Category Archives: Fly Tying

Any bigger and I’d add Butter to the head cement

Halloween is a bad influence, add an aged Blueberry Poptart and a couple fingers of the mud I call coffee, and you’ve unleashed the expressionist beast. Now I understand why Van Gogh trimmed an ear off – he was in the throes of creativity and tired of painting rich people.

I can sympathize, tying little tiny insects in muted earth tones can grate on a fellow over time, especially with gray skies and constant rain showers for companionship. 

The shipment of red and black boa arrived and provided the luxury of big, bright and colorful; big hooks, bigger ideas and only physics to hold me in check.

Mother Nature's version

This “natural” was nearly 6 inches long, normal sized for the red crayfish I’ve seen on the creek. The Olive variant imitates the smaller crayfish which are more plentiful, I’m not sure if there’s a relationship, implying Olive crayfish are immature and molt into red armor after a certain age, but there’s plenty of both present in the creek at all times.

 

This is using the “Cardinal” color of Boa yarn which is a mixture of crimson, ruby, and black. I tossed in four strands of orange rubber legs, and 4 strands of ultra chenille to simulate some of the pronounced legs visible in the original above.

It’s tied to flip over and ride hook point up, so legs and other items are mounted on the top of the fly. I figure if it doesn’t work I can whack off everything but the rubber legs and have a decent mouse.

Despite its size the fly is pretty lightweight, I added 30 turns of 2 Amp fuse wire to get it down in a hurry, but the yarn and other items weigh next to nothing.

This is the first prototype, I may add a tail under the hook eye as a beard – a loop of the red yarn would make a nice “paddle” tail and may even assist in getting it to ride properly.

Short strikes haven’t been a problem on the Little Stinking Olive, both bass and pikeminnow completely inhale the fly, we’ll add a trailer hook if needs be.

The boa yarn slims down when wet making a watery lump of fly that looks completely solid. The gossamer fibers mat like marabou removing all lumps and strands, I taper cut the legs to make them thin as they join the fly and thick out by them monstrous claws.

I spent most of the weekend trying the boa yarn on a variety of applications, most successful were the Matuka Muddler streamers and the black stoneflies.

 

The tough weave that holds the fibers together makes a splendid synthetic hackle – something I’ll exploit on Shad and Steelhead flies – where the chicken hackle is prone to breaking as the flies take so much more abuse than trout flies.

Plenty of bright colors available to tinker with and although they’re available in stores I’ve been able to buy the skeins of material much cheaper on eBay.

There are them as do, and them as don’t – them as don’t shouldn’t

There’s a warning and a promise in the below; the warning is for those that have never tied flies, and the promise is for those that do..

When you find something really special, you don’t linger, you don’t think about it, you don’t wonder – you pounce. Worry about storage later.

For those thinking that fly tying is a quaint way of extending your trout season, and how a couple fingers of old malt would go well with a half dozen Adam’s – think again. I’ve mentioned it a number of times in the past – just ensuring you were listening is all.

It’s guaranteed that items you take for granted will vanish with little warning – it’s our unique curse as almost nothing is made for fly fishing, we borrow it from some other industry.  If chenille sweaters are out of fashion, or Corvette seats are no longer lined with vinyl tubing, we’ll suffer the loss of something dear.

In part, I’ve tried to show you where these materials are made and what industry they’re made for, in doing so, illustrating how precarious our position is – we represent a tiny fraction of the business to a manufacturer, as our contribution is limited to the purchase of a 3 yard card.

There’s a certain prophecy in my material aberration; both natural and synthetic materials are vulnerable to fashion, the economy, and government regulation. When Belding-Cortescelli pulled Nymo from production there was a howl heard worldwide – the equivalent of Danville thread vanishing overnight.

Polar bear, seal fur, Heron, Jay, and all of the materials popularized in Atlantic Salmon flies vanished with equal ease. Both Polar bear and seal were “in my lifetime” as a tyer – now we’re using substitutes for the substitute and glad we can get that.

