“Every year our trout unlimited chapter helps stock the DH section of the Upper Toccoa. The do the bucket line to bring fish down to the river. However they can’t get close to the river in most of the DH. So they ask guides to come help with their boats or rafts. In recent years it’s been me and maybe one other boat. We used coolers and buckets to float them down river. However the fish won’t last long cause they will suffocate each other with that many of them in such a small space.
So this year I had been messing with a few ideas and then I remembered something. my raft is a self bailing boat. Let’s just put them in the boat! Took the floor out. Filled with water and it worked! We were able to transport a few hundred fish at a time. The goal was to spread them out. Give anglers a chance at fish all up and down the river. We’ve had a lot of folks come into the shop saying great things about the fishing. That the fish were everywhere and fishing was awesome.
Also we just did another one with DNR on our tailwater section of the river. Another video soon to come”
Reel of the Week from Ben, be sure to check out his Instagram HERE!
One of the countless resident rainbow trout in the Limay.
As catch-and-release fishing has exploded in popularity over the past few decades, many fisheries managers across America have also seen a decrease in the amount of anglers keeping fish for food. Correlation doesn’t always mean causation, however, which caused some researchers to take a closer look at angler harvest trends. Their study focused on the Lee’s Ferry tailwater fishery in Arizona, which is right at the head of the Grand Canyon.
The researchers looked at 40 years of creel data cross-referenced with changing management regulations.
“Angler harvest rates declined during the study,” they wrote. “Significant differences in angler harvest rates were observed between angler groups using different gears. Anglers using fly-fishing gear were observed to have the lowest harvest rates, followed by anglers using spinning gear. Anglers using bait had the highest harvest rates over the course of the study.”
What stands out, though, is that the predominant type of gear used to fish at Lee’s Ferry changed throughout the 40 years of creel data. During that time, regulations on that portion of the Colorado River also changed to protect the rainbow trout and eliminate brown trout from the fishery.
All that led to a conclusion that many anglers were displaced from Lee’s Ferry due to management regulations. In plain English, that means gear and bait anglers quit fishing it as often in order to fish other waters where harvest opportunity was greater.
That doesn’t mean all gear and bait anglers are looking to harvest their catch, and the researchers don’t make that conclusion. Their biggest point was how effective some management techniques can be at preventing harvest entirely on certain rivers. This could be useful for conserving and protecting populations of threatened and endangered trout throughout the rest of the country.
“This change in harvest behavior was likely further increased by harvest-oriented anglers being displaced by restrictive harvest and gear regulations,” the study concludes. “Consideration of these factors may be beneficial for fisheries management decisions.”
When I first followed Maine guide Bri Dostie (she/they) on Instagram earlier this year, she messaged me right away. Being an angler, I follow a lot of people in the fly fishing world, and typically don’t get a response. Maybe a like and a follow back, but usually not a personal DM.
Not from Bri. A few hours later, I had a follow back and a message: “Glad we both love fish and are badass women,” her DM read. “Keep it up!”
Fast forward to this past September, when I finally got to meet Bri in real life to test gear out in Montana with the synthetic insulation brand, Primaloft. I wasn’t sure she’d even remember me, but Bri—who is a Primaloft ambassador—greeted me with a huge hug and a smile, followed by a, “It’s finally so nice to meet you in real life!” She did remember me, and we were fast friends before the float trip even started.
From the moment we messaged back in January, though, I felt welcomed, which I think captures Bri’s personality and mission perfectly. In addition to guiding big brook trout in Maine, Bri is an artist and the founder of Confluence Collective, a community-based organization dedicated to making the water more accessible and inclusive for everybody. Through workshops, cultural exchanges, community meetups, and place-based education, the Collective helps anglers build confidence and skills while honoring the local ecosystems they fish in. They partner with guides, nonprofits, and grassroots groups to break down financial, social, and cultural barriers that often keep people—especially women, BIPOC-folks, people with disabilities, queer, and gender-expansive anglers—off the water.
After our brief but fun time floating the Stillwater in Absarokee, Montana, I knew I had to sit down with Bri to get her story. Read our chat below.
Let’s start with your story — how did you first get into fly fishing, and what drew you to the sport in the first place?
Bri: I grew up in Maine, spending my childhood outdoors—I was homeschooled until seventh grade, so my classroom was always outside. I began fly fishing at 15 years old as a way to spend time with my then-boyfriend and learned the craft from his father on a bass pond behind their house in a canoe, which was a super fun way to fish. I spent most of my time based in Central Maine, particularly the Oxford County foothills on the Androscoggin River and nearby brooks and ponds. Today, I primarily guide in western Maine and the Rangeley area, which is home to the largest brook trout in the lower 48.
Confluence Collective has such a powerful mission centered on connection, access, and inclusivity in fly fishing. What inspired you to start it, and what gap did you feel needed to be filled in the outdoor community?
