In this first part of the interview Tommy talks about indicator fishing for steelhead, Spey casting, and night fishing for brown trout with mouse patterns. Look for Part II of the interview in the next week.

More information about Tommy is available at his website and at Hawkins Outfitters. Tommy is one of the top guides working in Michigan and the information he has to share is quite valuable.

T|N|T: According to your website, before you decided to become a fishing guide you were going to college to become a funeral director, which I understand is your family’s business. Was it difficult to walk away from both a solid profession that would have promised financial security and from “the family legacy,” so to speak? How did you come to make that decision?

T|L: Nope, wasn’t a hard decision at all. I have two brothers in that business, but there are simply more smiles in this line of work. I like living happy! My father and I decided in an Irish, highly-toned conversation one day that I could certainly be a decent funeral director, but I would never love it like I loved fly fishing. He was right on both counts, as he usually is.

That's Tommy on the right with his friend, Mr. Big Trout.

Fly fishing is like nothing I had ever experienced, with the possible exception of sex. It just wasn’t the sort of thing that I was able to walk away from or put away and then take out again on the weekends. Once I did it, I had to continue. Every day that I didn’t fish, I felt as if I was digging myself into a hole that would have to “fish myself out of” eventually.

Besides — to be a great funeral director — like my father and my brothers — you have to become a responsible, well-dressed, and clean-shaven member of society … all overrated achievements in the eyes of a trout bum.

I caught a bass at age four in my Uncle Fred’s private pond in New York. But my father didn’t take me to the Pere Marquette River until I was seven years old. He used to tell me, “Tommy, I took you to the river when you were seven, and you never really came home!” My pop was right, and in some way he always encouraged me to do what I loved because he saw that I would be very lucky guy, if I could. In a way I still feel like I am part of “the legacy,” just a different part of it now, as many of my uncles and cousins will come to fish with my father and with me every September. I hope that tradition continues for generations to come.

T|N|T: You mention on your website that you were the first guide to do “chuck & duck”-free, floating-line-only steelhead trips on the Pere Marquette. I remember a time when guides and fly shop owners alike would tell you that “chuck & duck” was the only way to catch steelhead reliably, especially in cold weather. I take it that’s no longer the case. What led you to the decision to not use the “chuck & duck” method?

T|L: “Chuck & Duck” has its uses on the bigger rivers where strong casting might be a problem for clients who have never moved a fly line before — much less 50’ of line with a mend! That being said the best “big river” fly guys I know are now running center-pin versions of indicator techniques – including several of the guys on the Hawkins crew, like Jon Ray and Ed McCoy.

This technique is even easier to apply than small water rollcasting, thanks to the overall size of the water fished on the major tailwaters Also tailwater fisheries get that heavy stocking much more than the smaller streams, and of course the P.M. mainstream gets zero plants, but has one of the best natural returns and reproduction in the Midwest.

For the P.M. it was a no-brainer and a bi-product of Western horizontal nymphing techniques. For me, that sort of indicator technique just got more and more vertical until I was running directly under the floats (much like spawn under a float). But then the floats and rig design itself started to change to cater to different water clarities and target water, along with other changes to compensate for different depths and flows. Without this basic style of casting, mending, and rig design, a true drag-free drift with a tapered fly line would be almost impossible, unless you were drift-casting from a moving boat.

For me, fly fishing starts when you add a taper and a cast to the use of fly line. If you are just waiting for a bump or a stop, and feeling your way through a run, you are not really fly fishing — you are drift fishing with a fly rod. This is especially true when you’re using a non-tapered fly line, or just colored mono, and throwing massive amounts of lead.

The leading cause of foul-hooked fish is due to tippets being dragged across or into the fish, just like they are from the swing of a “chuck” rig. Rigs like that never even allow for a true drag-free drift because the technique doesn’t produce unless you do have drag.

The bottomline is that eggs, nymphs and other food particles will travel down the seam, not across the seam like you get with “chuck & duck” — that is just not a natural presentation and something that needed fixing on the P.M. years ago.

