Fantasies of warm, salty fisheries—where backing knots play percussion on rod guides—tantalize many of us each winter. That beat's catchy, and it offers a welcome auditory pivot from the whisper of snow falling into a river.
I worked as a fly fishing guide in Alaska and Montana for 15 years. I’ve also produced outdoor media on various continents over the past two decades. So, I’ve spent a lot of time on both sides of the fishing travel equation, as a guide and as an angler. While most people invest significant time and money in trip planning, very few give sufficient focus to pre-trip preparation.
Preparation for destination fly fishing doesn’t end once the logistics of where, when, and with whom get settled. I've put together a few recommendations for what to do after the flights are booked and the deposits paid that will help you more fully enjoy the experience, make the most of your opportunities, and revel in the anticipation of an upcoming adventure.
Practice
Plan and commit to a casting routine ahead of your trip. This advice is neither unique nor groundbreaking, but it’s also the number one thing that guides wish traveling anglers would do more of ahead of their trips. Tailor your practice to fit the fishing you expect. If you’re going on a tarpon trip, practice with a 12-weight, not a 5-weight. (Sidenote: you can do this even if the ground is covered in snow and the temps never get above freezing. It won’t perfectly mimic equatorial conditions—your line will be way too stiff and you’ll be wearing gloves—but it’s better than nothing.) If you’re going for permit or bonefish, make sure to practice with the appropriate rod and some weight at the end of your leader.
Contrary to fly fishing mythology, success on the flats rarely comes from long distance hero casting. Very few anglers can spot fish 100+ feet away. Most saltwater situations require quick, accurate delivery at short to moderate distances. Instead of trying to cast the whole fly line, (which you'll virtually never need to do on the flats) focus on speed and accuracy. Go to a local park and lay out metal pie plates at 20, 30, 40, and 50 feet. (I use metal plates for two reasons: First, they don't blow away in the wind. Second, they make a satisfying "ding" when you hit them.) Start just as you would on the deck of a flats boat, with the necessary line stripped from your reel and coiled neatly at your feet. Hold the fly in your hand and have a short belly of fly line extending beyond your rod tip. Then, practice making two or three false casts and trying to drop the fly on the different targets. When you’re consistently hearing the “ding” of dumbell eyes hitting metal, you’re well on your way.
Embrace Dysfunction
Most people don’t think about the physical impacts of destination fishing trips. (Our friends at Fly Lab have a really interesting series on this.) Travel alone is taxing—the stress of flights, transfers, delays, and uncertainty get compounded by suboptimal sleeping situations. And that's just getting there! Then you’ll spend long days in outdoor conditions to which most of us are not accustomed—heat, sun, rain, wind, glare—asking your body to perform in ways it usually doesn’t—hiking, wading, balancing on boats, etc. Finally, you might not make the healthiest choices about what you eat and drink on these trips. The point is, you probably won’t operate at peak performance.
On my first ever tarpon trip, I completely blew it for the first three days—folding on easy shots, missing targets, spooking strings of fish. I spent much of those 72 hours silently berating myself and therefore feeling mostly miserable on a trip I'd dreamed about since childhood. That was a far bigger mistake than any blown cast. I failed to account for the combined stresses of jet lag, gastrointestinal distress (which can happen when traveling), and a slowly compounding hangover. Give yourself a little grace, and try to laugh at your inevitable lapses instead of letting frustration ruin a good time.
Triple-Check Your Tackle
High-quality rods, reels, backing, lines, leaders, and tippet won’t do you any good if they’re not properly set up. When rigging for an unfamiliar fishery, ask for help but remember that you're ultimately responsible for your own gear. Talk to knowledgable friends, stop by your most trusted fly shop, consult with online experts, but make sure to double (or triple) check the set up yourself before you leave. You don’t want to risk blowing an opportunity because of human error.
