Tying and Fishing the Goddard Caddis by Jonathan Jacobs
Until recently I had not much employed the dry/dropper technique. Rigging these setups is challenging and fishing them effectively is a skill I’ve been slow to develop. There are so many intriguing caddis emerger patterns out there, however, that it seemed prudent to figure out some way to use them. Trailing an emerger from twelve to eighteen inches behind a high-floating dry seemed worth a shot. The choice of an emergent pupa was easy; I wanted to try Charlie Craven’s Caddistrophic Caddis Pupa. Choosing the dry proved tougher. I settled on the Goddard caddis. It’s both buoyant and visible. I like to fish with flies I’ve tied, so I set about learning to tie it. The process proved daunting. I watched two YouTube videos, one by Tim Flagler and one by Charlie Craven., which proved invaluable and I strongly encourage you to watch both. Mr. Flagler produces fine instructional videos, but overall, I found Mr. Craven’s more helpful. Here are the tying instructions that I worked up for my own reference after gleaning all I could from the videos and tying several flies, followed by some additional musing: · Hook: 3769 Tiemco, size 14 (Heavy wire nymph hook used to withstand thread pressure) · Thread: Semperfli Nano Silk, 50D black body, 8/0 Uni olive for dubbing and to finish the fly · Body: Select cow elk from Blue Ribbon Flies · Hackle: Brown, preferably slightly undersized · Dubbing: Ice Dub olive brown
Start the Nano Silk two eye lengths back of the hook eye. Wrap to above the hook barb, forward to the starting point and back to the hook barb. Apply a very small amount of cyanoacrylate glue where the thread is hanging. Bind down a cleaned, stacked and trimmed (hair tips removed bundle of cow elk with the tip ends forward. Hold the hair until glue sets. Carefully wind the thread forward through individual hairs. This will cause the hair to stand up. Center the working thread over the uncovered portion of the base thread. Use a half hitch tool to push the leading edge of the hair vertically and take a few wraps of thread at that point. Clean, stack and trim another bundle of elk hair. Center the thread on the bundle and use a spinning technique. Once the hair is secure, take a few half hitches while using a half hitch tool to keep hair out of the way. Cut the tying thread. Remove the hook from the vise and while holding the fly by the hook eye with pliers, briefly run it through the steam jet from a tea kettle. This will cause the hair to “spring,” making it easier to trim. Go through the arduous process of trimming the elk hair with a fresh double edged razor blade. Grasp the fly between thumb and finger to trim the tail to length, using the arc of the thumb as a guide. Place the hook back in the vise and start the Uni thread. Tie in a hackle with the quill stripped back about a quarter inch. Dub the head, finishing with the thread at the hook eye. The hackle should be dull side forward. Take a turn or two of hackle through the tip of the body and then make tight turns through the dubbing, capture the hackle and tie off.
The heavy-gauge hook, the Nano Silk and the cow elk are keys to tying this fly successfully. Standard dry fly hooks bend under the pressure required to properly seat the hair. The Nano Silk thread is very fine which, as Mr. Craven points out (He uses 30 denier thread while I chose 50 denier), is easier to guide through the hair. I tried using Primo Deer as Mr. Flagler suggested. It’s great for flies like the X-Caddis, but the strip I have had hair that seemed too fine for this application. You’ll find that determining how much hair to use is literally a matter of cut and try. If you use too little, the fly will be sparse and not sufficiently buoyant. If you use too much, you will encounter difficulty in locking down the spun portion of the body and are likely to cut through thread when trimming the fly. A brand-new double-edged razor blade will get you through a few flies, but be prepared to replace it. Lastly, do not add antennae, as is often suggested. It’s painful to do correctly and the stiff fibers inhibit hooking fish.
I fish this dry/dropper upstream in riffles to beneficial effect and have so far found the two flies equally effective. To date I have tied the tippet material for the pupa to the hook bend. That has worked well, but I am going to try tying the Goddard caddis to the main tippet while leaving a very long tag end on the knot, to which I will tie the pupa. That may produce a more natural looking drift for the dry fly.
Editors Note: If you want to learn more about caddis, Jonathan has an excellent video on his YouTube channel where he explains the life-cycle of the caddis and shows caddis fly patterns that imitate each stage of their cycle. I encourage you to check it out at the link below. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=in3Lm6wSZPY
The paragraph below, with light editing, accompanied the photos in a post I made on social media. Judging by the reactions it generated there, folks found it interesting. The editor of RipRap thought its readers might enjoy it and asked me to send it along for publication. Writing it brought back fond memories for me but when I re-read it, I thought people might find it either interesting or incongruent that an Iowa farm kid somehow connected with fly tying and fly fishing or might wonder how Minnesota fit into the picture.
