Author Archives: KBarton10

After 150 miles and 40 outings, I’m still well heeled

Shows signs of all the hiking, the heel lugs are starting to wear down It’s always easier to wax eloquent when the gear is new, but what happens after six months of heavy usage?

I figured to follow up on my September post on the Hodgeman Wadewell II hip waders, as I finally managed to poke a small hole in them. Calling them “waders” is almost a misnomer, as they’ve really served as an aquatic hiking boot.

That’s exceptional considering the miles I have on them – wearing little more than standard socks. I’d guess eight or nine miles of fishing and walking would have something rubbing on something tender, but that hasn’t happened.

They’re the most comfortable and best fitting cleat foot boot I’ve worn, and I’d be hard pressed to repeat that performance in full neoprene waders and traditional wading shoes. The lack of seams in the foot area is likely the reason, coupled with a nicely molded and supportive interior.

Lots of wear on the inside from all that walking The light Gore-tex uppers sprung a small leak last week on the Little Stinking. It may have been part of the scramble for cover on the prior adventure, as it was in an unlikely place on the back of the leg near the knee.

That could be a polite way of saying, “my backcast dropped a tad too much.” – but with my propensity to impale myself, I’d be bragging about it.

Plenty of interior wear to show for them miles, both the heel and arch areas have the liner scraped off. I’m content with the damage as I’ve athletic shoes that show far worse.

No visible signs of chemical contamination from the heavy metal, Selenium laced water of my home creek. I wondered whether I might see some degradation associated with all the warning signs posted about the fish. Nothing so far.

I figure nearly 40 trips and 150 miles of hiking equates to a couple of years for the average angler. I’m most pleased with the $45.00 investment.

Use the frontal lobe, Luke

It’s like realizing the President of the United States is standing next to you – as you struggle to pull your hands out of your pockets to shake his hand, the suddenness of it all disengages your frontal lobe..

When you wake up in jail, and they remove the Secret Service arsenal from your various orifices – you realize what you did wasn’t such a good idea, and you didn’t vote for him anyway’s.

Having them hands in plain sight would have been a better opening move…

Meat eating engine, let's risk our fingers shall we?

That’s not the rubber prop from “Jaws” – that’s the real deal, a massive meat eating engine chummed to the boat with blood bait.

That scientist has forgotten all about Shark vision and how with eyes mounted on the sides, they’ll strike sideways – as they have poor vision to the front. A couple of fingers wiggling in the periphery, and he’s a statistic.

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Trout and vision in the Ultraviolet, Overmywaders.com

What the fish sees Reed Curry at Overmywaders.com is writing a multipart series on trout vision and how the ultraviolet spectrum may affect the appearance of both real and artificial mayflies.

I’m a self confessed science buff – but still consider this a must read for any fly tier that labors over an exacting imitation:

The materials we commonly use in our mayfly imitations – furs and feathers – do not provide a UV key, the all-important “trigger”, which tells the wary trout that the fly drifting above him is real. Given the choice of taking a fly which has no UVA signature (our artificial) or the natural insect that glows in a certain banding, the trout’s instinct is to sip the natural drifting inches away rather than our artfully created, but unmarked, imitation.

Parts 1 & 2 are available already, and like all of Reed’s efforts, hold great promise for what’s coming. I’m a huge fan of his prose, and unlike myself – he thinks before committing pen to paper.

I figure if we all pile on, he’ll write faster…

At 65 it was your Doctor that said "Let it Be"

Fur Protesters That just ain’t fair, they get McCartney and I get the Hulkster?

McCartney, 65, posed for a photograph for the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) organization accompanied by the words: “I am Paul McCartney and I am a vegetarian”. It also features the quote: “Many years ago, I was fishing, and as I was reeling in the poor fish, I realized, ‘I am killing him — all for the passing pleasure it brings me.’

Jesus, Paul – but did you ever contemplate the impact of hearing “Say Say Say” twice in an hour, on grainy AM radio?

It comes with being an “A-Lister” – the national podium wherein no sound byte is ever discarded, and a “cause celebre” is required to expose your social conscience, after lining your pockets with coin from  commoners. We expect it nowadays, some esoteric cause swathed in flash bulbs, Rolex’s, and toy poodles – destined to make us choke on our porridge.

I wouldn’t resent it so much if he had his catharsis over a lamb chop..