Bri: I started Confluence Collective because I felt excluded in traditional fly fishing environments, where I often encountered unwelcoming or limiting atmospheres, particularly for women, queer folks, and others outside the majority demographic. I didn’t want to talk about how my partner fished, or pretend I knew everything about fishing, which is how I felt going to a lot of the meet-ups I went to—I wanted to talk about different things on the water, like how it felt to be standing in the current, and what it means to be curious and try new things.
So, the process began right before the pandemic, when I decided to leave my job in educational programming to focus on creating cultural programs in fishing. Over time, Confluence Collective evolved into a broader, intersectionally inclusive community, offering workshops, campouts, and collaborative programming to break down barriers and build connections with other folks in fly fishing. Confluence Collective is for everybody, because everybody belongs on the water. It’s designed to address access issues that exist for folks who don’t fit the stereotypical angler or majority identity set.
The name “Confluence” is so fitting for what you do. Can you share what it symbolizes to you personally?
Bri: A “confluence” is a coming together of different waters and is a super biodiverse space where nutrients and species are coalescing. Usually, it results in incredible fishing. That idea of coming together as anglers and maintaining your uniqueness, but still being open to the flow of it all, is definitely symbolized by our name. And I think that every physical confluence we go to on the water is an invitation. You’re looking at the water, you’re trying to figure things out, you’re observing, you’re listening closely and intentionally—that’s how you find fish, how you find yourself, and that’s how you also meet people where they’re at instead of where you think they are.
You talk a lot about building community on the water. What does that look like in practice?
Bri: I think the most important part is prioritizing simple togetherness and centering joy and curiosity. It’s also not one single person doing it, but it’s everybody working in their spaces to really address issues in access and inclusivity on the water. Community is a collective effort, and we’re really open about the ways that our mission manifests.
What other lessons have you learned since starting Confluence Collective?
Bri: Fly fishing is just being near water sometimes—it doesn’t mean you have to cast or catch anything. There is no right way to cast or tie flies, no matter what anyone says. And the water is for everybody—all sizes, all abilities, all ages, all with unique gear and tool needs that are not considered or supported with standard offerings available. Fly fishing access and infrastructure need to be inclusive to everyone, regardless of age or ability. Our partners at Camp Bullwheel, for example, have invented sip-and-puff casting and helped us build more accessible watercrafts. We need to learn from one another and implement these changes on a wider scale. And maintain each person’s agency to make decisions, which is always more important than what you may think they need.
What kind of change would you like to see in the broader fly fishing industry — in terms of representation, leadership, or accessibility?
Bri: I’m wary of groups that don’t push themselves beyond calling themselves a “women’s group? I know that it never fit me, and I know other people who felt confined and categorized. Also, this idea that fly fishing is this exclusive, precious thing that can’t be ruined tells you that there’s fear that something’s being taken away by having different people besides straight, white, rich men on the water, when it can only get better with diversity. We need more people to bolster the idea that it can only get better.
What gear do you never leave the dock without?
Bri: Layers! Tons of layers because I’m always cold. I especially love my Rab Evolute Hoodie, which traps warmth thanks to the Primaloft lining and keeps me warm (and then a backup in case I fall in, which happens more than you think). Polarized sunglasses, too—even if they’re the cheap ones from the convenience store, they’re such a game changer. I always, always have like, seven different types of woolly buggers because they’re so effective, but also because I thought those were the only flies people used when I started fly fishing. Most importantly, I always have a Gray Ghost fly in my box to give away.
Why the Grey Ghosts?
Bri: I like to give them away as gifts to people I meet on the water. Giving someone a fly is a really beautiful gesture. It feels good, and it says without saying, “Hey, I have confidence in you. I have confidence you can catch something with this—you should feel confident in yourself, too.”
If you were a fly, what would you be? What about a fish?
Bri: I’d be a weird-looking bug—not a streamer, not a wet fly, like a Wood Special. A quintessential Maine fly. And then for a fish, I would be a brook trout—they’re just so informed by where they live. I can go to a pond in Maine, and I can catch a brook trout that’s almost black because it’s such tannic water. And then I can go to the coast, and I can catch one that looks like a football and is shimmery silver. To be that connected with your environment is what I want. And I want to be swimming around folks who are also like that.
Who can join Confluence Collective, and how?
Bri: Anybody can, provided that they’re showing up with the curiosity and the mindset of not teaching people their way, but sharing knowledge openly and listening and learning from other people as well. To get involved, you can reach out to me via my website or visit our website and sign up for our newsletter (which notifies you first about upcoming campouts and programs), and a calendar of open water season events. If you’re interested in starting a program or event in your own area, you’re encouraged to reach out directly—we’re always open to helping people connect the dots or access gear through our gear library. Don’t be a stranger. Share the joy. Share a fishing story. We’re always game.
