How to tie the Clinch Knot?

Use case: tippet to fly

You ever have one of those days where the fish are rising like crazy, but your knots keep failing? Yeah, me too. I remember this one time on the Madison—gorgeous evening, golden light bouncing off the water, and I’m losing flies left and right because I couldn’t tie a decent clinch knot to save my life. That’s when this grizzled old guy, looked like he’d been carved out of driftwood, sidles up and says, "Kid, you’re twisting it wrong." Changed my whole game right there.

So, the clinch knot. It’s one of those things that seems simple until you’re fumbling with cold fingers and a fish is laughing at you from the depths. Here’s how I do it now, after years of trial and error (and losing more flies than I care to admit). Thread the tippet through the eye of the fly—easy, right? But here’s where folks mess up. You gotta leave enough tag end to work with, y’know? Like, six inches or so. Then wrap that tag around the standing line five or six times. Not too tight, not too loose—just enough so it holds when you pull it.

Now, this is the part that got me for years. You take that tag end and poke it back through the little loop you made right above the fly’s eye. But here’s the kicker—don’t just shove it through any old way. You gotta go back the same direction the line came from, or the darn thing will slip. Learned that the hard way with a monster brown trout that snapped me off like I was using dental floss.

Then, lick the knot. Sounds weird, but spit’s your friend here—lubricates it so the coils slide snug when you pull it tight. And pull slow, not like you’re trying to start a lawnmower. Once it’s seated, trim the tag, but leave a smidge. Nothing worse than cutting it too close and watching your fly sail into the sunset.

Funny thing is, I still mess it up sometimes. Last summer, I was fishing the Bighorn, and my hands were so numb from the wind I tied what I thought was a perfect clinch knot—only to watch my fly plop into the water and the tippet spring back like a slingshot. Turns out I’d missed the loop entirely. My buddy just shook his head and handed me a beer.

But when it works? Man, there’s nothing like it. That little knot’s held onto some of the best fish of my life. And every time I tie it now, I think about that old guy on the Madison, how he didn’t just show me—he let me figure it out, with just enough guidance to keep me from giving up. That’s the thing about fishing, isn’t it? It’s not just about the knots or the flies. It’s about the stories that stick with you, long after the line’s been cut.