I've seen this mistake play out many times in different ways. I lost the biggest tarpon I've ever hooked (not to mention a brand new fly line) because I didn't adequately test my backing knot. I had multiple clients show up with their reels spooled backward. I once took a friend from the U.S. to one of my favorite dry fly creeks in New Zealand. This was a big trip for him, and he had splurged on a brand new, top-of-the-line, 5-weight set up from his local shop. We were finding fish most of the day, but he just couldn’t seem to get either his cast or drift right. Finally, after six or seven hours, a beautiful, eight-pound brown sipped a CDC comparadun. After bringing the fish to hand and celebrating, he then handed me the rod for the next shot. I made one cast, turned to him in shock, and asked, "How the hell did you do that with this line?" The fly shop had sold him an intermediate sinking line. No wonder he was struggling to present tiny dries to big, selective fish in small water! It was a miracle he managed that one good drift.
That incident was an outlier. In general, I trust fly shops. The point is, even knowledgable, well-meaning people make mistakes. No matter how much help you get, thoroughly check all your gear, knots, and connections before leaving for your trip. There’s no excuse for bad knots with the excellent video tutorials you can find online.
Avoid Expectations
This is probably the most difficult piece of advice to follow. Most of us are drawn to fishing travel for the chance to catch a different species or caliber of fish. You’re dropping serious coin, not to mention time and energy—of course you’re thinking about landing “that” fish. If, however, you can try to embrace the trip as a travel experience instead of just a fishing experience, you’ll enjoy yourself more.
The weather will probably conspire against your plans on at least one day of the trip, maybe significantly more. You could piss the time away pouting, or you could find interesting things to do on an unexpected weather day. Just because you travel a long way doesn’t mean the fish will eat. Most of us accept slow days on our local waters but expect a red-hot bite when we go somewhere else. Try to remember that tough fishing happens everywhere.
Ultimately, this comes down to entitlement. Just because you made the sacrifice of time, money, and inconvenience doesn’t mean you’re entitled to catch anything. You’re there for an experience first and an opportunity second. Keep that in mind, and you (and your guide) will have a much better time.
Pack Smart
On one trip to a tributary of the Amazon River, the airline lost my luggage, so I spent the whole week wearing borrowed clothes three sizes too big for me. Despite excellent fishing and stellar weather, much of what I remember about that trip is the discomfort of ill-fitting apparel (and trying to hold my pants up while casting at surface prowling peacock bass).
Comfort can make or break a trip. Unlike the weather or the bite, the clothes you pack are a variable you can usually control. The key is to pack the right gear, not all the gear. I recommend making a list and laying everything out at least a day before you leave to give yourself time to plan, think, and reconsider.
For a weeklong saltwater trip, I usually bring three good-quality sun hoodies. If I think it’s going to be brutally hot, I pack two Sol Tropic Hoodies, so I can alternate them between days. I’ll also bring a Sol Tactical Hoody in case the weather cools off slightly or I need a backup. If I’m going someplace with mosquitos or sand flies, I’ll swap out the Tropics with Sol Defense Hoodies. Some people have a strong pants vs. shorts preference. I can go either way, but prefer Sol Pants because they protect my legs from the sun. I usually pack two pairs of Sol Pants and one pair of Sol Shorts.
A lightweight, breathable, packable waterproof jacket, like the Carbon Jacket, is absolutely essential on a saltwater trip. Rain showers are common in the tropics, and you might be surprised how cold you can get running full speed in a flats boat while soaking wet. Carbon Pants are also nice to have. I wouldn’t call them essential, but they can save your butt if a squall turns torrential or a crossing gets choppy.
Flip flops and flats boots are the only footwear I ever bring on warm weather trips, but some people appreciate closed-toed shoes for walking around unfamiliar places. Beyond that, I pack a pair of underwear for every day (plus one spare), a couple t-shirts, and my favorite hat.
For some anglers, trip preparation begins and ends with planning—where to go, what species to target, the best guide to fish with, the optimal place to stay, and the preferred spots to eat and drink. Ironing out logistics is important, but planning isn't preparation. Once you know where you’re going and what you’re doing, actively preparing yourself in the weeks before you leave will not only set you up for success, it’ll allow you to actively enjoy the anticipation instead of just counting days off the calendar.
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Miles Nolte guided in Alaska and Montana for the better part of two decades. He was the Angling Editor for Gray's Sporting Journal, a Senior Contributor to The Drake, and the Fishing Director for Meateater. These days, Miles is the Director of Brand Management for Skwala, the head writer for Tributaries Digital Cinema, and the owner of Piwakawaka Media. He lives in Wellington, New Zealand with his family.