When you think of pristine rivers and optimal fish habitat, you might not picture log jams scattering a river system. A new way of thinking, however, is looking to the past to help create optimal habitat for wild salmon and steelhead by replicating what nature did centuries ago: adding large woody structures into rivers and streams. In the Pacific Northwest, salmon and steelhead populations are struggling, many distinct populations are on the brink, and this restoration practice offers promise to rebuild these once iconic runs. Trout Unlimited and its Western Watershed Program Director, Luke Kelly, are working to create as much beneficial habitat using large wood as they can. Follow along to learn more.
Flylords: Luke, before we dive into hydrology, old wood, and salmonids, tell us a little bit about yourself and your work.
Luke: I was born in the Midwest and grew up exploring rivers and lakes in Indiana and at my grandpa’s cabin in Ontario, Canada. My parents moved us to Colorado when I was 14 years old. I was hired as a fly tyer and fly shop employee when I was 16 and became a guide starting at 18. I went to school at the University of CO, Boulder but guided in the summers. After college, I worked as a fisheries tech for the US Forest Service, then for a fisheries consulting firm, before I started a river and lake restoration company.
In the meantime, I’d been traveling to the PNW, BC, and AK to fly fish for salmon and steelhead since the mid-1990s. In 2005, I met a girl, and long story short, I made a permanent move to WA State in 2010-11. I got a job working for a Puget Sound Indigenous Tribe in their fisheries department and was enthralled with all the marine and freshwater ecosystems encompassed. My work at the Tribe included salmon and steelhead monitoring, but it also included scientific scuba diving, shellfish monitoring, and fisheries management (crab, shrimp, clams, and oysters).
Flylords: How did you get involved with Trout Unlimited?
Luke: In 2016, after five years at the tribe, a good friend slipped a piece of paper under my nose at the Wild Steelhead Coalition board meeting (we were board members at the time). It was for a newly created position with Trout Unlimited – Olympic Peninsula Steelhead Habitat Restoration Project Manager. …I thought I was dreaming! I’d been telling myself I wanted to get back to river restoration like I did in the Rockies, but focus on my favorite region and fish…Olympic Peninsula rivers and steelhead. I was lucky that TU took a chance on me, as I’m sure I didn’t have the most experience or best credentials compared to other applicants, and I am still grateful to this day for the work I get to do with excellent colleagues and project partners.
Luke Kelly at Ziegler Creek log jam, Trout Unlimited
Flylords: What does this job entail—what type of projects are you guys working on?
Luke: The program has grown fourfold since 2016, as we now have several staff diligently working to restore Olympic Peninsula (OP) watersheds. We focus most of our work on the West side of the OP – rivers and tributaries like the Quillayte, Sol Duc, Hoh, Clearwater, Queets, and Quinault. Although just a fraction of the land area compared to the rest of the state, the OP is home to over half of Washington’s non-ESA-listed salmon and steelhead populations. We’re lucky that most of these watersheds are in very good shape compared to many others in the state. The headwaters of all of these major watersheds originate in Olympic National Park, and much of our work is to either reconnect healthy habitat by removing anthropogenic fish barriers, like old and undersized culverts, or restore natural stream processes that have been disconnected or impacted by old timber harvest practices.
Much of this work includes placing large wood/trees back into steam channels that used to have natural old-growth log jams, now removed. We usually couple large wood placement with floodplain restoration by thinning mono culture stands and planting diverse tree species and undergrowth to restore diverse old growth forests with a wide range of habitats and micro-ecosystems.
Flylords: Ok, I think the best place to start is to maybe describe how the Pacific Northwest river systems and habitats have changed in, say, the last 500 years. Sure, dams and large cities are obvious, but can you point to more discrete, less mainstream impacts?
Luke:WA State is located in the center of what used to be the most prolific salmon and steelhead populations in history (tens of millions+ spawning per year), with Columbia River populations to the south and wrapping around the coast, into Puget Sound, and extending up into southern BC with the Fraser River.
So what happened? With technological advancements in fishing methods, fish canning, timber harvest mechanisms from hand saws to harvest processors, dam building, etc., human extraction of these natural resources became much more efficient, and the fish simply couldn’t keep up.
Flylords: What did PNW and OP watersheds and fish populations used to look like?
Luke:In summary, all rivers depend upon water, gradient, and sediment size/sediment loading (silt, sand, gravel, cobbles, boulders) to find a balance. Unlike many other places in the world, the temperate rainforest of the OP rivers also needs huge old-growth trees in the channel to create the stable log jams and habitats the salmon and steelhead have evolved to depend upon.
So, the OP used to have huge trees that fell into the streams and rivers and created logjams. These logjams were much more stable than we see today. These jams essentially create and maintain pools and also places for finer sediments, like gravel, to settle out and not be washed downstream. The jams act as refuges for pools, cool water, and stable locations where gravel can persist and provide spawning habitats for adult salmon and steelhead. Additionally, these jams have significant hydrologic forces that initiate surface water and groundwater exchange.
When flowing river water is forced into the streambed and flows under the streambed/underground, we call this hyporheic flow. This hyporheic flow is critical for supplying cool water in summer and providing increased base flow in summer seasons (similar to the benefits of beaver ponds and beaver dams). Studies of hyporheic flow have shown that some of this flow can resurface hundreds of meters, if not miles/kilometers, downstream with stream temps significantly lower than ambient stream temps …all due to the presence of natural lag jams.
