To market fly fishing tackle is to “suspend disbelief” akin to the theatre. Orvis has debuted their “Zero G” line of fly rods and their marketing department must’ve taken the gentlemanly path through college as Sociology or Psych majors…
I may have slept through the same lecture, but wouldn’t the force applied to the rod cause the angler to go backwards into the brambles? Think Zero G and force has an an equal and opposite reaction, no?
While it may be possible to remain relatively motionless if you cast at light speed, any silicon based life forms that inhabit the dead rivers of Mars, are safe as hell.
“…so you feel your cast and know where your fly line is at all times. “
If we are going to do the “space thing” can we skip to the Force part?
Prospective owners should be aware that boron filaments are part of the weight reduction. Boron rods were introduced in the 80’s as the successor to graphite and never seemed to catch on, important to remember that Boron is a metal filament, so shelve this in a lightning storm.
I was pondering the issue of fishing ethics and managed to stumble on the PETA site for angling. Moderates have been out of fashion for a number of years, while fanaticism is on the ascendancy…
“Yet it’s a fact that all fish flesh today is contaminated with heavy metals and other toxins. In fact, fish flesh is just about the most polluted thing that humans put into their bodies. On that basis alone, Christians should not be eating it.”
Whew, thankfully I have escaped their wrath – as I’ve been called many things while fishing but “Christian” ain’t one of them. On the lighter side of this pedantic message, I should reassure PETA that 90% of fly fishermen don’t eat their catch, rather – we go fishing with the intent of slamming chemically sharpened iron through a fish’s face, winching the SOB through the water, then suffocating the creature intentionally – all while we pose smiling for the camera.
Only partially satiated by this bloodcurdling act, we toe the carcass into the underbrush so we can catch more.
“…like every other animal, some people still think of fish as swimming vegetables…”
Nothing is further from the truth, angling literature is replete with references to how smart fish are using adjectives like; wiley, cagey, and discriminating. Only the fish-fowl brand of Vegans consider fish vegetables.
Fishermen know they’re going to Hell, what’s in doubt of is whether they’re already there or not. Fearing for your immortal soul? – $16.00 is cheap penance.
Guilty. After whistling softly at some photos of the fair sex on a vendor’s site, I ran across a link to these hotties “across the pond.”
I’ve never been shy, but the idea of engaging the Duchess of Winterbotham in an in-stream singles scene was a tad chilling.
“So, Madam, do you go barbless on the first date?”
How do you deploy the conventional watering-hole pickup lines, whilst swatting mosquitoes? – and if you let her have first crack at a rising fish, are you a sexist boor?
I fear we’re woefully underequipped to round some bend and see the woman of our dreams midcurrent, despite out continual fantasy to the otherwise.
“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a hatch like this?” Should result in an icy stare, and after being largely ignored by the fish can the male angling-ego survive such a brushoff?
The story is that this inventive fellow took his family fishing and was teased unmercifully at his ineptitude. You be the judge of the result…
For the “bobber-cator” crowd, this little device may be indispensable, no more long casts with waterlogged glo-bug yarn and multiple split shot, as technology has risen to challenge with the advent of the Vilco SR ProwlerCat .
In the event of in-stream hostilities or ridicule from a fellow angler, you can easily secure a small proximity torpedo kit to the ProwlerCat, allowing you effortlessly silence your critic(s) and secure the best water for yourself.
Rocket Rod devotees now can exercise pinpoint control over lure placement. Despite its effectiveness at removing clothing from sunbathers, the Vilco Corporation does not sanction the lure for this use.
I would wait for a favorable exchange rate for this little honey, $889 US, is a tad more than I want to leave hung in a tree.
You’ve seen them and you may even have one or two under your roof; the infirm angler who’s content to sit by the fire, whose memory is spurred only by your precious single malt, and is content to scratch himself publicly.
I was heartened to find a bastion of the angling community offering to take them off your hands. With the decline in the US savings rate, old anglers have only the public dole to ensure their Golden years, now the Bass Pro Shop franchise is willing to help.
In their first public appeal for “angling artifacts” Bass Pro has emerged as the conscience of our sport, a laudable effort worthy of our continued support.
I have often wondered whether the feathers from a duck’s arse weren’t akin to bottled water; give it a fancy french name like Cul Du Canard and sell it to the pretentious rubes that lick the pages of anything Ziff Davis.
Heresy? Yep. But having been exposed to duck behavior for the better part of 40 years, neither myself nor science is convinced the preen gland is there for flotation as popularly thought. Preening, is the act of smearing oil on feathers, oil floats, so do ducks – and the common assumption is that oily duck’s arse floats like a cork. But does it?
Most fowl feathers are exposed to a cleansing process that removes and sterilizes the feathers prior to commercial resale. How much of that precious oil remains in the feathers has never been examined – likely it’s damn little, as the feathers are dry to the touch.
A scientific work on the the Uropygial gland of birds suggests there is an uncertain relationship between gland function and flotation:
“On the other hand, birds living in aquatic environments not always have a more developed gland than non-aquatic birds … The role could be more complex than a feather waterproofing function.”
As such, are we paying bottled water prices for a run-of-the-mill feather whose floatation qualities largely lie in its surface tension? Facts make this assertion plausible.
A study by the British Royal Society of Science suggests that the preen gland in sandpipers changes its secretion during the mating season, and is in part used to “sign” the nest. Similar to what your dog does to your carpet when his backside itches, only more photogenic.
In addition to the price of gasoline going up, fly tyers can expect an increase in the cost of chicken feathers. Ethanol production has boosted the price of chicken feed and corn products measurably, now the Intel Corporation has designs on your hackles.
Plastics research suggests that waste feathers (hen necks, marabou, etc) can also be used to generated new stronger forms of plastic polymers, and printed circuits.
The good news is that flytiers that lick their fingers are no longer are at risk for Mad Cow Disease.
Granted that I only completed college, but I’ve seen every Star Trek episode twice, so I know physics.
Sage Rod Company has introduced the “Z Plane” series of graphite rods, and a quick perusal of their site brings thoughts unbidden; the X axis is horizontal, the Y axis is vertical, therefore the Z axis has to be the wobble induced by an unbalanced body in orbit near your head.
So I went to the Internet for confirmation and “Google’d” a surprising confirmation; a scholarly work entitled, “A General Definition of Ring Puckering Coordinates.” Not all of this tome lends itself to layman’s translation but an abridged version suggests – an unstable sharp object in subsonic flight, enhanced by a “wobble” in the Z-Axis, would cause my “ring” to pucker uncontrollably.
Methinks the advertising geniuses at Sage have to learn from the Cocaine energy drink flap, they can expect a call from both WalMart and Ralph Nader.
For them as don’t know, the stalwart lads from the USA that participated in the 27th Annual Fly Fishing World Championships finished sixth overall, a pleasant uptick from years past, with teams from 22 countries participating.
It’s obvious what’s needed, armed with all that tackle, talent, and verve, conspicuously absent was the lack of any nicknames for our guys. This is professional sports dammit, there has to be a guy named “Tank” or “Booger” in order for any team to be taken seriously!
Imitation of the Eurotrash contingent puts us years behind, and as they’ll testify, our only real contribution to Western Culture has been boorish manners and Sourmash whiskey. It’s time we give his Lordship a wakeup call, as this is a multi-venue, multi-day event, there is ample opportunity for Boom boxes, beercans, and a few thrown elbows.
We’ll see how the French do when their fillings start to rattle…