The Maestro
“I may not be as strong as I think, but I know many tricks and I have resolution.”
― Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea
The Big Laurel River flows through a peaceful valley in the northwestern part of North Carolina, just a few miles from eastern Tennessee and southern Virginia. It is known for producing unusually large brook trout. The average size of a Blue Ridge brook trout is about eight inches. In the Big Laurel, it is not unusual to catch them in the sixteen-inch range. I have landed an occasional fish over twenty inches. I’ve never seen brookies of this size anywhere else.
I first fished the Big Laurel as young adult. I had become fairly proficient and productive in the art of fly-fishing. That is, I rarely got ‘skunked’. I caught fish regularly and had begun to get requests from aspiring fly fishers to give lessons. On one particular occasion the trout were being finicky. The water in the Big Laurel is gin clear, so I could see the fish. Using polarized sunglasses, I could watch them rise toward my flies, abruptly lose interest, and sink slowly back to the bottom completely disinterested. I stood there disillusioned. A bit dejected, I decided to walk back to my truck vacillating as to whether or not to hang it up for the day.
I noticed an elderly man, standing in a spot I had fished earlier unsuccessfully. This was not the easiest place to navigate. The banks are steep and the water swift. I could imagine him gingerly navigating the rocky trail down to the river, relying heavily on the support of his walking stick. I decided to find a shady spot to sit and observe, if for no other reason than to watch over the old fisherman and rescue him if he lost his footing. Standing thigh deep in the powerful river, he stripped out a good amount of line (more than I thought he could handle) and he readied himself to cast. I could see fish suspended in the current seam about seventy feet from him. He lifted the line smoothly and swiftly from the surface, performing a masterful, double-haul cast. His presentation was right on the mark and no more than five seconds later, his rod was bowed under the pressure of a nice trout. I watched this maestro land ten or so fish without a shuffle of his feet. I was mesmerized.
I asked if he minded me coming a little closer just to observe and learn. He said, “By all means!” I told him that I had cast at these same fish without any luck and humbly requested any insight he was willing to impart. He said, “Sometimes these big brook trout just get persnickety. It’s like when your sitting in your easy chair and you would like a snack, but not quite enough to give up the comfort of your chair and exert energy. They will rise up to take a look but their too lazy to bite.” I told him that I had watched them do exactly that. That’s when he introduced me to the dropper fly. He was using a dry fly as an attractor. On the back of the dry fly, tied directly to the hook with a slip knot (Duncan’s Loop) was a sixteen-inch tippet line with a Copper John nymph attached to the end.
The dropper fly rig is perfect for finicky brook or rainbow trout. There reaction to the dry fly is the same: they rise to toward it and slowly back off. Only this time, a dainty little morsel touches their nose on the retreat. They can’t resist. It’s effortless to sip it in, like someone bringing you a slice of cobbler while you sit your easy chair.
I have used this dropper fly set up for many years now with great success. My favorite set up includes a very buoyant dry fly (e.g. an Elk Hair Caddis or a Renegade) and a small bead-head nymph pattern (e.g. a Copper John, Mermaid Fly, or Scud). Those of you who fly fish regularly have most likely seen a rainbow trout ‘tale-slap’ a dry fly. They rise lazily toward the surface to investigate and with a quick turn they splash the fly with their tale. The dropper rig tends to lasso a tale slapper and stick it in the tail. A twelve-inch fish hooked in the tail fights like a twenty-inch trophy! The dropper fly rig, properly presented, results in many more hook-ups and turns a day of fishing into a day of catching.
“I may not be as strong as I think, but I know many tricks and I have resolution.”
― Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea
The Big Laurel River flows through a peaceful valley in the northwestern part of North Carolina, just a few miles from eastern Tennessee and southern Virginia. It is known for producing unusually large brook trout. The average size of a Blue Ridge brook trout is about eight inches. In the Big Laurel, it is not unusual to catch them in the sixteen-inch range. I have landed an occasional fish over twenty inches. I’ve never seen brookies of this size anywhere else.
I first fished the Big Laurel as young adult. I had become fairly proficient and productive in the art of fly-fishing. That is, I rarely got ‘skunked’. I caught fish regularly and had begun to get requests from aspiring fly fishers to give lessons. On one particular occasion the trout were being finicky. The water in the Big Laurel is gin clear, so I could see the fish. Using polarized sunglasses, I could watch them rise toward my flies, abruptly lose interest, and sink slowly back to the bottom completely disinterested. I stood there disillusioned. A bit dejected, I decided to walk back to my truck vacillating as to whether or not to hang it up for the day.
I noticed an elderly man, standing in a spot I had fished earlier unsuccessfully. This was not the easiest place to navigate. The banks are steep and the water swift. I could imagine him gingerly navigating the rocky trail down to the river, relying heavily on the support of his walking stick. I decided to find a shady spot to sit and observe, if for no other reason than to watch over the old fisherman and rescue him if he lost his footing. Standing thigh deep in the powerful river, he stripped out a good amount of line (more than I thought he could handle) and he readied himself to cast. I could see fish suspended in the current seam about seventy feet from him. He lifted the line smoothly and swiftly from the surface, performing a masterful, double-haul cast. His presentation was right on the mark and no more than five seconds later, his rod was bowed under the pressure of a nice trout. I watched this maestro land ten or so fish without a shuffle of his feet. I was mesmerized.
I asked if he minded me coming a little closer just to observe and learn. He said, “By all means!” I told him that I had cast at these same fish without any luck and humbly requested any insight he was willing to impart. He said, “Sometimes these big brook trout just get persnickety. It’s like when your sitting in your easy chair and you would like a snack, but not quite enough to give up the comfort of your chair and exert energy. They will rise up to take a look but their too lazy to bite.” I told him that I had watched them do exactly that. That’s when he introduced me to the dropper fly. He was using a dry fly as an attractor. On the back of the dry fly, tied directly to the hook with a slip knot (Duncan’s Loop) was a sixteen-inch tippet line with a Copper John nymph attached to the end.
The dropper fly rig is perfect for finicky brook or rainbow trout. There reaction to the dry fly is the same: they rise to toward it and slowly back off. Only this time, a dainty little morsel touches their nose on the retreat. They can’t resist. It’s effortless to sip it in, like someone bringing you a slice of cobbler while you sit your easy chair.
I have used this dropper fly set up for many years now with great success. My favorite set up includes a very buoyant dry fly (e.g. an Elk Hair Caddis or a Renegade) and a small bead-head nymph pattern (e.g. a Copper John, Mermaid Fly, or Scud). Those of you who fly fish regularly have most likely seen a rainbow trout ‘tale-slap’ a dry fly. They rise lazily toward the surface to investigate and with a quick turn they splash the fly with their tale. The dropper rig tends to lasso a tale slapper and stick it in the tail. A twelve-inch fish hooked in the tail fights like a twenty-inch trophy! The dropper fly rig, properly presented, results in many more hook-ups and turns a day of fishing into a day of catching.
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