August 30th, Let’s Go!

Sunday was our one full day in Shibuya, and it had to count. Anthony and Matt were going to be back in Tokyo after Nikko since they were staying in Japan for a few weeks, but for me, Shibuya was it. The NFL regular season was kicking off in about a week, which is when I earn my paycheck, so I’d be heading home shortly after Nikko. With that hanging over us, we ignored the jet lag, agreed to meet in the lobby at 8 AM, and Anthony & Matt kindly made a pact to try and squeeze everything I wanted out of the day.

Breakfast Buffet

The Tokyu REI Hotel was a good find. Beyond the comfortable beds and the bum-tickling Japanese toilets, the hotel had a toiletry bar stocked with everything from razors to skincare products, all complimentary, plus a mini fridge with free drinks and snacks after 4 PM. But the real highlight was the breakfast buffet in the lobby restaurant. You had to pay for it, but it was absolutely worth it. A stress-free, fill-your-plate-twice kind of start to a big day.

While I didn’t take any photos of the food itself, the graphic above shows all the dining options. Everything was excellent. 10 out of 10, would eat there again.

Yoyogi Park and the Super Yosakoi Festival

After breakfast we hopped on the train one stop north to Harajuku, then wandered into Yoyogi Park. If you’ve never been, think Central Park in New York, but somehow more serene, which is saying something. It’s a massive green space where people run, cycle, walk their dogs, picnic, and generally decompress from the city humming around them. It was evidently the original site of the 1964 Tokyo Olympic Village and has water features, a bamboo grove, tons of wildlife signage (including information about the tanuki raccoon-dogs that live there), and more public restrooms than you’d ever need, which, it turns out, Japan takes very seriously as a matter of national pride.

There were also many vending machines, which came in handy because the morning was warming up and a cold Pocari Sweat (or Aquarius if you prefer) was definitely necessary.

We happened to pick an exceptional day to visit, as the 2026 Harajuku Omotesando Genki Matsuri Super Yosakoi Festival was underway. Over 100 teams of dancers and performers were rotating through multiple stages across the park all weekend. When we arrived most of the stage areas were quiet, but all the teams were spread throughout the park warming up and rehearsing. Stopping to watch them was one of the coolest unplanned moments of the whole trip.

On our way out we caught one team on stage mid-performance and I got a quick video. Incredible!

Meiji Jingu Shrine

From the performance area we headed slightly north through the park and passed through the Meiji Jingu Ichino Torii gate into the shrine complex. Meiji Jingu is a Shinto shrine built in 1920 to honor Emperor Meiji and Empress Shoken, who were responsible for transforming Japan from a feudal state into a modern power in the late 1800s and early 1900s. The grounds were immaculate. The thing that stopped all three of us in our tracks was a pair of enormous camphor trees near the shrine entrance, so perfectly round they looked almost surreal, set against architecture built to a scale that just makes you feel very small. It’s a “must-see.”

Takeshita Street and the Walk Back South

From Harajuku we basically walked the train ride back to our hotel through the city streets, which turned out to be its own adventure. First stop was Takeshita Street, a narrow corridor packed wall to wall with shops and street food that is absolutely a tourist destination. Otter cafes, capsule arcades, the Sanrio store, extremely confident knockoffs of American intellectual property, and a wild costume shop that didn’t allow photos but had everything from samurai armor to pirate gear to something Liberace would have worn on his wildest night. It was chaotic and fun, but I was relieved when we popped out the other side onto a wider street heading south.

From there the shopping got considerably more upscale. Apple, Google, GUESS, Christian Dior, Fender Guitars, Fjallraven, all lined up along Meiji-dori Avenue. We ducked into a department store with an interesting rooftop terrace that turned out to be decorated in a kawaii theme with cartoony characters and a good view down over the intersection below.

Mont-bell & Tower Records

Two specific stops on the walk back deserve their own mention.

Mont-bell is essentially a Japanese version of Patagonia, featuring private label ultralight outdoor gear and technical apparel with particularly intelligent designs for anything performance-oriented. While there’s no fishing rods or lures, they do make wading boots that I have been coveting for years. Unfortunately my American feet and their sizing don’t quite align. If I’d had more room in my suitcase I would have done serious damage in the layers and rain jackets sections, as the prices seemed extremely reasonable.

Tower Records was a whole other adventure. I don’t know if this is the last Tower Records on earth, but it is seven floors of very fun exploration. Floors dedicated to Japanese exclusives, J-Pop, K-Pop, Rock, R&B, Alternative, CDs, vinyl, movies, pop culture, and even a bar serving a Tower Records branded beer. Anthony mentioned there was live music on the top floor too, a young girl band performing to what he described as a sparse audience of enthusiastic older dudes…

I was slightly disappointed by the limited “Tower Records Shibuya” merchandise, a few t-shirts and not much else, but as a visual experience it was top shelf. Memorabilia and photo opportunities all over the store. Plus, it was nice to touch physical media again. Not downloads or streaming services.