Applications in cold weather are limitless when it comes to indicator fishing. Not only can you fish more water per drift, you can also fish it more accurately. And you will never have to worry about what is on the bottom of the river since you can suspend your flies with a vertical presentation. Fish are never sitting with their bellies on the floor of the river anyway. Normally they are holding about a foot off the bottom. In the fall they hold-off even more. With “chuck” gear the reason so many fish are foul-hooked is because the hooks are underneath the fish before the hook-set.

All of this explains why foul-hooking is so common since people usually finish their cast with a lift and they normally set whenever the “bump” feels fishy enough. This practice of fishing is so easy, though, that “a caveman can do it,” which is why some people, I think, still practice it.

Of course, fish use wood as structure so that they have a place in which they can hold safely, but “chuck & duck” anglers will pass by those spots for that very reason — they can’t fish in the wood. But a good indicator angler will look at a woody spot and see opportunity rather than inevitable defeat. This in turn builds confidence, and there isn’t a fly in your box that will out fish that quality.

Being able to fish a spot without touching the bottom is always huge, but when you’re fishing an INDI with an 11’ switch rod, then you only have to bring-in a few strips before you cast again. Contrast that with “chuck” gear where you have to strip-in at least 90% of your running/mono line before you can “chuck” it out there with that famous pendulum-like lob.

In the winter an added bonus is that, with less line stripped-in per cast, there is less water being pulled-off the line and so your rod guides freeze-up slower. The more line you strip in when the air is below freezing, the more time you will spend popping the ice out of the guides.

Consider as well that, just from the standpoint of efficiency, the amount of water covered per “chuck & duck” cast is really low compared to the use of the indicator method. If your fishing an indicator, then you’re matching the speed of the current and covering more water without having to work as hard with all that lobbing. The catch is that you have to learn how to actually fly cast, as you can’t just lob the lead out there anymore.

For little ones getting their first salmon or steelhead, “chuck & duck” does have its uses, but as a fly fishing guide, you’re paying me to learn how to fly fish, and if I take you “chuck & duck” fishing, I should just give you your money back because you will never learn to fly cast doing that, nor will you learn if I have you fish a fly line with zero taper.

Slowing down a drift for the cooler water is more about placement than about lead. If a fish is holding in slower water because it is cooler, you can accurately present your flies to that specific slower water better because you’re fishing with an indicator. You’re not only using the indi-bobber as a strike detector, but you’re also using it for fly placement because that way you know right where your flies are relative to your float through the entire drift. From a learning standpoint an indicator truly lets you understand where the fish are when they bite. When the bobber drops and disappears you get a nice mental picture of where that fish was holding when revisiting that spot on future outings.

I remember specifically a couple of fellows passing me just above the New Access one year when we had a good run of fish and we were running the floats with consistency. They were laughing at me, and giggling that I was using a bobber (a Thill Gold Metal Ice Float) and a real fly line. But before they were out of eyesight around that next bend, I was playing a dandy and those fellows were back there putting ketchup on their previous words and taunts.

“Chuck & duck” is old school, and a technique designed really to crash flies into stationary targets. It is quite a distance, in my opinion, from actual fly fishing. Do fish take flies on “chuck” gear? Yes. Do they also get blindsided and snagged with the same technique? Yes. Will an indicator presentation out-fish “chuck” gear three-to-one or better in most situations? Yes. And it is genuine fly fishing, to boot.

“Chuck & duck” is kind of like tie-dyes — sooner or later you just have to let it go.

T|N|T: On your website you talk briefly about Spey casting, which, while it’s anything but a new technique, is still relatively unknown in the Midwest. Is this something we should all be getting interested in? Why or why not?

T|L: It is a really cool technique and a great place to go for steelhead fishermen in Michigan looking to diversify their game beyond straight nymphing. “The tug” or “grab” is as addicting and gratifying as catching ten trout on indicators. Battles are dampened-down thanks to the larger gear and heavier tippets, but that initial hook-up when the fish drives with all of his weight is worth it. It is really almost too short-lived, like most intense sensations in life.

Mystery and surprise trump shear numbers with constant mending and casting, though it can get a little boring sometimes on your hang-downs or repetitious casting. A streamer grab is much more “shock & awe” than just an egg gulp or a nymph take. They hit that Disco Leech like it owes ‘em money, and that’s why you swing — not for numbers — but for that very personal take that only occurs when a fish moves in for an attack instead of just a passive bite.