Again, what did it used to look like? Floodplain and riparian forests were diverse and had many species of plants and animals of multiple ages and niches. Mainstem and tributary streams had many old natural log jams to split flows, create side channels, provide an array of habitats for rearing and spawning salmon and steelhead, and promote influxes of flow and cold water refugia for all aquatic species. The latest available science indicates, on OP watersheds, we have less than one-quarter the number of natural log jams we used to have before colonization, and in many cases on specific stream reaches, more like 1/10th.
Currently, we see riparian and instream habitats that are single-thread streams. These single-thread streams and rivers do not have off-channel habitats for rearing and spawning. There is a significant lack of surface water/groundwater exchange, and the stream temperatures and base flows are suffering. Although we are removing dams, timber harvest rules/’forest practices’ have been greatly improved, commercial fishing management has greatly improved, and we are investing millions in OP habitat restoration, the needle is slow to move toward evidence of recovery.
Large wood/trees on the OP have been proven by science time and again to be a missing element not present today. In pristine habitats in the Queets/Clearwater, scientists have dated new exposed relic trees in the stream channel to be up to 9.000 years old!
Flylords: What’s next for these PNW rivers and your work?
Luke: We are working hard with our partners, including federal, state, and tribal governments, to move the needle toward true recovery and long-term resilience. In the PNW and on the OP, we all need to understand that healthy riverine habitats rely on water, gradient, and sediment, but large wood is also critical to the equation. Without the huge, old-growth wood, we are building recovery with just the nuts and not the bolts.
Today, TU, Tribes, and our partners are working to bring the best available science forward to restore habitats. We are implementing projects to install engineered logjams, because the large trees are not long available to serve their natural purpose. At the same time, we are working to replant diverse riparian/floodplain forests and steward those efforts so there are huge trees to take over the natural habitat-forming processes 100+ years from now. The OP will be a case study and success story for other watersheds in the PNW.
Flylords: What about fish? How would have salmonids utilized and benefited from historic logjams?
Luke: Logjams are a critical shelter for salmonids in coastal rivers. When you snorkel these streams, in high or low flows throughout the year, you’ll travel long lengths and sporadically find fish. But when you get to a logjam, you’ll find both juvenile and adult fish packed into these places. Logjams add roughness to streams. They stabilize the banks and river channel, scour deep pools and they sort sediment and gravel flowing downstream during rain events, which is why you’ll often find high-quality spawning habitat in the slow water downstream right of big jams. The deep pools connect the streams to groundwater, which helps stabilize water temperatures throughout the year and recharge groundwater supplies after big rain events. Also, by slowing and diverting streamflow during those big rain events, which are common on the coast, logjams send water out onto a river’s floodplain. Aside from benefits for riparian vegetation, this is critical habitat for juvenile salmon and steelhead who would otherwise be swept downstream by heavy flows. The little fish can move out into the slow, flooded riparian zone and come back to the stream as the water recedes. In streams where logjams are missing, and the current barrels through narrow, incised river channels like a firehose during high water, this is a big source of mortality for fish populations.
Flylords: Unfortunately, humans have dramatically altered the natural services of logjams…but you and other restoration specialists are actively working on getting wood back into rivers. Tell us about these projects? What’s the process look like?
Luke: These projects require a great deal of planning, engineering, and fundraising. Start to finish can easily be five to six years of work from the first site surveys to work on the ground. On the OP, you need to go big or go home. Because of our intense winter flows, you need huge logs and ballast. We’re working with large trees, often with big, intact root wads. We’ve lost most of our old-growth forest on the Olympic Peninsula, so finding the large trees required – and the trees that would have been common historically – is a challenge.
Moving these trees requires heavy equipment. We’ll use helicopters in many situations to carry and stack the big logs into place if we can’t reach them with trucks. For much of this work, we’ve been working closely with Natural Systems Design. For decades, they’ve been leaders in the science of log jams and the practical techniques to build them, such as the types of wood to use, how to place them in the channel, etc. Our projects have benefited a great deal from their experience, methodologies, and ongoing research.
We’re trying to think about the long-term. The scale of centuries. In the short term, we need to get the wood back into the streams and make sure the logjams are built to stay in place for decades. That helps kickstart recovery and immediately provides fish with crucial habitat. But we’re always looking at the reconnected floodplains and riparian habitat along the streams. We need to plant and steward this habitat after the initial project, because we need to re-grow the diverse, complex forests and large trees that used to exist along these rivers. We’re working to restart the process of how coastal watersheds sustain themselves. Eventually, by the time our log jams are finally wearing away, there will be new, large trees falling into these streams and naturally gathering into logjams, just like they had when the habitat was intact.
Forest policy is a big piece of the puzzle, too. Historically, many of these streams were logged all the way down to the streambank. Laws and logging practices have been improved since then, which protects the riparian zone and gives these important places a chance to regrow and restore their ecological functionality along the stream.
