It’s one thing to be early and lucky enough to stumble on fish no one knows about – but that happens so infrequently – it’s time to “soldier up” and plan on fishing betwixt other anglers.
Most anglers prefer the solitude and quiet, but it’s an antisocial luxury we cannot count on in semi-urban settings and with migratory fish.
Anything coming up the river is at the mercy of the first dam upstream, diminishing their historic range and concentrating them in whatever free-flowing portion remains. It makes fish accessible and breeds anglers in uncomfortable proximity. Rumors of fish fly as fast as the Internet, and like Stripers running on the beach, a crowd can form in minutes.
There’s a big difference being the first guy on the fish versus being the last fellow to arrive. We’ve all lamented the boorish angler who makes our good fortune less so – some assistance in how to avoid being “that guy” can be useful.
If you’re the lucky SOB that got there first – you’re not keeping those fish, enjoy them in solitude as long as possible, but when the avenging hordes of fellow fishermen arrive, and they will, suck in the lower lip and share. It’s expected of you.
I really like fishermen, as they’re one of the few groups of humans that don’t seem to have boundaries. You can make small talk with a “gang-banger” or swap flies with a religious zealot, somehow vocation and color, class, sexual orientation, and political persuasion all take the day off.
I try to share my fish gracefully and recognize they’re not mine. If I’ve got a couple of stalwarts scanning the water, I’ll motion them over and put them onto the meat bucket with little reserve. It’s always more fun to fish with friends – and by doing so, I’ve made two more.
If you don’t they’ll be edging closer anyway – and I’d rather be whooping it up with new pals than endure those sulking predator poses as they “crab-walk” closer, hoping I don’t notice.
It’s different if you’re the last fellow arriving, greeted by a line of fellows casting like synchronized swimmers. There’s good reason for precision and a smart fellow spends a few moments observing what’s going on before blindly wading in at head or tail.
I want to know who’s doing the catching, and where are they in relation to the rest of the line? This’ll give a clue as to whether the head of the group or tail is closest to the “money.”
I always prefer to wade in at the head, it’s easier for me to judge whether I’m crowding the man below. Watch his casts to see how far upstream he’s quartering, then pick that limit as the entry point. You can guess how far the lowest fellow’s swinging his fly – but you can’t see it, so it’s much harder to judge.
Learn to be the gregarious outgoing type as a means of introduction. Ask the fellow below you whether you’re too close. Nobody likes a silent standoffish prick in their midst, so don’t act like one.
You will always crowd someone, there isn’t enough room in the Solar System to be far enough away from the fellow who arrived earlier, don’t expect to be greeted warmly – and thaw the SOB to the best of your abilities without seeming chatty or obnoxious.
If you’re in the middle you’ve got two obligations, to watch the man above and cast when he does, ensuring your fly lands downstream of his. The fellow below will be watching you, so don’t dawdle or screw around when in the thick of things. If either fellow hooks up yank your line in smartly and hang fire until he’s reaching for the net.
If the fellow loses it, mention how enormous it was and he’s fortunate not to have lost a hand to razor sharp teeth. If he’s a friendly type consider mentioning his questionable ancestry, and how your 3 year old could have done it in half the time…
Never squander an opportunity to insult your fellow angler.
Always “Belly up” to the line of anglers, wade out until you’re making a straight line with the fellow above and below. If something happens and you’re late in making the next cast your line will be directly downstream of you – no sense making friends by pulling your fly into the leg of your neighbor.
Always fish barbless, it’s not an option when “cheek to jowl” with a press of humanity in proximity. Some fellow is going to get a cell phone call reminding him where he should be, will lose track of his surroundings and walk into your cast, or some interested jogger will wander too close and take one in the face – he won’t know better, but you will.
We all wish it otherwise – but the combination of too few fish and too many fishermen requires refining those dormant social skills, it’s like a cocktail party with fish hooks and no liquor.
One Olive or two, Sweetpea?
Technorati Tags: angling manners, friendly gregarious SOB, make nice
Well put! Living on the edge of Lake Ontario I see my fair share of this type of fishing in the fall. As much as I’m amazed at how close strangers will come to me when I’m fishing, in the fall I’ve learned that that’s just the way it is.
What’s all this babble about manners? This is fly fishing goddamnit; there are no winners here, only survivors.
Patton would be ashamed of you. Ashamed.
Dear Mister Piney-Trout-Underground-Aloofness,
Whilst you trod with angels, the rest of us that fish in the outflow of your septic service have to make nice.
We can’t all be isolationists.
Dear Abby:
So, you came home fishless again! Tsk,tsk!
Who says civility is dead.
No wonder you such a hit with the ladies!
Good stuff! Thanks for guiding the reader and fly fisher through those potentially awkward moments.
I like to watch others fish before I step out into the river, which makes me look nosy at best and creepy at worst. Your post gives me the courage to give the old shout-out and hand wave to my fellow angler.
I try to make sure to yield the hole I’m fishing to any on-looking or approaching angler after I’ve beaten the water to death for a good half-hour and spooked most of the fish in a sixty-foot radius. Perhaps my “gift” should come with a warning.
I’ve never mastered the social graces, hence my lackluster management skills and dismal career trajectory. It’s also why I don’t fish for shad. Reminds me too much of riding BART.
SMJ – I could be evangelical on this topic, instead I’ll just invite you to come up and have a go. If you’re not convinced you’ve been missing something – you can rat me out.
Drop me a line if interested.
Will – Never surrender the hole willingly, even if whipped into lather … always act resentful, that way the other fellows figure they counted coup.
Just back away slowly before they see the “head” you’ve whipped up in the riffle water..
That’s a very kind and tempting offer, but I suspect the run will be over before I get another hall pass. I do however have a new pair of experimental, selenium-resistant waders that I’ve been meaning to try out – a gift from an inventor friend of mine. Can I substitute the shad outing for a little walk n wade on the Little Stinking this summer? I’ll bring the cigars.
You have a standing invite, I’ll provide the giggles and painstakingly identify all the things you stepped in.
No need to worry about the waders, any foreign host will be eaten by the local flora or fauna – it’s like 409 with fangs..
Drop me a note when you’re able.