Monthly Archives: November 2007

Don’t Bogart the Weed’Ez, don’t leave it adrift either

Tough Choice I can’t decide whether it’s chumming or littering, I guess I’ll leave it up to you.

“Weed’Ez” is artificial weed cover for fishermen. Plunk it into the water, and create your own navigational hazard. For merely $19.99 you can foul the propellers of your fellow fishermen, transport unwanted parasites to pristine waterways, and then get pissed and abandon it after you snag it repeatedly.

Each Weed’Ez pack includes four individual 60-inch plant clusters, which consist of three attached “stalks.” A float on top of each Weed’Ez keeps it floating upright, while a clip at the base lets the user attach a sinker for keeping the artificial plant anchored to bottom. Constructed of a tough synthetic material that won’t absorb water, Weed’Ez are tear resistant, even in the icy conditions of winter. When not in use, Weed’Ez fold up and fit into an included mesh storage bag, not much larger than a paperback novel, and light as a feather. Retailing for $19.99, Weed’Ez are portable and affordable fish attractors.

A perfect stocking stuffer for that hard to please fisherman. Remember that sound carries a great distance over water, and your trip will be shortened if you yell at your pal, “Dude, You need more Weed? I brought a ton with me..”

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I can’t seem to shake the lyrics from "Georgia on my mind" – wonder why?

Yes, it’s a hauntingly beautiful song that does Ray Charles homage, but I was thinking more the drought angle, if you think the Georgia-Florida-Alabama spat over water was interesting, California may eclipse it fairly quickly.

For the last month we’ve watched thousands of Southern California mansions vanish in a puff of smoke; these are the same folks whose taps will be running dry based on the below:

On Monday, the state Department of Water Resources told the water agencies that serve two-thirds of Californians that they can expect just 25 percent of their normal allocations next year, down from 60 percent this year. Several cities in Southern California have declared water emergencies. The fire danger remains high, as this week’s Malibu fire underscores. Within a few days, a judge’s order that curtails water deliveries to the San Joaquin Valley and Southern California from the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta to save endangered fish will take effect.

A lot of wealthy, media savvy citizens will be hit with a double dilemma, not enough to drink, and what little that’s left may be needed to douse the flames of next summer. We can expect significant coverage, as these are the moguls of Hollywood, with ready access to actors and the media.

It’s not unexpected, most of Southern California is reclaimed desert, and the cost of maintaining all those swimming pools and acres of lush lawn is about to come due.

Northern California is sparsely populated in comparison, so whatever SoCal wants, SoCal gets – it’s not even close. Naturally the “Governator” will respond promptly, but dams takes years to build, as do Peripheral Canals. I’ll expect many billions in hasty legislation this year, accompanied by little planning and even less environmental impact studies.

Remember, it’s a marathon, not a sprint…hang in there.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Thls_tMuFkc[/youtube]

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Guilt coupled with John Wayne makes for a fearsome sandwich

Hisself needs no commentary A lethal combination of work related interruptions and procrastination strained my credibility, and I was making good on promises this weekend by cranking some flies for past favors. On rare occasion a tier has no idea what his pals use, nor what they like, and has free license to tie an assortment that he knows are “guaranteed death” for anything with fins.

The “Guarantee” part is always subjective, and usually lasts six seconds out the doorway, or six feet past the driveway – but anglers never read the fine print, so we don’t get called on it much.

I figured five nymph patterns would be a good baseline to cover the Lion’s share of anything encountered in freshwater, ditto for dry flies. Looking at my own flybox that seemed consistent with my own habits.

I needed “Top Gun” – the best of the best, the five patterns that would catch freshwater fish anywhere the angler found himself, and as I’m mulling over  favorites, the TV blares suddenly with the Saturday Matinee; John Wayne, hisself, in “The Searchers.”

I’m staring at the flies in my palm, and the mental light bulb goes off, that’s exactly what I’m looking for, the five patterns that resemble everything, and imitate nothing, the Searchers.

My list: (California, trout as principle species)

AP Black – Andre Puyan’s Black nymph, you may know it as the “All Purpose” Black

Pheasant Tail – predominantly brownish, mayfly imitation

Gold Ribbed Hare’s Ear – predominantly grayish – mayfly (can be caddis also if tied extra scruffy)

Bird’s Nest – I use both the gray and the olive – caddis imitation

I was stumped on the last choice, as I had at least twenty candidates, but no single fly as the obvious choice. The requirements are simple, the five nymphs so good – if you tied them in 3/0 a Sailfish couldn’t resist..

The Ball’s in your court Gent’s – what’s the top five “All  Killer, No Filler” nymphs in your arsenal, and as a double bonus – the collection is owed a SingleBarbed reader, so if any consensus emerges – this stalwart fellow is going to own them.