Quick Lunch

By around 2:30 we were all running on fumes from the morning and nobody had eaten since breakfast. What should have been a simple decision turned into a full-on indecisive kerfuffle, and we ended up in a food court near the hotel settling for burgers and fries. No regrets. We had more adventurous dining still ahead of us on this trip. I did take a photo of the Japanese Heinz Ketchup label though. Make of that what you will.

You Still Here?

This post is going way longer that I intended, but I still need to get to the fishing shops, Shibuya Sky, and our back alley dinner!

The Fishing Shops

After freshening up at the hotel we took Anthony back to Joshuya, the fishing shop Matt and I had stumbled into the night before. It was a lot more fun with the three of us at a less exhausted pace. Anthony pointed out fly boxes he used to sell when he was running Three Rivers Tenkara, which was a cool little moment. I picked up a yamame sticker and a tiny 75cm Nissin Minamo rod for about $24 US. I’m not planning to actually fish it, rather it’s going to decorate a shelf in my office, but at 9 inches collapsed it was sized perfectly to slide right into my backpack for the trip home, so that was an easy call.

We also tried to make it to Sansui No. 1 and No. 2 afterward. Their website and the window signage both said they were open until 6 PM. We got there around 4. The gate was already rolled down. Bummer.

Shibuya Sky

As it was getting toward sunset, we headed up to Shibuya Sky, the observation deck atop the skyscraper right at Shibuya Station. This one required some planning. Tickets go on sale at midnight two weeks in advance and the popular time slots disappear fast. I had to try three times when I bought ours because the slot I wanted kept evaporating from my cart!

You take an elevator up to a staging area on the 20-something floor, where there are shops and food while you wait for your timed entry. There was a great little shop dedicated to Hachiko, the Akita who is one of Shibuya’s most beloved figures. If you don’t know the story, Hachiko waited on the same street corner outside Shibuya Station every day for ten years for his owner to come home, not knowing his owner had passed away. There’s a statue of him right at the Scramble, and the shop did him proper justice.

From there, it’s another, almost theme-park like elevator ride up to the roof. And once outside, the views were staggering. We spent a couple of hours up there. The building itself put on a laser light show once it got dark, and as a bonus we caught what we think was a concert at a nearby stadium that shot off fireworks around its rim. Just an unexpected extra layer of spectacle on top of an already incredible evening. The photos I took don’t do it justice, but I’ll drop them in anyway. That big dark patch in several of them is Yoyogi Park, the same place we’d started our morning. You can see the yellow and red Tower Records sign too if you look closely.

Dinner in the Alley

By the end of the night all we wanted was warm noodles and cold drinks, which we found in a 1.2-star rated izakaya tucked into an alleyway behind our hotel. The Google reviews were not kind to this place. Whether the food wasn’t great or we were slightly overcharged on something, we genuinely couldn’t tell and honestly didn’t care. It was an outdoor spot, the vibe was exactly right, and after 12 or 13 hours of going non-stop a day after flying halfway around the world, mission accomplished.

We headed back to the hotel with full bellies and scrambled internal clocks. It was time pack again and then get some rest. Our friend Hiro was coming to pick us up in the morning, and Nikko was next!

Entries to the Japan 2026 Series:

• Part 1 – 16 Hours on Planes & Exploring Tokyo
• Part 2 – Sunday in Shibuya

The post Japan 2026: Sunday in Shibuya appeared first on Troutrageous! Fly Fishing & Other Nonsense.

August 28 & 29: Jacksonville to Atlanta to Tokyo

My Friday morning started early. I had a 7:00 AM flight to catch from Jacksonville to Atlanta, and K.C. was kind enough to drop me off at the airport. After stressing for weeks over what to pack for nine days in Japan, I had whittled things down to a backpack and a small carry-on roller bag. It was now or never.

The first flight was non-eventful. No sooner than we took off did we set down, and after a brief hour and a half layover I found myself on the second flight, Atlanta to Haneda. This was a long haul. I’d leave Friday afternoon in the US and arrive in Tokyo on Saturday afternoon, which is what a 14-hour flight combined with a 13-hour time difference does. Fortunately I had nobody sitting in the middle seat of my three-seat row, which was clutch. I messed around on in-flight WiFi while we were still over the continental United States, and watched movies over the Pacific. First Deadpool & Wolverine, then Michael. It’s crazy how villainous they made Joe Jackson out to be. I guess if the glove fits…

We eventually landed at Haneda International Airport, where a customs line greeted our plane’s worth of passengers. They were serious about mosquitoes and travelers coming in from Africa. But with my Japan Web pre-registration squared away, it was relatively painless to get through.

Now What?

I decided to take the train from Haneda to Shibuya, where my hotel was. I’m generally familiar with train systems from my time in New York, DC, and Philly, so the concept wasn’t foreign to me. I just needed to get my Suica IC card, an all-purpose rechargeable payment card you can use for transit and a bunch of other things, hit an ATM for some paper yen, and grab something to drink. The vending machines made all of it easy, even with Godzilla looking over my shoulder the whole time.

