“This morning didn’t go exactly as planned. My client never showed, so instead of calling it a day, I pushed off the dock solo. I ended up going one for two on tarpon, missed one, landed one and after that I decided to switch gears and hunt tripletail. I landed two tripletail that day, including this fish that was caught literally inches from the boat on the fly.”
Angler Story of the Week from Zach, be sure to check out his guided trips HERE!
There are trips you take, and then there are the ones that change how you think about fishing altogether. For me, the Rio Marié falls into that second category. This is the place where the biggest peacock bass in the world live. Fish that look like bass, fight like saltwater predators, and carry colors that feel painted straight from imagination. I have chased peacocks in Miami canals and dreamed about the giants in Colombia and Brazil for years, but the Marié sits at the top of the mountain.
The story begins with Rodrigo Salles, co-owner of Untamed Angling. He has built these operations in Brazil from the ground up, partnering with local tribes and creating one of the most authentic, ethical, and thoughtful fishing experiences in the world.
After a week with Rodrigo in Kendjam, checking off new species, it was hard to imagine anything could top this trip. That was until Rodrigo mentioned the Rio Marié—a place so remote and untouched that peacocks reached 20 pounds. He was headed to the headwaters with a small group and offered up a spot for the first trip of the year.
It was a once-in-a-lifetime offer, and the angler in me couldn’t pass it up. Adventure, untouched waters, and trophy fish—the type of trip that could leave part of yourself behind in the jungle. I even missed a friend’s wedding for it. Meghan, I am truly sorry, but I would be lying if I said it was not worth it—life back home could wait.
An Adventure In Itself
Getting to the Rio Marie was an adventure in itself. Covering wide expanses of jungle wilderness in a small prop plane comes with its risks, and this trip would be no different. It started with a tiny Cessna flying into the remote town of Manaus. From there, the real adventure began. A float plane arrived to take our small crew deeper into the jungle.
Once we took off, it’d be hundreds of miles of jungle until we hit the Marié. Anytime I’m on a plane, especially a small one, I feel that pit in my stomach. But this was different. Looking out the tiny window, feeling the turbulence, watching an endless stretch of jungle roll beneath us. Pure wilderness as far as you can see.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the millions of creatures down there. Places no one I know has ever set foot in. Things I’ve never seen before. It’s a wild feeling. The true definition of stepping outside your comfort zone. It was excitement, nerves, and curiosity all colliding at once. Then suddenly, a dark ribbon winding through endless green emerged. We had made it to the Rio Marié.
The plane touched down beside the mothership, a beautiful vessel that looks modest from the outside but transforms into a home out in the jungle once you step inside—basecamp for the week. The real adventure was about to begin.
Maiden Voyage
Overnight, the mothership forged deeper up the Rio Marié. I was excited, overwhelmed, and on a boat with people from all over the world. We had all traveled for days to reach this remote, special place. And now we’re all side by side, rigging rods, tying knots, and checking leaders. Stories start floating around, quiet at first, then louder. The shared glow of anticipation started to grow.
The night before, during our first dinner, I kept looking at the walls behind us. Trophy fish from past seasons. Giant, wild, unreal. You just stare at them, and your imagination runs wild.
The next morning, our crew split off onto a support boat with Rodrigo, a guide named Rafa, and a handful of local crew. For the next four nights, we camped and pushed upriver, fishing sunup to sundown every single day.
We were here for one thing: the temensis, the giant peacock bass that lives only in this system. The caliber of fish that tests your tackle in every sense.Fishing for them is like bass fishing on steroids. Eight, nine, and ten-weight rods. Huge saltwater style streamers and poppers, paired with endless blind casting into structure. And every cast could be the fish of a lifetime. That knowledge keeps you moving even when the heat feels endless, and your arms start to burn.
The jungle here is alive in a way that hits you immediately. Tannic water from decaying leaves. Very few mosquitoes, thanks to the acidity. The bees, however, were plentiful. For whatever reason, they were obsessed with me. For whatever reason, I couldn’t escape them. Maybe it was the sweat. Maybe the color of my shirt. But they were on me all the time.