It wasn’t so sudden that we couldn’t try to stock up, most did their best, and some ensured they had a lifetime supply, the rest hoped the substitute was cheap and half as effective – most were not.

I had the good fortune of being schooled by the masters of their day, and while my young eyes got big as saucers when they produced materials – all had the same prophetic speech, “stock up as much as you can, as anything can vanish at the whim of a manufacturer or the government.”

It’s all part of the mastery aspect, you’re going to burn 4 ounces due to a poor dye,  6 more ounces to excessive heat, or the phone ringing – you’ll loose another half pound to the moths, and your favorite dog will eat at least two of your precious hides when you’re not looking.

If you’re really lucky that’ll leave you that last pound for your own use.

Witness the below confession as a “money” fly hangs in the balance; colors no longer made and one last chance to stock up. Sure I’m crazy, just like Popeye stockpiling spinach.

 

Cal Bird had the most influence on my tying, one of those rare luxuries afforded by proximity. I remember him ordering teal flank by the pound – when 4 ounces would represent a typical tyer’s lifetime.

Cal was a professional tyer – he didn’t sell his work commercially, rather he’d tinker with materials, colors, and flies, as a regular part of his day. Never satisfied and always on the tip of some discovery known only to him. Occasionally we’d all get to see some of his efforts – his tools, flies, and the ever-present packet of materials he’d press into your hand so you could try some.

He was “paying it forward” – empowering the next generation of young hopefuls with some of the materials forever gone – that we’d all benefit from his calculated purchases of yesteryear. It’s a special quality shared by Cal and a lot of old timer’s, a knowing wink and something rare pressed into your hand.

It’s all part of the tradition – once limited to the “father-son” legacy, now practiced by those interested in passing on something more tangible than a silly fly with their first name attached.

In another couple of decades I’ll be stove up and content to sit in the sunshine jawboning.  If I’m really lucky there’ll be a couple of new guys at the casting club – alternately swearing and snapping thread – with The Desire, but absent the skills, so I can do the same.

While you’re giggling, make sure you remember what happened to Z-Lon, and in the intervening 23 years how much of the 586 pounds does Bett’s have left?

I bet A.J. McClane howls at my misfortune, I bet he was an SOB too

Charlie Brown and I had the same vocabulary, featuring a plaintive howl everytime Lucy yanked the football away. My battle was with the fly tyer’s of  A.J. McClane’s Standard Fishing Encyclopedia – it was the bible featuring color plates of flies and their recipes, allowing me to gauge my proportions against the real thing.

I’d always be three quarters finished when they’d mention Medium Blue Dun, or Gray Jungle Fowl – and I’d start cursing in earnest. Substitution is a four letter word when you’re learning how to tie flies, usually you’re already substituting the right way of doing it with your way, and to replace materials wholesale is akin to cheating.

Matching the completed fly with the grainy photo in A.J. McClane’s book was compounded by the fluorescent green hackle you’d substituted for medium blue dun, enough of a change to reduce effectiveness and preventing the fly from earning a spot in your box – as it’s now somehow tainted.

Years later we found out that a Greenwell’s Glory couldn’t catch crap, and the chartreuse hackle we’d added could only have helped.

I lived in fear of fine print, as every author hid the “mongoose mask hair” or “rutting beaver forepaw” behind an asterisk or small text, and delighted in knowing some new tyer was uttering a howl of protest.

As a kid I’d take my hard earned coin down to the fly shop and press my nose against the glass, psyching myself up for the pending ordeal; dividing $2.18 among thousands of “needs” – and winding up with 14 little glassine bindles of feather dander.

Sure, I had rabbit aplenty, but never Olive rabbit, or Olive thread, everything I tied for the first decade was black thread, Size A Nymo – and I was a stud for scoring that. My Light Cahill’s suffered accordingly, as once they were dampened they were Really Dark Cahill’s.

Now that I’m old and mean, I recognize that ritual of suffering is a crucial component in rounding the skills of a good fly tyer. Suffering steeled your resolve when neighbor’s tabby met steel belted radial and a dull Buck knife and swift burial were warranted. Lingering at the gut pile meant you could high grade all the mallards, widgeon, sprig, and teal – fighting maggots for the best flank feathers. It taught you to accelerate at the deer – in the last possible moment, rather than brake hard and have him come through the windshield.

