One hard fact about fly-casting I like to convey to those who are relatively new to the sport is that the line never lies. Unlike sports that are judged based on the merits of a performance, such as figure skating or diving, fly-casting is more akin to activities like target shooting, archery and golf, in which the outcome is determined by reference to a clearly defined set of objective criteria.
Judgments regarding how far the line travels, if it hooked to the right or left, how close to the target the fly landed and whether the fly and leader turned over at the peak of the forward cast are fairly straightforward. For determining the last, precise measurement may require some sophisticated tools, but even an untrained eye can see the difference between a tangled heap at the end of the line and a cast that lands the fly unencumbered on the water with a straightened leader and fly line trailing behind.
It may be gratifying to earn the approval of others when you do things right, but you don't need a second party to tell you whether you executed a good cast. The proof is in the line. Whatever the outcome of the cast, be it long, short, straight or curved, it's the line that tells the story. Regardless if you are a rank beginner just trying to learn the fundamentals or a longtime participant who wants to hone your technique, the action of the line is key to analyzing the weak areas of the cast.
The All-Important Loop
A critical indicator of how well you are casting is the loop formed in the fly line. The lingo used to describe the line's flight through the air varies (e.g., shoots, rockets, launches, etc.), but no matter how you say it, the line's movement away from the rod tip is in the form of an unrolling loop. Think about how a tank moves - the top tread travels faster than the bottom tread, which is essentially what is happening in a fly cast. As Lefty Kreh is fond of saying, "You don't cast a fly line; you unroll it away from, or back to, the target."
Here again, at least with casts that tend toward the extremes of effectiveness, it doesn't take a trained observer to judge how successful the effort was. A big, fat, wide loop simply doesn't look good. It's not aerodynamic, it doesn't travel efficiently, and often the angler making the cast looks like he's working way too hard for the end result. Conversely, a narrow loop with parallel halves that are close to one another, with a pointed, arrow-shaped nose, moves in a much more streamlined path. It will normally travel farther and faster and be appealing to most people's aesthetic sense. Simon Gawesworth, one of the world's most renowned casters, with both single- and double-handed rods, goes so far as to characterize narrow loops as sexy. Tight loops, or perfect loops, as they are referred to, is what all fly-casters seek. You might say these are their holy grail. These are the ones photographed for and illustrated in fly-fishing books, magazines and brochures. Some of my casting-fanatic friends sign off their e-mails and letters with "tight loops," and achieving these is the objective all casting instructors make us strive for. However, as I'll point out at the end of this piece, tight loops are not always the answer to what you're trying to accomplish.