After catching several smaller peacocks, I had my sights on what we came here for: a true 20-pound bass. I made what felt like a perfect cast. Right into a piece of structure that just looked fishy.I start stripping.One strip.Two strips. When it happens…I felt a tickle in the middle of my back. I knew exactly what it was. One of the bees was working its way up the inside of my shirt. As if on queue, I take my hand off the line to shake off the bee, and the temensis I was after engulfs my fly. I scrambled to save the opportunity, the bee flew out of my shirt, and the fish got away.
Water’s Unknown
Each night, we reached the small native mothership as it leapfrogged upriver. We would bathe in the river, eat local fish, talk about the day, and fall asleep exhausted. Mornings came fast, and every day brought new water, new lagoons, new chances. Rodrigo told us stories of places that had only been fished once or twice in the past decade. We pushed into water that had never been fished before.
At one lagoon, I managed only to snag a tree behind me, but Rodrigo still let me name it Jared Lagoon. That is the kind of humor and kindness that makes him who he is.
The fishing was not easy. It was relentless work. Blind casting for hours, trying to find the right angles, trying not to destroy the boat with my back cast. I burned through at least fifteen of Rodrigo’s flies. He gave me a hard time, and I deserved it.
Trophy Temensis
My goal for the week was simple. Find a temensis over twenty pounds. In the peacock world, this is the benchmark: like a thirty-inch brown trout, ten-pound bonefish, or a hundred-centimeter GT. Every species has a number beyond which it stops being a great fish and becomes a once-in-a-lifetime fish.
I worked my ass off trying to make it happen. Thousands of blind casts into structure, hundreds of river miles to cover, and plenty of respectable bass, but not the one I was after.
We continued upriver on the last day, casting to likely structures when we reached a shallow underwater sandbar. I couldn’t see the bottom, but it had a fishy feel to it. The kind of underwater haunt that a giant would be cruising.
I made a blind cast along the edge of the sandbar and began my retrieve. Then the take came. Violent. The pure power of the fish sent shocks through my hands as he ripped line off the reel. It didn’t take long for me to realize this fish was different. After an ensuing battle of tug of war, we finally got it to the boat, landed it, and put a tape on it…
The author, Jared Zissu, with a 20-pound peacock bass.
It was a mix of joy, relief, and disbelief—almost emotional. I had just accomplished something that, a week earlier, felt completely out of reach. And with that, I earned myself a custom hat, an Untamed Angling ritual if you hit the twenty club. It feels ridiculous and absolutely perfect at the same time.
The Journey Home
The last days brought clearer weather and better fishing. We worked back down the river and soaked it all in. The people, the crew, the rawness of living among the local community, the sensation that you are seeing the Amazon in a way almost no one ever gets to. The captain knew every twist of the river by memory. The entire experience felt surreal, like you were part of something ancient and alive.
This was one of the most rewarding fishing trips of my life. A true adventure in the purest sense of the word. Something that will stay with me forever. Untamed Angling has created something rare here, and anyone lucky enough to experience it should count themselves fortunate. It is not easy, it is not cheap, but it is real. And in the world of fly fishing, that might be the most valuable thing of all.
If you ever get the chance to chase giant peacock bass on the Marié, take it. You might leave part of yourself in the jungle, but what you bring home will last forever.
In the mountain west, this winter has not been as forceful as many past seasons, though there is still time for snowpack to even out and temperatures to settle in. Regardless, winter is one of my favorite times to be on the water. The pressure drops, fish settle into predictable patterns and sections that are pressured in the warmer months come alive when the cold sets in. For many guides and anglers, winter is a season we look forward to for exactly these reasons.
But unpressured water doesn’t necessarily mean easy fishing. When winter flows drop, rivers don’t just get quieter. Many grow smaller, and when rivers shrink, the margin for error gets thinner.
This is not a case against winter fishing, but a case for understanding how low flows change the stakes and how angling practices can matter more than many people realize.
Why Winter Flows Change the Game
Low flows compress the system. Habitats shrink, deep, slow water becomes harder to find, and fish stack into fewer holding areas that provide the right mix of depth, current, and cover. What might be spread across a long run during higher flows gets condensed into a handful of predictable lies. This concentration is part of what makes winter fishing feel so good; fish are easier to locate and easier to reach. But it is also why repeated pressure hits harder.