…and that critical moment when you connected the dots and realized all those bludgeoned baby seal’s were needed for a full dress Green Highlander? You shrugged it off quickly in your haste to score a dime bag…

Now that you’ve reached your maturity, forged hard by the crucible of those tyers what came before you, tithing “one tenth of your get” to animal fur and brightly colored feathers, it’s time to instill in your legacy as many obscure items as practical so the next kid quits in tears.

Time is on your side, Old Guys get to have dusty old boxes of “the Good Stuff” hidden away. Most of the dust is moth eggs, but even the rumor of stash is enough to keep a young prick in deferential mode – he’ll save the lip for his parents, where it counts.

It’s your responsibility to send subsequent generations screaming in defeat, so it’s doubly important to recognize an impossible material when you see it. Low production and esoteric usage helps, and very little is needed. Enough to comprise an egg sac on a dry fly, or articulated limb on a nymph – just enough to make the fly impossible to tie.

 

It’s like a quiver of arrows, you trot them out as needed – each trial more difficult than the last..

I’m holding the above in the wings, next time some fly tyer claims, “I seen my buddy tie that,” I’ll trot out the “Lagoon” color on some money fly, and watch him writhe in agony. 100% viscose, flat chenille in colors not likely to grace a fly shop anytime this century.

A.J. McClane got me with rare and exotic animals, urine dyed fox, and twisted silks from the Orient, my legacy will be synthetics that were used to trim Elvis Presley’s Cadillac…

I bet A.J. was an SOB too, must be why I liked his books so much.

You could at least throw me a towel when you’re done, the War on Six Dollar items heats up, or I do

I made the mistake of restocking some rubber leg material at my last visit to the local establishment, and was driven into another paroxysm of swearing.

There among all the pre-packaged “jobbed” materials was the Spirit River “Tarantula legs” – minus the color I was looking for, naturally. I did find one old pack down at the floor that someone had missed – just enough to get me through the weekend.

My mistake was glancing at the price while admiring my find.

Detail view of the (olive) Pumpkin metal flake

Don’t waste your money – times is hard enough without being used savagely, $2.50 for about 24 strands of colored leg material is unconscionable – that’s a dime per fly.

Spirit River buys the damn stuff from someone akin to the Living Rubber Company, and you’ll find all the colors and sizes they offer – plus extra colors not available at your fly shop – and the price is 1/11th what the shop charges.

Do the markup math yourself – a “25 skirt pack” is about $6.00 from Living Rubber, and each of the “skirts” equals a Spirit River pack of rubberlegs, about 24 strands. I don’t mind so much if an enterprising fellow doubles or triples his money, but 11 times is enough to make me wince – only because he’s making 11 times the retail price of the rubber, he’s making double that if he buys it wholesale.

The standard skirt material from Living Rubber is what Spirit River describes as their “medium” size, and it’s rectangular rather than round. If memory serves, the Spirit River “fish scale” rubber is also rectangular. Living Rubber sells the round rubber in 15 foot lengths for $8.00 – these are simple one-color bands of ~50 strands each. They don’t yet sell the printed pattern round fibers on their web site.

I haven’t contacted the company for the availability of round imprinted rubber, but if they’re selling it wholesale to jobbers, they’ll certainly sell it to you.

Shown in the photographs are “25 skirt packs” of “Green Pumpkin” (the olive and black metal flake) and dark green/black and the orange/black varieties.

Take advantage of the vendor for a change, see how it feels – it’s another sawbuck saved for your next big purchase …

If your Mom’s throw rug was made of Golden Bird of Paradise would you steal it?

The mailman is starting to back away so I should cool my ardor a bit. Little padded envelopes keep showing up at my doorstep from Bernice, Julie, Deborah, Nancy, and Janice – and while I was hoping he’d think I was part of a Columbian cartel – the gals keep perfuming the packages.