Wipe that evil grin off your face, anything that is recognizable as an Atlantic Salmon Full Dress is not going to be tied in size 16 – not by me at least…

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The Big Payoff, it’s not fame nor money, but it’s also not "shorts and tee shirts" neither

mom I love genius when I see it, and as I see so little in my work I have to live vicariously through others. This time it’s the Daytripper blog as he surfaces the obligatory Christmas list to friends and family – not really a list, but it’s the one thing he could really use …you listening Daytripper Ma?

Christmas is coming whether we like it or not, and everyone’s Ma is arming themselves with the soap onna rope, shorts and tee shirts, cologne that smells like a service station bathroom, and all forms of fattening edibles that you’re obligated to like, no exception.

Friend Daytripper is smarter than the rest of us, as he’s announced to his family what he needs, and if it don’t show he’ll retain the moral high ground with, “..you mean you don’t read all the stuff I write?”  His Ma is doomed.

Not too late to start your own blog, save yourself while you still can…

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Will Gas prices limit your days afield?

gasoline.jpgI was listening to some financial pundits argue about the decline of the dollar, how speculation in oil prices was going to drive the price of oil past the $100 dollar mark, and how the subprime mortgage mess was going to take us all into the poor house.

Of interest to me was how the pump price of gasoline hasn’t fully reflected the slow climb in crude oil. Raw math suggests that if $3.50 per gallon is reflective of $70 per barrel crude – then $4.90 per gallon would be the true cost of $100 oil.

{democracy:2}

Always stay on the good side of the cook, especially when he ain’t served the pie yet

Sometimes I think Thanksgiving should be expressed in military terms, where “Thanksgiving+2” denotes the original dinner plus two nights of leftovers.  No one ever complains about leftover pie, but ask the gathering who wants to take some turkey home, and suddenly you’re talking to a bunch of kids standing around a broken window.

As I was the cook again this year, none could complain when I skipped the midafternoon couch orgy, and slipped out the back for some fishing. It’s the beauty of Brownlining, five minutes away – and no better place to burn that stuffing off than a brisk march upstream.

Fog and chill dominated all else, and the walk kept me heated enough to enjoy the solitude, normally I’m intent on fishing, yet I managed to hold it at arm’s length long enough to see the larger picture.

I think there’s medication for this

My favorite was the beaver afflicted by Attention Deficit Disorder, I stopped to survey his handiwork marveling that his attention span appeared shorter than a kid on a sugar binge. Clearcutting is a human trait, but this furry fellow needs some medication, as every tree and stem seemed to have a half dozen teeth marks on it, with only three eaten to completion.

It’s like the family member that presses their thumb in the bottom of the See’s candy, hoping to find the one with the cherry center. An abominable practice, but every family has one..

I managed to get a couple fish, but the fog and cold had had subdued much of the bite, and I didn’t mind as I was more intent on exercise. Fog muffled much of my travel noise, and I managed to scare up a four point buck out of the undergrowth, it’s plain he was lounging on the couch as well.

Fog on a fir branch, ain’t Nature grand?

While crossing the creek to survey the newly completed beaver dam I recovered a big barbell equipped minnow imitation likely brushed off the vest of another fly fisherman. It was a monstrous green and white concoction that was someone’s favorite bass fly.

Nice to know I have some company, we didn’t cross paths, as I spent most of my time enjoying the out of doors, knowing some other poor bastard was doing my dishes.

It’s the Cook’s Prerogative, a hint of complaint and no pie for you.

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Everyone in Hell is special, but some are more special than others

Ninja Golf Pond Bass Killer Golfers and Fisherman have a special Hell reserved; fishermen will burn everlasting because we took the worst the Devil offered and still enjoyed ourselves.  When Old Beelzebub froze us, we went ice fishing, when burnt – we slathered on sun block, and carried twice our beer ration – what’s coming we earned, as Lucifer does not take being mocked lightly.

Golfers share a similar fate, mainly because of them silly clothes. When the Devil sent the Torments they ran for the clubhouse, rather than endure and laugh in the face of impending doom, guzzled fruit drinks with umbrellas and laughed at new members net income.

It’s OK though, the ring of Hell reserved for us has all the fallen debutantes and wastrel heiress’s – golfers get the wino’s and porn freaks.

Want a little payback now, on this earthly plane?

Hammacher Schlemmer has the ultimate Ninja Poaching ensemble for fishermen denied them enormous bass on the 14th hole. A “water trap” iron with reel attached, the business end hidden from view in your golf bag, leaving no trace of your real intent. Wave each group through the hole while you “search” for your missing golf ball, they’ll think you’re a real sport, while you thump snot out of all them placid elitist bass.

