Trout - striking techniques

Taranaki Christmas 1999 was notable for its unprecedented spell of fine weather: day after day of sun and gentle sea breezes. Weather tailor-made for stalking trout. But for most of us Christmas is family time. Between the daily chores of looking after my non-fishing extended family I only managed to sneak out twice to local streams. To make my enforced fishing fast a little more bearable I re-read a well-known fishing book I had borrowed from the library.

One of the chapters was about striking trout under a variety of fishing situations. Flyfishing is so diverse that there is rarely unanimity on any aspect of this fascinating sport. Not surprisingly, opinions vary even more about how and when to set the hook; to make that longed for connection with the elusive trout.

How not when

I remember reading English books on nymphing in the mid-sixties. One got the distinct impression that its successful practitioners were blessed with a sixth sense through which they, and only they, could determine the precise moment of the strike. Being fully aware of my own humble peasant background as a rabbiter, I was greatly intimidated by it all at the time. Now, a few decades on, it all seems pretentious nonsense elevated into an art form by a bunch of flyfishing snobs. Like dry fly elitism before it, it seemed this upper class snobbery had been transferred to fishing the nymph.

Let's face it, the reality of trout fishing is difficult enough without embellishing it with unnecessary mysticism. When to strike is in my opinion less important than how. I have developed a hunch that more fish are lost through incorrect striking than bad timing.

Take for instance the often-quoted advice about the timing of a nymph strike versus a dry fly take. The latter needs an enforced wait (a count of three or a slow 'God Save Taranaki') to allow the trout to turn down (still holding the fake fly) before the hook is set. By contrast the same trout is said to be able to detect, and in a split second eject, a fake nymph thus requiring an instant angler response. The proponents of this persuasive theory usually back this up with eyewitness accounts of trout expertly ejecting their mate's nymphs without twitching the indicator.

My own experiences with striking differ from the hard and fast rules that seem to have taken a solid hold amongst the brethren of the angle. These ideas have gained favour, not because the logic behind them is unassailable, but because - as history has so often shown - if you repeat something often enough, more and more people believe it to be true.

How trout actually feed

To start this discussion about striking we have to look first how trout ingest their food. This was dramatically brought home to me when I watched a big brown attack a spinner on an East Coast river. My mate and I were standing on a high bank longingly watching some big browns in a very deep and relatively still pool. All efforts to deep nymph them had failed.

As we eyed the lazy fish a young boy came walking along the bank. Instead of a fly rod he carried a small spinning outfit. When he saw the dark shadows he asked if he could have a try. With a 'go for it' we waved him on not believing for one second that the smart browns would fall for the hardware. He made a good cast to the far bank, let the gold and black Toby sink to the bottom then slowly retrieved the flashing metal through the channel. As I expected none of the fish moved. I breathed a sigh of relief. The spinner was nearly five metres past the lie and coming up from the deep when suddenly one of the shapes peeled from the pack and charged. In a flash the big fish caught up, ripped its mouth wide open, flared its gills, and bang!, nailed the Toby. It all happened so fast that we veteran fly fishers stood there with our mouths almost as open as the trout's. What impressed me most of all was how vigorously the fish had flared its gills to suck in that metal baitfish.

Since then I have frequently observed at very close quarters trout sucking in floating duns or drifting nymphs - not as dramatically as the spinner attack but still following the same principle. The mouth opens, gills flare and the fly disappears.

A much easier way to study how trout ingest food is at Rainbow Springs in Rotorua, or from the bridge at the Tokaanu Hot Pools. When people throw the food pellets the trout come up, open their gobs and leisurely suck in the little morsels by expanding their gill plates.

It seems that, no matter how fast or slow an attack, a strong sucking motion is part of it. That ensures that the item ends up inside the mouth rather than being pushed to the side by the advancing pressure wave. Next the jaws close, expelling the surplus water through the gills. Whatever is caught is held by the teeth or pressed against the roof of the mouth. After that the fish needs to verify if the item is kosher before sending it down the hatch.

If it is not, then the fish tries to expel it with a reverse thrust of water. The best way to observe that is with aquarium fish. They take something in, taste it, blow it out and suck it in again.