One look at my gut precludes there being a romantic angle, and I’m afraid the last perfumed kilo gave me away.

It’s knitting yarn.

The shrinks would have a field day dealing with fly tiers, there’s 240 crayfish in a single skein of Bernat boa, but how many skeins will be needed over a lifetime?

… and is that just my lifetime, or do I need to include my brother, his buddy, my fly-less fishing buddies and their friends as well?

Hoarding is the equivalent of gathering up a mound of sand on the beach and if anyone looks perplexed, just point and exclaim, “this is infinite sand grains, exactly.”

It’s why your math teacher didn’t give you credit if you didn’t show your work – as both math aficionados and psychiatrists love to pore over your hoard-reasoning, similar to siphoning a trout’s gut to see what he ate – only mental.

Each of us has a imprecise system of amassing feather dander, because we’ve been caught short multiple times on common-turned-rare materials. These being the halcyon days of fly tying – with real materials from real animals, and as each one is pressured into oblivion based on its fur, taste, habitat, or simply steel belted radials – we wish we’d had the foresight to stock up.

Yea, you’re right – it’s never going to happen to you.

What funny is we’re still in the 80-20 phase, 80% of the materials we use for flies are natural, 20% are synthetic – and a couple generations from now that may be drastically changed. Will subsequent tyers hoard synthetics as we do vanishing species? I think so, partly due to the packrat nature of the hobby, and partly due to the lure of “better” – as originals are always better than substitutes.

For every tyer that used Swan for his Royal Coachman, there was an old guy looking askance at some younger tyer’s work, exclaiming, “.. close, but it won’t work as good as Swan, too stiff…”

Now I’m salting away skeins of synthetics – snapping up colors that says “crayfish” to me – while the rest of you shake your head in wonderment. Flamingo, Phoenix, Cardinal, or Hawk, may yield a better fly and none of these colors are currently being made. That’s no surprise as what’s fashionable is over in the blink of an eye, then it’s “last year’s” model – like bell bottoms or double knits.

Synthetics, especially those from the fashion industry, may have a shorter production life than natural materials, and we may have to purchase them accordingly to ensure a steady supply.

Better yet, do I hoard what I can find, then sell pinches for exorbitant amounts, akin to Polar Bear, Baby Seal, or Golden Bird of Paradise? You never thought “Aunt Lydia’s Rug Yarn” would be on par with Blue Chatterer – and will you be man enough to abscond with your parent’s bathroom throw rug when you discover its value?

Old guys learn to accumulate, young learn the hard way by missing the boat and wishing it were otherwise. Genius can lie in pawing through some box of forgotten treasure, searching for Puce rabbit and finding a pound of something no longer available – sparking the creative process.

Somewhere between the moths getting it all and your kids tossing it after your demise, these flights of fancy will yield umpteen flies any of which could be the next Light Cahill, Adams, or Pheasant Tail nymph.

It's a fast tie - is it the next Tup's Indispensable?

Amassing all this is just one of many excessive habits, justifying the drawer space consumed requires imagination and immersion, ferreting out the obvious and unexpected uses in an orgy of creativity.

With 500 yards of Dark Olive Ultra chenille, and 1000 yards of perfumed Mallard Bernat Boa, something that fish eat should result. It may not be the next Zug Bug, but it’s the fastest stonefly nymph I’ve tied. A couple of whacks of the scissor to shorten the top fibers into wingcases, a couple cuts to clean the bottom of fiber and you’re done…

It’s knitting yarn, a synthetic hackle, a Matuka streamer wing, a rabbit strip imitation, and a nymph style … so far … and it’s in short supply.

Stalking the elusive Ultra Chenille, it’s Vernille in the Wild

I figure it’s a cross between Euell Gibbons and Basil Rathbone, a mixture of natural curiosity and dogged determinism; a personal quest, my ongoing War Against Six Dollar Items, where I delight in finding products “in the wild” – unfettered by middlemen, fly shops, and their obligatory markup..

