Gummy Minnow Patterns, tied by Blane Chocklett

A wise person once said they never knew of anyone winning a political argument by talking about it. And so it goes with the debate over “is it a fly”. It’s pretty hard to change people’s opinions.

To some the Clouser Minnow is just a jig, others decry anything not hand-plucked from a living beast or fowl, for others anything they can cast on a fly rod meets their personal criteria—as long as it catches fish. We all have our personal biases and opinions and fair enough, it would be a boring old world if we were all fishing woolly buggers. The latest debate on whether a pattern is or isn’t a fly is revolving around the Gummy Minnow—which also happens to be one of the hottest selling patterns around. Umpqua can’t keep up with demand, and fly shops everywhere that baitfish are on the menu are selling them hand over fist. Even at $5 a pop Mike has been hard pressed to keep up supplies. But there are critics. Tightlines Flyfishers publications guru, fly Guide and good fella Ken Richards tipped a bucket on the Gummy Minnow in the latest club newsletter.

”Sure you have to assemble it, but are you tying? Why not take a plastic shad or crawfish and glue it to a hook?” he wrote. “How far are we willing to go to catch fish?”

But before I tell you why I think you can argue that it is a fly, let me say they do catch fish. Todd and I had our bacon saved by the little baitfish patterns during the January outing of the Tightlines Flyfishers to Swepco. Onboard the McLellan’s War Eagle with us was Channel 5 Outdoors, hopefully to film a segment on catching bass on fly rods and not film us falling overboard, using bad language or adding another body piercing with a 1/0 bass bug. So having spent the first hour casting our proven top water patterns for one fish—though a very nice 3-pounder captured on camera in the backlight of the Swepco Power Station—we were starting to sweat a bit. There would be some nice footage of us working the power-station warmed waters of the lake to a froth, and also some film proving what our Significant Others already knew—Todd and I aren’t a pretty sight at 6am, even with the misty backdrop. At least I was wearing a respectable fly fishing cap and not the tasseled, Mongolian yak herder’s number sported by the War Eagle’s skipper. If you happen to be on the water with Todd, you will know his penchant for peculiar headgear. In summer, we get the “Amish Flyfisher” persona with his fetching straw hat and in winter, it’s the “Yak Whisperer”. (I apologize for the diversion from the topic at hand, but your mind starts to wander some funny paths when you're not catching fish—especially when it’s going to be on the record that you're not catching fish.)

The Yak Whisperer

Then Todd spotted some fish busting near the power station outflow, helpfully right behind the guy in the bass boat who was working the white water. I had a large Crease Fly on, Todd a Gummy Minnow and you can guess who was getting hits. Lacking a Gummy Minnow myself, I took the only course of action available and while he wasn’t looking, pinched Todd’s last sample. The change worked as I managed my own three-pounder and a bunch of smaller fish, in what turned out to be a very entertaining session. The action became so fast paced that when Todd Boga-Gripped and released one bass for me (and the camera), he actually had his fly back in the water while my fly was still in his pliers at his end of the boat. Of course, he was tight to another fish before I managed to retrieve my fly.

Although it did take us a while to make the mental connection, we did call in the remainder of the Tightlines crew to the hotspot via radio. Funnily enough, the rods with the only two gummy minnows on the whole lake were being bent a lot more often than those without them.

Todd Moncrief casting on a cold January morning at Swepco

Now certainly the gummy minnow worked, but I hesitate to say it was the only thing that would have caught those bass. I’ve seen enough instances when one of two fly fishers, both on the same patterns standing next to each other, finishes up with all the fish to know that retrieves can make all the difference. But after an outing like that, you can’t help but find some affection for the Gummy Minnow.

As promising as the fly looks in the shop, in the water it is even sexier, with a lovely slow sink rate, a fluttering action and the right amount of flash, and you can work them fast or slow, on a sinker or a floating line.

So, what is the Gummy Minnow? Well the Gummy Minnow is crafted, assembled or tied, with Sili Skin, (in stock in McLellan’s) a soft silicone-feeling material, adhesive backed on one side and developed for a fly to answer the soft plastics used by plug chuckers.

Simply, you wrap a lead underbody for weight, and then build up a baitfish shape with successively longer lengths of the Sili Skin. For the Gummy Minnow, the progression involves 3 layers, first silver, then a darker back color. Add eyes, then a clear top layer and trim to shape. While the tying instructions (available in store) do mention tying down the front of the Sili Skin, most of those I have seen don’t feature this step. But while thread may not be necessary, to my biased mind at least, using Sili Skin is a fair bit more complicated, and requires more skill than gluing a plastic crawfish to the hook. You determine the shape and finished look of the fly by the way you assemble and cut your materials.

But make up your own mind whether you want to fish it or not. I did on Swepco.

Todd responds:

Steve-- I assume the headgear you're wearing in this photo is "respectable"?

Oh-- and yes, the Gummy Minnow rocks!