Author Archives: KBarton10

Just when we thought it was safe, he starts tying again

Overcome by tinker lust, never content to leave well enough alone, and creating one monstrosity after another…

Better than Scent of a thousand nitecrawlers It’s the result of more sparkly oddities than I know what to do with – with the picture at left showing one possible use for Angelina Film.

The film is what the births the fibers, I’m guessing they send it through a trimming machine to turn it into the bagged refractive fiber; it’s available in the same 20 colors as  Angelina, and has a tough opal finish that refracts light in the same fashion as a mayfly wing.

Angelina Film It arrives sheer and smooth, the trick is to crumple it up to add the appearance of wing veins. It’s delivered in sheets of 4″ wide – 10 feet long, and costs about $3.50 per bundle.

As long as the spinners are small it shouldn’t cause a “helicopter” issue, where it’s rigid enough to spin a fine leader, larger wings may be another story. It’s just one more thing I am tying up to test in some nice Blueline venue this season.

This could make the perfect “torment” fly – the one you know the other fellow lacks, and when asked what you’re using – it’s produced with a lackadaisical  yawn.

I only torment them for a minute or two, then I fork over six or seven, I’m all bluster and no bite.

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Will the real Powell please stand up

A Walton Powell bamboo rod I’ve been dabbling in background research into the eBay tackle phenomenon, noting that two or three rod companies were well represented, and others fit the traditional auction mode – someone finding some treasure while cleaning out Grandpa’s closet.

One of the companies that caught my eye was the Powell Rod Co, formerly of Chico, California. I owned a couple Powell graphite rods and had met both Walton and Press many years ago on Fall River.

It’s an old story, “old world” craftsman meets well-to-do “SugarDaddy” with a gleam in his eye, the demise of fine rod company follows.

Being neither lawyer nor investigator, I don’t know what the truth is – but an interesting story from the 2001 Chico News & Review outlines the chronology of events from the Powell perspective.

The rods on eBay explained, they’re not the Powell’s that share their lineage with E.C Powell, Walton Powell, and his son Press – they’re the new company, run by the folks that purchased the firm from Charles Schwab.

I’ve worked at a half dozen fly shops in my youth, and ownership by rich patrons always ended badly. They might share some of our passion for the sport, but the tax writeoff is equally compelling.

In Japan, skilled artisans of bygone arts are designated as national treasures, and receive a stipend so that they can teach others. Perhaps that practice would be appropriate in the US as well.

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They dubbed the fish "Saddam’s Bass"

Most of the fishing award ceremonies I’ve seen have the lucky angler dancing around the “what’s the secret” portion of his coronation. Fishermen are a closed mouthed lot, and those that do it for money are pretty tight lipped – as the color of their bait may mean a couple extra zero’s in their income.

Honesty? We’re not prepared for that – so when the winning fellow strides to the podium and announces, “A rattletrap tipped with Pizza Crust?” … it’s time to pay homage.

Soldiers often were creative with bait, Combs said. Whole bagels. Sausage. Breakfast burritos from MRE rations. Dates. The local stone-baked flatbread. Some regular fishermen prefer Froot Loops.

The first Baghdad fishing tournament was filmed for posterity by Reel Time Productions, whose staff took 300 sets of donated tackle to host the event in one of Saddam’s private lakes.

A 14lb carp proved the winning fish, but based on the smiles – it wasn’t the only winner.

For the soldiers in Iraq, fishing is “a chance to get out in the air and sit around the lake, and at that point, they could have been anywhere in the world,” Combs said. “They could have been in Ohio fishing on the banks of the river. It’s just a little bit of normalcy for them in a place that is anything but normal.”

It’s nice to see the fellows get a little break from the mayhem.

You can always rely on your own genetic material to back your play

That ain’t necessarily a compliment either, but with a gale howling outside and the promise of something never seen – it was enough to get my brother off the couch and into his waders.

The last trip had been interrupted by the pager, far enough in to think I was going to find something special, but not far enough to lay eyes on the lake, or see what might call it home.

Indian Valley Reservoir is north and east of Clear Lake, about eight miles of bumpy pavement followed by another eight of dirt. Most of the ground was working cattle ranches and decaying outbuildings, followed by a precipitous single lane climb to the crest, and a dusty descent into the valley below. It’s possible to do the road with a two wheel drive vehicle, but you’ll have plenty of white knuckle moments.

Decaying bunkhouse, typical of what lines the road in

Once in the canyon country the wind was a non issue, a good map and careful odometer readings got us through the unknown dirt intersections, and only one sign mentioned the lake and that was at the end of the pavement many miles distant..

We’re thinking “unspoiled gem” as there’s no tourist trash, no traffic on the road, no Taco Bell wrappers hung in the underbrush; I’m ready for a heady “blueline” experience, while my brother “white knuckles” the armrest and points at the creek we have to drive through.

