Those of you who’ve resisted the Spey phenomenon and are looking for that first rod or subtle nudge to tip you over the precipice, avert your eyes - quickly…

The Loop Rod Company (of Sweden) is one of many rod companies blowing their excess inventory onto eBay, no subterfuge in all of this as they’re actively marketing rod sales via this outlet.

What drew my attention is the Loop Adventure Spey Rod, 13′ 2″, 3 piece, for an AFTMA #9 line. The price is $119, with 154 of them available.

I can’t resist a really good price - and those that are dangling on the edge - unsure of whether the style is suitable for their fishing, and don’t wish to make a multi-thousand dollar commitment - this may be a good way to get your toe in the water.

The rods are mailed directly from the Loop factory in Sweden, and the postage will run you about $30, so the total outlay will be about $150.

I’m sure there are plenty of rods better, this is an overstock of a discontinued model and the price suggests it may be worthy of a second look - something you can smuggle onto your credit card without too much guilt.

Tawdry is part of our nature, I suppose it’s because most of last year’s fashion hangs in tree limbs at the high water mark. Trout are supposed to flop out of a snagged rubber boot - yet the updated version prefers stressed Levi’s to cast off vinyl.

Click the above for a subliminal message from Mr. Trout, hisself.

We suspected that wild fish were growing restless, what with all the attention thrown at their coarse cousins in brown water. A steady diet of dry flies quartered upstream is apparently losing it’s appeal. Too much “extended pinkie” to suit wild fish, they all want to go Brownline - where the creative types congregate amid rusting cars and old lawn furniture.

A desperate cry from the clean water, wild fish want out, so the hatchery trash may inherit.

I had no idea female hormones and heavy metal could be so damn compelling.

Thanks, Steve.

If you think Chandler and I are up for this, think again …

I’m sure most of you snickered when I mentioned toasting the lads at work with your prowess afield, naturally you’re waist deep in water - and their waist deep in something else - when the Boss peers over their shoulder.

All those electronic gadgets are here - just a question of who you want to delivery the photo to - and what caption will best get their goat.

Two ghillies on the River Tay are already online, posting daily updates of the water, fishing, and including a photo of every fish caught that day. Enough real-time intel to keep some hopeful fellow glued to the screen as his fishing reservation approaches.

It’s also a double edged sword, if someone says “you should of been here last week” - you can look it up and call them a liar on the spot.

Jock Monteith’s blog, Speycasting is a great way to drive interest, and migratory fish being as fickle as they are - a sudden flurry of catching would likely enhance bookings. I can’t see it as anything less than a boon to both guide and client.

Then again, driving your cubicle mates batty over that really enormous brown would be worthwhile also - they don’t have to know it was the lad next to you that caught it, and you offered a sawbuck to hold it …

Collaboration is always a touchy business and the idea of the Trout Underground and Singlebarbed alternately fishing and hunched over a laptop is unsettling.

Why? Trout fishermen lie about the size of their fish, where brownliners only lie to law enforcement…

“Nice fish Tom, he’d go, what - nearly 11 inches?”

“No, don’t use metrics, on my fish use superlatives. A ‘Penultimate specimen’ sounds bigger, see - trout aren’t slimy, they glisten, the sky isn’t blue, it’s azure - imbue the reader with the entire experience!”

“Oh, OK - how do you spell penultimate?

” s-e-v-e-n-t-e-e-n   i-n-c-h-e-s, the ’s’ is capitalized…

Throwing away both parties and starting anew may be the answer, what with the dismal offerings we’ve seen in past elections - whose debate may only be who slept, or didn’t sleep, with whom.

The Fishing for Words blog has a short piece to assist you in the forthcoming election, and we may be able to ignore the traditional schlock in favor of who fishes for what and how.

McCain may be a brownliner and Obama an independent with blueline aspirations, based on the featured quotes. Age aside, what may bring Sarah Palin into the picture is how toxic the effluent McCain is wading through.

A hardened Brownliner may be what we need - I’ll withhold my vote until I see what his gear looks like - and what patterns he fishes, as I’ve been sucked in more than a few times by publicity stills.

The last legitimate brownline candidate was Jimmy Carter, wading through his pond with a landing net, the direct method, eschewing all that expensive tackle - and it’s likely the Secret Service had to keep an eye on Bother Billy - who was known to light a stick of “really direct method.”

Our symbol would have to be the goat, only because they float so nicely, like one of those bloated beach seals - only hairier.

Fish and Fly is assisting the launch of www.speycast.co.uk, a web site dedicated solely to spey casting and instruction. Founder, Eoin Fairgrieve, World Team Speycasting Champion - and Loop tackle instructor, will add to the creative mix of video, online instruction, forums, and destination information - offered by the site.