Juvenile Coho Ziegler Creek logjam Liam Gallagher
Flylords: What are you seeing? How are the river ecosystems responding?
Luke: Like I was saying earlier, logjams are a magnet for fish. When we revisit the sites, we find juvenile and adult fish under that cover and spawning above and below them in gravel that didn’t exist before the jams were built.
In the Quinault River, pebble counts done to measure sediment sorting following
projects have shown that spawning gravel has increased by 500% in some places. We see the river channel stabilizing around the jams and new riparian trees growing in
reconnected floodplains. I also think it is fair to say that restoring log jams at this scale is still a relatively young practice. We’re seeing really encouraging results for local water temperatures and habitat improvements, but there is always a need to keep learning and improving practices. The work of researchers like Natural Systems Design and many others in the field is crucial to understanding how to best restart hydrological and ecological processes, build the structures themselves, and assess the floodplain habitat improvements and ongoing benefits for fish. When we look at the streams on the coast, we know they are missing the logjams that existed historically. We’re working hard to get this wood back into place.
Flylords: How can people learn more and get involved?
Luke: Anglers and conservationists have a bunch of opportunities to learn more about this work. I’m a Trout Unlimited guy, so I’m going to point you towards TU for sure. We talk about our work on the Olympic Peninsula – both instream restoration and fish passage projects – in our recent video Restoring Rainforest Rivers. You can find it on YouTube and on our website. This winter, we’re also going to have a new video specifically about the logjams we’re installing with the Hoh Tribe and other partners on Owl Creek, an important spawning and rearing tributary on the Hoh River. So keep an eye out for that, too.
Likewise, my colleagues who work on our North Coast Coho Project are doing exceptional work in the streams and rivers on California’s Lost Coast. They have some great resources about their work to restore large wood in salmon and steelhead streams, often in close partnership with logging companies. You can learn more about their work on our website, in some great articles from the NOAA Restoration Center, and keep up to date with all our work on TU’s social media channels. Some of the rivers in Northern California, especially those in Mendocino, have seen really encouraging coho salmon returns in recent years, too. Habitat restoration is a piece of the puzzle, helping to recover these struggling populations.
Finally, I would encourage anglers to find their local Trout Unlimited chapter and get involved. There are great ways to support this restoration work and volunteer at post-project tree planting and ongoing stewardship efforts.
Native brook trout require cold and clean water found in headwater streams.
A few weeks ago, I read a news story about the goings-on over on the North Platte River in Wyoming. One of the guides quoted in the story said something to the effect of, “You used to have 40-to-50 fish days here, but no one needs that.”
My immediate reaction was, “Who are you to tell me what I do and don’t need? I’ll decide that for myself, thanks.” But as I thought about the guide’s quote, and what I think he meant, I realized I probably agree with him more than I initially thought.
There’s nothing wrong with 40-to-50 fish days, provided you’re not standing over a redd, and that you’re practicing proper catch-and-release tactics. Shoot, there are a few streams not far from my house where you can put 30 fish in the net in an afternoon. A full day up there would probably put you close to 60. They’re all five to six-inch rainbows, but a fish is a fish.
In all honesty, though, I don’t remember the last time I caught that many fish in a day. I’ve had some 20-fish days this year—almost all of them on those creeks by my house— but if I had to stick a number on it, I’ve probably averaged around a dozen per day in the net. I used to take detailed notes on all my catches for fish journals, and a quick glance through them shows a lot of days of four to six fish, so at least I’ve progressed a bit over the years.
What’s interesting, though, is that while I’m thinking back on this year’s fishing, it’s not so much the number of fish that stands out to me. It’s where I caught them, and how. Curt Gowdy said once that anglers go through a sort of progression: at first, they want to catch as many fish as possible; then, they want to focus on big fish; finally, they’ll settle into catching a certain fish a certain way. Each phase along that journey equally scratches that itch that drives us fishing in the first place.
I don’t think Gowdy meant his progression to be strictly linear. If it were, there wouldn’t be days when I’m content with one nice cutthroat on a dry fly, and others where I just want to see how many I can catch on the battered Adams I found in my truck’s cupholder. Generally speaking, though, I find myself not worrying so much about numbers and size as I do about the opportunity to catch fish the way I enjoy most.
And just to be clear—I’m not sitting on some high horse, lecturing to the peasants about your obsession with catching tons of trout. Go ahead and catch a bunch. Keep a few for dinner, while you’re at it. Those days when fish eat on every cast are part of what binds us to this sport, and we need as many ardent trout bums as we can muster.
I’m simply noticing a change in how I enjoy and approach a day on the water, a change I never expected. I’m not sure if it means I’m plateauing as an angler, if I need to drive myself to improve (and heaven knows my casting alone could stand a good bit of refinement), or what. All I know is, last week the difference was pronounced enough that it found its way into this column.