I’ve been chasing down Ultra Chenille (Vernille, Velvet Chenille, Suede chenille) for almost a year. I thought I had it when I discovered a manufacturer in Turkey,  instead it was an interesting crop of fibers and yarns, all cheap as dirt and as yet undiscovered.

The good stuff, and it's cheap as dirt

Ultra chenille is a great material, tough as nails, low buildup, and has a variety of uses from traditional chenille flies to the nouveau dressings unique to the product.

At $2 for 9 feet, it’s also pricey.

I’d toss the old rayon stuff if the price was low enough to replace it – mainly because ultra chenille wears better and doesn’t come apart in your fingers if spun in the wrong direction. The fibers being so much shorter – it doesn’t mat or bleed, especially after the flies have been fished.

Tie is the blue strand, fly shop stuff is the flesh colored strand This fiber is made by a manufacturer called “Silk City Fibers” located back East, and is marketed under the “Tie” name, to distinguish it from the myriad of other yarns they make. It’s neither suede, rayon, or cotton, rather a synthetic nylon called “Polyamide.”

Acid dyes will dye nylon just fine – allowing the possibility of scoring a 2000 yard cone of white and making whatever color you fancy.

Chenille and yarn follow a number of sizing conventions and the “YPP” convention is commonplace. “YPP” is Yards Per Pound, and the higher the number the smaller the diameter of the material.

“Tie” is a 3800 YPP fiber which is about 15% smaller than the size sold in the fly shop. Also good, because we can use it on smaller hooks without making the fly too bulky – and it’s likely available in a variety of sizes – something else that’s missing from the fly shop selection.

100 yards in a neat little bundle for only five bucks A cone of ultra chenille is $90 from a reseller – and while only a commercial tyer will get excited – searching on eBay yields a vendor with 14 of the 16 colors available from the factory.

50g skeins for $5 is a steal, and she has plenty.

The top picture is her color selection, and contacting the vendor directly will score you enough of “the good stuff” to make it worth your while.

The smaller size is especially useful, as it’s diameter is small enough to make trout flies – expanding your use beyond  traditional steelhead flies and streamers.

The War Against Six Dollars Items continues, with you folks the beneficiary.

Matte finish faceted beads, so you can torment all your pals when they produce the store-bought flavor

I keep a small supply of the taper-drilled beads on hand for special circumstances, but the metal beads I use on flies are all from bead stores.

At $2.75 per 25, all I’m doing is adding another dime to a tree limb, and being a cheap SOB, that goes against the grain.

There are positives and negatives with the “bead store” product; they’re available in a bewildering assortment of shapes, colors, and metals, and they’re about 1/5 the price of your local fly shop. The downside is the holes are small, and for certain shapes of hook bend, just can’t slide over the sharp turns.

Model perfect bends are the exception, but Sproat and Limerick are chancy at best.

I just got an order of specialty beads from Beadaholique.com, with a matte finish that includes a faceted sparkle. It reduces the shine of the traditional beads and adds a sparkle that looks especially good.

I’ve often heard complaints from anglers who under bright conditions thought traditional bead head flies “too shiny” – and if you’re one of those fellows, you may want to eyeball the “matte” flavor.

 

Indoor Indirect Light

The facets give off a sparkle very much like seal fur in dubbing – a whitish wink of light that really looks attractive next to the dull matte finish. They’re available only in Gunmetal and Copper colors, 4mm size. The interior hole is 2mm, which is the minimum size you want to order (smaller holes can only fit 16-20 hooks.)

Next to the faceted beads are traditional 5mm copper beads from the same source – the holes on the 5mm look to be about 2.5-3mm, suitable for larger flies like stonefly nymphs, streamers, and the like.

For jewelry beads these are on the expensive side; the faceted bead is $3.99 per 144 beads, and the plain copper 5mm is $3.33 per 144, I’m assuming it’s the price of copper that makes these a dab more expensive than normal – usually I pay about $11.00 – $14.00 per thousand beads.

 

Outdoor Direct Light 

From the above outdoor photo you can see the additional glare off the traditional smooth bead, and how the matte finish is absent that extra gleam.

