Lots of people ask me if I fish for shad. I’m usually quick to respond with a firm “no!” Except that I do fish for them during certain windows. I don’t guide for them either. Bold statements but I have my reasoning.
Shad fishing is, to me, the stuff that’s best left to kids. It not something a season fly fisherman takes on. No, it’s the stuff of adventure and exploring that only someone with a free spirit should take on! Manicured spring-creek fisherman beware: the tide line and the adjacent creeks full of flotsam and jetsam (and trash) are no place for you. The season itself is a dangerous time for the pale skin of winter. One must be prepared for that strange sensation when shed layers and short sleeves bare your dermis to the sun’s radiation! “Why is my face so red?” I said last week. Oh yes, I was exposed to the sun and it feels great!
Some years I just don’t have it in me. I live right next to the Potomac tide-line and can ride my bike down there. It’s not easy climbing over the rocks down there often only to find a dude with a cast net or snag rig is on your favorite rock that has the perfect tree-free casting zone. I’m often dismayed by the groups of poachers or piles of beer cans left from the previous evening’s nigh-crawlers. Other years, I am up before the sun and on and off the river before work several days in a row. I jones for it and my body is in Potomac mode before I wake up.
Why not guide for shad? I think it’s something that should be left for the backyard adventurer. When I was young, places like “down under the bridge” were the escape for teenage anglers who dared brave the woods full of “campers” and drifters walking the train tracks. In college, I would bike across the city to chase shad and stripers at all hours. It was not for the faint of heart and maybe not on my list of safest choices. Still, there was something to be explored in a city of nearly a million people – a treasure of hard won empty space.
It’s something to be explored at least once. The novice angler can manage the tactics needed; a stout fly rod, a sinking fly line, a short piece of 3x tippet for a leader, and a handful of flies. Find an eddy and get swinging. I generally try to lob my sinking line, with what I hope is a bit of finesse – sinking line casting is ugly – into the current and feed a mend into the running line. This allows the line to descend as it drifts. I wait as long as I can stand. Too long and my fly or oven my expensive fly line could be lost to Leviathan. Not waiting long enough and I may not get down to the fish. Then I begin the swing with my rod under my arm. I strip two-handed at various speeds. There’s no recipe here. Just yesterday I was catching fish with a fast retrieve, slow, and even in short bursts of speed. Shad are funny fish. I even had a few takes just under the surface. I came home muddy, bleeding from one shin, and happy.
I’ll soon leave the shad behind in favor if the mayflies of the trout streams but I have a few more shad outings in me to get that morning fix. There’s even a school of stripers now and then to keep me daydreaming of monsters.
