Watch your backcast so you don't hook a neighbor
This lesson is brief, and it is not alarming. It concerns a hazard most beginners overlook entirely until it affects them or someone standing beside them.
A fly cast has two phases: the line travels backward before it travels forward. The full motion is forward cast, backcast, forward cast. Most beginners direct all of their attention to where the fly lands ahead of them and none to what occurs behind them. That is understandable. The fish are in front, so the eyes go forward.
The problem is straightforward: a hook is attached to the end of that line, it is moving at speed, and if a person, a dog, a bush, or your own ear occupies the space behind you, the hook will find it.
The ear, since I raised the subject
I have hooked my own ear. On my fifth or sixth outing, still learning the rhythm, I rushed the backcast and caught myself cleanly on the ear. The hook was barbless, fortunately, so it came out easily, but I still had to account for the mark at church the next morning. That is precisely why I am firm about barbless hooks in this class. Pinch every barb down, without exception. It is easier on the fish and considerably easier on your ear.
What this looks like on the river
You are rarely fishing alone. The Provo distributes anglers along the bank, sometimes closer together than is comfortable, particularly on a pleasant Saturday. Before casting in any new position, pause and look behind you deliberately. Not a glance. A genuine survey. Note whether there is a tree, a person approaching, or a child and dog who have wandered into your space. Give yourself room; if the room is not available, relocate before you begin moving line.
Most fishing locations are not private. You share the bank, and part of conducting yourself well is managing your own space so that you are not the person who plants a fly in someone's hat.
Practicing this at home
You can establish the habit in the backyard, and you should, because the backyard is where you discover a problem before that problem involves another person.
- Stand in an open area. Away from the fence, away from Tricia's rose bushes (I learned that one directly; she barred me from whipping the fence entirely for a while).
- Before every single cast, look back. Not only the first time. Every time, until it becomes automatic.
- Slow the entire motion down. Most backcast accidents result from rushing, from snapping the rod back too quickly out of eagerness to deliver the fly. Slow rod, pause, and allow the line to straighten fully behind you before coming forward.
- Have someone stand off to the side and observe your loop. Ask whether it is popping like a whip, which indicates excess speed, or laying out smoothly, which is correct.
If no observer is available, record ten seconds of yourself on your phone. The problem is usually obvious on playback.
The account I owe on myself
Tricia came out with me once. She sat on the bank with a book, not fishing, simply keeping me company. I was occupied with something, re-tying most likely, and she picked up my rod, made perhaps her second cast ever, and caught a fish. Without effort. While I was not even watching.
I raise this because she was not thinking about her backcast or her forward cast or any component of it. She had watched me a few times and copied the rhythm, relaxed, with no tension in her shoulders. I, meanwhile, was overanalyzing every element of the motion. I have not entirely recovered from it, and I tell the story more than I should, but the underlying principle is sound: tension ruins your cast. A relaxed, aware caster who checks behind them is both safer and more effective than a tense one forcing the rod through the motion.
So do not grip the rod as though you intend to strangle it. Loose hand, slow rhythm, and a quick look back before every cast. That is the lesson in full.
Before next time
Practice the look-back in your yard or a park several times this week, even without a rod in hand, just the motion. It feels absurd to stand there swinging your arm at nothing, but the body needs the habit established before the water becomes exciting and the brain sets it aside.