Return to Rhododendrons: Tips for Fly Fishing Small Streams

I learned to fly fish small streams as a child in Potter County, Pennsylvania. A native brook trout stream flowed past my house. Luckily this section was a kids-only fishing area, and I was the only kid in the village who fished, so between the ages of 6 and 14 I had this beautiful fishery all to myself. I couldn’t think of a better way to grow up.

My early tactics were crude, and the fishing was mostly in tight quarters—not exactly the environment for poor fly casters. Over half my time was spent in frustration as my fly was in the brush more than on the water. It wasn’t until I moved to central Pennsylvania and spent time with my mentor Joe Humphreys that I began to understand a better tactical and casting approach to fishing small mountain streams. While small streams offer beautiful scenery, a break from the heat and direct sun, and the opportunity to catch both native and wild trout, they also offer the biggest hurdles to fly fishers. Many of the techniques I have adopted will also apply to your small waters, wherever they are, but be aware that every region has specific nuances.

This article is focused on dry flies. For me, it’s a “dry or die” mentality when I’m blue-lining. Unless there’s a polar vortex or extreme high water, I’ll leave the nymph and streamer boxes in the car and carry just a handful of dry flies. It’s the one time I’ll live or die by fishing the dry fly.

Dry-fly Season

Unless they are frozen over, you can fish small streams every month of the year using nymphs, streamers, or dry flies. However, I’ve found the best dry-fly action occurs from late spring through early fall, and that’s when I focus on my dry-fly approach. I know I could catch more trout using streamers and nymphs, but if you fish small streams at the right times of year and on good days, you don’t need them to catch fish.

I grew up as a dry-fly snob. My father denied all my early requests to learn about nymphing. He fished with a four-tray Richardson chest fly box containing nothing but dry flies. There wasn’t a single nymph to be found. Truthfully, where I grew up there was no need to fish nymphs during the late spring and summer. I was surrounded by blue lines full of native brook trout happy to eat a dry fly. I didn’t learn nymphing and streamer tactics until I was 15 and we moved to Pennsylvania’s limestone region—where wild brown trout roamed, and fed more often below the surface.

I often focus on small streams for a three- to four-week period when my local trout rivers become too warm to fish. Another reason to focus on small streams for an extended period is that it takes time to acclimate to casting in tight quarters. I compare small streams to running. If you take a break from running, you quickly lose lung capacity. The same is true with fly fishing small streams—it demands a certain focus. My first couple of outings each summer are rough.

It takes time to tighten up my casting—especially after fishing for bass on my local rivers and lakes. It takes time to condition my shins and knees to kneeling on the stream bottom. I even need to get over my claustrophobia when I’m crawling on my hands and knees through a tunnel of rhododendrons to get to the next spot. It’s a different arena that demands a different set of tools. Small-stream endurance takes time to build up.

Being Alone

Your safety and well-being are the number one priorities during any fishing trip, but I’ve had more close calls on small streams than on other waters. Blue-lining is usually done in remote areas where medical help is far away, so I have a few safety suggestions for your next small-stream adventure. First, make sure you let someone know where you’re fishing in the event you injure yourself and cannot walk back to your car. I’ve fallen through logjams, slid off hillsides, blown out a truck tire with no spare, had trees almost land on me during storms, walked into a small remote marijuana farm during the mid-1990s, buried my truck in a mud bank with no cell service, and so on. I’ve run into some questionable characters when fishing in remote parts of Appalachia. It’s always a good idea to let someone know where you’re fishing and your estimated return time, in the event you need help.

I wear snake chaps around my waders for added protection. I rarely encounter venomous snakes, and when I do, they’re more afraid of me than I of them, but it pays to be cautious. I use a long stick and smack the ground around me in blind terrain to alert any snakes of my movements. Even so, wearing snake chaps around my legs does add a layer of protection in case I accidentally step near a venomous snake. And when you’re fishing by yourself several miles from your car, snake chaps could save your life. Plus they will protect your waders from cuts and scrapes.

The Right Tools

Rods. First let’s talk rod length. Many small streams have plenty of casting room—these include many small spring creeks in the Driftless Area and the small meadow streams flowing through Yellowstone National Park and other places in the Rockies, where I use a 10-foot rod. I go by the advice of my mentor, Joe Humphreys: “Use as long of a rod as you can.” A long rod means better line control. If you generally like fishing short rods, great! But if you want the best line control, I suggest fishing the longest rod you can get away with.

On small streams with lots of closely overhanging vegetation you’ll have to sacrifice line control and use a shorter rod. The shortest rod I currently own is an 7'11" 4-weight, and I use it only for casting on streams engulfed by narrow rhododendron tunnels.

I remember my first time fishing a small stream with Joe Humphreys. When we met at the parking lot I noticed he had an 8-foot fly rod for a stream notorious for brush and other casting obstacles. Joe noticed the short 6-foot rod in my hand and commented: “It looks like you don’t know how to cast on small streams.” His point was that if you can move your rod back and forth in tight quarters without smacking the rod tip on branches, you’re good to go. The issue for most people is often the size and shape of the loop coming off the rod tip during the casting stroke.