I can’t wait to give these a try – as I find myself using beaded flies much more often than I used to – it’s often the easiest way to weight them and you don’t need seventeen split shot to get them to hug the bottom in fast water.

Be cautious on your first order, you may be using a hook style that prevents their use. I use mostly Togen hooks that are unforged – that allows me to grab the point area with a pair of pliers and move it the 5-6 degrees necessary for the bead to pass the sproat “kink” portion. I would not try this on traditional forged hooks (those whose wire is flattened on the hook bend) – only round wire hooks can be deformed and returned to their original shape without inducing too much weakness.

It’s fast, durable, light sensitive, and fish love them

It’s more of a preoccupation with efficiency, cheap materials, fast tying, and desirable physics.

Fast sinking flies allow me to cast at the target, and with low water and the increase in algae – it usually means I’m dragging less debris when the fly enters the “eat” zone. “Keeling” the fly so the point rides upwards gives me a slim chance at avoiding the bottom – giving the fly the ability to make contact without being hung or gathering debris and increasing the size of the fly.

 

Me, I just like the color. It’s consistent with my preference for blended dubbing – with multiple component colors present to present fish whatever color he likes best. These are 10/0 Mauve beads with an oily iridescent sheen, presenting multiple colors to a hungry fish, and hopefully inducing him to grab.

I was using these much of yesterday – one of those flies you can tie two dozen an hour; perfect for gifting pals and aggressive casting, where adorning a tree branch means you’re dry eyed and vengeful.

 

I call them “Jelly Bellies” as they’ve got that squishy-translucent, worm look to them. It’s a nice searching pattern with plenty of color – and reacts differently to direct sunlight or indirect lighting. The photo at top is indirect indoor lights, and the above is direct sunlight, note the pronounced rose tint to the glass. The foreground three are tied with a few fibers of aurora blaze Angelina over the top, adding some flash akin to Gary Lafontaine’s Sparkle Pupa.

You could go the “green” route and claim they’re lead free, or please your PETA buddies because everything on the fly is synthetic, but the real value is banging out 3-4 dozen while watching listening to the pundits describe the earthbound spiral of your retirement fund.

I scored these at Joann’s Fabrics, about a buck for a lifetime supply, and trout love them.

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Kinda Flies, half what you started to make, half what was laying close by

Sure I went fishing, but it wasn’t for very long. My fly box is showing the ravages of a lot of fishing, after a couple extended trips, visits by kinfolk, and overly aggressive casting, it’s looking mighty grim.

Everything with weight is gone, and I’m limited to #18 wet or #18 dry, and neither is appealing.

Respectable types –  pillars of the community with jobs, wives, and responsibilities, would’ve mowed the lawn or taken out the trash – hoping to fight again another day; instead, I sat the vise within visual range of the NFL – and tied weighty monstrosities whilst watching my beloved 49’er’s get crushed again. It’s fishing with pigskin – optimism abounds until the opening kickoff, then reality asserts itself.

I’m out of black, brown, olive, and gray flies, all the medium sizes and all the fast sinking stuff; what wasn’t left on the bottom of the Upper Sacramento is dangling off a tree branch on the Little Stinking. I’ll retrieve most of them this winter – once the leaves are shed and I can see them plainly.

I tie flies like a kid that can’t stay between the lines with his crayon. I start with noble intentions, knowing the color and size needed usually suggests a pattern, but half the materials require me to get up and find them – so I’ll use whatever is scattered across the work surface from the last thing I tied.

I’d like to think it was economy of motion, but it’s mostly sloth.

I call them “Kinda” flies – it’s Kinda a Gold Ribbed Hare’s Ear, only it has a cigarette butt for a tail.

It’s not “invention” that’s too strong a word to reward laziness, it’s more of a culmination of fishing experience where the right size and color proves worthy, and all the knotted legs and carapaces are for those with too much money or time.

That’s a baker’s dozen of Little Stinking Olives – the box that goes in the other pocket, safe from prying eyes and grabby mitts. That much pure Smallmouth Domination has never graced my vest, and I’m likely to get mobbed as soon as I step into the brown water.