Though nymphing produces more steelhead than any another other fly technique, if I had a dollar for every time we’ve hooked-up with a giant October or November fish that just kicked our ass on the lighter tippets, I would be able to afford another Spey rod rig that could give the same fish an attitude adjustment. When the moon and stars align, then sooner or later your going to hook a super donkey, and though your 10’ seven-weight has landed several fish over ten pounds, that same rod will buckle when tangling with a fifteen-pounder in 50 degree water. Having a big, bad 12.5’ eight-weight Spey gun and goat rope tippets fitted to a larger streamer hook makes landing the fish of your career on a fly much more realistic.

The trick is making that otherwise untamable fish say “cheese” before going about his business.

Spey casting is something that will literally make a fishless day of fishing totally successful — especially if you have a good matched line. When you are Spey casting, whether double or single Spey, or even using Snap-T applications, each cast is unique, critical, and just flat-out fun to do. Timing is everything, and if you’re off just a little, you may wind up wearing your fly instead of casting it. If you cast is correct though, it is like hearing a violin when it is played just right and it is great to watch that line travel like a sound wave across the water accordingly.

After casts like that, with the added gratification of just watching that giant loop open up and fold out with a nice tug at the end, well, who needs a take or a fish at that point? Your cast was a success!

T|N|T: You’ve had the opportunity to guide and fish in some of the most desirable locations in the fly fishing world–Western trout rivers, Alaska, the Cayman Islands—and yet you returned to make your home and your living as a guide in Michigan. I’m guessing the rivers and the fishing here must compare favorably to what you found elsewhere?

T|L: Don’t get me wrong – “Out West” is a Mecca for all trout fisherman because of the shear amount of incredible fishing water, as well as the phenomenal numbers of trout per mile. And then there are the amazing scenic backdrops in places like Alaska. But of course the downside is that water is well-fished and full of cookie-cutters and ‘bows. I found out a long time ago that the more of the same-sized fish I caught, the less each one before that catch meant to me. The variety of fish that we have here in Michigan is very diverse. In a given day of hopper fishing you will catch everything from steelhead smolt 5” long to two-foot browns that will likely eat that same smolt, if brought-in slow enough. You may not get twenty fish in the middle-teen class to the net, but you may see several browns over 20” long, which makes Michigan’s Big-Fish-to-Fish-Number ratio pretty impressive.

There is no doubt in my mind that the fish of the salt are the meanest pound-for-pound fish in the world, especially Bonefish. But, like tarpon, there are many of them out there and they all look alike. One could argue though that the permit is the brown trout of the seas just because of their rarity and wariness.

I can almost remember every brown trout I ever caught — and it isn’t hard, especially when it comes to the bigger ones. Unlike steelhead and even bonefish, no two browns ever really look alike. They are kind of like snow flakes in that respect, and that makes them very interesting to me. To me each one a different piece of eye candy – unlike just tearing another ‘bow or bone off the line and to make another cast for another fish that could be it’s twin. One day I may even get to go to Argentina with Chuck and his boys … saving my pennies so I can chase the gold.

Like other world-class fisheries, Michigan has lots of good fishing, especially when that certain bite turns on. One of the neatest things about Michigan fly fishing is every month of the year seems to have one of these “turn-ons” — whether it is Mousin’ Midnights or trophy steelhead in the snow, the truth is that I can usually walk out my door and do some world-class fly-fishing, with real variety, all year long. If that isn’t worth posting up a tent, I am not sure what is.

T|N|T: One of the best features of the Pere Marquette is that it can be productively fished just about every day of the year, in almost any weather. When is your favorite time to be on the water?

T|L: Mousin’, baby! There is no other time, after seeing so many trout sections over and over again in this state, that the mystery and anticipation for a take is so heightened in me as when the lights are off and the game is on. If you haven’t fished at night, then you’re missing a soul-deepening event. All your senses are magnified as you lose the ability to see what is right out there in front of your face.

Casting flies into the blackness of night is an acquired taste, but it is addicting – particularly once you hit a 20+” trout on a fly. Those first few nights your mind will play tricks on you and it will turn that small frog in the grass behind you into a bear sniffing within feet of your neckline. But stay with it and you will appreciate fishing in a whole new light, or lack thereof. Use the force, Luke, and do give into the Darkside, for those that do are paid in feet and not in inches.