My friend Gene invited me to fish on Wednesday, so I drove the hour to his place, loaded up the boat, and we left the ramp just after 9 a.m. He’d invited another angler along, an older gentleman who had the enthusiasm of someone half his age. Throughout the day, he deliberately and thoroughly fished every run and every pool, flinging his nymph rig through all the fishy water, and most of the places I didn’t think would hold a fish.
Meanwhile, I scanned the water for rising trout, and was content to drift through the shallower runs without casting. This river is a mossy mess, even this late in the year, and picking grass off my nymphs isn’t my idea of a good day on the water.
The older fisherman kept plugging away, and not only did he catch the most fish, but he put a gorgeous brown trout in the net, too. I caught one five-inch rainbow on a dry fly, a handful on nymphs, and one that took me for a ride and tried to lose me in some roots.
When it was clear the hatch wasn’t going to bring fish to the surface, and we had another mile of so-so water in front of us, I clipped off my flies, sat back, and enjoyed the float. I’d caught enough fish, felt happy with the day, and would rather relax than deal with picking moss off my flies for another hour.
The older fisherman put a handful of trout in the boat in that last hour, including another nice brown trout right at the boat ramp.
The difference in our approaches to the same day of fishing made that guide’s comments come back to mind. No one needs to catch 40-to-50 fish a day. Sure, no one needs that because nobody needs to go fly fishing, on a biological level. But some anglers are driven by that desire to see what happens next, while others, I reckon, are more interested in experiencing something specific.
And on that day, the older fisherman and I came away from the river having achieved exactly what we wanted.
Lately, there’s been a trend in affordable-priced fly rod manufacturers releasing new flagship models, stretching the bounds of what a budget-friendly rod is. These rods, while far from the price of premium flagship rods, are reaching above the $600 price point and, in some cases, nearing $1000. The big question is, are these rods worth the price?
One of the newest rods that fall into this category is the TFO Moment. This rod is TFO’s newest flagship saltwater rod. It’s touted as extra-fast and comes in at a price point of $649.95, the most expensive offering from TFO. To see what this rod was made of, I opted to test a 9-foot 7-wt for bonefish and redfish in South Florida. After a season, on the skiff, here’s how the Moment stacks up.
When you get a new fly rod, the first thing most anglers, myself included, do is put it together and give it the wiggle test. While this really isn’t a good indicator of what the rod can do, it gives you some info about the blank—the less the wiggle, the faster the rod. I soon confirmed this with a trip to the casting lawn. I paired the 7-wt Moment with a Scientific Anglers Amplitude Textured Infinity Salt line. This is a half-sized heavy line, as is largely the standard for today’s saltwater lines. The 7-wt certainly fell into the fast category of fly rods, although the 7-wt still had a soft enough tip section to aid with accuracy and tippet protection.
On the water, the same held true. I spent multiple days fishing for reds and bones with Florida wind doing what it does best—blowing a stiff 15mph. The action paired well, throwing light bonefish flies into the wind. What really surprised me was just how well this rod did the same with larger red fish flies. Throwing 4- to 5-inch flies in stiff wind is never an easy task. Even more impressive was the fact that this 7-wt was more than up to that task.
The same power that translates to punching flies through the wind also translates to pulling on fish. Most of the rod’s power is in the lower two-thirds of the rod. Pulling from the legs with a low rod angle allows you to harness this power and tire fish in relatively short order.
Accuracy
While rod power is important in saltwater fly fishing, it doesn’t really matter if you can’t place the fly where it needs to be. Tailing bonefish and redfish are a testament to that, and lackluster accuracy has led to many blown shots on the flats. To ensure that the Moment was accurate, TFO built the blank with its Kevlar weave and reinforced graphene in key areas. In angling terms, the Moment’s blank is designed to track true and maximize rod recovery. Anglers often overlook rod recovery, but it is crucial to maintain tight loops and land a fly with pinpoint precision.
One of the bigger drum caught on the 7-wt Moment.
On a recent trip to Florida’s Gold Coast, accurate casts were the name of the game. When fishing for belly-crawling reds and tailing black drum, getting the fly in front of the fish where they can see it is a requirement. Time and time again, I was able to put that fly in front of fish with a one-foot lead, the optimal distance to draw a strike.
Fit and Finish
Despite this being a $600 rod, TFO did not splurge on components. For starters, the double locking reel seat features an integrated hook keeper. On most saltwater rods, no hook keeper has become the norm. By placing one on the reel seat, TFO saved weight while giving anglers an option to store their fly without destroying their cork.
A healthy red caught on the TFO Moment.
TFO finished this rod off with REC Recoil guides. This style guides are designed to bounce back. For boat rods, constantly going in out of gunnel rod storage, these guides offer the durability needed for season after season. Lastly, the Moment like any TFO comes with their lifetime no-fault warranty.
Final Word
The TFO Moment checks all the boxes for a premium saltwater fly rod: fast action, good recovery, and premium corrossion resistant components. Factor in it’s price at just $650 and a lifetime warranty, and it’s a great rod for those looking for a reasonably priced saltwater stick. While it’s the most expensive rod TFO has ever made, in my opinion it’s worth every penny.