I saw it, no worries.

Both of us have our blood up, it’s “Lewis & Clark” about to catch sight of the Pacific Ocean, it’s rediscovering King Solomon’s Mine compliments of Google Earth, it’s …. %$&@.. Dry?

Say it isn’t so, I can hear Tom Chandler laughing from here

We cracked the hermetic seal of the door in disbelief, and just before the gale emptied the truck of humans, paper maps, and tackle, we saw water. Brown water.

It’s a shallow lake and the bones of the Old Gal were exposed, the northern arm was dry, but the balance of the lake had plenty of water. The wind was driving the white caps into the bank and the water was discolored by debris and mud.

The main body of the lake was unfishable due to the wind, but we found the promise of better fishing later in the year. Large rafts of Digger Pine had been submerged when the lake was filled, leaving plenty of Bass structure for a float tuber. We found a less blustery arm and threw flies at downed timber – with the wind throwing them back as unworthy.

Plenty of Bass cover, needs a bit more water however

I had a chance to unlimber the new Orvis 8 weight, but what I was throwing wouldn’t have been called a loop, it was more like a right angle – with fly somewhere in betwixt rod tip and the water.

We found fire pits on the lake bottom proper, so we assumed we’d found the campground. No facilities of any kind, requiring you to pack in whatever is needed, a boat ramp (of sorts) was nearby, but few signs of humans other than the occasional crazed ATV rider, everyone else had more sense.

The North Fork of Cache Creek was our goal, it’s closed until the general trout season opener, but we were hoping to see monstrous fish doing lazy somersaults while flipping us the extended digit. The creek looked really good, but no fish – and the amount of expended quail ammo suggested they’d insulted the wrong group.

North Fork of Cache Creek, looks pristine from here

More campsites, suggesting the area may be frequented by bird and deer hunters during the fall. Ballistics was the main event and everything had a bullet hole in it, including the unlikely propane bottle and fire extinguisher.

Another view of Cache Creek

In short, another great adventure – and another fishless fishing trip, plenty of excuses, but it weren’t for the lack of trying.

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As half your paycheck is involved, you may want to kick the hooks and check the floatant level

Fly tiers have it a bit easier come Spring, all those rainy days allows us to address holes in the fly box – we always wait till the last minute, but the theory of “winter tying” is sound.

The rest of you will procrastinate as well, but that initial outlay of cash for flies each season is a mixture of fear and dread; fear that the spouse will see the bill, and dread that all the #18 Pale Olives are gone.

Every fly shop is a mixture of flies, typically the traditional patterns are tied overseas and the flies unique to the area are tied by staff or local talent. Like everything else, flies can be hellishly expensive, so it pays to know a little about their construction – so you can be discriminating with your hard earned, inflation damaged, dollar.

Clean and tight, testament to the skill of the tyer When examining another tier’s work I look at the head of the fly, it tells me everything I need to know about skill and degree of craftsmanship. The shape and size of the thread finish, the amount of debris trapped by the final knot are testimony to proper execution of proportion or whether he was crowded for space.

Crowding often leads to weakness in the finished fly, it’s a simple thing to check as you select from the hundreds in the bin. Too many final steps have to be tied off in too short an area – tempting the tier to use less thread to secure materials, and leading to bulbous knots that are weaker due to the buildup of thread and materials.

The material will wick cement into the eye, note crowding Head cement is thinned to water consistency, materials trapped in the finish knot will wick head cement into the eye closing it completely. It’s a personal peeve of mine – 15 minutes of light left, fish slurping all around – eyesight failing – and your last #16 Elk Hair Caddis is a glue lump, nothing makes me swear louder.

You can clean them beforehand, but we’d rather suffer than be proactive.

Flies can fall apart for dozens of reasons – most are legitimate as we bounce them off rocks on the backcast, snare them in trees on the forward cast, skitter them through debris and if blessed, subject them to rows of fine fish teeth.

A fly that shows signs of wear may even fish better than the pristine flavor, we’ve little issue with failure after 4-5 fish, and may give the tattered remnant a place of honor in a hat band.

You can test dry flies by gripping the hackle between thumb and forefinger and wiggling the fibers in any direction. The hackle opposite your grip should not move – if it does the fly won’t last long, perhaps after it’s rapped on a couple of rocks behind you or after the first fish.

Nymphs can be tied in weighted or unweighted flavors and are often not marked when loose in the bin. If you want to know whether the fly is weighted, the lead will be located under the wingcase of the fly, you should be able to feel the lump between your fingers. The above assumes a “standard” mayfly style nymph – and wouldn’t be true of a giant stonefly nymph which may have lead along the entire hook shank. It’s still a good rule of thumb – simply pinching the fly should reveal a bulge somewhere along the shank if it’s weighted.

