Wade fishing up or down river is an often-asked question that’s fraught with challenges—least of which is whether you can actually get in and out of the river without trespassing, falling on your rear, or realizing too late that “private property” signs mean exactly what they say. Beyond that, there’s the eternal question: are there fish worth your trouble in both directions? And for dry-fly purists—the ones who get twitchy at the mere thought of a fly touching water—there’s an entire debate about whether fishing downstream is a sin worthy of excommunication. Luckily, we can cast aside the dogma for a moment and wade (pun intended) into the top three pros and cons of fishing upstream or downstream, with a bit of humor to keep things afloat.
The Directional Dilemma
Before we start weighing pros and cons like we’re drafting a Supreme Court opinion, it helps to know why “direction” even matters. Fish face upstream to catch food drifting down—like tiny trout-treadmills forever running against the current. They’re not doing it for cardio; it’s simply how the river delivers lunch. Anglers, meanwhile, must decide whether to sneak up from behind (upstream), stroll casually down toward them (downstream), or take the middle ground and cast across like a confused diplomat at peace talks.
Each approach changes the whole game: your stealth, your presentation, your footing, and even your dignity. (Pro tip: dignity is the first thing to go when you slip and baptize yourself mid-cast.) Tradition says always fish upstream—but tradition also said we should wear wool underwear and smoke a pipe while doing it, so maybe a little questioning is healthy.
The Case for Fishing Upstream
Pro 1: Stealth Mode Activated
Fishing upstream is like sneaking up on someone at a buffet line—they’re focused on what’s in front of them, not who’s behind them. Trout face into the current, which means if you come from downstream, you’re effectively invisible (unless you’re wearing neon-orange waders or humming “Sweet Caroline”). Plus, sediment and bubbles drift behind you instead of toward the fish. If stealth were a superpower, this would be the invisibility cloak.
Pro 2: The Natural Drift
Casting upstream allows your fly to float downstream exactly as nature intended. Bugs don’t typically moonwalk upriver, so your imitation should follow suit. With a good upstream cast, your fly meanders naturally toward the fish, perfectly imitating that carefree “I’m just a bug minding my own business” attitude. A drag-free drift is the ultimate illusion—it tells the trout, “Don’t worry, I’m definitely not tied to a hook attached to a suspicious-looking human.”
Pro 3: Strike Detection and Control
When fishing upstream, your line moves toward you, staying tight and responsive. You can spot subtle takes—those barely perceptible hesitations that separate seasoned anglers from casual rock-skippers. It’s also easier to control where your fly goes, allowing you to fish each seam methodically. In short, upstream fishing gives you precision, stealth, and elegance… unless, of course, you trip on a submerged log and start drifting downstream yourself.
Con 1: The Gym Membership Approach
Wading against current is hard work. It’s part ballet, part CrossFit, and part slow-motion disaster film. Every step demands balance and leg strength—two things that tend to decline after a long winter of “gear-organization” (aka watching fishing videos on the couch). Upstream wading turns a calm day of fishing into a full-body workout—great for fitness, terrible for keeping beer cold.
Con 2: Limited Casting Angles
When you’re facing upstream, some casting angles get awkward fast. Try back-casting with trees behind you and you’ll quickly develop a new technique called “the willowy whip.” Even open water can get tricky as you manage mends and line slack. You’ll look like a master fly manipulator—or a confused puppeteer, depending on who’s watching.
Con 3: Fish Behind You Laugh Last
Because you’re facing upstream, you’ll often miss what’s happening behind you. Fish rising downstream are basically heckling you while you’re busy pretending to be stealthy. Turning around to cast at them risks undoing all your careful sneaking. It’s the angling equivalent of mooning your audience—sometimes effective, rarely graceful.
The Case for Fishing Downstream
Pro 1: It’s Easier on the Knees (and Ego)
Wading downstream lets the current do most of the work. You’re moving with the river, not against it, which feels a lot like coasting downhill on a bike. There’s a certain zen to it: fewer slips, less leg burn, and a better chance you’ll still be smiling when you reach the truck. For older anglers—or anyone whose joints make “snap-crackle-pop” noises before dawn—this direction is a godsend.
Pro 2: Great for Swinging Flies and Streamers
Downstream fishing shines when you’re throwing streamers or soft hackles. Casting down and across lets your fly swing naturally through current seams, imitating a minnow fleeing for its life. It’s dramatic, it’s visual, and it satisfies that primal urge to watch something chase your fly. There’s nothing subtle about it—it’s the rock concert of presentations.
Pro 3: The Scenic Tour
Fishing downstream means the river unfolds before you like a nature documentary. You see every bend, every riffle, and every heron judging your casting form. It’s also easier to plan your exit—since you’re already headed toward your parked car instead of realizing, hours later, that you’ve climbed 1,000 yards upstream and the only way back involves a heart attack.
Con 1: Hello, Fish Faces
The main problem with fishing downstream is that the fish can see you. Trout facing upstream now have front-row seats to your approach, and if they catch sight of a two-legged intruder with polarized sunglasses, they’ll vanish faster than a free beer at a guide campout. Unless you’re an expert at stealth and shadow-casting, your success rate drops dramatically.
Con 2: Awkward Fly Presentation
Dry-fly anglers often avoid downstream casts because the fly reaches the fish after the leader and line—basically announcing, “Incoming!” It’s like handing someone a fork before the meal. You can offset this by casting across current or using reach casts, but it takes finesse. Many who try end up turning their once-floating fly into a soggy submarine.
Con 3: Safety’s Sneaky Side
While downstream wading is easier on the legs, it can be more dangerous if you slip. Falling while facing downstream means you’re instantly at the mercy of the current, with your feet pointing toward whatever obstacle comes next. Wading sticks, studded boots, and humility are mandatory equipment. You’re not in control—you’re just temporarily less out of control.
Somewhere in the Middle: Across and Diagonal
Of course, not every cast or step must be a moral choice between “up” and “down.” Many anglers fish across or on a diagonal, working the river in small increments. This hybrid approach offers stealth, coverage, and some forgiveness when you inevitably mess up a mend. Casting across also keeps the dry-fly crowd from fainting at the mention of downstream fishing—it’s the diplomatic middle ground, where everyone’s fly stays (mostly) dry and pride remains intact.
The Verdict
So, should you fish upstream or downstream? The honest answer: yes. Both have their place, and the river will tell you which makes sense once you’re in it. Fast, riffly water with active fish might reward an upstream sneak; a broad tailout or deep bend might beg for a downstream swing. The smart angler adapts—and maybe laughs when things go sideways. Because they will.
When it comes down to it, direction is just one part of the equation. The bigger win is being in the river at all—whether you’re wading gracefully like a heron or flailing heroically like a Labrador after a tennis ball. The best anglers are part scientist, part poet, and part clown. They learn the rules, break them occasionally, and always remember that “fishing up or down” matters far less than “fishing often.”
In the end, whether you fish up, down, or sideways, remember: it’s not the direction that matters most—it’s that you went. The river doesn’t care if you’re a purist or a pragmatist. It just asks that you respect its flow, laugh when you lose your footing, and enjoy the timeless ritual of chasing fish in whichever direction your heart (and balance) take you.