“This fish was actually caught in the same lake the world record rainbow came out of, lake diefenbaker in Saskatchewan Canada. There’s a fish farm with triploids so a lot of fish you catch out of the lake are super fat chromer escapees but I do know there are some wild fish in there that come from the bow river. This one looks different, not even just its face haha so maybe it’s a natural.”
Angler Story of the Week from Nick, be sure to check out his Instagram HERE!
At Flylords, the stories we tell are powered by the people behind them. In our new Meet the Team series, we’re pulling back the curtain to introduce the creative minds, passionate anglers, and dedicated storytellers who help bring our brand to life every day. From field to editing studio, riverbank to keyboard, each team member plays a unique role in shaping the stories that inspire our community. We’re excited to highlight the individuals who make Flylords what it is, and to share the passion that drives them on and off the water. Kicking off the series, we interviewed Flylord’s own Founder/CEO, Jared Zissu.
Flylords- When and how did you start Flylords?
Jared– “Flylords began 13 years ago as a simple passion project, born from my love of fly fishing and a desire not to overwhelm my friends with endless fish photos. It started as an Instagram account where I shared compelling stories and striking images from the water. Over time, it naturally evolved into a platform dedicated to creating and showcasing meaningful narratives that inspire others to discover and fall in love with this sport. When I launched it, I never imagined it would grow into the business it is today.”
Flylords- Where do you envision Flylords growing to?
Jared– “We still have work to do—continuing to tell better stories, lead the industry in conservation conversations, deliver trusted gear reviews, and highlight unique destinations. Looking ahead, I’d love to see us deepen our connection with the fly fishing community, whether through events, tournaments, river cleanups, or other ways to bring people together. Those are the areas I hope we continue to grow and push toward.”
Flylords- What has been your favorite Flylords project that you have been involved with?
Jared– “My favorite Flylords series has to be the Fly Shop Tour. We just wrapped filming season four in the Midwest, and it continues to be one of the most meaningful projects we take on each year. It’s a fun, creative way to support local fly shops, raise money for nonprofits, and spotlight the real backbone of the fly fishing industry. It’s a ton of work, and every year we ask ourselves if it’s still worth it—but watching it come to life always reminds us why we do it. If you haven’t seen the series yet, I highly recommend checking it out.”
Flylords-Out of all the places you have traveled, where has been your favorite and what was the coolest fish you have caught?
Jared– “My favorite place I’ve visited so far was the Seychelles, and my favorite fish that I caught there was a trigger fish.”
Flylords- Okay, now for a funny one…what’s your favorite dessert?
Jared– “My favorite dessert has to be key lime pie, shout out Fly Shop Tour Szn 2 Episode 6”
Thank you Jared for this episode of Meet the Team, stay tuned for upcoming interviews with the rest of the Flylords team!
Thank you to everyone who entered the Gunny Gorge Giveaway! We partnered with the crew at Rigs Fly Shop to put together the ultimate float package — a multi-day guided fly fishing trip down the Gunnison Gorge, along with $10,000 in gear.
And the winner is…
And the winner is Andrew Ashley Safie (@safieteam)
Thank you to all who entered, and be sure to stay on the lookout for our next giveaway!
The pursuit of musky with a fly started for me over three decades ago. An interest in this mighty top of the food chain predator was instilled at a young age and intersected with my growing passion for fly fishing as an adult. For years, I toiled with single-hand rods and shooting heads in the pursuit of this elusive quarry, but musky fly fishing involves casting large, wind-resistant flies. Single-hand casting all day long with this added resistance can place a substantial physical strain on the arm and shoulder.
Thankfully, I moved to the two-handed overhead casting approach for musky over ten years ago. The two-handed style lends itself perfectly to making long casts with big flies. Musky anglers today, fishing with conventional gear, all cast two-handing rods, and it makes perfect sense that fly anglers would use the same approach.
The Why
Single-handed casting for musky can be a grueling ordeal. Long days on the water, cast after cast, and throwing large flies can leave you physically and mentally exhausted. Unfortunately, for anglers, muskies have a tendency to bite at the most inopportune times. If you’re not focused, there’s a good chance you may miss the fish of 10,000 casts.
The author, with a musky, caught two-handed overhead casting.
Musky fishing is largely a statistical game; consistent casting and presentation increase the odds. Overhead casting with two hands and a shooting head is an efficient way to generate significant line speed, resulting in impressive distances. Engaging both hands as well as using the body’s core in the process results in less fatigue over a day of fishing, allowing for effective casts right up to quitting time. The efficiency gained through two-hand casting has led to a significant increase in musky encounters and fish brought to the net. I credit it as the single most important step I have made over the years of musky fishing.
