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.