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Decrease your dependence on offshore hooks, it’s all the rage

The Singlebarbed Carp flavor You’d think there’d be more fly fishermen given a child’s glee at throwing pennies in fountains. That early lesson may have given you the yen to throw quarters and dollar bills with every cast.

Fly tiers throw quarters – with little remorse for the other fellow who’s buying flies; we’re not certain he isn’t paying less than we do, what with our gargantuan collection of moth food, decaying flesh, and the angry spouse that comes with that turf.

As is Singlebarbed practice, we eat what we preach – and while a gear review might trigger a salivary response, reviewing all that flowery prose a season later is always more informative than first blush.

A practice conspicuously absent in our industry..

The demise of the Partridge hook company (assimilated by Mustad) marked the end of hook variety, as small hook makers would risk a limited run of specialty hooks; akin to Keith Fulsher’s Thunder Creek Streamer hook, (6X long, ring eye), the Carrie Steven’s streamer hook, (10X long, heavy wire), the Partridge Bartleet single salmon hook, and oddities – like the Yorkshire Flybody hook.

In an economic downturn, what sells is stocked – and variety suffers. As only the largest makers remain, and we’re gripped in the bosom of economic upheaval, expect plenty of standard dry and nymph wire, and damn little else.

I’ve been looking for alternative vendors for some time, as many are overseas, and hampered by a declining dollar, the search has been largely fruitless. Competition fly fishing is adding some variety to the mix; kirbed and/or barbless hooks – but most are in the same vein – standard dry and nymph wire – with a Czech variant thrown in due to recent popularity.

I’m stymied. The variety we’ve seen in the past two or three decades has largely vanished.

Unhappy with the traditional favorites due to their spiraling cost, this season I switched to Togen hooks ( of Togen Enterprises, Canada ) for my traditional flies. They’d made a favorable impression on the first blush – and are available at significant discount compared to the normal fly shop fare.

They look identical to the Tiemco/Gamakatsu/Daiichi fodder, boast the same chemical sharpness, cost about a third of normal, and fish extremely well. I would describe their cosmetic blemish rate as slightly higher than Tiemco or Daiichi, but blemishes aren’t defects – and the hook is unaffected.

The points are nearly bulletproof, and with a lot of rock hopping, heavy water split shot use – and the inevitable rock snags that result – I’ve failed to bend or break any of them. None were prematurely dismembered due to barb pinching, and only their Scud hook will crack the barb (suggesting forging) – versus the traditional soft-mash-to-flat of the unforged hook.

Searching for a heavy wire hook for Carp has been largely fruitless, so the Togen Scud hook; heavy wire, forged bend, kirbed (offset) shank, is my default for Carp and Bass flies.

Kirbed hooks have never enjoyed much popularity with fly anglers, but that’s all changing. Competition hooks are reintroducing Kirbed shanks as a means of increasing hook gape (the distance between shank and point) – due to the increased bulk of heavily weighted Czech nymphs.

The Togen Scud has a fine offset (kirb) of about 6-8 degrees, not enough to notice when tying the fly (requiring you to reposition the vice head).

Togen is most accommodating in their sales – covering both the casual and professional tier. Lots of 1000 can include different sizes and hook styles to qualify for reduced price. $68 dollars per mixed lot of 1000 (traditional trout styles only), and that decreases to $58 for 1000 hooks of a single size and style.

Considering that Tiemco hooks after taxes can range to nearly $18 per 100, you get 1000 hooks for the price of 3 boxes of the traditional fare. Pretty darned compelling, you’re throwing dimes versus quarters, and every little bit helps.

Togen lacks the variety available from major manufacturers, but I’m finding that variety is lacking in many of the largest fly shops, which are stocking the traditional Tiemco 100 / 3769 stuff in quantity – and very little else.

I like taking my business to an agile “little guy” – rewarding that customer focus and entrepreneurial spirit that’s also vanishing with each small shop closed.

Good hooks, great price, and I can’t imagine you not being happy at the outcome.