You need not be a great, or even a particularly good fly caster to catch macks. If you can flop your streamer 20 feet from the boat—without impaling yourself or others—you will hook mackerel. But you can’t be a total doofus about it. I’ve got some pointers that will get you on your way.

Fly fisher and jigger compare macks. Troll jigs to find fish before breaking out fly rods.

First, leave your Sunday duds in the drawer. You should never wear a $60 vented, moisture-wicking, technical fishing shirt, or fancy, white boat shoes to the mackerel grounds. Save that garb for dock parties and fly club meetings. Blood and chum and all things excremental in nature are all part of a hot mackerel bite, none of which comes out too well in the wash. And don’t run out and deplete your bank account to buy top-of-the-line fly tackle. Any budget brand fly rod in the 6- to 9-weight class fits the bill. Light rods are fun, but keep in mind there are times when heavily weighted flies and sinking lines are the ticket, the wind may be up, and casting with “toy” rods can turn into work. I know a few guys who get a hoot out of using 5-weights and even lighter wands for mackerel, but fight the urge if you are just getting into this. I fish with a 7-weight primarily, but will pick up an 8-weight when the macks are big and only light up for chunky streamers. I reserve my 6-weight for smallish macks rioting for smallish flies.

You can catch mackerel with floating fly lines. In fact, when the fish are boiling on bait at the surface, I highly recommend that you get a popper into the school as quickly as you can. Big Spanish in particular will skyrocket on a hard-chugging popper, and it’s a blast to see a pack of fish fighting over the thing. A floating line is also fine for streamers, but my bread-and-butter lines include a clear intermediate or a medium-rate sinking line. I normally have an outfit rigged and ready with each. With a sinking line, you can fish a fly below any floating grass, and under a healthy chop, and you’ll get the goods to macks that sulk a little deeper some days. Sometimes it seems the biggest Spanish stay well off the transom and a bit deeper than smaller fish in the pack. And if need be, you can still strip your fly along the top before the line has a chance to sink. It’s simply more versatile than a floater. Plus it casts better in a headwind or crosswind.

Chumming is the standard drill though not always necessary. Along many beaches, you simply look for bait pods. Feeding macks are obvious, and diving birds will tip you off to fish for quite a distance. I’ve talked to fly fishers in the Panhandle and those who fish Gulf passes and Atlantic inlets who report that they never bother hanging a chum bag. They strictly fish the birds or bait schools. Though macks are movers and shakers, there are hotspots where Spanish park for months.

For the consummate example of Mackerel Central, Peck Lake (named after a portion of the Intracoastal Waterway at Hobe Sound) is a series of trenches and reefs mere yards from the beach between St. Lucie and Jupiter inlets. From roughly November through April, it is chockablock with fish. It’s a wild scene on weekends, with a flotilla of recreational anglers in boats of every description, and there is also an armada of commercial cast netters that work 24 hours a day. You can go there, shut down the outboard, unrack a fly rod, cast and catch fish. Rather than play bumper boats, however, some fly fishers opt to anchor out on the perimeter of the fleet and hang a block of blood chum, or toss out occasional handfuls of glass minnows.

When I fish Florida Bay, I chum because it is not common to see birds working the schools. In a pinch you can run on plane and look for baitfish concentrations. Baby ballyhoo skipping ahead of my boat have clued me into lots of fish, and I’ve relied on my nose as well. I’ve run along and caught “a fishy whiff,” shut down and caught macks immediately without chumming. But to be on the safe side, I bring a homemade concoction of rolled oats, cheap cat food and menhaden oil. I call this cereal from hell “Gross Toasties” and you’ll get my drift if a dollop ever gets into your tackle bag, dry storage hatch or pocket of that fancy flats fishing shirt. Just bring the ingredients and mix ’em up with sea water in a 5-gallon bucket. Then I just flip a ladleful of the slop overboard from time to time.