The Iowa/Minnesota component is easy to explain: When I was young my family lived on a farm deep in the Corn Belt, miles from any kind of fishable water, but we rented a cabin for a week on a little lake in central Minnesota in late summer for several years before my parents sold the farm and bought a classic lakeside tavern/boat rental/cabin rental operation there. That’s where I did my fishing, but the roots of my interest in fly fishing are more complicated and are something I’ve had to think about.
For one thing, in my time on the farm I had unfettered access to the outdoors before large scale, full-on industrial agriculture took over. There was a little creek on the property that ran through a sliver of abandoned pasture, low ground that hadn’t been fitted with drainage tile. There were only minnows in the creek, but interesting flora and fauna abounded and being “out there” inculcated in me an intense interest in the natural world. I think that being outdoors was the thing that my father liked best about farming, too.
My father had a brother, my Uncle Leonard, who with his wife, my treasured Aunt Luella, farmed just a few miles from my family and we spent a great deal of time with them. Like my father and me, Uncle Leonard loved to read. He subscribed to several magazines, including the old-fashioned “hook and bullet” magazines like Sports Afield, and some general interest magazines, too, and I had access to them.I read every word of those magazines, and I found articles about trout fishing in the outdoor magazines mesmerizing. Even the mass-market magazines occasionally had articles that would get me dreaming. One of them, either Life or Look – I don’t know which – did multi-page pieces complete with glorious color photographs on trout fishing in the Catskills and on fly fishing for Atlantic salmon. One of those articles included a photograph of a Silver Doctor, an old-fashioned showy wet fly, and I recall thinking that someday I would tie my own Silver Doctor and use it to catch a fish. That hasn’t happened yet, but I continue to hang on to the dream.
Another member of the group recently posted a picture of their first fly tying vise. Here’s mine. It was part of a portable kit my father made for me at least sixty-five years ago after I saw an article about it in Boys’ Life magazine. It required a hardwood dowel, which we didn’t have out on the farm in Iowa where we lived at the time, so Dad cut the handle off one of my mother’s wooden cooking spoons, which pleased her not at all.
To assemble the kit, you placed the short dowel, which was center drilled, into the band-aid tin in the appropriate position and passed a nail (The nail is long gone, the screw is a modern replacement) through the hole. You then placed the longer section of dowel, the one with the slot cut in it, atop that. The longer dowel had a slot cut down it and a screw and wing nut through it. Tightening the wing nut closed the “jaws.” It actually held moderate-sized hooks pretty well. Hooks came from the hardware store and materials were things I mostly scavenged with some of them coming from my mother’s sewing supplies. Along with the vise components, the hooks and materials were stored in the Band Aid tin. I tied some flies that, while crude, caught sunfish in a little lake in Minnesota. That little kit set me on quite a path.
In my forty-plus years as a fly angler, I have frequented three different fly shops in eight distinct locations in seven different buildings under the ownership of five different people. In that time, I’ve gone from neophyte to experienced angler to geezer. I tell you this to establish my bona fides as a “shop rat” (The term doesn’t mean “employee;” a less sentimental term might be “hanger on”). Every one of those shops helped me immeasurably along the way. My first shop was Tom Helgeson’s Bright Waters. There I took casting lessons, an aquatic entomology class and an on-the-stream flyfishing for trout class. Tom brought in guest speakers who exposed me to facets of the sport previously unknown to me. I spent so much time at Bob Mitchell’s Fly Shop that I was more of a fixture than a regular. I learned a great deal there, too, but more importantly, I treasure to this day close the friendships with wildly disparate personality types that blossomed there.
My current home away from home is Lund’s Fly Shop. Housed in a soulful multi-story brick building dating back to 1881 on Main Street in River Falls, WI, this emporium nails the image of what a fly shop ought to look like. Mounts of tarpon, billfish and an incongruous elk gracing the high interior walls stand watch over an extensive array of waders, clothing, tackle, fly tying materials, accessories, and fly bins, with all of that seeming to float over the vintage hardwood floor. Staffed by friendly and knowledgeable folks, it’s a place that warms the soul.