The closest I got to a celebrity was guiding Clint Eastwood’s mom on Fall River. Clint owned the old Crosby Ranch on Rising River, and I had to ask – “Mizz Eastwood, how come you’re fishing here, Clint has all the good stuff under armed guard!”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t let me fish there,” was her response. I found out shortly that Clint was smarter than me, as I’m trying to pry fish out of her grip to release them, and she’s trying to kill them with a pipe wrench.

Nothing wrong with quirks, Lord knows I have my share..

Perhaps the right mix of fashion and utility?

ubershades Sunglasses are one of those items I remember just after a gust of wind brings the weighted 2/0 Muddler on a collision course for my nose. I wear them, but at this late stage of my physical decline, the glasses that let me see the fly take precedence.

For the angling fashionista, sunglasses are a way to leave $500 on the roof of a car, and determines your place among the preening dilettantes at the parking area.

I’d call it an “angling pocket protector” as it’s liable to make you a source of envy and ensure you’re banned from any Apres-fishing social scene.

Hell no it’s not useful, and might ensure you float head down in your waders, but imagine the raw power that comes of knowing you could replace a timing chain or perform dental surgery while wading.

Heady stuff, you let me know how them “rose tinted glasses” make out..

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If the Medicine chest is that available, I’ll go with the midwife or shaman – I seen what Princeton can do

Bottled water done it I go to the doctor with assorted ailments and he prescribes I eat a carp a day and call him in the morning?

It’s a familiar theme that we touched on before – but as more evidence appears in the press, we might want to cut the big drug companies out of the mix – carp is a lot cheaper than prescription meds..

“Lake Mead is a fortuitous worst-case scenario” for study, said environmental toxicologist Greg Moller, holding a bottle of Lake Mead water he planned to take back to his lab at the University of Idaho. “You’ve got the wastewater, you’ve got the documented impact on wildlife, and you have drinking water uptake.”

What’s new in this topic is some of the effects not yet attributed to trace drugs in the water supply. Much of the focus has been on the larger critters, fish and humans, now they’re discovering that some of the building blocks of a healthy ecosystem are at risk.

Tiny zooplankton, another sentinel species, died off in the lab when they were exposed to extremely small amounts of a common drug used to treat humans suffering from internal worms and other digesting parasites.

No mention of us being targeted as a source of pharmaceuticals, but it’s only a matter of time before trace amounts of fly floatant or desiccant are found in “Catch and Release” water – we’ll have to take our turn in the docket just like the rest of the crowd.

Lake Mead is apparently the poster child for research; it has all kinds of fish to test for effects of human drug waste, but the really tasty part is that it’s the water supply for Las Vegas and the seven states south. The article suggests that outflow of water treatment plants, and the intake of water for citizens may be close together.  Because Lake Mead is only half full and shrinking continues (drought, etc) repositioning pumps is years of work and many millions of dollars.

Antidepressants are mentioned frequently – they might be “longer lived” in water – therefore more virulent. I can’t say that the casino owners would be shedding many tears – why wouldn’t I want my guests hopped up on how good they feel (as I lighten their wallets).

As a fisherman I have to agree, all I ask is that big arsed triploid get a gob full of antidepressants just as my Clouser minnow ambles by..

You may want to airbrush out the fish hook if you’re determined to prove your point

Name it and achieve immortality How’s your entomology? The 50 million year old mayfly likely needs to be keyed to genus and species.

..or you can take the shortcut, and hope no one notices you might have bent the rules a bit..

An Islamic text entitled “The Atlas of Creation” has created quite a stir, it purports to show Darwinism doesn’t exist – assisted by fossil evidence in amber to prove the point.

The only problem is that little nameless caddis fly, not the one preserved in amber, it’s the “live” one next to it … the one that hasn’t changed in all them millions of years.

My what a big hook you have

I’d say there were red faces aplenty – especially with that big old hook there for the scientific community to pounce on.

Come to think of it, that hook does look old…

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I think I’ll save my "boutique" experience for a venue with less strife

Mr. Slazinger and aidesI found an old Fish and Fly article that outlines some golf-fishing synergy, initially I was thinking an “olive branch” extended to the lads at work, but after thinking it through I’m not sure that this isn’t the resort from Hell.

“…our own lake at Sagebrush doubles as our irrigation reservoir and private trout lake and is stocked with Rainbow. These are Triploid Rainbow which means they are non reproductive and therefore spend their days eating and growing.”

The first thing to mind is the nightly brawl that occurs at the bar, as only fishermen are more opinionated than golfers, mix the two together for a volatile cocktail hour. It would be like Marines walking into an Air Force bar, and assuming most are passionate about both sports, shifting allegiances and piling on would be commonplace.