If you want to take some home, that’s fine by me – the “Priest” is built right into the rod…any range marshal will be sympathetic as they count the number of “strokes” you’re penalized, just mark your score accordingly.

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That’s OK, them Eastern fellows have always been slow on the "taxation without representation" angle

What's in Your Wallet? The Magnuson-Stevens Fisheries Conservation Act included the creation of a Federal Registry of Salt Water Anglers, with nine states having to sell salt water fishing licenses for the first time.

Specifically, MSA §401(g) mandates the Secretary to implement a federal requirement for anglers and for-hire vessels to register, and to provide identification and contact information, if they fish in the EEZ, for Continental Shelf Resources beyond the EEZ or for anadromous fish in any waters. Further, the Secretary is to exempt from the federal registration requirement those anglers and vessels that are licensed or registered by a state if the state provides sufficient identification and contact information for use in
recreational surveys.

I had assumed every state required a salt water fishing license, that’s not the case. Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, and Hawaii have no such requirement, and their anglers are beginning to grumble at the prospect.

“Anadromous fish in any waters” also requires a license, which would extend the practice to stripers, salmon, steelhead, shad, and many other gamefish. The intent of the legislation is to increase the ability of the US to gather metrics on fishing and fishermen, largely to assist the Federal government to determine what’s being caught, and how many.

States that already gather this information are exempt from any new license or process, but that may spawn an uptick in the price, much remains to be seen.

The law goes into effect on January 1, 2009 – with the states required to report information thereafter. You may have something handed to you when you go renew your license for 2008.

I have no issues with any of the above, but the idea of that vast mailing list of anglers being stolen off a federal laptop has me concerned. I can handle the identity theft, it’s the SPAM I’ll get after the list is sold to the Rapala Corporation that concerns me.

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The Dawn of Angling Psychology, how a guarded response may be appropriate

Real help for declining angling skills Psychologists and I have an uneasy truce; they insist I’m unbalanced, I mention they’re on the third wife and none of their kids are speaking to them, neither of us wins, and both sides retire undeterred.

The rest of you don’t get off so easily, “angling psychology” is big business now, and the competitive fisherman needs a personal sports psychologist to hone that predation instinct. There’s no shame in treatment anymore, a cursory examination of your fly box yields precious insight into all your angling foibles, and the medical community will have you fixed up in no time.

Unbridled expressions of raw passion diminish our capacity to concentrate, focus on, and precisely execute complex tasks. At a practical level, emotional outbursts during a tournament waste valuable fishing time.

I disagree, swearing personalizes the angling experience, an amateur can waste valuable time chaining together a lucid string of profanity, whereas the professional has most of his remarks memorized, a practiced delivery allows him to focus on killing this fish, rather than everything within earshot.

Several tournament fishermen start the day by doing physical stretching exercises, a practice common in most athletic events. Top athletes in other sports also have an individualized set of mental exercises they use regularly.

The Doc is dead right, stretching exercises are important both before and after fishing; my routine stretches the speed limit to get there, a waistline-stretching orgy of salted pigflesh and eggs when close, and the post-fishing ritual of stretching the boundaries of truth and falsehood to anyone within range.

…you may see yourself as a fast-paced, intuitive fisherman. Many successful competitors are. However, a sports psychologist could help you recognize how and when you might carry these tendencies to extremes and show careless, impulsive, overly spontaneous behaviors that actually diminish effectiveness.

While intuition suggests “the rose is worn in front,”  your preference for female underwear may be the reason you only fish dry flies, daylighting this to a caring sports psychologist will free you of elitist tendencies and enrich your fishing experience. Impulsive acts can be productive, but not while wading or drinking.

I’m comfortable with my skewed view of the world, and would as soon skip the entire séance as it cuts into fishing time. When my feeble skills start to wane I’ll pay a visit to BALCO Labs and tell them Barry sent me.

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Remember Girls, the Sale starts tomorrow

These are appropriate for a guy

I’m guessing TC’s maimed finger has made him vindictive, it’s the only reason SingleBarbed is hosting the Maybelline fingernail polish ads all week.

I don’t think it’s a commentary of the kind and type of blog denizen we’re attracting, but if the population is now skewed to mostly women, I have little issue.

If the Trout Underground lightened up on the gratuitous soft porn posts, some of these nice gals would return. Pop always mentioned that, “I should feel as comfortable on the street corner as dining in the Governor’s Mansion” – and if the main event is discussion of Window treatments, so be it.

I’ll see you at the Macy’s line, say 5:00 AM?

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