The train ride itself was uneventful. I took the monorail to Hamamatsucho, then hopped on the JR Yamanote Line to Shibuya. The second train was considerably more crowded than the first, but the signage was good and most of it was also in English, as were the train announcements. I was nervous, but for no real reason.

Arriving at Shibuya Station was a different story. Multiple hallways, multiple corridors, and the whole place was under construction with signage that wasn’t quite as clear as the trains. I eventually figured it out and made my exit, and that’s when I had my first real Tokyo experience.

Walking out of that station felt like stepping into an amplified Times Square. Tall buildings, massive billboards, people moving everywhere at once. They call that particular intersection Shibuya Scramble Crossing, and you understand why immediately. My hotel, the Tokyu REI, was only a few blocks away, and with some Google Maps help I found it and checked in roughly a day and a half after my journey began. The room was small and clean, the beds were comfortable, and the Japanese toilets were something else entirely. Let’s just say I took full advantage of that feature…

Matt & the Konbini

It was early evening by then, and my travel partners Matt and Anthony were also arriving that day. Matt got there first. Anthony was delayed a few hours due to some plane trouble in Dallas. Matt and I met up in the lobby and decided to get food, but we were both indecisive and ended up at the Family Mart “konbini” (convenience store) on our block instead of a proper restaurant.

Convenience stores in Japan are another level entirely, so don’t picture roller dogs here. (Even though I love a good roller dog!) There are three major chains: 7-Eleven, Lawson, and Family Mart, and all of them are a genuine step above anything you’d expect from a US convenience store. I grabbed an onigiri, a sandwich, and what I think was a green tea. The drink had Shohei Ohtani on the label, much like every other billboard in Japan.

After eating, we were both pretty gassed from travel, but then we noticed there was a fishing store right across the street. How could we say no?

Johshuya

Johshuya is a fishing and outdoors chain with several locations across Japan. This particular one was underground, down a set of steps from street level, but it was absolutely packed with cool stuff, especially if you’re a gear person. Saltwater, bass, carp, spinning and baitcasting for trout, and plenty of rods and reels for species we don’t really target in the States. There wasn’t much in the way of fly fishing gear, but there were some tenkara and fixed-line rods and accessories.

We were also both thoroughly amused by a brand called Rooster Gear Market, for what should be obvious reasons. We didn’t buy anything because we knew we’d be back the next day once Anthony arrived, but Matt had already locked onto a giant carp rod, partially out of jest, but also with some intent.

Crossing the street we wandered past a skill crane arcade, which was its own kind of spectacle, and then Matt hit his wall and called it a night. I didn’t blame him at all. I was tempted too, but I wanted to stay up and make sure Anthony got in okay. He was due sometime between 8 and 9.

Anthony Arrives!

I was back in my room when the text from Anthony came through. It was around 8:30, so we met up in the lobby and took a different route from the one Matt and I had walked earlier, back toward the Shibuya Scramble and into the shopping, food, and music district beyond it.

We stopped into a 7-Eleven so Anthony could grab some cash and snacks, and evidently snag a dress shirt, a necktie, or a PG-13 girlie magazine if so inclined. When in Tokyo…

The rest of that night was a bit of a blur. We wandered streets and alleyways, looked in store windows, scoped out potential places to eat later, and encountered Don Quijote for the very first time. If you’re not familiar, it’s a sort of department store that sells pretty much everything, merchandised with the chaos of a Dollar Tree or Five Below on steroids, and it just plays its jingle on a continuous loop. Pure sensory overload in the best way. If you have ADHD, I’d suggest going in medicated.

After that my brain basically stopped functioning. Walking back to the hotel like a couple of zombies, Anthony and I were both in mild disbelief that we were actually here. And we still had another full day in Shibuya ahead of us, plus several days of fishing in Nikko after that. Time to sleep. 8AM on Sunday morning was coming fast.

Entries to the Japan 2026 Series:

• Part 1 – 16 Hours on Planes & Exploring Tokyo
• Part 2 – Sunday in Shibuya

The post Japan 2026: 16 Hours on Planes & Exploring Tokyo appeared first on Troutrageous! Fly Fishing & Other Nonsense.

Those of you who read my earlier post about Lilly’s summer at Bard College and our plans to visit the Hudson Valley know that an extended Catskills fishing trip was very much on the table this summer. And for a while it was. I’ve never spent any real time in the Catskills, and the idea of finally fishing some of that legendary water was really exciting. But life has a funny way of rerouting your plans, and I’m not exactly complaining about where this particular detour is taking me.

The Catskills will have to wait. The Smokies, which have traditionally been my end of summer destination of choice, will have to wait too. Because instead of fishing either of those places, I’m going to Japan.

Specifically, Tokyo and Nikko, and with my Tenkara Angler comrades Matt and Anthony. And I leave the last weekend of August. Which believe it or not is this Friday!

The full picture is more or less set, with air travel and hotels booked, so I figured it was time to actually share what this adventure is going to (hopefully) look like.