Surprise and size is why we suit up after dark, and sooner or later it does pay to be out there. This sort of fishing isn’t about listening to and identifying birds, or watching the “bikini hatch” come down while you are fishing midday with hoppers, though that can be very nice, too. This is about swinging for the fences at night when solitude is limited midday because of thriving daytime air temps and canoe liveries that seem to spawn canoes with no limit. Of course, even on warm summer Saturdays, though, that only lasts until 6 PM — then the fisherman and wolves get to go with the flow.

I refer to brown trout as “wolves” because they live just like them, especially the big ones. They prefer to live in the wood or log jams, taking cover during daylight, but they storm-out and take up strategic positions after hours so they can maximize their predatory productiveness under the cover of night.

They prefer to pounce as much as chase, but also love to study all their prey before any attack, and are seldom seen until they do. They stay off the radar until the very last second and then launch a rude campaign of pain on whatever got too close or couldn’t run out the clock. Brown trout are moody and witty and will keep you up at night in some way or another.

As a fly angler, you’re going to improve your casting and fishing skills much more at night. When you are forced to truly feel your way through a cast and then calculate where a bank or bush might be in order to “make it happen, captain,” then it is truly is like going Jedi with a fly rod. You’re using more of your mind to outwit that fish then you ever would with the lights on, but the joke is on the fish because as you improve with your midnight skills, the fish will bow to your impossibly-placed after-hours cast and maybe fall victim to a 8089TMC or worse.

In no time they will be forced to say “cheese” in the moonlight. I’ve learned more about my casting, and how to do it right, in the dark then I ever have in daylight. In daylight you can make a bad cast work, or compensate on a forward cast to clean up a bad back cast. But in the dark, if you don’t have the right timing and angles, you will never get a cast to roll or stretch out.

Trout Water

Note: This essay originally appeared online at NewsVirginian.com (Waynesboro, Virginia) and appears here by permission of author and columnist Tom Sadler.

A couple of weeks ago I was in Michigan teaching fly-fishing to some Michigan State University graduate students, their friends and their colleagues. This is the third year that I have had the pleasure of teaching these ladies the fine art of fly-fishing.

I got this gig because my friend, Bill Taylor, a MSU distinguished professor, asked if I would be interested in expanding the educational horizons of his graduate students. Taylor is not only a firm believer in sound education for our future fish and wildlife managers but thinks they should have a “hands-on” experience in the sports that help fund fish and wildlife habitat conservation.

The first year was a great success and Taylor decided to let the ladies “recruit” the next year’s students. First they decided to name the group the MSU Fly Gals. I am told it is considered a very prestigious thing to be offered an invitation to the two-day school.

The ladies are hosted by Bill Demmer at Big Creek Lodge, a historic private enclave in Lovells, Mich. Demmer, a successful businessman from Lansing and member of the Boone and Crockett Club, is as strongly committed to conservation education through a hands-on experience as Taylor is.

Former students now return to assist me in teaching the class and also to enjoy a float trip on the North Branch of the Au Sable. The float trips are organized by Fuller’s North Branch Outing Club. Over the last three years Fuller’s has become the outfitter of choice for the MSU Fly Gals.

The North Branch Outing Club is rooted in Au Sable River history and has been around since 1916. T.E. Douglas came to the area to make his fortune in the timber business. He opened a store and hotel, The Douglas House, to offer first class food, lodging and access to the outstanding fly-fishing and wing shooting in the area.

The Douglas was the headquarters for the North Branch Outing Club. It was a popular sportsmen’s club in its day with members from the Detroit area automobile industry such as Henry and Edsel Ford, John and Horace Dodge and Charles Nash.

The Douglas House closed in the early sixties. In the fall of 1996 the Fuller family bought the property. They re-opened it as Fuller’s North Branch Outing Club with a bed and breakfast, fly-shop and guide service. It received historic designation by the State of Michigan and is on the Department of Interior’s National Register of Historic Places.

Fuller’s usually sends a couple of guides over to assist me with some of the casting instruction. This year Todd Fuller ably assisted the ladies with the afternoon on-the-water casting and fishing instruction.

