory. But the reality is that North Carolina took the lead on the issue, and now other states are following. Massachusetts is moving towards regulations for false albacore and Atlantic bonito. Other New England states are sending out surveys and starting to discuss adopting the Massachusetts rules once finalized.

It could be that 2025 is the year we see protections for these species in New England and the Mid-Atlantic. We are turning the tide. It is slow and frustrating, but these changes are real. Managers are finally realizing that catch-and-release fisheries have enormous value and deserve protection. We can’t afford to lose another species and it is starting to look like we avoided a disaster.

The ASGA motto is “Better Business Through Conservation.” It drives every research effort, policy stance, and advocacy campaign. If there is a data-poor species that our community relies on, we strategize and raise funds and partner with really smart people to execute

necessary science. Then, we educate the public on the issue and empower the community to advocate on behalf of the resource. This S.E.A. (Science, Education, Advocacy) model is our template for success. ASGA aims to give a voice to the voiceless: Our natural resources.

We invite anglers and conservationists from around the country to join our movement. Become a member to stay up to date on the management campaigns. Subscribe to our “Guide Post Podcast,” which provides behind-thescenes access to our team and everything

INTO THE BACKING

you need to know to stay engaged as an angler. Follow us on social media to join the conversation. We are one community with one mission: Better Business Through Conservation.

Tony Friedrich is president and policy director of the American Saltwater Guides Association.

Angler Jack Nickens with a boss jack crevalle from Ascension Bay, Mexico.

Photo: T. Edward Nickens

In honor of the New Jersey giant’s contributions to flyfishing, the Bob Popovics Memorial Scholarship Foundation was created to raise funds dedicated to college students studying marine biology, ecology, and conservation. Please send donations to BOB POPOVICS MEMORIAL SCHOLARSHIP FUND

414 Barramore Ave Lanoka Harbor, NJ 08734

Photo: Tom Lynch

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