Shibuya

After a 16+ hour flight, I land at Haneda airport on Saturday afternoon, get checked into the hotel in Shibuya, and promptly try not to fall asleep immediately. Maybe pop in a 7-11 or Lawson for a snack and some essentials I choose not to bring along. The full Shibuya day is Sunday, and I’m hoping to mix the cultural stuff and the fishing stuff effectively, we’ll see… Either way, Proshop Sansui Shibuya #1 and Johshuya are both on the agenda. Thank heavens for a friendly US Dollar to Japanese Yen conversion…

Nikko

This is the part I’ve been most excited to share. Our friends Hiro and Takashi, remember them? We fished together in Colorado a few years back. Well, they’re going to pick us up in a van on Monday, and from that point forward the logistics are handled. No trains to manage, no navigating with luggage, just a drive out to Nikko for a few days of fishing with those guys at the lead.

Tuesday takes us up into Okukinugawa, fishing the Kinugawa and the Ogawa en route before checking into the Okukinugawa Onsen Hacchoyu, which is a proper deep-mountain ryokan with outdoor onsen baths.

Wednesday and Thursday, September 2nd and 3rd, are the full fishing days on the main stream and headwaters of the Kinugawa River. Two full days of tenkara in the Japanese mountains, which I’ve been imagining for a long time and still can’t quite believe is actually happening.

We pack up Friday morning and make the van ride back to Tokyo, checking into the our hotel in Asakusa that afternoon. The fishing part is going to be oh, so brief. But this is all time really allows (or rather, my work allows) at this time of the year.

Asakusa

The final full day in Japan is built around a home base of Asakusa, and once again we’ll try to mix Japanese culture and fishing. On the fishing front, I’d like to try and visit two places I’ve had on my radar for a while. A few train rides will be in order, but first is Tsuruya Fishing Shop, a fly fishing specialty shop that’s been in operation since 1931. Second is Tosaku in Inaricho, an eighth-generation maker of handcrafted bamboo wazao rods, which is basically a living museum of Japanese rod-making heritage. We’ll hopefully add in some temples, parks, Ameyoko Market, possibly the Tokyo National Museum, before heading back to Asakusa for a final dinner before the flight home Sunday.

I’ll be honest, I’ve been trying not to completely lose my mind about this trip. I’ve watched so many “What to do” and “What not to do in Japan” videos on YouTube my head’s going to explode. And I only know how to say like three Japanese phrases… Just stay calm man. An invitation to fish tenkara in Nikko is not the kind of thing that happens every day.

Trip reports will follow. If you think the latest Driftless series was bad, you have no idea…

The post A Bit of a Change in Fishing Plans appeared first on Troutrageous! Fly Fishing & Other Nonsense.

The series is called Two in the North, produced for Expedition Portal, which is the media arm of one of the world’s largest overlanding and adventure travel communities. The basic premise: Chase and Aimee load up their Toyota Tundra in Montana and point it north, with Alaska as the ultimate destination. Vancouver Island, British Columbia, the Yukon, and eventually the Alaskan wilderness are all on the route, with no rigid plan and plenty of room for the road to take them somewhere unexpected. Three episodes are out so far, and I’ve watched all of them.

Episode 1: Cutthroat

The series opens on Vancouver Island, where Chase and Aimee spend weeks chasing sea-run coastal cutthroat in genuinely miserable conditions. Rain, changing tides, empty water, and a fish that doesn’t particularly want to be found. It sets the tone for the whole series really well. Less about catching fish, more about what keeps you searching for them. Oh, and there’s birds!

Episode 2: Grayling

With Vancouver Island behind them, the Tundra heads north through British Columbia toward Alaska. This one shifts the focus toward Arctic grayling, which if you’ve never seen one up close are genuinely one of the most beautiful freshwater fish on the planet. The landscape gets bigger and emptier as the episode goes on (glaciers anyone?), and it starts to feel like the journey is really beginning.

Episode 3: Salmon

By the third installment they’ve crossed into Alaska, and the fishing opens up considerably. Salmon enter the picture alongside more cutthroat and grayling, and the filmmaking feels like it’s hitting its stride. There’s a sequence in this one that reminded me of why I started watching Tight Loops films in the first place.

New episodes drop every Tuesday on the Expedition Portal YouTube channel, so there’s plenty more to come. If you want to watch from the beginning, all three are above and worth your time. And if you want to follow along as the series continues, subscribe to the Expedition Portal YouTube channel and give Tight Loops a follow too. You won’t regret either of those decisions.

The post Two in the North – Tight Loops’ Must Watch New Series appeared first on Troutrageous! Fly Fishing & Other Nonsense.

FLOW Fest Expo is a brand new event coming to Asheville, North Carolina on March 13-14, 2027. It’s being built from the ground up by the Mauri family, who many in the fly fishing world will recognize from Mauri Flyfishing and their association with The Fly Fishing Show. Last week Emily Mauri announced that she’d left The Fly Fishing Show to launch this with her family and some collaborators, and the concept she’s described sounds pretty interesting.