Of course it will take you a lot more time to read all this than for a trout to 'bite' a fly. Nevertheless, the time a fly is in its mouth is considerably longer than the 'flash' some people describe.

How Long?   Here are a few examples to get you thinking.

The Unseen Bite

I regularly fish the winter runs on the Tongarlro. My days are long, tiring and frequently my concentration lapses. When that happens I get distracted and temporarily forget to keep track of my indicator. When I snap back to reality my eyes frantically scan the surface for the blob of orange. It has vanished. Now I am looking for the end of the line. It has gone under too! Strike or snag? When I finally I lift the rod there is a pump, pump at the other end. I have hooked a fish without striking! God only knows how long it has held the fly.

This is what probably happened. The fish took the nymph or globug, held it in its mouth until the leader tightened. The steady pull slid the hook into the scissors or engaged elsewhere in its mouth. Even if the fish wanted to eject the object it could not exhale it because the pressure of the trailing flyline held the fly in place. The reason why the fish was not dashing off was because the pressure was slight and steady. It simply did not know what was going on.

Soft Takes At Night

Night bites are purely tactile. They can be instant or very subtle. What we do not know is how long the fish has mouthed the fly before the angler reacts. A number of years ago I habitually night-fished the area around the Waiotaka mouth at the Southern end of Lake Taupo.

One night the guy next to me hooked nearly a dozen fish to my two or three. By sheer coincidence we timed our finish with his and arrived back at the car at the same time. Since I don't have any ego hang-ups, I asked what fly this successful angler had been using. He shone the light on the hook keeper and there was a No. 6 hook wrapped with an orange chenille body with a strip of Aurora skirt tied along either side. No tail, no hackle, no wing - just a bit of copper ribbing to stop the lumo strip from being torn off. We looked speechless at the minimalist pattern. 'Here, have one,' suggested the friendly man pressing a fly into my frozen palm, adding, 'You fish it with a floating line, long leader and a very, very slow retrieve'.

The next night we were out in force using the wonder fly. Yes, it worked, but that was not what struck me. It was the way some of the bites felt in the still water. It started like this: my line became slightly heavy as if dragging a bit of weed. Then this weight would gradually increase until I felt a throbbing fish at the other end. At first I had no idea that the subtle weight gain was caused by a fish holding the fly and probably swimming off to the side or even towards me. Eventually the line got tight and the fish reacted.

Soft takes at night are almost certainly caused by fish swimming around on a slack line 'holding' the fly. Only when the fish swims away from the angler is the 'connection' more sudden.

Perhaps the best proof that fish hold flies longer than we think lies with the newest fly fishing perversion of 'Heave and Leave'. Only when the line runs out does the angler know that a fish has taken the buoyant globug. The interval may have taken some time.

Slack Nylon Hook-ups

I could cite many more occasions where fish have held flies for a considerable time but here is an incident that goes one step beyond the sheer mouthing. In this instance a fish wanted to eject a nymph but despite considerable effort could not do so.

A good number of years ago I nymphed a deep and rather sluggish Stony River pool using a small wool indicator. I cast into an ambling foam line and tracked the tiny speck of red as it slowly progressed through the pool with the white bubbles. Not a twitch, nor an unnatural movement. I was about to recast when I saw a dull silver flash deep down. I waited. There it was again: a flash then another one further up. I checked my indicator. It was still riding peacefully on the surface. On the third series of flashes I tightened my long leader and to my surprise saw a big rainbow rocket into the air. It broke off shortly afterwards but not before convincing me that it had been 'hooked' for some time. It is quite possible that the fish hooked itself earlier in the drift but because of all the slack nylon was unable to get rid of the hook.

This incident also reminds me that barbless hook advocates very much rely on the tension caused by a dragging line or a bent rod to hold these hooks in place.

Hooking Fish

Bad timing is also often blamed for pricking fish. Again, I have my doubts. It seems more likely that the causes include small, blunt or narrow-gaped hooks, overdressed flies, bad hook-set angles or just a run of bad luck.

