ACTION, ACTION, ACTION -- WHY YOU SHOULD SWIM AND NOT STRIP YOUR STREAMERS
By A.M. Giacoletto
Next time you step into the water, use your polarized glasses to peer through the surface film and watch. Watch for the baitfish residing near the bank to flee in a frenzy from your boot’s impact and observe how they move. They rarely bolt in a straight line – this isn’t to say a few don’t – but notice the darts, turns, flutters, and kicks; notice how the bait forage swims. “Um, duh!” some of you exasperate, “Fish swim. Tell us something we don’t know.” Absolutely, a basic concept, which prompts me to pose the following question: If fish swim, why is the go-to streamer presentation (imitating baitfish) for fly fishers to strip their fly line in a straight line? Those reading this may realize, when being honest with themselves, that this method is the norm, even for themselves, with the only subtle variation being the rate and length of the strip. Don’t confuse strips with speed variations as a variety of presentations in one’s repertoire; in reality, it’s one presentation done fast, slow, or somewhere in between. Presentation means a different appearance rather than rate of appearance, so creating streamer action can’t come from pulling the fly line, rather, it initiates with the rod.
Numerous streamer presentations are capable with the flick, lift, or twitch of the wrist, or a straight-arm jerk from one direction to another on a fly rod. The stack mend, which involves lifting and maneuvering fly up stream while pivoting from the fly, thereby causing the jigging-in-place action created from regular repetitions. Quick, in-rhythm jerks with a sudden shift from right to left mimic the frantic directional changes of fleeing prey, and the same concept applies to the snake walk, which occurs with an in-tempo side-to-to, back-and-forth rod motion with a gather strip in between.
For years, I too missed the importance of action in streamer fishing and wasted countless hours on the water with one, undynamic method. I varied my retrieve speed, as I learned from the basics of the technique, and assumed that was enough. I managed to catch my share of fish, but I fell complacently ignorant to the elevation rod-based action would’ve brought to my game. That is, until I made an effort to advance my skills in the streamer arena. I found numerous videos, podcasts, and interviews comparing streamer flies to conventional fishing lures, stickbaits, and spinners, which mimic the same forage as streamers created by the best streamer and large trout fly fishers in the country. Numerous pointed out the propensity of pro bass fishermen, who certain fly anglers would view as the last people to emulate, separate themselves from the amateurs by working the bait’s action through the rod rather than the reel.
In fly fishing, the strip is conceptually the same as the reel when using spin tackle, so we can echo the same techniques on our fly rods. An articulated streamer tied with deer hair, maribou, and schlappen is hardly different from a broken back Rapala, and a rod jerk or twitch to cause a flutter, yaw, hinge, swipe, or directional change is applicable to both tackle methods.
“Well, Alec, this makes sense,” you may say, “so what Blue Line flies should I apply these techniques and how?” There are certainly pattern specific actions in some cases, but, typically, a streamer fisherman should have half-a-dozen or more action methods in his or her back pocket to cycle through. These presentations are usable across patterns, sizes, and sink-rates, but some presentations fit better with certain streamers than others as with all flies. With Blue Line’s flies, we believe in illustrating pattern specific presentations and actions in our descriptions on blog posts, so if you're curious about such details, read the details at check out.
Action focused streamer presentations via the fly rod over the strip elevated my success with the technique. I noticed a significant difference in the number of fish chasing, eating, and attacking my fly, and instead of guessing a strip speed, I became able to apply a variety of movements and actions across water types.
Cutbanks – throw under the bank, twitch, twitch, and jerk.
Plunge pools with a seam down the edge – cast the fly to the softer side, throw an upstream mend, repeat six or seven times, and jig the streamer in place.
Shelves and drop offs – lift the rod tip six inches to a foot, strip on the drop, and jig a heavy fly over a drop off.
Log jam – through to the deep, soft, downstream side of the current break and execute a jerk, strip, and slack pick up.
A fish follows it to the boat – figure-eight or zig-zag back and forth to trigger a last-second strike.
A word of advice from Blue Line’s own Adam Hudson: “Try to move the fly as much as you can in the least amount of distance covered… make it have an aneurysm over the strike window.” This maximizes the potential for a fish to take a long, lingering look at the high caloric morsel similar to a fresh, rarely available McRib (damn you McDonald’s for its seldom and limited release – damn you).
Put action on your streamers and use the rod to initiate it. By now I hope that point is clear, and I promise you’ll notice a long-term elevation in your streamer success. It means more grabs on days the fish have colder feet than a Hollywood wedding. Those slow days when hardly a fish in the river moves suddenly brings a handful more to the net. Streamer fishing has a reputation for lacking consistency, so if you’re sick of your fishing experience reminding yourself about your ex, understanding the variation of rod action and adding as many presentation types as possible is a step in the right direction. Next time you step foot in the river to see scattering bait fish, closely watch the variety of their fleeing movements, and tell me a simple strip at different rates is enough to mimic them.