FLOW stands for Fly Fishing, Lifestyle, Outdoor, and Wellness. The fly fishing component is the main draw for me, interactive demonstrations, workshops, hands-on experiences, a Destination Village for trip planning, a Learning Center, conservation organizations, and independent makers all under one roof. There’s also a wellness and recovery component and live artists, which rounds it out into something that feels a little different from a traditional fly fishing trade show setup. Whether that’s your thing or not, the fly fishing part of it looks like it could be solid.

The Asheville location is an added bonus for anyone who loves western North Carolina fishing. That part of the state has some really beautiful tenkara and trout water within easy driving distance, so pairing a show visit with a few days on the water in the mountains isn’t a tough sell at all.

It’s early days for FLOW Fest and there’s plenty still to be announced, but I’m keeping a close eye on this one and honestly wouldn’t be surprised if I end up in Asheville in March 2027. You can follow along and sign up for updates at flowfestexpo.com.

The post FLOW Fest Expo – A New Fly Fishing Show to Consider? appeared first on Troutrageous! Fly Fishing & Other Nonsense.

On July 27th, the Pennsylvania Fish and Boat Commission voted to raise the statewide minimum harvest size for trout from 7 inches to 9 inches. It takes effect January 1, 2027, and it’s the first time they’ve touched that number since 1983. Over 40 years! Better late than never, I suppose…

This wasn’t just some arbitrary change. Pennsylvania fisheries biologists spent the last decade sampling nearly 200,000 wild brook trout across close to 3,000 streams, and of all those fish, only about 6 percent were longer than 7 inches. So the fish you could legally keep under the old rule was already a pretty rare. Raising the minimum two inches to 9 inches effectively puts over 99 percent of Pennsylvania’s wild brook trout off the table. And those two inches aren’t arbitrary either. That particular size range holds the most productive spawning females in the population. Protect them now, and you’re protecting next year’s fish too.

If you’re primarily fishing stocked trout, this isn’t going to really impact you. Hatchery fish average 11 inches coming out of the pens and creel limits aren’t changing, so your elbow-to-elbow opener next spring looks the same as always.

The PA Council of Trout Unlimited was behind this push, backed by a decade of solid electrofishing data from the Commission’s fisheries staff and an 85 percent approval rate among anglers surveyed in 2023. Good science, engaged anglers, good outcome. That’s the way it’s supposed to work.

About time, Pennsylvania. The wild brookies thank you. Oh, and Go Birds.

The post Pennsylvania Just Raised Its Trout Minimum Size Limit – And It’s a Big Deal appeared first on Troutrageous! Fly Fishing & Other Nonsense.

Meet the Classic Spey Rod and the Classic Spey Reel

The rod comes in a range of configurations spanning trout spey, switch, and full spey models, from a 3-weight 11-footer all the way up to an 8-weight 136. The one that has my eye is the 3110-4: 11′, 3-weight, four-piece, moderate-fast action in a dark clay brown blank with a matching rosewood reel seat insert. It’s purpose-built for swinging soft hackles and lightweight-to-moderate streamers, which given my general predisposition toward smaller flies and lighter gear, feels like a natural fit.

Redington describes it as “uncomplicated, approachable, and ready for that first hit of two-handed pandemonium,” which honestly sounds like their marketing department wrote that specifically for people like me who have been eyeing trout spey for years and just keep kicking the can down the road. The rod comes with a lifetime warranty, premium cork grip, titanium oxide stripping guides, and a divided brown ballistic nylon rod tube, all for $374.99.

The Classic Spey Reel comes in three sizes: 3/4/5 ($375), 6/7/8 ($400), and 7/8/9 ($425). It’s a mid-arbor, click-drag design, which given my well-documented affection for click & pawl reels, was music to my ears. It has a high-decibel click, heritage styling, and genuinely looks like it belongs next to the Classic Trout reel on the shelf. The 3/4/5 paired with the 3110-4 rod would run you right around $750 all-in for a complete trout spey setup. At least until they build and offer a bundle. $750 isn’t sofa cushion change, but in the spey world, I guess it’s considered accessible…

So Do I Take The Leap?

I’ve said for years that I want to try trout spey, but just haven’t taken the leap. Tenkara, no problem. Bamboo, absolutely. The difference is I’ve never actually been familiar enough with the brands that make spey gear or the models they offered. And I don’t live in Scandinavia or the Pacific Northwest. The Classic Spey might be the nudge I need. The aesthetics match the Classic Trout gear I already own and love, the price point is doable, and Redington has pitched it specifically as a gateway rod, which is either very smart marketing or exactly what I needed to hear. Probably both.

I haven’t pulled the trigger yet, but I’d be lying if I said the browser tab isn’t still open…

The post Redington Classic Spey Rod & Reel – My Trout Spey Entry Point? appeared first on Troutrageous! Fly Fishing & Other Nonsense.