Let's look at these somewhat complex issues in a little more detail. Perhaps the most easily understood reason for failed hook-ups lies in the sheer size of a trout's mouth. Compare it with some of the minuscule hooks we use for flies. With only one chance to strike, it is almost a miracle we come up solid as often as we do.

Sharp Hooks

Poor hook maintenance accounts for many misses. It is indisputable that blunt hooks will miss many strikes and drop more fish than sharp ones. Years ago, when Mustad was the major hook brand in our market, I used to habitually sharpen my hook points. Nowadays, chemically treated hooks only require touching up when they become blunt. With mini trout hooks you can't afford slippage before the point finds a lodging spot. It has to penetrate where it makes contact, even if that is bone.

Hook Patterns

Trout hooks are often designed more for fly-tiers than for anglers. Have a look at what shapes are on the market. Without going into detail the various styles must also imply a varying ability to connect and to hold. In my experience hooks with narrow gapes and long shanks do neither very well.

Strike Angle

Just as the hooking efficiency of hook shapes varies, so does the efficiency of different hooking angles. By far the most consistent hook-ups are achieved when a fish points away from you. The least reliable angle is when a fish faces towards you. The rest grades on a spectrum between the two.

The explanation is quite logical. From side on, a fish's mouth is shaped like a 'V' lying on its side. Pull a hook into the narrow point (scissors) and its chances of a firm hold are many times greater than when you pull the hook towards the large open gap. Furthermore, even if the point buries itself at the front, the leverage and angle during the ensuing struggle keeps the mouth wide open. This can easily tear a small hook out of soft tissue.

Your approach angle has a lot to do with it your success. Downstream dry fly or nymph presentation often result in front of the mouth hook-sets and poor holds. This was the reason Atlantic salmon angler, Arthur H.A. Wood, invented the Greased Line method of downstream and across fly presentation at the turn of the century. When a salmon took hold of his swinging fly, Wood, instead of striking, would slip extra line through the guides to form a downstream belly below the fish. Only then did he sweep his rod horizontally (water striking) to move the hook in a downstream direction, lodging the fly in the scissors for a secure hold. In his 21 years of angling he accounted for an astonishing 3,540 salmon.

Long before I read this I also found that, when nymphing on the Tongarlro, a horizontal downstream sweep hooked better than an upward strike. When it comes to the actual striking, techniques abound. I have already mentioned the Wood method as one of the best, even when you cannot slip extra line.
By contrast, the highly dramatic upward strike is least efficient, especially if the fish is downstream. One sees that frequently on American videos as a prelude to fighting fish with rods held high above anglers' heads. Done without good reason it precludes the much recommended side strain as the quickest way to tire a fish.

Striking upwards creates it's own problems. It necessitates that all the line is lifted off the water and straightened before the hook moves. By contrast, a horizontal sweep leaves the line in the water and the ensuing water tension sets the hook even though curves remain in the line. With the latter, only a short sweep is needed instead of the big heave for the vertical strike.

Minimum Force Required

Finally, the force needed to set a trout hook is very small. Light wire hooks, needle-sharp points, micro barbs - all help hook penetration. Add to that the soft tissue inside a trout's mouth and theoretically only a short jab is needed to drive the needle home.

Vicious strikes with stiff rods, maybe even non-stretch lines and thin leaders, bust fish off with monotonous regularity. With those that stick on, the shock of a big hit is so great that the fish instantly panic and take off leaving you little time to worry about anything else.

Better to take your time, raise the rod smartly to set the hook then hold the fish gently but firmly in the current with lightly bent rod. You will be surprised how some fish just sit there as long as you don't jerk them. This should give you time to get your spare line on the reel and get a better footing (preferably on the bank). When you are ready progressively increase side-strain, which is the quickest way to tire the fish.

Bad Luck

As for the run of bad luck, we all have it. I once dropped nine fish in a row. My confidence nose-dived and my day turned to misery as others hauled them in with ease. In the end I actually anticipated my hook coming out. Murphy made sure they did. When I asked a friend, "What else is going to go wrong?" he replied with a laugh: "Cheer up. You haven't fallen into the river, yet!"