The How
Two-Handed Casting Fundamentals
If you Spey cast with a two-handed rod, you already have the basic stroke for overhead casting. And if not, the basic two-hand approach can be learned easily by someone who is already a proficient one-hand caster. To be efficient with the two-hand overhead approach, both hands need to be fully engaged: the hand on the top grip pushes, while the hand on the bottom grip pulls in toward your torso in an accelerated movement. Your hands operate around a fulcrum, creating significant line speed. The pull of the bottom hand basically replaces the haul or double haul when casting a shooting head with a single-hand rod. When properly executed, this movement can shoot 50 to 60 feet of running line, even with a big musky fly.
Once you make your cast, two-handed rods help you complete your retrieve and presentation. Musky are known to follow a fly and attack boatside, typically within two feet or less of the rod tip. A two-handed fly rod allows you to figure 8 effectively with one hand on the front grip and one on the rod butt.
Setting Up the Cast
After the figure 8 or similar maneuver, to start the next cast, sweep the rod low with the fly in the water to create tension, pulling the end of the fly line and a portion of the head past the tip of the rod. At this point, the fly line is controlled by your stripping hand from the retrieve. Once you have a portion of the shooting head out of the rod tip, begin to transfer the fly line to your middle and index fingers of your top grip hand while rolling the rod into the first false cast.
Line Control
The key step in making the cast is controlling the line with the index and middle fingers of the top hand. There is a learning curve to feathering the tension against the cork so the line can slip through during back-and-forth false casts to place the head beyond the rod tip without losing control. More fly line or head past the tip requires greater tension against the cork. With practice, muscle memory kicks in, and the process becomes nearly automatic.
One or two false casts while allowing the line to slip through where it is pinched off against the upper handle allows the head to clear the rod tip into the launch area to set up for the forward cast. Most lines have a distinct color change between the head and running line to indicate when the head has cleared the tip, but over time, it can usually be detected by feel.
Mastering the Casting Stroke
The basic two-hand stroke follows the same principles of one-hand casting. The rod should move in a straight plane in an accelerated manner on both the forward and back cast, moving slowest as the stroke begins and fastest just prior to an abrupt stop. The farther the rod tip moves, the more line it can throw. When delivering the forward cast, aim high for distance and lower when accuracy counts. Release the running line after the abrupt stop on the final forward cast, and be sure to forcefully pull in with the bottom hand to create line speed.
Good casting form provides for a strong turnover of the fly and leader. This allows the fly to start fishing immediately after the proper depth has been obtained and prevents the fly from fouling during the cast. Consistency is important in the pursuit of musky. Making repeatable casts within your abilities is a more effective approach than attempting to cast too far with a lower number of quality presentations.
Essential Gear
Rods
There are some rods on the market manufactured specifically for two-handed and overhead casting that include an extended bottom grip—most range from 9 to 10 feet long. For musky, rods range from 10 to 12-weight offerings, although many of these rods are rated by grain weight rather than the traditional line weight scale. Longer switch rods can also be used, but a length much greater than ten feet can be somewhat cumbersome for working the fly near the boat. Typically, casters place their dominant hand on the top grip when two-handed overhead casting. However, it is beneficial to practice with your non-dominant hand on the top grip; being able to do so provides flexibility to meet challenges caused by wind direction or when there are two anglers in a boat.
Lines
Lines with shorter heads help load the rod quickly and facilitate getting the fly back in the water. Heads of 23 to 25 feet work best, although slightly longer heads with an aggressive front taper work equally as well. The grain weight that matches most two-handed casting rods ranges from 500 to 750 grains. In the past, I created my own lines by splicing a shooting head with a running line. Thankfully, there are currently a few lines on the market that meet these specifications, and manufacturers are beginning to offer more options for two-hand overhead casting as this style of fishing gains popularity.
Most heads for musky fishing are designed to sink with sink rates of 5 to 8 inches per second. For fishing on or near the surface, integrated Skagit-style heads work well to deliver a fly with the two-handed technique.
Two-Handed Casting for Other Species
The two-hand overhead approach is not limited to musky but can be applied to other fly fishing situations. I have used this technique while fishing along beaches for striped bass and other near-shore species. With the running line stored in a stripping basket, the two-hander facilitates fast casting for sight opportunities and the power and leverage for blind casting in the surf. Utilizing a longer length rod than used for musky can increase the advantage of leverage to deliver very long casts.
The two-hand overhead approach can be used for any type of streamer or predator fishing that requires efficient casting. This includes fishing for pike, trout, or bass. The approach is perfect for an angler who suffers from shoulder ailments that restrict the ability to single-hand cast. I know of some anglers who have adapted the two-hand approach to fishing for tarpon and other big game saltwater species to overcome casting shoulder issues.
Final Thoughts on Two-Handed Overhead Casting
For musky fishing, the advantages of the two-hand approach are obvious and have changed the game for me in many ways. While this style of casting provides its highest benefit on larger waters, it is also an efficient way to present a fly on smaller musky rivers as well. The two-hand style provides the tool for musky fly anglers to be effective and is an approach that can be applied to a wider range of challenges.