If you’ve started exploring spey and two-handed casting, you’ve probably run headlong into two words: Skagit and Scandi. They sound technical, and the debates around them can feel overwhelming. But at their core, these are just two different philosophies for getting a fly to the fish — each with its own strengths. Here’s everything you need to know.

A Tale of Two Rivers

The names give it away. Skagit lines were born on the Skagit River in Washington State, where anglers targeting big winter steelhead needed to punch heavy, wind-resistant flies into tight, brush-choked bankside conditions. Scandi (short for Scandinavian) lines trace their roots to the salmon rivers of Norway, Sweden, and Iceland — wide, open valleys where long, elegant casts were both possible and necessary.

These different birthplaces shaped everything: the line’s weight, length, taper, and the casting style each demands. Understanding where they came from helps explain why they behave so differently.

What Each Line Actually Is

The Skagit Head

A Skagit head is a short, dense, aggressive casting tool. Most Skagit heads run between 18 and 28 feet long and are built with a very heavy, concentrated belly. This compact mass creates enormous momentum — even a short stroke loads the rod deeply and throws the line with authority.

Skagit lines are almost always paired with a sink tip (a separate sinking section of 5–15 feet) and a heavy fly. The system is specifically engineered to handle the weight and drag of big, waterlogged flies like large intruders, tube flies, and articulated streamers.

The Scandi Head

A Scandi head is longer, lighter, and more graceful. Typical heads run 30 to 45 feet, with a more gradual taper that unrolls smoothly through the air in a tight, rolling loop. Think of it as the two-handed fly line that most closely mirrors the elegance of a classic single-hand presentation cast.

Scandi lines are designed to be fished with a light poly leader or short, floating leader and a smaller, lighter fly. They excel when presentation is paramount — landing a fly softly on a calm pool where fish are easily spooked.

How the Cast Feels Different

This is where anglers tend to feel the difference most viscerally. A Skagit cast is often described as powerful and deliberate. Because you’re working with so much mass in a short line, you can make a single strong anchor, snap through a short casting arc, and the line simply goes. There’s less need for a long, sustained backcast — in many setups, the fly barely leaves the water before you fire the forward cast. This is called a sustained anchor style, and it’s why Skagit casting thrives when overhanging trees or steep canyon walls eat your backcast.

Scandi casting has a more open, flowing quality. You’re lifting and rolling a longer line, forming a clean loop in the air, and delivering it with a smooth, unhurried stroke. The classic Scandi move — the snap-T or double Spey combined with a long aerial loop — produces the kind of cast that turns heads on the river. It takes more practice to master, but the reward is a fly that lands like a whisper at distance.

Quick mental model: Think of Skagit like casting a bowling ball — dense, powerful, compact. Think of Scandi like cracking a bullwhip — extended, rolling, precise.

Flies, Tips & Leaders

Your line system choice largely dictates what flies you can effectively fish — and where in the water column you can fish them.

Skagit + sink tip is the combination for exploring depth. With interchangeable sink tips of varying densities (from “hover” to Type 8 fast-sinking), you can precisely target holding water at any depth — a foot beneath the surface, or scraping rocks 10 feet down. This makes Skagit the choice for swinging flies through deep runs in high, cold winter flows.

Scandi + polyleader is built for the surface and near-surface zone. Floating and intermediate polyleaders keep your fly in the top few feet of the water column — ideal for summer fish that are actively feeding and willing to move to a swung fly near the top. In the right conditions, this is simply the most exciting way to fish.

Quick-Pick Guide

Do You Have to Choose?

Many dedicated spey anglers own both systems — and swap between them based on season, river conditions, and target species. If you’re just getting started, most instructors recommend beginning with Skagit. Its forgiving nature makes the fundamentals of anchor placement and rod loading easier to feel and correct. Once that foundation is solid, adding a Scandi head to your kit opens up a whole new dimension of presentation fishing.

A Note on Rods

Most modern spey and switch rods are designed to cast both Skagit and Scandi heads — just in different grain weights. Rod manufacturers typically publish a recommended grain window for their rods (e.g., 400–550 grains). Skagit heads for a given rod will usually fall at the higher end of that window; Scandi heads sit a bit lower. Always check your rod’s grain recommendation and match accordingly.

Switch rods (shorter, lighter two-handers) pair naturally with Scandi heads for smaller rivers and trout applications. Longer, heavier spey rods designed for big rivers and big fish tend to shine with Skagit systems — though both can cast either style with the right line selection.

Pro tip: When in doubt, visit a local fly shop with a casting pond and try both. The difference will be immediately apparent — and you’ll know within a few casts which system speaks to your style of fishing.

The Bottom Line

Skagit and Scandi lines aren’t competitors — they’re complements. Skagit is power and depth and utility, built for tough conditions and heavy work. Scandi is elegance and distance and presentation, built for the moments when fishing feels like art.

The best spey anglers don’t pledge allegiance to one system. They understand what each tool was built to do, match it to the water in front of them, and let the river decide.

