Why I Will Never Be Invited Into The Club Of Spin-Casters

Tongue-In-Cheek Philospohical Rant

I often think about random things. Lately, I have been trying to understand why I am so dedicated to fly fishing versus spin casting. This question typically comes to mind after I have had a non-productive day on the water—a day when the fish seem as rare as a unicorn. As I break down my rod, my brain recalls that my spin caster friends talk about catching double-digit fish every time they venture out. In contrast, after hours of slapping the water, I didn’t even feel a single tug. So why am I so reluctant to succumb to the appeal of spin casting?

I think the answer is philosophical. When I fly fish, I feel closer to nature. I find a well-cast line calms my mind. I also find reading the water, understanding what the fish are feeding on, selecting the right fly, and deciding how much tippet is needed to reach the optimal depth in the water column to entice an “eat” contribute to creating a feeling of outsmarting the fish. In fly fishing, I think the process is at least as important as the final result. Fly fishing becomes a meditative process.

In contrast, spin casting seems more about efficiency and convenience. The priority appears to be catching the highest number of fish possible. Most of the spin casters I know scoff at my catch-and-release philosophy. They prefer to catch and consume. The focus is on results versus technique.

I think fly fishing is steeped in tradition, and I find that very appealing. A part of me wants to buy a bamboo rod so I can experience the “true” feel of the sport. It is an impractical emotion, given my tendency to rush my back cast and the ridiculous cost of a bamboo rod. But it is an intense desire nonetheless. I don’t see the same connection to tradition among my spin caster friends. For them, it is all about buying the latest technology that will help increase their catch count.

I am lucky enough to winter in Southwest Florida and fish saltwater when I am there. The contrast between fly fishing and spin casting the shoreline is stark. I often stand in the water below my armpit, casting to the trough formed where the waves consistently break, hoping to catch whatever swims through. In contrast, I see spin casters sitting on the beach in lawn chairs with their rod in plastic tubes buried in the sand and lines stretched far into the ocean. They are not repeatedly casting and working on line management like me. Instead, they are sipping coffee or an adult beverage, working on their tan, and listening to music while they wait for the telltale bend in their rod, indicating a hookup. Am I envious? On one level, the answer is yes. I am working hard to achieve the same result they are seeking. But, on another level, I am immersed in nature and not simply “phoning it in.”

Despite my lack of desire to spin cast, I intellectually understand the benefits of the sport. Spin casters can target many more species than I can with my fly rod. They can hunt fish that feed deeper in the water than I can. They can also more easily fish in water with obstructions than I can. Even with a roll cast, getting a fly to productive water can be challenging. For example, when I fish for Florida largemouth bass in Florida canals, my cast can’t reach the grass line on the far bank where the fish are holding. Spin casters reach it easily. I understand trolling allows spin casters to cover much more water in a shorter period than I can. This is especially important when fishing lakes. I can appreciate spin casters getting more hookups than I do and feel the exhilaration of the tug more often. I also see spin casting as a more social experience than fly fishing. I remember when my wife asked me what my fishing buddy Bob and I talked about when we were on the water together for hours. I told her we don’t speak. He is fishing about 50 yards downriver, and I would need a bullhorn to talk to him. Fly fishing is a more solo sport, even if you are out with friends.

People who enjoy a straightforward, versatile approach lean towards spin casting. In contrast, anglers looking for technical challenges and a deep connection with the ecology may prefer fly fishing. However, both methods offer unique rewards and challenges that can deeply satisfy different kinds of anglers.

For me, the choice is clear. The tradition, immersion in nature, and the solitude of fly fishing are why I won’t ever use a spinning rod. Crazy? Perhaps, but I have earned the right to be slightly eccentric at my age.

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