I teach fly fishing at Penn State, and our trout field trips occur on Spring Creek—a small spring creek with lots of casting space. However, students will often ask me if we have rods shorter than 9 feet, since they’re hanging their flies in tree limbs 20 feet above the ground. In this case, it’s not the rod length that is the issue—it’s the lack of loop control during the casting stroke. 

Fly lines. My line preference is for tapers designed for roll casting, so I enjoy double tapers. You get two lines for the price of one, and there’s no need for super long casts. Small-stream fly lines take a beating as they’re dragged and ripped over sharp rocks and woody debris. My small-stream lines take more abuse than fly shop demo lines, so being able to flip the line when one end wears is important.

Another consideration is line weight, because small-stream casting is done in tight quarters, and you may need to load the rod with just a short length of line outside the rod tip. My preference is a 4-weight line, since I want the weight/mass it offers. Trying to roll cast and shoot line with a 2-weight line is challenging, given that you’re working with less mass. Anglers tell me a 4-weight line is overkill for small-stream trout—I agree, but I need the 4-weight to shoot for distance when there’s very little casting room.

Also, my preference is not to cut the loop off the fly line. For years, fly line loops were garbage, coming apart after only several hours of use. Recently, loop technology has created durable loops capable of lasting the life of a fly line. For some saltwater species and muskie lines, I still cut off the loop and use a blood or double uni knot for a strong connection. But today, a factory-issued line loop is plenty strong enough for small trout. The loop allows me to use a loop-to-loop connection, so I never have to cut off any part of the fly line when connecting leaders, thereby adding longevity to my line. Given the cost of fly lines these days, I want my lines to last. Loops also help keep the fly line’s tip floating high due to the greater line surface on the water. Cutting the loop off your fly line decreases the line’s floatability. And I fish short leaders on small streams, so I never have issues with the loop/leader connection catching inside the guides.

Clean your line. This is good advice for every type of fishing, but small-stream anglers sometimes overlook it. Fly lines take a beating on small streams, where they constantly pick up dirt and grime. Cleaning the line not only extends its life but keeps the line shooting smoothly, which is especially important on small streams where you can’t carry a lot of line.

For example, you’re positioned 20 feet from the target, but your backcast (assuming you’re not roll casting) allows only 13 feet of line and leader to extend behind you before catching a tree limb. This means you need to shoot 7 feet of line on the forward casting stroke to reach the target. No matter how good a caster you are, a dirty line sticks in the guides and does not allow you to shoot line during the presentation. A clean line allows you to go the distance!

Clean lines float and shoot better, but you can also apply paste floatant to the fly line tip and leader butt section to keep both floating better. A high-floating line provides a cleaner pickup during a backcast or on a hook-set. On small streams your fly line will be floating over and around wood and rocks. A partially sunken fly line or leader will hang more often on these obstacles. A high-floating fly line and leader reduce the number of snags.

Leaders. I like to fish large, bushy dry flies for floatability, visibility, and the ability to skitter the fly across the surface. But bushy dry flies are more wind-resistant and need more power to punch them into tight quarters. Modern manufactured leaders cover 90 percent of my trout needs, but they fail when I’m casting large, wind-resistant dry flies under tight brush, so I tie my own 6- to 8-foot small-stream leaders.

I use fluorocarbon for my dry-fly tippet, for the same reasons I use it for nymphing and fishing streamers: abrasion resistance. I’ll often lay both the line and leader over gravel bars or logs for the best presentation. Soft mono quickly gets chewed up after being ripped over hard surfaces. I’m not looking for a tippet lying on the water with lots of S-curves (aka slack) to get an extended drag-free float. Most small-stream trout quickly jump on a well-placed presentation, so a long natural drift isn’t usually what I need. What I do need is a leader that can sneak a bushy dry fly through a narrow space. Even so, some small streams hold wild brown trout that may be pretty selective. If you run into that, you’ll need to switch to a standard trout leader for a better presentation.

Paying attention to your fly’s trajectory is a must when presenting dry flies in tight brush. Specifically, you should notice if the fly shoots under obstacles or remains hanging in the air, catching overhanging brush. This was another lesson I learned from Joe Humphreys: He would start with a long tippet section while casting a dry fly, but if the large dry fly hung in the air instead of shooting under an obstacle, he would shorten the tippet until he felt the fly closely followed the loop of the line and leader.

The bushier the fly, the shorter and heavier the tippet you need. Drys tied more sparsely allow for longer, lighter tippets. It comes down to wind resistance and the power of the leader/tippet to transport the fly to the target. It’s a balancing act that demands precision when you’re trying to shoot a large dry fly thought a 6x6-inch opening. You can get away with an average leader system on open water, but not in the brush.