The post Skagit vs. Scandi: Which Spey Line Is Right for You? appeared first on Troutrageous! Fly Fishing & Other Nonsense.

Never take your fishing trips for granted, because one day it’ll all be done.

I didn’t even see the signs that were preparing me for a long time. First came a bad tremor in my dominant hand and arm, which I pushed off as a side effect of the medication I was taking for anxiety. Next came a speech impediment where I slurred my words and didn’t talk loud enough. Then came the falls, which I blamed on my bifocals. Then came the apathy – excuses, really. Not wanting to go out, dumb lame excuses, but they felt legitimate in my mind.

The last time I went out, I didn’t stay long. A small tornado had gone through weeks earlier and made it very difficult to travel along the bank. When I was younger, that would’ve been no problem, but for now it was an excuse to go home. I maybe cast five or six times the whole time I was out. That was a year and a half ago.

I kept finding excuses not to go out. My stuff sat in my truck for all that time, untouched. I know now that my last real trip was one with a good fishing buddy, Mike, it wasn’t too long after that trip to Deep Creek that things started to fall apart.

Just recently, I was found to have a disease with no cure. One that takes away your mobility and your thoughts called Parkinson’s disease. There was a wrong diagnosis back in 2008; they called it a tremor, but it was really Parkinson’s. For over eight years it went untreated and unchecked.

When you go out, just like Mike said at Deep Creek, stop and smell the roses. Enjoy the scenery. Who knows, it could be your last time out on the water. Enjoy every second, because one day it’ll be taken away from you. Enjoy your trips, and be sure to take pictures so you have the memories.

God bless you,
Spurky

The post The Last Trip You Don’t Know Is Your Last appeared first on Troutrageous! Fly Fishing & Other Nonsense.

It’s not uncommon that when I make these quasi-spiritual journeys, they’re extremely last minute. I’m sure you know the type. You’re at work on a Wednesday, growing tired of corporate-speak and meeting after spreadsheet after PowerPoint. Thursday comes around and you’ve tuned almost everyone and everything out. Might as well be Charlie Brown’s teacher on the other end of that Zoom call. By Friday morning you’re like, “F*ck it, I gotta get away.” Zero planning, no time to make arrangements to meet up with friends.

This isn’t a scripted week in the Driftless. It’s more or less a rushed act of tossing some hastily gathered fishing gear in the trunk after work, turning up the car stereo, and driving. In my case, driving north. Eight hours north to be exact. Traffic permitting, of course.

When you have that much time alone in the car it gives you time to question things. Do I really have to piss that bad to pull off here? Which Doobie Brothers songs are better, the ones before or after Michael McDonald? But dare I say that listening to a Riverhorse Nakadate podcast will make you question every choice you’ve made in your life.

If you’re not familiar, Riverhorse is a very interesting fellow – author, conservationist, adventurer, filmmaker, and a uniquely free spirit. His ethos is essentially that you only have one life, so you should be sure to live it. And boy, he has. Hearing him speak always leaves me both inspired and somewhat depressed. Does an office job give me joy? Am I doing what I really want to with my life? Am I a coward for not making changes?

“…these people are home watching TV and on their phones and gosh, it’s not a dress rehearsal. Like, this is our one and only life. I’m sorry, but I mean, worst case scenario, ride your bike somewhere to a park and have lunch.” — Riverhorse Nakadate

Arriving at my hotel at the foot of the Smokies after midnight on Friday evening, there was some dread in knowing I’d have to leave first thing Sunday morning. I was realistically only going to have a single day in between to fish. So we were going to live Saturday to its fullest. At least the weather looked good to do so.

At the gravel trailhead lot bright and early, I was eager to hike back a mile or two and start the morning off on a good note. As I sat on the tailgate lacing up my wading boots, I looked up to find a truck with two gentlemen inside that wasn’t there a minute prior. A bit fidgety, they got out and began walking over, checking the windshields of the other parked vehicles. They had one of those roof-mounted rod carriers and were both wearing polarized sunglasses and Patagonia sun hoodies. That Fitz Roy mountain trout logo is an unmistakable tell. They were here to fish.

“Do you need a parking permit here?” one of them shouted over, slightly agitated. We were technically in the Park, so you did in fact need a parking pass… there was a sign right at the trailhead entrance that stated it clear as day. I said, “I’m pretty sure, but I don’t think you can buy one here…” I knew you couldn’t buy one here. There were no machines, no way to print something out for your dashboard. I don’t know why I answered without conviction.

The two of them looked at each other, said something unintelligible as they deliberated, then hopped back in the truck and drove off. They just didn’t want to risk it. Not sure Riverhorse would have made the same call. More stream for me, I guess.

Dropping down into the water off the trail, it felt good to have the current slide alongside my legs again. The levels were ideal. Not too low, not too high, and the flows were absolutely perfect. A cool trickle eventually penetrated my new neoprene wading socks, tickling the bottom of my feet. I was where I wanted to be. Where I needed to be.