When fish are holding in fewer places, disturbance is less distributed. After release, there is less room to slide away, recover, and reset. Movement between adjacent pieces of water becomes more limited, even when conditions are otherwise healthy. Low flows don’t automatically harm fish, but they magnify the impact of everything else we do.
This dynamic does not apply equally across all rivers. Large, high-volume systems can continue to absorb pressure even at low winter flows, thanks to their depth, width, and habitat redundancy. Fish still have options, and pressure spreads naturally. The situations where margins tighten fastest are smaller freestones, side channels, and reach limited systems where low flows reduce available holding water.
Winter Fishing in a More Crowded World
Winter fishing has changed. More anglers are fishing year-round. Social media, better gear, and improved access have all contributed to steady winter pressure on rivers that once saw long, quiet stretches. At the same time, climate variability is reshaping flow patterns. Longer low-flow periods, reduced snowpack in some basins, and extended shoulder seasons mean fish spend more time concentrated in fewer places.
Put simply, more people are fishing the same water under tighter conditions. What once felt like low-impact winter angling can quickly become repeated disturbance when flows are thin and traffic is steady. The effect is not dramatic in a single moment, but it can become cumulative over weeks and months.
When Success Starts to Concentrate Pressure
Trout are resilient, which is why winter fishing is as effective as it is. They handle cold water, recover from short fights, and in healthy systems can be caught more than once without obvious short-term harm. This issue is not about fragility, but pressure distribution.
“Honey holes” or bottlenecks are not unique to winter. Every river has specific structures and runs that consistently hold fish across seasons. What changes in low winter flows is not the existence of bottlenecks but the number of viable alternatives surrounding them. As flows drop, adjacent holding water often dwindles, leaving fewer places that meet the basic requirements for depth, velocity, and energy conservation. Fish are still choosing good water; they are just selecting from a smaller menu.
In these situations, the signal is not stressed fish or visible damage. It is consistency that does not change with pressure. The same seams, the same depth, the same response hour after hour. That is where judgment matters most, not because trout are weak, but because the system has less capacity to absorb pressure. The better call is often not to stop fishing, but to spread effort out. Move sooner. Fish more water instead of more fish. Let productive water rest, even when it keeps producing.
The Takeaway
The winter fishing doesn’t require a new rulebook. The same principles that matter in warmer seasons still apply in the winter. What changes in winter low-flow conditions is not the technique, but the margin. Pressure accumulates faster, and the system offers fewer places for that pressure to spread.
Winter remains one of the most rewarding seasons on the river. It rewards patience, observation, and intention. Low flows don’t mean stop fishing. They mean fish consciously because when rivers shrink, the choices we make carry a little more weight.
Many anglers think of sharks as a nuisance, but not Conway Bowman, the subject of the film MAKO. The San Diego native has built his life around these majestic creatures, pioneering techniques to catch mako sharks on the fly. But this film goes much deeper than capturing a mako’s acrobatic display. Max Erickson, Creative Director at FISKA, along with his team, Jackson Smith and Zento Slinger, sought to capture Bowman’s story in this riveting film. From raising his children on the water to Conway’s journey into guiding, this film tells the whole story of what it takes to catch sharks on the fly.
We had the opportunity to sit down with Max Erickson and learn what it took to put together MAKO.
Flylords: What got the ball rolling on the idea for this film? What did the early concepts look like, and why did you decide to make MAKO?
Erickson: My friend Zento went down to San Diego in the off-season for a quick photoshoot with Conway Bowman and called me immediately after. He talked about the fishery, the tactics, and the kind of person Conway was, and said, “We should probably make a film about this guy”. I did some digging into what kind of media existed around Conway and mako shark fly fishing specifically, and came up short. I ended up jumping on a call with Conway, and things blossomed from there.
Flylords: Leading up to shooting a film like this, what does the pre-production look like? What kind of elements and scenarios are you preparing for?
