James Garrettson and Huge Fly Fisherman Talk Fishing, Gear, and Reading Books
Fly fishing is in a strange season right now. The sport is booming, but the soul of it feels like it’s drifting. Scroll through Instagram for five minutes and you’ll see monster browns, permit, flex culture, and more “expert tips” than anyone asked for. What you rarely see is the slow, foundational, deeply human part of fly fishing — the part that actually makes it meaningful.
I sat down recently with my friend Ben Sitig (Huge Fly Fisherman) for what was supposed to be a simple chat and turned into a full-on exploration of where fly fishing is headed, what’s going wrong, and what still makes it pure. No script, no agenda, just two guides talking honestly about the sport we both love.
This is the story of that conversation — and why it matters.
Losing the Fundamentals in a Flex-First Era
One of the first things Ben and I dove into was how quickly the sport is shifting away from fundamentals. Somewhere along the line, the culture slid from “learn the sport” to “look the part.” There’s a noticeable trend of anglers skipping the slow skills — knots, reading water, subtle casting mechanics — in favor of shortcuts.
And listen, shortcuts work… until they don’t.
Today, you can watch fifteen seconds of a fly-tying TikTok and think you’re tournament-ready. Then you hit the river and realize you can’t mend, can’t cast in the wind, and don’t know why your rig keeps tangling like a bowl of spaghetti.
In the interview, I joked:
“How many people even know how to tie a nail knot anymore?”
But it’s funny because it’s true.
When you skip the groundwork, you miss the entire point of fly fishing — the process.
The Rise of the Flexidocious
The next thing we tackled was the pressure to be “impressive.” Social media has turned fly fishing into a comparison sport. If you’re not holding a 30-inch brown or flying to the Seychelles, you’re somehow “less.”
But here’s the reality:
The size of the fish has never dictated the size of the experience.
Some of the purest joy in this sport comes from tiny trout on a dry in a creek so small you could jump across it. That moment when a little fish rises, hesitates, and finally takes your fly? That’s as real as it gets.
If you want to chase clout, cool. If you just want to catch fish and feel good, even better. Fly fishing doesn’t owe your ego anything.
Euro Nymphing: A Tool, Not a Religion
Of course we talked Euro nymphing — because no fly fishing conversation in 2025 gets to skip that topic.
My stance was simple:
Euro nymphing is absolutely fishing with flies… but it’s not fly casting.
There’s no hate in that. It’s effective. It’s fun. It’s popular. Use the tool. Enjoy the tool. But let’s be honest about what it is. A lob is not a loop, and that’s okay.
Fly fishing doesn’t get better when we try to shove everything into the same category. Sometimes the sport needs clearer language, not bigger umbrellas.
Gear and Technique: The Things Guides Wish You Knew
As the conversation shifted, we got into practical technique — stuff guides see every day that could transform the average angler’s experience.
One topic we both hit hard was line control. Feathering the line with your off-hand can instantly improve your accuracy, distance, and ability to stop your cast exactly where it needs to land. It’s a tiny adjustment with a massive payoff.
We also talked about how anglers obsess over the wrong things. Fly pattern debates are fun, but the honest truth is:
Presentation beats pattern 90% of the time.
A perfect drift with a mediocre fly will always outperform a mediocre drift with a perfect fly. Especially on the San Juan River, where trout see more patterns in a week than most humans see breakfast options in a year.
And then there’s gear buying. Guides don’t buy rods for “feel.”
We buy them for warranty.
When your livelihood depends on it, fast replacements matter more than fast actions.
A Look Behind the Curtain: Real Guide Life
People have a romantic idea of guiding — early mornings, epic fish, happy clients, cold beers. And sure, those moments exist. But the truth is simpler:
Guiding is the entertainment business.
Your job is to deliver a great day, no matter what the river is doing, no matter what the weather is doing, no matter what the universe decides to throw at you. Some days you coach. Some days you hype. Some days you help someone forget the stress they came in with.
I also admitted my least favorite type of client:
The one who doesn’t want to be there.
If someone shows up miserable, it turns the boat into a vacuum. Guiding takes heart — and a willingness to learn constantly — or you burn out fast.
The San Juan Question Everyone Asks
At some point in every season, someone asks why you can’t fish out of both sides of the boat in the San Juan’s famous Texas Hole.
The answer is simple:
Traffic. Etiquette. Respect.
The flows are slow, the boats run laps, and fishing one side keeps the river from turning into a bumper-car nightmare. It’s not a law — just a way to keep everyone sane and safe.
Culture, Classics, and Things We’d Gladly Retire
We ended the conversation by talking books and bad trends.
The best fly fishing book ever written?
The Curtis Creek Manifesto.
It was true in 1976 and it’s true today.
The worst trend?
The tea-kettle tail lift — the vertical trout hold that makes fish look like a pour-over coffee device. Trout are horizontal creatures. They deserve horizontal respect.
Final Thoughts
Fly fishing isn’t broken. It’s just loud.
But beneath the noise, the same things still matter:
Clean drifts.
Thoughtful casts.
Good etiquette.
Small joys.
A willingness to learn.
Strip away the flexing and the shortcuts and fly fishing goes right back to what it’s always been — a process that rewards patience, curiosity, and slowing down long enough to appreciate a fish doing exactly what a fish does.
And if you want to see all of this come alive on the San Juan River, we’d be honored to show you. Book a day. Bring your questions. Leave the flexing at home. We’ll handle the rest.
— James Garrettson
Owner, About Trout Guide Service
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