The eagle is a great predator; there’s much to learn from it.

Eagles are great fishers. And from the look in the eye of this one that our friend, Theo Baakelar photographed in Holland, it’s certainly the Angler as Predator.

Our Book, The Angler as Predator, is racing ever forward toward the presses. Jason is putting the last touches on the layout and design. Watch for a notice of a pre-release special coming soon.

The story below is from Chapter Three, “The Hunter.”

A Wrinkle in the Water

John Beth and I were on a high stream bank, standing behind a couple of large green ash trees and watching a favorite riffle for big browns and coho salmon. We had started earlier that day without much success, but a day’s fishing isn’t over until it’s over, and so we watched and waited, scanning every inch of the water below us for any indication of fish. I noticed a wrinkle in the water near the opposite bank that didn’t look like it was caused by a rock. It seemed to move a bit, which no rock would ever do; but then again, I’ve watched a wrinkle caused by a rock for so long that I’ve become convinced it was moving. I shifted my gaze a couple of feet upstream so that the wrinkle was more in my peripheral vision. This way, I could still see any movement with ease, while not letting my imagination run wild by staring directly at the movement in the water.

As I watched, the tip of tail stuck out and then disappeared. It was a fish, and not a rock! Glare from the overcast sky prevented me from seeing the fish in the shallow water, even with polarizing sunglasses firmly in place, but the tail told me it was not a brown. The browns have a distinctly black band at the end of the tail. This was a salmon-probably a coho, but its size said it could be a king. I decided to have a try at it.

I crossed well above the fish and on hands and knees crept slowly into casting position about 30 feet up and across from it. I knew my gray-green jacket, brown sweater, and dark tan hat and waders were the perfect colors to blend me into the grasses and background vegetation. Curling my legs under me and sitting back ever so slowly to get comfortable and not spook the fish, I watched the curl in the water for a while. Suddenly the fish moved up about three feet, and I could see it plainly. It was a coho, and a big one. I used a low Elliptical Cast and dropped the fly in so that it swung directly in front of the fish. Not even a sniff. I tried a big collared Silver Leech, a black Collared Leech, and a scarlet and purple Hot Head Leech. Nothing. I tried the flies on a smooth swing, and I tried jigging them directly in front of the fish’s nose, and yet there it remained, still moving about and looking aggressive. I was convinced the fish did not see me, and had not been spooked by the strange looking things that came swimming by.

I finally changed flies to an Icicle and on the second swing the fish grabbed my offering and tore off downstream, splashing and thrashing on the surface. Then, the hook popped out. I stripped in and checked the hook point. It was fine. And suddenly, there was the fish, too, coming right back to the same spot. I pitched the Icicle back in, and jigged it across the fish’s face-maybe lightning would strike twice. The big coho was obviously agitated by what the fly had just done to him, and he bolted forward a foot or so and grabbed the fly with determination. This time the hook caught firmly, and I eventually got him to net.

Both John and I were surprised at the size of the coho. Many years before, right after they were first introduced in Lake Michigan, we had caught big cohos. But the average size had fallen since then, and now the ones we caught were usually many pounds smaller than the big boys of rivers past. This one, however, was a definite throwback to times gone by; it was handsomely marked and sported tusk-like teeth. It was the biggest fish of the trip, and was certainly worth the time and effort of the hunt.

The coho that was The Wrinkle in the Water.

Not a sandwich made of trout, but a sandwich made for trout. The long winters in Holland have a way of messing with one’s mind. In this case, the mind of a great fly tyer and fly fisher. Looks tasty to me!

Theo’s trout sandwich featuring an extra helping of big, juicy stonefly nymphs.

From the first time I stepped into the Madison River in 1962, it has held a special fascination for me. Not only because it holds big fish, but because it is a river of many faces. Most anglers know its middle stretch, which rushes north from Earthquake Lake to Ennis Lake, but there are the headwaters of the Firehole and Gibbon, the meadows in Yellowstone Park, the waters of Hebgen, Earthquake, and Ennis Lakes, the roaring waters of Beartrap Canyon, and the lower Madison that cuts a path through prairie country on its way to forming the mighty Missouri with the Gallatin and Jefferson at Three Forks.