The fly shop may be midway to your destination, a helpful tip would include doing all your barb pinching in the parking lot before saddling up for the back country. Many dry fly hooks are forged making them slightly more brittle than a round wire nymph hook. If you’re headed for special restriction water, pinch the barbs down in the shop parking lot, there are always one or two hook points that snap with the pressure, and knowing your casualties up front is easier than destroying your last fly deep in the forest after a two day hike.

Many fly shops have moths, and nothing is tastier than natural fiber. You may not know the “dust” in the bin is the eggs of a thousand voracious fly eating demons, you’ll find out next season when you pull your vest out of the closet, but now they look like sawdust. When your season closes toss your fly box in a cedar drawer to prevent unwanted surprises – at two bucks each it may save you some heartbreak.

Dry flies are especially prone to damage – not just from moths – but pressed together in tight confines can set hackle askew or flatten it completely. Part of your pre-Opening Day ritual should be to examine the box and steam the hackles back to their original shape with a teapot.

Make yourself a pot of tea and hold damaged dry flies into the stream of steam from the whistling pot. Held for a couple moments with forceps will allow the hackle to return to its original shape. It’ll also allow you to examine the hook point and touch it up with a hook hone for the coming festivities.

Most of you are getting a little antsy by now, as we’ve less than 60 days before the season starts, this exercise is a sure cure for cabin fever. Remember that a bystander will not understand when you cackle like Scrooge McDuck as you count the number of #16 Adams you possess…

Earl Gray, no sugar please.

Feng Shui – my fly tying bench could use a dab of that

Don’t anger your Feng Shui consultantUs Californians bear a hideous burden, we’re supposed to export American culture to the rest of the world via Hollywood and politicians, and have additional responsibility to export some lifestyle change that ensures we’re the laughingstock of the rest of the country.

McDonald’s wants a taste of that action, opening a “Feng Shui’d” grease mart that assumes the elemental touch will have you admiring their decor, rather than counting all them silly grams of lard you’re ingesting. I figure if Mickey Dee’s wants in the fad may have run its course.

Then again, I may be wrong.

The makeover is part of the attempt by McDonald’s Corp. in recent years to remodel hundreds of its restaurants to attract more patrons with unique decor and amenities that might entice them stay awhile.

It also fits into McDonald’s larger corporate practice of catering to local tastes, such as a fondue-style burger in France or a pita-wrapped “McArabia” sandwich in the Middle East.

The “McArabia” might be the reason Osama Bin Laden torched the World Trade Center, it was pure self defense…

The basic principles of feng shui include placing strategic representations of five natural elements – earth, water, fire, metal and wood – around the room to increase the flow of chi, or energy.

I’m thinking my fly tying bench could use some Feng Shui, but incorporating all those elements could be problematic. Water is easiest, so I’ll require a keg refrigerator – I can run some carburetor hose up the armature of my lamp for “hands free” usage, and I don’t have to worry about tipping over glasses, or having an odd number of empty cans, which would disrupt “chi”.

Houseplants are prized in feng shui circles as a means of bringing desirable chi, or energy, into the home. They’re also a natural air purifier, and a simple way to brighten up the dark, short days of winter.

So I buy some Gro-Lights and revisit my college days, growing herbs rather than flowers or plasticine jungle foliage. Useful, likely to increase the creativity of my tying, but bouts of cotton mouth and cravings for vanilla ice cream topped with Mango Chutney will result in weight gain.

Another perfectly simple, but crucial, feng shui dictum. If something in your home is broken or in disrepair – even if it’s something that you rarely use, or keep in storage – fix it or get rid of it. The idea: malfunctioning or damaged objects engender pessimism and frustration.

I followed the directions to the letter, now I walk around dazed and haven’t tied anything other than shoe laces in months, it’s me that’s broken … so much for trendy..

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Some pictures speak for themselves

I’m not sure the chokehold will subdue this beastIt’s not fly fishing but the message is timeless, this is what Ma meant when she said, ” your eyes are bigger than your stomach.”

Sturgeon versus kayak, and it looks like there’s a disagreement on “who sits where.” One of the fellows from work sent this to me, the angler survived – this picture was snapped from a boat that came to his rescue.

I can only imagine the wake the kayak threw off while the fish towed it around the Delta.

Never met the fellow but he’s got to be a Brownliner

Ross Millichamp While you’re sitting in the safety of your parlor attempting to decide which of them Cuban’s goes best with an antique scotch – one of the Brethren is in peril.

I never met the fellow, the fact that he’s acquired “flesh eating disease” from a fish bite is all the pedigree I require.  He’s likely a Brownliner, may even have invented the sport.

It’s a bit unnerving that something as simple as an abrasion in salt water can lead to a malady of ills, including the life threatening flavor.