Erickson: With any film, I like to get to know the character(s) in prep, after all, that’s what makes a film a film, the story, the people. I had several calls with Conway where we discussed his history, his motivations, and his fishery. With a documentary-style film, I avoid making things too prescribed in pre-production. There’s a fine line between being prepared and forcing your will on a story. We developed beats we wanted to hit with the film, then during production, we used those as jumping-off points.
From a technical standpoint, preparing for this was a bit unique. With anything, especially fishing, you go in with a set of expectations and are quickly met with an alternate reality. Shark fishing was no different, but there were a few points that informed how we would shoot this film. 1 – the fish get close to the boat, really close. 2 – these things jump, HIGH.
Going into production, we had all these micro goals, the shots you want to get, “wouldn’t it be cool if…”. One of those was being able to capture the sharks airborne. Because those moments are so hectic and fleeting, I wanted to try to preserve them as much as possible, allowing the audience to appreciate the detail and nuance of these giant creatures jumping 20’ in the air. Every day, we had our B-Cam, a high-speed beast set up with a long parfocal zoom, ready to capture a shark jumping at any moment. Jackson stood by with that camera at the ready, and after a bit of trial and error, we were able to capture some incredible footage of these sharks rocketing from the ocean.
Another goal was to capture the fish hunting us. These sharks are not shy, and they’re willing to get very close to the boat and stick around. This gave us ample opportunity to film free-swimming sharks. The caveat: I wasn’t interested in being part of the food chain. We employed some unique equipment to hang a camera over the side of the boat and keep the flesh out of harm’s way…mostly.
Flylords: What kind of person is Conway Bowman? How essential is someone like him to a project like this?
Erickson: Conway’s a driven, caring man. He has a presence that fills a room, and you can see all of the people in his life magnetically drawn to him. He has a certain sensitivity and care that he brings to everything he does, from his fishing to his children; everything is done with purpose. Having a character that naturally resonates with the people in their life as the center point of a film is incredibly helpful. That magnetism permeates the screen and pulls audiences into the film; it’s one of those intangibles that makes a film entertaining.
Flylords: In short, what does mako shark fishing on a fly setup look like? What are some of the tactics for getting these beasts to eat a fly?
Erickson: Fishing for Makos isn’t exactly what you’d think. There are the norms: you want a stout rod with significant backbone and lifting power, 14wt on the small end, and you can’t go too heavy. A very large arbor reel with smooth startup inertia and a robust frame. Loads of gelspun backing, and a heavy floating line (12+). You’re not casting far, 30’ at most, so having a balanced setup is much less important than having one that can support your quarry.
The leader and fighting techniques are where things get a bit interesting. At the business end, Conway runs stainless steel wire through a tube fly, which is not much more than a colorful clump of marabou and foam, then a 30lb class tippet above the wire.
When you hook a 300+lb mako shark, it’s like hooking a Lamborghini. You’re not stopping that thing with a little fly rod without killing it. The goal isn’t to tire the fish to the point that you can land it and get your hero shot. The goal is to hook the fish, get a few jumps, then let him forget you’re there.
Conway runs a light drag throughout the fight and, towards the end, reduces the pressure he’s putting on the fish; they start just casually swimming forward while he pulls the boat up next to the fish, grabs the leader, and breaks them off. So many people say they don’t want to deal with landing a 150lb tarpon, get the eat, get the jumps, let him go. It’s the same deal with Makos. And let’s be real, you don’t want your little fingers anywhere near that smile at the end of the fight.
Flylords: What makes a mako shark such a desirable game fish?
Erickson: The visuals, the entire game is predator vs prey, and you’re playing both roles. These fish are coming to you, to hunt you down. It’s the opposite of any other fishing I’ve experienced. Make all the noise, get them mad, make the shark want to kill you, then feed it some feathers. And man, when they jump, it’s just inspiring. Looking UP at a mako shark, that’s pure adrenaline.
Flylords: What were some of the dangers of filming a project like this? Any close encounters?
Erickson: You’re a little boat in the middle of the Pacific trying to look like food. What could go wrong? The most dangerous thing we did was hop in the water with a shark. But honestly, the fish had been around the boat for a while, maybe 30 minutes, and wasn’t showing signs of aggression. Zento dove in with his camera in an attempt to get some photos from a unique perspective away from the boat, but the shark seemed put off by him. Who knows, maybe he didn’t shower that morning. But generally speaking, if you play it cool and stay smart, it’s a safe game.