This is a wonderful chance for me to visit and fish one of the more storied and historic river system in this country, the Au Sable. It is certainly Michigan’s most famous trout fishery with wonderful brook and brown trout fishing

The Au Sable River has four branches. The East and Middle branches join together just west of Grayling and flows east through town. The Middle branch, commonly referred to as the Mainstem, and the North and South branches all east of Grayling are prime waters for fishing.

On the Mainstem the “go to” fly shop is Gate’s Au Sable Lodge, owned by Rusty Gates a noted conservationist and advocate for the protection of the Au Sable river system.

The Au Sable has legendary hatches, most notable the brown drake and hexagenia or “Hex” hatch. Fishing in the late spring when we are there is usually very good from early evening until dark. After sunset, intrepid anglers fish mouse patterns near the banks to catch large brown trout.

For many years I flew over this part of the country on my way out west. That was a big mistake. There is some truly terrific water to fish in the Au Sable system. If you want to try some new water, enjoy some great northern Michigan hospitality and get in some fabulous brown and brook trout fishing I strongly recommend a trip to the Au Sable.

Tom Sadler is an avid fly-fisherman, guide, and instructor, and founder of The Middle River Group, an organization that provides diverse business expertise to the conservation and wildlife management community and the hunting, fishing and shooting sports industry. Previously, he worked in Washington with several conservation groups including the Izaak Walton League and the Congressional Sportsmen’s Foundation. He reports regularly on his sporting life on his website, Dispatches from the Middle River.

Bruce Richards

Esteemed fly fishing guru and Michigan native Bruce Richards has retired from Scientific Anglers/3M where he headed-up fly line development and design for many years. Richard’s work at Scientifc Anglers revolutionized fly line design and manufacturing and changed the landscape of modern angling for both freshwater and saltwater species. His approach to fly line design involved both experimentation with coatings (like AST), along with tapers and with the mechanical construction of the line itself (like SharkSkin).

Along the way Richards scored a number of other honors and achievements. He was chosen to be the 2007 Fly Rod & Reel Angler of the Year, he chairs the executive committee of the Casting Instructor Certification Program of the Federation of Fly Fishers, and is a member of the Board for Directors for Midcurrent.

The Midland Daily News did a nice story on Richard’s retirement, and he drops some hints about what he intends to do next both in terms of his professional and personal life. Getting away from Michigan winters seems to be part of the goal — which is understandable.

A few seasons back, the Itinerant Angler did a nice interview with Bruce that focused on the work that he has done at Scientific Anglers/3M. It is worth a listen.

A number of years ago I met Bruce Richards at, I think, one of the old Fly Factory Trout Bum BBQ’s. We didn’t talk long, but I remember that he certainly was the nice guy everyone says that he is. He has a reputation as being on the nicest guys in fly angling. About that time I was living near Mount Pleasant and once in a while would find myself driving by the Scientific Anglers building just east of Midland on James Savage Road. Although it only happened two or three times, it was always amusing to see Bruce out there in front of the building on the casting pond near the highway testing out a taper. You would shoot by at 55 MPH, but there he was happily casting away.

Joseph Meyer at the Vice

After teaching fly casting for several years now, I have found that my line of demarcation is about twenty years old. Younger than that and the metaphors that I use to teach fly casting are worthless. It must be a sign of my aging process but I am mystified that those young students who come to me for fly casting instruction just don’t have the worldliness to grasp onto the tools that I have always used to illustrate the dynamics of the cast.

When I teach the false cast, I want students to get into a rhythm and to become aware that when casting a shorter length of line, they need to have a quicker casting cycle than they do with a longer length of line. A simple concept but it sometimes needs illustration to be grasped.

“Be like a metronome,” I advise my students and at this admonishment I am often met with an owl-like stare. The eyes widen, and then blink repeatedly but no awareness sets in. “You know, the thing that sits on top of the piano and keeps time.”

Nothing.

“But you told me you took music lessons!” Blink, blink. Nothing.

When a beginner asks me about casting lessons, I tell them that it is easy to learn the basic cast. Kids pick up on it easier than adults, especially those that have had some musical training, so I always inquire about any music lessons that a prospective student may have taken, yet the wood pyramid with the brass pendulum that graced the piano that every student plunked away at is a foreign concept to younger casting students.

