Fixing one thing at a time: your tip, your timing
In the previous lesson you attempted the overhead cast for the first time, and I watched many of you fight the rod as though it owed you money. That is normal. Nearly everyone's first cast resembles swatting a fly off their own shoulder (no pun intended, or, fine, a little intended).
A principle about correcting a cast: you cannot fix five faults at once. The brain will not hold them. So today we correct only two — tip and timing — and I want you to disregard everything else for the full lesson.
Rod tip first
Watch where the rod tip travels, not where your hand travels. The hand can execute a reasonable motion while the tip still traces a large, sloppy circle in the air, and the line copies that circle. The line follows the tip, always.
Here is a drill you can run in your own backyard, no water required — and this is where I did most of my practice, until Tricia asked me to please stop whipping the fence.
Stand where you have open space overhead, no power lines and nothing you value within hooking distance. Tie on a practice fly or leave it bare for this drill. Cast slowly, at half speed, and turn your head to watch the rod tip on the backcast. Most people never look; they stare at where they want the fly to land, which is understandable, but for this one drill keep your eyes on the tip.
You are checking for a straight line back and a straight line forward, as though the tip is drawing a narrow lane in the air rather than a bowl. If the tip dips low and mushes around at the back of the cast, that is usually where the trouble begins.
Timing second
This is the one people rush. You begin the forward cast before the line has finished traveling back, and the whole cast collapses into a heap in front of you. Roughly ninety percent of tangled, sad, dead casts trace to this single fault: rushing the pause.
You need a pause at the back of the cast. Not long — a beat, just enough for the line to straighten behind you before you bring it forward again. Too short and you crack the line like a whip and snap the fly right off (I have done this more times than I will admit). Too long and the line droops and you lose the loop shape.
The most reliable way to feel it is to count it aloud for the first several attempts: "back... pause... forward." It sounds silly. It works.
Try this at home
If you have no yard, a park works — early morning before it is busy — or your driveway, if the neighbors tolerate a person waving a stick. Ten minutes a day outperforms one long weekend session. Your muscles need small, repeated reminders, not a single cram.
I will restate the principle, because I believe it: you do not need distance. My own casting is unremarkable; I can place a fly where it needs to go at ordinary range, and that is all. I still catch fish because I know where the fish are holding. Someone who reads water well and casts twenty feet will outfish someone with a beautiful sixty-foot cast throwing into dead water every time. Do not panic about power. Concentrate on tip and timing. Distance arrives later and largely on its own.
A word about trees
On the subject of casting into places you did not intend. I once lost a good fly — a nice one I had tied myself — in a tree branch over the Provo, and spent a solid twenty minutes trying to flick it loose, wiggling the rod and tugging at various angles, getting nowhere and increasingly annoyed by the minute. A teenager walked by, watched for about ten seconds, picked up a rock, and brought it down in one throw. One throw. I gave the kid a granola bar from my vest because I felt I owed him something.
The point is to watch your backcast — not only for trees, though trees eventually happen to everyone; it is practically a rite of passage. Watch it so you know where your line and your hook are traveling, especially if someone is standing near you on the bank. A hook moving fast through the air at head height is nothing to be casual about. Give yourself room, and if you are practicing next to a person, more room than seems necessary.
Before next time
Ten minutes in the yard or the park, watching your tip, saying "back, pause, forward" aloud even if you feel ridiculous doing it. That is the entire assignment. Bring your rod next time and we will build on whatever you noticed.