To raise the capital to fund the club, he is selling 40 shares in the club for $200,000 a piece. From there, there will be annual memberships sold. These members will become part of the “Posse” Zokol?s nod to Redtail?s “Round Table.”

My guess is they pass out armbands at the front desk, red for fishermen and blue for golfers, and both are reversible. It helps to know who you’re throwing the chair at…

Large trout sipping mayflies near the dock, you’re inching forward with rod low to avoid detection, and Mr. Slasinger strides to the tee and slices his ball into the feeding fish – not once, but three or four times. The golf cart broadsides to a stop in the wet grass, and Himself steps from the cart, insisting you recover his lucky Titleist – as you’re the only fellow in waders..

I’d interrupt his “toddy” later, and with great enthusiasm.

I’m sure the Course Marshal would be distraught at the slow play of my foursome, what with my bag containing, woods, irons, and graphites. All it would take is a couple feeding fish to have me selecting the #5 graphite from the golf bag.

Triploid fish would likely respond well to a golf ball with a couple of treble hooks attached, to save space I’d put them in play – likely I wouldn’t have to number them, I’d just ask the bystander hopping around with both hands on his arse whether he’d seen my ball.

…but what to yell when casting is the real conundrum, golfers are obliged to yell “Fore” – and us fisherman are likely to counter with something witty, I’m thinking “Ten” – homage to the traditional 10:00 – 2:00 casting stroke, but mainly as it’s two and half times better’n fore.

We’ll settle this at the bar.

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I can’t remember if Simm’s makes Kevlar fishing vests

This is what I need I managed to sneak up to the lake for some additional recon, taking advantage of the lack of wind to get a better feel for what’s offered. I took the hip boots with me so I could wander around without regard for mud and marsh.

In the Central Valley, March is traditionally the month where the Bass start heading for the shallows to spawn. Timing varies widely but it appears I’m still much too early. 

One boat and two campers were the only folks present, but the muddy water persists despite the lack of wind, and no fish activity of any kind. I wandered up the creek channel and couldn’t find any weeds or bug life. I wasn’t expecting to find anything as this part of the creek would be buried in the lake if it were full.

The boat anglers gave up at 10AM, I stuck it out for a couple more hours until the breeze started. I had found a nice log to perch on in the clean water at the creek and was flinging streamers in all directions. I heard the report of a gunshot, and a bullet rips into the water about 20 feet away.

I bet your High School is scared to death

I take cover behind a log and wait for the clip to empty, some dumb arsed kid is firing at the trees in the water, and hasn’t seen the human in their midst. That’s the problem with the “Quiet Sport” we don’t have some monstrous V-8 to announce ourselves properly.

I’m counting the reports, 5-6-7 .. bullets are thudding into the trees on my left, I know it’s an automatic not a wheel gun, 8-9-10-11, he should be dry*, and edge out past shelter to see the kid fiddling with his next clip. I announce my presence and the kid takes off like a scared rabbit.

Maybe it’s what I said, as I quoted Han Solo, “.. good against trees is one thing kid, good against the living, is quite another..”

* California restricts clips on pistols to a max capacity of 10, plus “one in the pipe.”

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Which C-Lister do we want as our spokesman?

Hulkamaniacs do Bass, Baby You can enjoy your pristine wilderness-kinda experience, then wonder why your congressman boots you out of his office, despite amusing his secretary with fish costumes and chants about indiscriminate water bottle use.

Money and “C” list celebrities are the new Tammany Hall mob, a lethal combination of pandering and getting the message across; it doesn’t matter whether you get the autograph or not, it’s the soundbite that counts.

Today, FLW Fantasy Fishing(TM) awarded the first of seven historic fantasy sport prizes: $100,000 to Christopher Toring of Minneapolis, Minnesota. With the groundbreaking announcement of FLW Fantasy Fishing and the largest fantasy sports payout ever, including $7.3 million in cash and prizes, the excitement and anticipation has kept participants and fans on the edge of their seats and eager to become $100,000 richer — just by playing FLW Fantasy Fishing.

I figure the entire fly fishing industry has a combined advertising budget of less than $7.3 million, the amount the fantasy fishing game is giving away.

But wait, there’s more…

Hulk Hogan just signed as the spokesman for the contest, can the reality show be far behind? Nothing like a canny marketing juggernaut to kick sand in our sandwich – I have to applaud, they know their demographic, and are destined for something astraddle the evening news.

Don’t despair, Ted Nugent still fishes, and I think Mr. T is available.