It wasn’t long after I traversed that initial section that I’d located my first fish, a tiny rainbow coaxed from a deep run by a beadhead nymph. The soft tenkara rod flexed deep, exaggerating the fight well beyond the trout’s diminutive dimensions. After a prompt landing and release, a virtual carbon copy of the first ‘bow mistook my offering for food on the very next drift.

Two quick fish. Things couldn’t be going any better. Until they didn’t. Things shut down hard for a while.

Much like the car ride up, a long series of empty casts can make your mind wander. Should I tie on a futsu kebari? Should I be tapping instead of twitching? Am I fishing at the right depth? Did I remember to pack some Nabs for lunch?

Eventually, that haze of second-guessing was quickly lifted by some tension at the end of my level line. Funny what sort of clarity a shot of adrenaline can bring. A few more fish to hand, rainbows again. It’s rare to find browns or brookies in this particular stretch of water.

The rest of the day continued much like the first half. Feast or famine. I’d find clusters of trout, then nothing for an extended stretch. Upon taking a break to re-rig after a run-in with a particularly unforgiving rhododendron, I took some pause. Filtered and drank some water, relaxed on a rock for a bit, and confirmed the presence of those snack crackers nestled deep in my Zimmerbuilt pack. No famine on that front.

As I approached the last obstacle course of pocket water before my planned exit, I encountered what were possibly the two best fish of the day. The first rose from the depths to engulf my kebari as soon as it touched down upon a picture-perfect little run of greasy water. Once in the net, the hungry rainbow proudly displayed one of those tiny pot bellies. You could tell it had been feeding well.

The final trout attacked with a similarly aggressive topwater take. Drifting the kebari around the unseen side of a mid-stream boulder, this rainbow rocketed from a shady lair to tear the fly from the surface, then went on two surprisingly powerful runs. Aided by the current, the best fight was saved for last. A few quick photos later and it was back in its lie. I decided my day of fishing was done. About seven hours had passed since I first arrived, and it would take at least another hour to hike back to the car and drive into town to get cleaned up before grabbing a proper bite to eat.

A warm shower feels amazing after a day of fishing. Just standing under the water and letting it run over your shoulders as you empty your mind is intoxicatingly relaxing. Time slows to a halt. You could be in there for three minutes or thirty, in a trance, unintentionally neglecting the objective of washing your hair or body. It’s the hotel’s water bill, not yours. I already paid for the room, I’m getting my money’s worth.

Dinner was a short walk across the street to a favorite Mexican restaurant of mine. Quickly seated, chips and salsa appeared on the table before I could even get comfortable. As the first real food I’d had since those crackers, they both vanished quickly. Steak, onions, beans, and rice followed. A tall, cold unsweetened “Yankee” iced tea to wash it all down. Some people are intimidated by eating in restaurants alone. I genuinely don’t understand that phobia.

Scrolling through my phone before leaving, I was curious if there was anything else to do in town. It was Saturday night, and as it happened, the longest day of the year. The town’s website was advertising a free clog dancing show in one of the community parks. Why not? Not usually my thing, but when in the Smokies…

Upon arrival, I quickly realized these were not just any cloggers; that guy from the internet memes was one of the dancers. You probably know the one. It was surprisingly entertaining. I don’t know if it was the way the ladies’ puffy skirts bounced around or how ol’ Zeb wiggled his knees and ankles like Jell-O, but it was the kind of thing that once you start watching, you just can’t look away. I’d missed the first hour, but that second hour absolutely flew by. Incredibly fun.

With the show over but still not quite dark yet, a quick drive up the parkway was in store to catch one of the overlooks as the sun dropped behind the hills. Ballhoot Scar was my choice. Had it been autumn, those mountains would have been ablaze with color. Being summer, the colors of choice were multiple tones of green, tinted by hues of atmospheric blue the further your eyes traced down the valley. I don’t take in the simple beauty of overlooks enough when I’m in the Smokies. That’s something I need to change with intention moving forward.

Now past dusk, I stopped at a gas station convenience store for something sweet before heading back to the hotel for good. I’m not a big dessert guy, but I needed something to take the edge off a salty dinner. I just had that taste in my mouth. Initially tempted by a Coke, I instead found a chocolate and vanilla ice cream sandwich in the Blue Bunny branded deep freeze by the register. It was easy to miss beneath a spinning countertop display of Bic lighters and cheap sunglasses. That’d certainly do the trick.

And not long after that ice cream sandwich was gone, Saturday was too. Time for bed.

Up early again Sunday, there was no questioning my weekend’s choices, or life’s choices, on the drive home. I’d made the most of my Saturday. Fished hard, ate well, and found some amusement that only this corner of the country can provide. The car ride was filled with smiles and warm memories I think even Riverhorse would be proud of. Yeah, I had work again on Monday. But that was okay. This Smokies buzz would hold me over for a while.

One day in the mountains. Sometimes that’s all you need.

This post was originally published at Tenkara Angler. It’s been ported over here to align with the rest of my Fishing Reports.

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