Flylords: What did the process of trying to find these sharks look like?
Erickson: Conway does a few things. He’s looking for specific fathom lines or contours deep in the Pacific, where these fish run like highways. He’ll set up a drift where the boat floats freely along a certain contour, dragging a chum slick. By the end of the drift, which will last hours, you’ve covered miles and miles of water. He also uses acoustic techniques like banging a special rod against the hull of the boat to create a rhythmic low-frequency sound that travels a long distance in the water.
Flylords: What were some special camera tactics you and the team employed in order to shoot this unique concept in a unique environment?
Erickson: Aside from the stuff I talked about earlier, we decided we wanted a shot of the shark eating the fly, from the fly’s POV. So we rigged a GoPro to a boat hook pole and teased some fish with that. It was really tough to get the shot because the sharks were so keyed in on the electromagnetic frequencies of the camera. They kept avoiding the fly and just eating the camera. I fought one fish for a minute or so, trying to shake the camera out of its mouth. Came back with some scars, but we ended up with some awesome shots.
Flylords: Going into this, what were your expectations? How were they met/ surpassed?
Erickson: I expected more fish, eager to eat a fly at any time. What I learned is that just because it’s the apex predator doesn’t mean it’s a killing machine. The sharks have a curiosity and intelligence that make them a really fun target. You have to play the game, you have to feed the fish, you have to convince them that they want to eat your fly. It starts as a close-quarters chess game and ends with an F1 race, and all hell breaks loose.
Flylords: Do you think there is a fly-fishing film like this out there? If not, why?
Erickson: I don’t think so. This film is an exploration of fatherhood and partnership through the lens of mako shark fishing. It’s a curious duality starring a unique fish. I think people will really enjoy it.
Colorado Parks & Wildlife (CPW) is running a tournament at Blue Mesa Reservoir—the state’s largest—to remove as many lake trout as possible. From now through April 30, anglers can compete for the chance to win their share of $10,000 in prize money.
CPW wants lake trout removed from Blue Mesa because the fish are highly predatory, especially on younger kokanee salmon. Kokanee are a freshwater sockeye, and incredibly popular sportfish across the Mountain West. They make excellent table food, and are a fun fight on trolling gear. Since kokanee are pelagic (open-water) fish, though, they run into similar habitat occupied by lake trout.
With a booming lake trout population, that means more and more small kokanee are being consumed by these fish, leaving fewer for anglers to catch. This same problem is happening at other kokanee fisheries throughout the region, including Flaming Gorge Reservoir on the Utah – Wyoming border.
The tournament at Blue Mesa will get more anglers out there catching lake trout, and according to a CPW news release, it will help “aquatic biologists maintain adequate kokanee salmon fry survival by limiting predation from lake trout. Maintaining abundant kokanee supports quality-fishing opportunities for kokanee and provides a source of kokanee eggs for restocking needs at up to 29 waters in Colorado. Abundant kokanee are also essential for maintaining continued growth and condition of trophy Lake Trout at Blue Mesa Reservoir.”
This isn’t the first iteration of this tournament, either. This is the fourth year in a row CPW has sanctioned it, and 2025’s edition of the fishing challenge yielded 2,770 fish caught, by far the most since 2020.
“Ongoing harvest of small lake trout continues to be needed to maintain kokanee numbers at appropriate levels while also benefitting trophy lake trout production,” said CPW aquatic biologist Giulio Del Piccolo. “Lake trout are prolific, and our research has proven that smaller lake trout 24 inches and smaller consume the most kokanee. That’s why we target those fish in the tournament.”
You can learn more about getting in on this tournament, and how to claim prizes, here.