My good friend, John Beth, is also under the spell of the Madison, and in 1993 we pooled our love of the river to produce “My Madison,” a celebration of the river in words and music. John’s seven inspiring and lovely compositions honor this timeless river with an equally timeless quality, and I wrote voice-over prose on my impressions of each of the Madison’s seven sections. Side One is the music with my voice over. Side Two is music only.

The My Madison CD received First Place from the Outdoor Writers Association of America for a Natural History Broadcast.

My Madison has just been released in the electronic media stores in celebration of its 20^th Anniversary. You can listen to selections and buy the album or singles at iTunes, and other electronic stores. https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/my-madison-instrumental-version/id590457610

I had a note from my friend, Capt’n Jake Jordan, and it seems that the sail fish are turned on and tuned in. Here’s his note. If you’re interested in catching a sailfish on a fly, Jake’s the guy. You can contact him through his link at the right.

Greetings from Casa Vieja Lodge:

Here at Casa Vieja Lodge the fleet is catching lots of Sailfish, yesterday the results were as follows: Paul McGarvie fishing aboard Makaira with Captain Jason Brice caught and released 5 sailfish on fly, today I fished with Paul and Jason and we released 5 more sailfish from 8 bites.

Meanwhile Billy and Dusty Coulliette fishing aboard Intensity with Captain Mike Sheeder, caught and released 9 sailfish from 11 bites yesterday and then caught 6 sailfish on fly from 15 bites today.

Also Aboard Rum Line with mate Nico running the boat for Captain Chris Sheeder, with anglers Austin Hepburn ,  along with Robert and Maxwell Moran, caught and released 6 sailfish on fly from 9 bites yesterday, and 11 from 13 bites today.

This is what the look like up close and personal just after they’ve taken the fly.

Theo Baakelar, a good friend from Holland, has been using his winter hours to tie flies for next season. Here are a couple of great looking stonefly  nymphs made with flexie body or thin skin material. They look good enough to eat, don’t they? He says they are particularly tasty with a little garlic.

Notice the bead heads? Theo is “Mr. Bead Head.” He introduced them to the US in 1990 at the first International Fly Tying Symposium, organized and operated by Chuck Furimsky.

Chuck is also the originator and operator of the Fly Fishing Shows. I will be presenting fly tying demos, casting demos, and PowerPoint presentations at several of his shows this year. The first one will be in Denver, January 4, 5 , 6, 2013. That’s right, this coming weekend. See you there.

Theo’s Brown Stone.

Theos Green Stone.

I was greatly saddened by the death of my dear friend, Joh Goddard, on December 26th. Rather than spin a series of fishing tales, i’ve reprinted his life story as described by his close colleague and great friend, Brian Clarke. You will be sorely missed, John.

The above photo is the frontpiece from John’s book, Trout Flies of Britain and Europe.

From Brian Clarke

It is probably true to say that, more than any other British writer in the 20^th century, John Goddard persuaded anglers at large that a knowledge of entomology could be a huge advantage when trying to catch trout on artificial flies. He not only designed a veritable hatch of imitative patterns based on his own observations, but adapted the dressings of others and wrote extensively on methods for fishing them. He delivered the complete fly-to-landing-net package.

Others had trodden the entomological path before him. Frederic Halford and George Selwyn Marryat had studied the flylife of the southern chalk streams in the 1880s and 1890s and, thanks to Halford’s writings, had effectively systematised dry fly fishing as a sport by the turn of that century. G.E.M. Skues later did much the same for those who had fished the chalk streams with sunken flies, by showing how aquatic nymphs could be imitated and fished. In being able to stand on their shoulders – and to a significant extent also on those of J.R. Harris, who published An Angler’s Entomology in 1952 – Goddard was able to take anglers further, both technically and geographically.

Goddard was also one of the most complete all-rounders who ever lived. He exhibited an enthusiasm and breadth of interest that not only embraced coarse and game fishing, but conventional sea angling, fly-fishing in the sea and competitive, international big-game fishing. In the latter specialisation, he captained his country’s team several times.

John Goddard was born in Vauxhall, London, on August 27, 1923 and brought up in Carshalton, Surrey. He was educated in local schools, caught his first fish from the River Wandle at the age of five and served with the East Surrey Regiment during the war. On demobilisation in 1947 he joined F. G. Goddard, the family’s garden furniture business, at that time run by his father.