One of the prominent features of the building is the mezzanine that overlooks the shop. There is angling art displayed on the walls. There are a few long tables up there that are ideal for group fly tying sessions. The shop hosts two of these sessions per month, one on a Saturday and another on a Tuesday. You can find the shop’s specific schedule at its website, https://www.lundsflyshop.com/. I’ve attended two sessions thus far and have had a wonderful time at both. At the first one, someone asked as soon as I’d sat down if I needed anything to drink. I said, “No, thanks, I’m good.” The response to that was, “Ice or neat?” Sensing that further resistance was futile, I replied, “Uh, ice.” A glass with ice and Irish whiskey appeared in front of me. I’m not saying this is a regular occurrence, but it looks like there’s a zeitgeist that suggests that you’re welcome to bring food and beverages to share. There’s some slight remnant boys’ club attitude, but it’s a welcoming place. I’ve seen a fellow who just stopped by to chat stay to help a boy of about ten who’d come with his non-tying father. The fellow stayed long enough to get the youngster through a couple of basic patterns that employed the basics of tying. Another man helped a young woman wearing a Green Bay Packers stocking cap master the use of a whip finishing tool. I saw my friend Sarah, an accomplished tyer, tie her first two pike/muskie Bufords. A fellow two generations younger than me reached out to me to show me the elegant soft hackles he was tying. Even among all the experienced tyers, there’s something for everyone to learn. We often come to think of ourselves as trout fly tyers or warmwater tyers or whatever, but the thing is, there’s a whole spectrum of flies that cross borders or involve techniques that can be applied anywhere. In one night, I’ve seen tied, among other things: Steelhead intruder flies, billfish flies, jig streamers, soft hackles, midges, and a CK baitfish, which, with its die-cut synthetic tail and flashy trimmed body would have been heresy just a few years ago.
Given the combination of camaraderie, bonhomie, the learning opportunities, you can’t go wrong. Of course, Lund’s is not the only fly shop in the area and you might be a regular at one of them or are looking for a reason to become one. Those shops likely have open tying sessions, too, ones that might provide you with as much fun as I’m having at Lund’s. Be sure to look them up. Having a fly shop to call your home is an essential part of not being merely an informed angler, but a happy one.
Editor’s Note: Open tying sessions are also available at Mendprovisions Fly Shop located in Saint Paul , Minnesota (mend provisions.com) and the Cabela’s store in Rogers (Link). Photo provided by Brian Smolinski
I have been fortunate to, along with two boon companions, spend the second week of July fishing Montana’s Gallatin and Madison Rivers. It was on these trips that I first encountered the nearly mythical Salmon Fly hatch. This event is a spectacle with huge creatures from the Carboniferous Era everywhere along, above, and, most importantly for an angler, on the water.
This year, however, we three amigos will make our trip to Montana in the third week of July and the salmon flies will likely be a memory by then. Hatch charts for the area say that a slightly smaller stonefly, the golden stone, follows the salmon fly hatch. I’d come to admire Cheech Pierce’s Chubby Chernobyl Salmon fly and thought that I might tie a similar fly in golden stone colors on a smaller hook.
That’s the origin story. Despite its Montana roots, I think the fly, or a very similar one, might have its uses here in the Midwest. A size 10 version tied a bit sparser and in perhaps more muted colors could make an excellent hopper imitation hereabouts. With its robust foam body and buoyant wing material, it’s sure to make a great top fly in any hopper/dropper combo. You can follow a link to a video that shows you how I tie the fly. In the video I explain the origin of the name and offer prejudiced opinions about our sport. I hope you enjoy it.
Nothing cuts into your fishing time like death. – A.K. Best quoted by John Gierach
After learning in a July email from Michael Alwin of the wading misadventure he eventually wrote about in the August 2023 article titled The Grim Reaper as Your Guide, I did what I’ve been doing for decades: I wrote a response to him pointing out everything he’d done wrong and what he should have done instead. Well, that’s not true; Mike has been invaluable to me as both a mentor and friend over the years and thinking about his near drowning was mortifying to me. I did respond to his email with some suggestions on wading safety and I’d like to share them with you and expand a bit on them as well:
The first consideration in wading safely is constant situational awareness. You should ask yourself this question frequently: What happens if this doesn’t go well? This may make you rethink your approach and develop a new plan, or you may have no choice but to proceed, but at least asking – and answering – this question will force you to look for contingencies. The link (https://howtoflyfish.orvis.com/how-to-articles/trout-fishing-articles/tips-for-safe-wading) to the Orvis Learning Center that Michael included in his article provides excellent advice on instream wading. Since I can’t improve on it, I’ll stress only two points regarding technique. First, one of the most common mistakes that I’ve made and have seen others make is trying to wade while casting. This is an invitation to disaster. You’re striding along, watching to see if a fish will rise again, when you trip on an unseen rock, stick or sudden depression in the bottom and plunge forward in a desperate but futile effort to regain your footing. The second thing I’ve seen, and to my misfortune have done myself, is stepping backward while turning around. It’s so easy to forget about the big rock immediately behind you, the one you waded around carefully a bit earlier, while watching a friend land a fish. This is mostly something done in shallow water, so while the danger of drowning is minimal, getting wet and cold is extremely likely. Worse, it’s likely that you’ll land hard in shallow water, which can lead to bruising and contusions if you’re lucky, or to broken bones or a skull fracture if you’re not. This may sound alarmist, but this is exactly how Datus Proper, the author of the book What the Trout Said, came to a bad end when he hit his head on a rock in shallow water while fishing Hyalite Creek outside Bozeman, Montana several years ago.