“Well, if you don’t know what a metronome is how did you keep time?”

They reply that the device used during their lessons was di-gi-tal. Everything that comes out of a teenager’s mouth is said with that odd accent. Everything is di-gi-tal.

It’s the new millennium.

So, we press on. I need to illustrate that they need to come to a more definitive stop on their forward cast and I ask that they pretend that they are swinging a hammer. The scenario is this: they need to drive a nail into a wall to hang a picture. The Big, Old, Brunette at home always wants pictures hung at eye level so I borrow her advice and tell them that they need to drive the nail into the wall at eye level. Further, they need to swing a hammer big enough to drive the nail in with one stroke. This illustrates that they need to break their wrist at the very last second to apply power at the end of the stroke and come to a complete stop. If they don’t break their wrist ever so slightly, they will be pushing the nail into the wall instead of driving it in. I remind them that when they are swinging a hammer, they do not hold it with a death grip but just tightly enough to keep control.  It’s the same way with a fly rod.

This analogy works for me and has worked with every student I have ever had that was older than twenty.

I was slack-jawed speechless when a casting student told me that neither she nor her brother had ever held a hammer. “Never?” No, was her reply, they always had workmen to do that kind of thing.

Now, I am blessed to own a fly shop in a Chicago suburb that is surrounded by economy. This brings new fly fishers into the shop and is an economic boon to me. The downside is that the younger students that I teach come from homes where things are done for them; they have people to do that.

She told me not to yell at her, it’s not like her family had a ranch and she had to string barbed wire fences all day. She and her brother lived in Moneyville, for gosh sakes. This was coming from a teenager who drove up to her casting lesson behind the wheel of a new Range Rover with a brush bar on the front.

Now it’s my turn to offer up the Owl Look.

“Never swung a hammer before have you Punkin?” Pity.

Another common casting error that beginners (as well as an old fishing partner) make is to reach back for more power. When executing the back cast, they tend to reach back  as if they were making a softball throw which tends to dump their line on the ground and lengthening their casting arc and loosing power instead of gaining power. It typically happens when casting for distance or casting into the wind.

The correct technique is to come to a more complete stop on the back cast, let the line unfurl behind you and then apply more power to a complete stop on the forward cast. Left Kreh describes this as an acceleration to a stop.

The description works in theory but needs illustration, and my next casting student was a young buck of about nineteen. I took his fly rod away from him, laid it on the ground and told him that the fly rod on the ground is now the painted line on the saloon floor and he would need to step up to the line to throw a dart. I told him that instead of a fly rod in his hand, he now has a “pretend” dart and I asked him to get ready to throw the dart at an imaginary dartboard. This illustration shows that when he is ready to throw the dart, his hand is up by his ear in the position that he should be in if he had made a back cast. Once I asked him to throw the dart, I could show him that the forward stop is at about eye-level.

The next teaching step was to move the imaginary dartboard a bit farther across the saloon so that when he makes his next dart throw, he wouldn’t reach back for more power, he needs to come to a harder stop to get the dart to fly farther.

The first time I used this analogy, I damn near broke my casting arm patting myself on the back in self-congratulation; I was a genius at getting this point across.

From the nineteen year-old I got that Owl Look again, blink, blink.

Not only had he never thrown darts before but he was truly confused about the concept of a saloon. Here came the accent again. “Whoa, a saloon, is that, um,…. like a bar?”

“No, dude, a saloon is not, um, like a bar. It is precisely a bar! It’s a comforting place where aging, harried fly fishers go to apply liquid salve to bruised egos after trout have made fools of them. As part of our therapy, sometimes we throw darts. You should try it, I think it helps your casting stroke.”

Sometimes I think I am getting too old for this.

Joseph Meyer is the owner of the One More Cast Fly Shop in Countryside, Illinois. Previously, he was an instructor for Orvis where he discovered his love of teaching the art of Fly Fishing. He commercially ties over 600 dozen flies per year and is a Certified Casting Instructor with the Federation of Fly Fishers. He has been published in the Chicago Tribune, American Angler, Yale Anglers’ Journal, Far & Away, and Hatches magazine. “Am I Too Old to Teach Flycasting?” originally appeared in Yale Angler’s Journal.