Garden furniture was not top of many shopping lists in the years following the war and, with the business struggling, the younger Goddard, by now a keen and expert coarse fisherman, persuaded his father to launch into fishing tackle manufacture. Efgeeco, the resulting tackle business, thrived. Goddard went on to become long-time vice-chairman of the Tackle Trades Association and the first chairman of the Angling Foundation. In 1984 he was able to sell the business to fish, travel and write – as well as play golf and bridge, his other long-term interests.

In the mid-1950s, Goddard’s fishing career took the first of many turns. Weir Wood reservoir, in West Sussex, opened its doors as a trout fishery – and Goddard took up flyfishing on lakes. Before long he met Cliff Henry, already a skilled stillwater fly fisherman and the pair became friends. In due course they switched their attention to rivers and in particular to the water at Abbotts Barton, on the Itchen, the beat made famous by Skues.

Both men became fascinated with the difficulty of this gin-clear, slowly-paced water. It gave the fish plenty of time to scrutinise the artificial flies  they were offered and to find these patterns wanting. Together, Goddard and Henry decided they needed to know more about the natural creatures they were trying to imitate – and to create better representations of them. They began to collect specimens of both the winged and nymphal stages of the flies they found at Abbotts Barton, which Goddard photographed; then they moved further afield eventually, between 1961 and 1965, travelling to rivers all over Britain to collect, describe, photograph and imitate every significant fly the angler was likely to encounter on them. It was an immense undertaking.

With the encouragement of Henry, Goddard published Trout Fly Recognition in 1966. This minutely-detailed work found a ready market. It helped fly fishermen not only in the cocooned world of the chalk streams addressed by Halford and Skues, but on rivers everywhere, to identify the flies they saw on the water and to choose and tie better representations. Trout Fly Recognition included descriptions of the males and females of different species, even going into detail on the colour of eyes and the shapes of wings; on body shapes and  segmentations; on legs and tails. Many naturals were shown in colour using photographic techniques that Goddard himself developed. Goddard was elected a Fellow of the Royal Entomological Society as a result of it all.

Trout Flies of Stillwater, published three years later, performed a more comprehensive service still for lake fishermen. These two books were the first of a dozen that Goddard was to write, most of them with a flyfishing theme. The culmination of his entomological work, Trout Flies of Britain and Europe, appeared in 1991.  An autobiography, The Passionate Angler, appeared in 2008.

In tandem with his work on Trout Fly Recognition and Trout Flies of Stillwater, Goddard had been pursuing interests first in sea fishing and then in big-game fishing, the latter stimulated by outings with Bernard Venables, a co-founder of Angling Times and author of  the extraordinary Mr Crabtree Goes Fishing, a work that sold over two million copies.

Goddard began writing about both branches of the sport and before long  the Portuguese government asked him to survey the big-game fishing off Portugal’s coast, as a potential tourist attraction. Goddard undertook the work with Leslie Moncrieff, a noted sea angler and photographer. The publicity surrounding the two men’s captures of  shark, marlin and tuna effectively kick-started the angling tourism which Madeira and the Azores have enjoyed ever since. Goddard was invited to fish for England in international big-game fishing championships and subsequently he captained England’s A team for several years. Big Fish from Salt Water appeared in 1977.

Around that time an invitation from the Bahamas Tourist Board saw Goddard take up yet another, rarified kind of angling – fly-fishing in the sea for exotic species like bonefish, sailfish, permit, snook, trevally and tarpon. He travelled extensively in pursuit of such fish, making numerous trips to the Seychelles, the Bahamas, Cuba, the Cayman Islands, Mexico and Belize. His love of trout fishing, which never flagged, took him many times to the United States and over a dozen times to New Zealand, often leading fishing parties for specialist travel agencies.

By the time Goddard had launched into flyfishing in the sea, he had formed what was to become a lifelong friendship with Brian Clarke and the second major collaborative partnership of his life began. In 1976, over a dinner party at Clarke’s home, the two decided to write a book that concentrated as much on the fish in the water as on the angler on the bank. They sank cameras into the river bed, constructed large tanks in which they conducted experiments in the reflection and refraction of light – and documented the way light influenced the trout’s view of the angler, his flies and his tactics.