The fly fishing market just became a whole lot more interesting. As of today, Sitka, the already huge hunt brand, has unveiled its new Fish line of gear and apparel. This lineup consists of everything from technical sun apparel to bibs and rain gear. But what’s most exciting is two new pairs of waders that have entered the wader market. These include the CrossCurrent GTX Zip (zipfronts) and the CrossCurrent GTX (convertible), as well as a matching pair of CrossCurrent Wading Boots. For anglers demanding the most from their gear, Sitka has designed this line to meet their needs. To learn more about this new release, check out the full press release below:
From Sitka:
BOZEMAN, Mont. (Feb. 3, 2026) – SITKA Gear, the industry leader in high-performance hunting apparel, today announced its expansion into the fishing category with SITKA Fish, drawing on more than two decades of technical outdoor expertise. The new category introduces purpose-built systems designed to perform across all waters.
The U.S. fishing market continues to grow, with 57.9 million participants,1 representing a significant opportunity in the fishing apparel segment. With 70 percent of existing SITKA customers already identifying as anglers, the brand is uniquely positioned to serve this growing market. The brand enters this space with advanced technology, rigorous testing across diverse fishing environments, and diverse conservation partnerships built into the business model from day one.
Since SITKA’s founding, the company has continually taken the harder, divergent path solving real problems with advanced innovation and putting the pursuit, not lifestyle, at the center of everything. SITKA is launching Fish with a commitment to entering the category differently by addressing the performance gaps anglers have tolerated for too long. The expansion evolves the brand from a seasonal hunting specialist into a year-round technical apparel company serving the modern sportsman across pursuits.
“Fishing is more than a hobby for our customers—it is part of how they live,” said Matt Carara, Product Line Manager at SITKA Gear. “With SITKA Fish, we’re delivering gear that removes barriers to the pursuit of fishing, so anglers can focus on connecting with the fish, the environment, and the people around them. These purpose-built skin to shell systems perform across all waters, giving every cast and step the attention it deserves.”
SITKA Fish offers a complete suite of products engineered for all-water performance—not just single fishing disciplines. The range is headlined by:
Crosscurrent Wading System: A complete wading solution featuring zip and non-zip stockingfoot waders ($800–$1,000) built with four-layer GORE-TEX PRO construction, along with purpose-built wading boots ($299 Rubber $249 Felt) that solve the industry’s most persistent pain points—durability through wet/dry cycles, replaceable traction systems, and quick-drying materials.
CAT-5 Jacket and Bib System: A technical rain and wind system featuring a jacket and bib (Jacket $500, Bib $500) built using GORE-TEX with Stretch technology—rare in fishing outerwear—delivering guaranteed waterproof protection without sacrificing mobility for casting, netting, and all-day wear.
Guard Sun Hoodie ($99) and Guard LS Shirt ($129): Lightweight warm-weather fishing essentials delivering integrated UPF 50+ sun protection and Insect Shield treatment that won’t wash out, providing breathable, all-day protection on the water.
To demonstrate the all-water capability of SITKA Fish gear, the brand produced four cinematic films documenting full time watermen and the gear they rely on across North America. The films
include “A Town Called Sitka” (steelhead in Alaska), “Feathers to Fins” (turkey and permit in the Yucatán), “Casting for Ghosts” (musky in the Mid-west), and “Kings to Giants” (tarpon and large mouth bass in Florida). The films will release on a rolling schedule from February through June 2026.
SITKA is not just innovating gear—it is rethinking how products interact with the environment. The same way SITKA engineers gear to work as a system, it invests in conservation efforts that strengthen the entire environment supporting fish, wildlife, and their habitats. SITKA Fish launches with five foundational conservation partnerships: Theodore Roosevelt Conservation Partnership (modernizing access to our public waters), American Rivers (protecting and restoring rivers), Keep Fish Wet (science-based catch-and-release education), Captains for Clean Water (Everglades and clean water restoration), and Backcountry Hunters & Angler’s Armed Forces Initiative with Chesapeake Bay Foundation (habitat restoration). Together, these partnerships safeguard the future of the outdoor pursuits SITKA depends on.
“At SITKA, conservation is not a campaign—it is core to how we show up in the outdoors,” said Lindsey Davis, Director of Conservation at SITKA Gear. “Rooted in science and shared stewardship, our whole-ecosystem approach guides our entry into fishing, supporting partners who protect water ecologies at scale for the benefit of many species.
Together, the product line and conservation work mark SITKA’s commitment to serving anglers with gear built for the water—and for the future of the environments they depend on.