The site will be enhanced to include instruction in modern speycasting techniques, with articles and visual downloads by some of the world’s top casters and instructors.  The site will feature product reviews highlighting the latest speycasting tackle and clothing by leading manufacturers as well as an extensive database of speycasting instructors around the world. 

Spey casting and Czech nymphing are all the rage at the moment, with the print media unable to satiate the demand for information on either, the online migration was inevitable.

Something for you to peruse come your lunch break.

Yes, I’m still giggling over the “DIY” (do it yourself feature) of despair.com, source of all those spoofs of motivational posters that stare at us from waiting areas and conference rooms, the bane of corporate America. 

Don’t let me have all the fun, if you can come up with something better (which shouldn’t be that hard), share … nothing like “bearding the prophet” and slinking back into the bushes before they draw a bead on you.

At least they’ve published a guide for guys to get them on without tearing them, from the angler’s perspective - that’s a start.

Back in the day, when the defacto wader was Seal Dri’s, I remember my buddies coyly hiding behind the truck as they donned pantyhose. It was unsettling, but layers were the only thing that allowed you to stand in icy water more than 20 minutes; pantyhose, followed by thermals, then pants, then those thin latex waders.

I was lucky enough not to have to grapple with transgender, as my brother had equipped us with O’Neil neoprene drysuits.

I figure this is where them 5% of anglers we lost over the last decade went, not sure whether they’re smarter than us or merely made of sugar, but I could embrace “manscara”eyeliner and “mancake” foundation - if they had a DEET base, and an SPF of 15 or greater.

If it repelled mosquitos and protected me from the elements, with a fitting that attached to my float tube pump, so I could apply mass quantities to large fleshy sensitive areas, why wouldn’t we embrace the change?

It may alter the parking lot ritual a dab, but so long as we can skip deodorant, we’d be happy, right?

For them as are not from California, and are recoiling in terror, relax. All you have to do is swear before you say certain words..

“Bob, pass me the %$#@ corn starch, these %$#@@ pantyhose are chafing hell out of me.”

I’ve always thought the reason anglers treat aquatic insects with respect is the knowledge the winged version can’t suck blood - therefore trodding streambed was indiscriminate, without thought to repercussions.

Of all the aquatic bugs the giant stoneflies occupied that “reserved tier” among bugs; they’re easy to identify, only a little more agile than a rock when flying, and land with similar grace.

Wad a pound of anything on a fish hook and it’s a legitimate imitation, just the kind of starter fly for a novice tier - and no matter how well crafted the fish are usually receptive.

Me, I like watching one of those big brutes crawl down someone’s shirt collar midstream - and applaud the “break dancing” that follows - if the bug don’t getcha the creek surely will..

For those driven to be overly serious about their bugs, Illiesia is an online publication devoted to stonefly research and populations. It’s strictly scientific literature, but before you scream “Skwala” you may want to look again with a microscope.

Me, I’m screaming ” SWELTSA YUROK “, a new stonefly discovered this year on the Trinity and Klamath Rivers here in California. Since no one else has a pattern, I’m going to be rubbing shoulders with Izaak Walton shortly..

Hush, I’ll put in a good word for you guys ..

It’s too damn convenient a tale not to have some kind of unsavory involved. No one busts a rod without pointing fingers and wailing horribly, and the deadpan delivery aroused my suspicions:

Adding to the Extreme Fishing Situation (imagine a rock soundtrack playing under this report) was the oddly pleasant high-modulus “crack” generated when a high-end graphite rod simply snapped in half when my big, burly, sinewy, extremely manly arms attempted a hookset into a big, big brown trout.

…then there’s the ever present food reference - with the implication that downing a brace of “bacon” dogs was positively drenched in testosterone.

“[Name Redacted]” was the final straw, some shadowy figure conveniently unavailable to corroborate any of the stories posted to date, culminating in the “18 hour gap” between the last known escapade and a furtive arrival in California…

I could swear there’s a naked woman in the reflection of that trout’s eye - either that or it’s a partially dressed slaw dog. I think we’re owed an explanation ..or two…

With 109 degree temperatures outside and the smoke reducing  visibility to about two miles, it’s a wonder that anyone has a desire to go out-of-doors.

I sure don’t, and now the Mayflies hatching in my driveway want inside to lay eggs - can’t say I blame them with everything outside all the same color.

I have always been fascinated by airtanker’s doing what they do best, and Tanker 00 used to be stationed next to me when I lived in Redding, California, some years ago. This is a USFS contractor buzzing some high rent real estate in Santa Barbara, part of a 17 photo series hosted by the Boston Globe on our California fires.

Makes for some serious wallpaper for your desktop.