The Trout and the Fly, replete with underwater photographs and illuminating text, attracted huge publicity when it came out in 1980.  In the week of publication The Sunday Times colour magazine ran seven pages on the book. A 50-minute BBC film on the research the two had carried out, was screened two days later. The New York Times listed the work as one of its books of the year. A handwritten note of appreciation arrived from President Carter on White House notepaper. Another note came from Lord Home, the former Prime Minister.

Goddard and Clarke were collaborating on a commissioned book about their lives – a kind of joint angling autobiography – at the time of Goddard’s death.

If John Goddard’s friends had to pick out a quality above all others to characterise him it would not be his fishing skills, remarkable though they were: it would be his undiminishing enthusiasm for fishing, sustained by his energy. None of them would be able to name an angler more single-minded and determined. In his prime, Goddard would be first on the water and last off. He would lay siege to individual, difficult trout for hours on end, often enough returning triumphant in the dusk. There were not many of his friends who, at one time or another on the bank, had not been left exhausted in his wake.

John Goddard was not a naturally outgoing man. From outward appearances, to those who did not know him, he could appear reserved and even taciturn. Relaxed among his friends, however, another side showed. He had an impish sense of humour and could be a creasing teller of stories, often against himself. In full flow, he could come close to holding court. His contribution to 20^th-century angling, in its scope and its specialist depths, was unique.

He is survived by Eileen, his wife of 62 years and by a daughter, Susan.

John Goddard, angler, author and entomologist, was born on August 27, 1923. He died on December 26, 2012, aged 89.

In March I will be offering some clinics and fishing in the Argentine Patagonia with Polo Rossi. I’m looking forward to both events. For those looking for a good experience in Patagonia with an Orvis recommended shop, have a good look at the Mendoza Fly Shop: www.mendozaflyshop.com/

Watch this blog for future announcements about the clinics, the fishing, travel, and other details.

There are many smaller, faster streams with string, healthy fish in the Argentine Patagonia.

Big trout like this rainbow are more than a handful in these fast mountain waters.

On a 4 weight rod, a fish like this is a real handful in fast currents.

The Three Point Grip is not exactly the same one used by Lee. It is the evolutionary end result of Lee’s Tarpon Grip wedded to the other grips that have been developed through the ages and embodies the basic elements of all those grips. First, it reflects the Free Wrist Grip in the fact that it is very relaxed and the wrist is flicked fully back at the end of the backcast and flicked fully forward at the end of the forward cast. It reflects the Thumb on Top grip because the thumb is on the top of the handle and can push against the rod as needed. It embodies the Trigger Finger Grip because the index finger is also used to put pressure on the handle on both the back and forward casts, and the caster pinches the rod between the thumb and middle finger. It looks like the V Grip when seen from the top because the thumb is shifted slightly toward the inside of the handle (to the left for a right hand caster) and the index finger sits up on the top outer quadrant of the handle, or even a bit higher and nearer the center line of the handle. This positioning of the forefinger and thumb allows the V space between them to fall directly on the centerline of the handle. It resembles the Finger on Top grip because the forefinger is, in fact up there on the top.  It mimics the Compressed V Grip when the index finger is drawn back a la Lee’s grip. The Three Point Grip also covers the greatest portion of the handle of any grip, and thus gives the most positive connection to the rod of any of the grips.

A good way to develop the Three Point for yourself is to start with the rod held in the Thumb on Top Grip. Shift this to the Trigger Finger Grip. Now shift the forefinger up on the outer, upper quadrant of the handle. To finalize the grip, rotate your hand slightly inward on the handle (to the left for a right hand caster). That’s it. To modify the grip into a version of Lee’s Tarpon Rod Grip, simply draw the tip of the index finger back until it’s bend inward at the first joint. Very often when I’m fishing for salmon, tarpon, bones, big pike, bass, and using a 10 to 12 weight rod, I’ll pull the tip of my index finger back as I make the cast, and then extend it in a relaxed position between casts.

It’s called the Three Point Grip because there are three points holding against the bottom of the handle: the middle, ring, and little fingers. There are likewise three points holding against the top of the handle: the heel of the hand, the thumb, and the forefinger. Study the photos carefully and note the angle that the thumb and forefinger make with the handle. They are not compressed against the cork but rather contact the handle at about a 20-degree angle. Hold the rod this way with your hand as relaxed as possible—use just enough tension in the grip to keep the rod from falling out of your hand.