SITKA Fish products will be available starting February 3, 2026, at https://www.sitkagear.com/fish, in SITKA Gear retail locations, and at select specialty retailers nationwide.
1 Recreational Boating & Fishing Foundation, 2024
About SITKA Gear
SITKA Gear, based in Bozeman, Montana, created and leads the technical hunting apparel category. The company is recognized for its commitment to continually improving the life experience of the hunter and for its support of healthy ecosystems and wildlife populations. SITKA products work together in systems, and each piece is designed and tested rigorously in both the lab and the field. SITKA is owned by W.L. Gore & Associates, an advanced materials company well known for GORE-TEX™ fabrics and many other industry-leading innovations that provide durable comfort and protection to outdoor enthusiasts. Go to sitkagear.com to learn more about how SITKA enhances the full life experience of the hunter.
“I saw tarpon cruising the day before in super skinny water. I’d cast whenever I saw one but almost always spooked them. So I got the idea to use an indicator to have the fly out there already and when they passed by, I’d fish the fly like normal. And boom! It worked!”
It feels like everyone has a “hack” or a set of “quick tips and tricks” to help you catch more fish on a fly rod. On the one hand, it’s nice to know that, even if they’re motivated largely by money, folks still want to help other anglers improve their skills. On the other, it’s hard to sift through the tips that are designed to rope you into spending your money, and the ones that are legitimate.
I’m throwing my hat into that ring, with the caveat that my “quick tip for catching more fish” is one I legitimately believe in. Feel free to send me cash if you want, but I’d much rather hear your thoughts down in the comments, if we’re being honest.
To set the stage, I’ll tell you about a recent trip. I was with my two buddies Alex and Ryan, and we were floating my favorite river in the world. The sky was gray and low, there wasn’t any wind, and the temps were in the low 30s. It was perfect streamer fishing weather, which is why we were there. Through the first mile or so of the float, though, the fish were much more interested in taking small nymphs floated under a dry fly than in chasing an articulated fly.
I’ve got this romantic obsession with winter streamer fishing on this particular river. The water is crystal-clear, so if you throw a lighter-colored streamer, you can watch your fly throughout the retrieve. Better yet, you can watch the fish as they chase it, sometimes eating right at the boat, at others, turning up their noses at the last moment. It’s the most enjoyable sight fishing I get to do, and even if the hookup rate isn’t great, it’s hard to overstate how much fun it is to watch fish chase a streamer for 50 or 60 feet.
With the fish not interested in the streamers, I was a bit crestfallen, but I’d made myself a promise a week or so before the trip. I realized, while looking through pictures of fish I’d caught in 2025, that I fished less last year than I have in a decade, and there were few trips that got me stoked to hit the water. When things didn’t go according to plan, I had a habit of packing it in early and going home. That makes for a lousy fishing companion, and an even lousier drive home, because it felt like I was half-assing my way through my limited time on the water.
And even though I’m generally against New Year’s Resolutions, I decided to try and find that love again, that passion for fly fishing that, at times, becomes all-consuming.
This streamer fishing trip was my first real test of that resolution, and I’m happy to say I passed with flying colors. I fished that dry-dropper rig hard, caught a few nice fish on it, and when the streamer fishing did turn on, I appreciated it even more.
What I noticed most, though, is the real point of all this rambling: I had a blast fishing that dry-dropper rig, even though I wished the fish would eat streamers. But in my determination to not let that ruin my day, I fished that dry-dropper with the sort of tenacity I haven’t used in a while. I fished hard, and when we switched to streamers, I fished hard. I took my turn on the oars, too, but as soon as I could, I was back with the rod in hand, seeking out another fish.
I didn’t stop for lunch, and I only took a real break towards the end of the day when my back was sore from standing, slightly hunched, while stripping in fly line.
That might have been the best day of streamer fishing I’ve ever had, and I missed surprisingly few fish. Most of my casts ended up where they should, I manipulated the streamer exactly like I wanted, and I ended the day with that tired satisfaction that only comes from spending your time doing something that doesn’t much matter, but matters a lot to you.