I would like to discuss some equipment that can help us wade more safely:
Leggings and quick-dry shorts: You hear about the value of a belt that tightly cinches your waders about your waist to prevent filling your waders with water in case of a fall. That’s true, of course, but how about, when it’s practical, ditching the waders altogether and investing in some leggings and quick-dry shorts instead? You’ll present a sleeker profile in the current, which will lessen the hydraulic pressure on you and, if you do go down, you’ll not be weighted down by the water in your absent waders. Also, I think I’m correct when I say that most of us are averse to the chilling effect of cold water on our nether regions, causing us to think twice before we wade deep enough to dunk said regions.
Wading boots: Yes, most of us already have specialized wading boots, but are they ones that will do the best job of keeping us vertical? For many years felt soles were the standard of the industry. They do work well on bedrock and on cobble, but I’ve never found them particularly grippy on large rocks or on algae-covered substrates. They’re lousy on muddy or snow-covered banks and none too good on grass. While their performance improves with the addition of studs, they’re implicated in the spread of invasive species, so it may be best to give them the go-by. There are a great many variations on the rubber sole boot. The high-end boot from the Orvis Company features a sole developed in concert with the Michelin tire folks. I’m not sure what that guarantees, but I note that the boots can be outfitted with studs, which are always helpful. The Simms Co. offers a plethora of boots with felt, Vibram and rubber soles. Many of them can be equipped with studs as well (Simms offers multiple types of studs, too). The Simms website has a chart that compares things like traction, support, and weight. You may have noted that I’ve mentioned studs several times. I think they’re a godsend and wouldn’t be without them. My personal choice for really tough wading conditions are Patagonia Foot Tractor boots with leather uppers by Danner and rubber soles equipped with replaceable shaped aluminum crossbars secured to the boots by Allen bolts. I can’t say enough good things about them. I can say that, on the downside, they are hellaciously expensive and that I was fortunate to find cosmetically imperfect ones on sale at a deep discount. In the big picture, though, at a time when top end fly rods have pushed past the thousand-dollar mark, half that amount for the most comfortable and effective boot I’ve ever seen may be a value.
Wading staff: I was fortunate to win a Simms wading staff at a Wisconsin State Council TU banquet several years ago. At the time I was just trying to get rid of some bucket raffle tickets and had given little thought to how I might use a staff. I discovered how when I ventured to southwest Montana. It was instrumental in helping to keep me upright when I found myself on the wrong side of a river with no easily fordable crossing in sight. Using the situational awareness I wrote about earlier, I picked the “least worst” option and set out. The staff hummed and throbbed in the heavy current when I leaned on it more heavily than I thought possible, but I inched my way to safety on the other side, arriving there with a stratospheric adrenalin level and a pulse rate to match. Admittedly, my leg strength isn’t what it used to be, and I’m walking around on a couple of artificial joints that don’t offer the support of the original equipment, but as the philosopher said, time and tide wait for no man, so it’s wise to be ahead of the game and to start carrying a wading staff today, even if you’re not superannuated like me. Simms sells a staff equivalent to mine for around one hundred fifty dollars. Patagonia has an elegantly designed one for ten dollars more. Former chapter president and frequent angling companion Tom Schnadt tells me that he’s taken to carrying an old bamboo ski pole with him. It’s lightweight and floats on a tether behind him. The downside here, he acknowledges, is that the pole could possibly shatter under heavy load and effectively become a punji stick on which to fall.
The dangers are not solely in the stream and a wading staff can be useful in other circumstances. It can help you negotiate a steep or muddy bank when you enter or exit the stream and it can serve as a test probe as you travel the heavily vegetated banks along it. There are often little gullies, beaver holes or even logs hidden by overlying grasses.
Stationary bike: I can picture you shaking your head in disbelief about now. What I’m getting at is that we should all do our best to tend to our most basic piece of wading gear – our legs. A regular exercise program can help you maintain leg strength, flexibility and, consequently, balance. A stationary bike is but one tool you can use. A health club or YMCA may be able to help design a program for you using additional or other equipment. Even long walks involving substantial changes in elevation are a huge improvement over doing nothing.
Now get out there and have fun and come home safely.