The Three Point Grip is an essential element of the Foundation Casting Stoke and solves so many casting problems and lends itself to so many line manipulation tactics that from that first day on the Madison when I worked out its mechanics, it is THE grip that I use. This is the grip that I use for Arm Casting, and it can be instantly transformed into the V Grip, the Compressed V Grip, the Trigger Finger Grip, the Thumb on Top Grip, the Finger on Top Grip, or Lee’s Tarpon Rod Grip, as needed, meaning that I can instantly switch between them as I may need for Wrist Casting, Arm Assisted Wrist Casting, or any style of Arm Casting.

With the Three Point Grip the middle, ring, and little fingers hold against the bottom of the handle, and the thumb, forefinger, and heel of the hand hold against the top. Note the angle of the thumb against the handle.

The Three Point Grip as seen from above and to the thumb side. The V space between the thumb and forefinger lies directly on the top, centerline of the handle. Note the angle of the forefinger against the handle.

I received a fun Christmas card from Capt’n Jake Jordan. This was a seriously planned card, not just a shot of a guy holding a fish. Jake took Santa fishing, and proved that’s been a good boy. Santa nailed some nice Albies and jake got some great Christmas presents!

Merry Christmas to everyone!

Santa Jake with a really fine Albie.

This grip evolved out of Jason’s experiences with Lee’s grip. Fenwick came out with graphite rods in 1973, and as Director of the Fenwick Fly Fishing  Schools, I had access to “test” models. Several years after the first HMG models were introduced, they produced a 9-foot, 3-weight, which I immediately acquired for “testing.” I was in a strong wind on the Madison, heaving a huge Strip Leech with 30 wraps of 3-amp fuse wire under the body—it was my torture test for the rod, just to see what it really could do. After several hours of chucking the rather weighty imitation, my wrist got just a wee bit tired. “I think I’ll try Lee’s grip,” I thought, and switched over. Instantly I was aware that something unique had happened, but I couldn’t immediately say what. But that answer came very quickly when I stopped and worked through what was actually going on.

The revelation was stunning. With a Thumb on Top Grip, when my forearm was raised to the vertical, and my wrist was bent fully rearward, the rod would poke out behind parallel to the ground. That’s because the thumb is the opposable digit—it sticks out at right angles to the midline of the forearm when the wrist is bent fully back and the forearm is vertical. That, in fact, is the source of the “Don’t bend your wrist” mantra that is gently shouted at every beginning arm caster. The rod needs to stop at about 30 degrees behind the vertical on the backstroke, and so, with the Thumb on Top Grip, the movement of the wrist must be very closely monitored in order that it check the rod’s rearward movement at exactly the needed point. This is, without a doubt, the most difficult task for the beginning arm caster to learn.

But with the forefinger up on the side of the handle, the rod stops at about 30 degrees behind the vertical when the forearm is sticking straight up and the wrist is bent fully rearward. So, with the Three Point Grip, rather than trying to check the wrist in mid flex, the angler flips it back as far as it will go, and the rod stops about 30 degrees behind the vertical.

This occurs because the forefinger is not at right angles to the midline of the forearm, rather it only makes about a 20-degree angle with the midline of the forearm. The rod is not precisely aligned with the forefinger, however, but rather lies across the palm from the heel of the hand to the point of the index finger. This angle is at very near 30 degrees to midline of the forearm–exactly where the angler wants the rod to stop on the backstroke. With the Three Point Grip, the index finger becomes the pointing finger for the rod—where the finger points the rod points. Suddenly, manipulating the rod to learn new casts and mends becomes as easy as pointing.

With the Thumb On Top Grip, the rod points horizontally on the backcast when the wrist is bent fully back.

With the Three Point Grip the rod stops precisely where it should on the backcast when the wrist is bent fully back.

The Three Point Grip allows the fly caster to use the wrist fully during the casting stroke.

When the forearm is vertical and the wrist is bent fully rearward, the thumb is at right angles to the forearm..

When the forearm is vertical, and the wrist is bent fully back, the index finger is about 15 degrees to the rear of the centerline of the forearm (red line). With the iThree Point Grip, the rod lies about 25-30 degrees to the rear of the vertical (white line).