Fly Patterns

I don’t think fly choice is all that important on small streams. The closer you get to a stream’s source, the more sterile it becomes, so trout become aggressive feeders and they are less likely to refuse a presentation even if you’re not matching the hatch.

I think one reason large dry flies are so effective during the late summer in Pennsylvania and elsewhere is that terrestrials such as grasshoppers and beetles become the most abundant sources of food. While aquatic insect hatches do occur throughout the year, there’s a lull in bug activity in late summer, so fishing terrestrials is your best bet. In addition, late season conditions often mean low water and spooky fish, so distance is an absolute must. I find casting distance and presentation accuracy are easier with a single dry fly, compared to casting a nymphing rig.

Purple Humpys, Patriots, and Stimulators are my favorite choices for high-riding patterns. X-Caddis, beetles, and ants are excellent for stealthier presentations. These are my own confidence patterns, but you should experiment to find the patterns that suit your system and waters. I prefer simple patterns designed for floatability and durability. I’m looking for dry-fly patterns that will continue to float after catching a dozen fish and require minimal treatment. I tie beefy, high-floating patterns, which means building more poly, deer hair, foam, or hackle into each dry fly.

I rarely carry more than two dozen dry flies at a time. I carry them in a small fly puck, a Fulling Mill Fly Patch, or a Cliff Outdoors Days Worth fly box. The only time you should lose a fly while fishing small streams is if you hang the fly on a limb 20 feet above your head. If I make a bad cast and hang my fly on streamside vegetation I normally just retrieve the fly and walk upstream to the next spot.

Covering Water

Many small streams are relatively sterile, with little insect life compared to limestone spring creeks and tailwaters, where food for trout is readily available. When fishing streams full of food—and full of trout—I work a section thoroughly before I move. Resident fish in rich streams become lazy, as they don’t need to move far to feed. And it may take multiple casts for a fish to pick out your presentation during peak insect activity. On the flip side, small streams operate in a feast-or-famine scenario, where food is harder to come by. Scarcity creates frantic feeding, so pattern choice isn’t as important as presentation. I make a maximum of three casts into an area before trying another spot.

Small-stream trout rarely refuse any pattern presented correctly during peak summer conditions. It’s common for me to walk several miles in one direction while fishing small streams. Sometimes pools are the only spots able to hold fish during the late season, so you’ll bypass a lot of water and fish only a handful of locations.

Dealing with low water and spooky trout is a challenge all small-stream anglers have to face. When room is available for long casts, I use a downstream presentation, so I don’t line a fish (that is, accidentally lay the line directly over a fish’s back). This approach allows the fish to see the fly first instead of the line and leader. Remember that trout face into the current and can see you at close range if you’re positioned directly above their position.

But you can take yourself out of a fish’s cone of vision by distancing yourself. This down-and-across approach is great for challenging rivers like the Henry’s Fork and the upper Delaware River. However, space is not commonly available on small streams and often your only approach is fishing directly upstream and approaching the fish from behind.

I like to first cast short, in case a fish is positioned close to the rear of the pool. In other words, I want the first cast to land behind the trout, to avoid laying the line over the fish’s back. This is a great tip for any stream with low water. An actively feeding fish will turn around and hunt down a food item falling on the water behind them, resulting in the fish seeing the fly first. Then I lengthen the cast or take several steps upstream to continue covering the water. Lining fish is sometimes unavoidable, but you’ll spook fewer fish by starting short.

The rule of distancing yourself from other anglers increases when fishing small streams. Small-stream trout do not recover as quickly as fish on pressured waters. Small-stream trout are not conditioned to angling traffic, unlike their cousins living in famous spring creeks and tailwaters. A small stream may be unfishable for hours after somebody has fished it. If I see a vehicle parked near where I want to fish, I drive at least a mile to find another location. If I’m walking on a path and I see another angler, I’ll give him or her lots of space and usually walk at least a half mile before entering the water, as a courtesy. Small streams are wonderful places for all of us to enjoy.

Small Pennsylvania streams formed my early fly-fishing laboratory, and I couldn’t have asked for a better place to learn. Every time I drive back to fish these beautiful little waters, I roll down the windows in my truck and welcome the fresh air blowing through the cabin. I’m transported back to my early days, and feel as if I’m ten years old again, riding my Huffy bike down a dirt road with my fiberglass fly rod—it takes me back to my childhood. Fishing small streams creates this beautiful connection to my past, reminding me of the freedom I always felt fishing such places. This is why I return to the rhododendrons every season. I hope you’re able to make a similar connection to the small streams you fish.

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George Daniel is the author of Nymph Fishing: New Angles, Tactics, and Techniques (Stackpole, 2018). He is a Fly Fisherman contributing editor and owner of Livin’ on the Fly, an educational/guide company in Pennsylvania. He was a coach for both the U.S. Youth Fly Fishing Team and Fly Fishing Team USA and is now the director of the Joe Humphreys Fly Fishing Program at Penn State University.

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