I’m a firm believer that, if you fish with confidence, and you fish hard, you’ll have a lot of success in this sport. Perhaps that’s what really lies behind beginner’s luck. They catch the huge fish on their first outing because they’re fishing harder, with more concentration, than the rest of us.
I’m sure there’s another lesson in there about life, but for now, I think it’s enough that I’ve realized it about fly fishing.
The Florida State Legislature is once again considering a piece of legislation that threatens both Everglades restoration and general conservation in the Sunshine State. And if you guessed the behemoth sugar industry was somehow involved, you’re correct. When it comes to protecting South Florida’s waterways, Captains For Clean Water is not one to back down from a fight. Today, they are sounding the alarm and activating support throughout the country to defeat a single provision that could upend so much great work in the state.
What is the issue, specifically? Florida’s SB 290/HB 433, one of Florida’s Farm Bills, includes a disparagement clause provision that could financially punish citizens, nonprofits, and journalists for speaking out about agricultural practices that impact Florida’s waterways. Agriculture Commissioner Wilton Simpson is one of the driving force behind the bill, and he was also one of the major advocates of the now widely criticized SB 2508 which Captains for Clean Water activated thousands of advocates against.
“A part of the bill expands legal tools for expensive lawsuits against people who publicly criticize agricultural practices—including practices that impact Florida’s waterways—and it gives one-way attorney’s fees to the winning side,” wrote Captains for Clean Water.
“This is an urgent threat for anyone who cares about accountability, clean water, and the ability to raise concerns without fear of being bankrupted. Protecting Florida’s waters depends on people speaking up, but this bill could discourage exactly that kind of public accountability by making it riskier to talk about practices that impact water quality.”
Head on over to Captains for Clean Water today and take action! Protecting Florida’s clean waterways is hard enough as is…the last thing we need is to make it easier for polluters to silence and intimidate conservation advocates.
Redington and Sage, two of the brands under the Far Bank parent company, announced new product releases this week. A handful of new rods and reels will be available for anglers on February 3.
Redington is dropping a new Big Game rod, Classic Trout Kit, and Classic Trout Reel. Sage is offering a Power R8 rod family, along with the Arrow rod family, and a new reel dubbed Shift.
The Big Game rod launches with 10 models available, in weights 6 through 12, and lengths at either 8’3″ or 9’0″. All Big Game rods are built with a “deep-loading fast action” and feature machined hook keepers in the reel seat. Redington is also making use of its newer graphite technology that uses high-performance nano resin impregnated into the material, for a supposedly stronger, more responsive rod.
The 11 and 12-weight Big Game rods are musky-specific models, with an 11-inch fore grip for easily performing figure-8s.
The Classic Trout Field Kit takes one of Redington’s most popular rods of all time, pairs it with the new Classic Trout Reel and RIO fly line, giving anglers a ready-to-fish setup that’s dialed for trout. The Classic Trout Field Kit is available with either a 7’6″ 3-weight or 9′ 5-weight.
The Classic Trout Reel is Redington’s latest take on the vintage reels that are making a bit of a comeback in recent years. It’s a click-check drag with a mid arbor, so it still sports decent line pickup. It’s made from 6061-T6 aluminum, so the reel should be fairly durable. It’s available in black, gold, or silver.
Sage’s Arrow rods are billed as multi-application, fast-action sticks designed for use with both trout and bass. These are built on Sage’s KonneticHD technology, a step below the company’s R8 graphite, and Arrow rods are priced at $725. You can find everything from a 7’6″ 3-weight to a 9′ 8-weight, and even a large variety of 10-footers.
The Power R8 rods will likely be familiar to anyone who remembers the Sage Method. Built on a similar bright red blank, Power R8 sticks are designed for “into-the-backing-knot shots” and uses the company’s latest R8 technology. In weights 5 through 9, Sage says the Power R8 will also give you the finesse and technical presentation needed to get the most out of large flies.
Rounding out the new gear is the Sage Shift and Shift LT, a family of reels that utilizes a one-revolution drag knob that gives anglers “reliable, consistent, repeatable drag pressure.” Shift reels also feature slightly narrower spools and larger arbor designs than the outgoing Spectrum reels, giving anglers more line pickup per revolution.
All of these products will be available from Sage and Redington dealers on February 3.