It’s more stuff to remember, apparently one variant of the flesh eating parasite is acquired through raw saltwater fish, or the handling of same including shellfish.

The above book doesn’t smack of a brownline venue, we’ll hope for a speedy recovery just the same.

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Gulp, I sure hope nobody runs the statistics on me

Singlebarbed Fly Recovery unit in action I’d just finished another hallway conversation wherein I defended myself, the rest of you louts, and our beloved pastime. I was fumbling for the file to notch my “gunbutt” with another eco-radical kill, when I was brought up short…

It was innocent piece, really – but it cited a statistic that fascinated me:

Each year, more than 12,000 tons of rubbery “soft baits” land at the bottom of lakes, streams and rivers, says Hobbins, who is president and CEO of Waunakee-based Lake Resources Group.

An enterprising lad has devised a new “plastic worm” that resists tearing, doesn’t come off the hook, and lays claim to the ecological “high ground” for low impact artificial baits.

My snappy comeback failed, I’m thinking it has to have TransFat in there somewhere. The old adage of “..if it feels good or tastes good it’s bad for you” leaps to mind, especially for a tactile yummy like a gelatinous worm.

Thankfully we don’t have a similar statistic for lost flies, but it has to be right up there in gross tonnage. I’m discounting the lead split shot, as we’re already drinking a couple hundred years worth compliments of duck hunters.

I’m guessing our lost tackle is nearly two-thirds the worm total, a lot of our flies are smaller and weigh less, many weigh more, but they wouldn’t be representative of the “average” fly.  Tyer’s like me and Daytripper tip the balance, as we’re more comfortable throwing leaden death than the gossamer stuff, even so – 8000 tons of flies wedged in rocks and tree limbs is a economy stimulating total.

As this is a “per season” weight can we turn this into a lucrative profession? Scuba gear is expensive, but there’s a thriving industry recovering sunken golf balls – why not flies?

I’m leaning toward one of those Montana trophy streams – I can lay in wait behind the big rock and pluck stoneflies nymphs off your leader like dollar bills – so long as I give you a couple tugs you’re happy, you’re just going to lie about it anyway’s…

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Orvis took a page from Bill Belichick and filmed the Winston practice

The eBay delivery arrived this morning, and the 10′ Orvis T3 was unlimbered in an orgy of torn paper and impatient swearing. Per the prior post – I purchased a “cosmetic second” rod from Redwoodloft, who’s busy pumping Orvis clothing and tackle onto eBay.

Outside of the vendor selling the item, I’ve always assumed cosmetic seconds are minimal risk, as each rod is inspected before it’s wrapped and structural problems are rejected at the blank stage – not wrapped, finished, dried, and discarded once the rod is completed.

My cursory examination could not find any defect other than a visual blemish in the graphite near the ferrule. I slapped a Princess together with a WF7F Cortland line and retired to the back yard to try this beast.

This is a brawler rod, not like the older Orvis “noodle” rods they were famous for in the 80’s and 90’s, this is a “tip flex” Winston-style taper that you could trim a hedge with without endangering the tip.

It’s not a 7 weight at all, it’s an 8 weight, and that may be the defect. This model is no longer offered which may why it was sold to the jobber as a second.

Works fine for me as this was intended to replace my Bass rod, flinging hair bugs or waterlogged 6 inch minnows into the breeze, long enough and with enough backbone to keep them big hooks away from me and the thin skin of my float tube.

The reel isn't heavy enough, will step it up a notch

My personal preference is to have the balance point on the rod under my casting thumb, it minimizes fatigue as your hand doesn’t have to fight the weight of the rod to turn the tip over on the forward cast. You can see the balance point in the above photo – the rod outweighs the fully equipped Princess, so I’ll bump the line weight and reel model enough to get the pivot point moved toward the reel (by about 3 inches).

Loaded with WF8F and System 9 reel

I added a System 9 reel with a WF8F loaded and shifted the balance back to where I need it. The extra ounce or two will be offset by the ease of pivot on the forward cast, allowing me to fish all day without suffering.

This rod was labeled a “mid-flex 7.5” – it’ll bend to the centerline with 100 feet of 7 weight in the air, but acts better with the WF8 line – it can throw the entire 110 feet without undue effort, due to its length. I think them Orvis designers filmed the Winston practice  – as this is a “beat you to death” Western taper, not some gossamer small stream rod.

Nicely equipped and furnished – gold tinted stripping and snake guides, gold thread wraps, and a solid full metal reel seat – a positive uplocking style reminiscent of older Powell rods.

At $162.50 I’m feeling like I got a really nice deal, that’s because of my unwillingness to part with the $500 + dollars to land this year’s model. It’s required of old guys, we’ve got to be a curmudgeon at something..

It’s scheduled to rain again next weekend, but if it doesn’t I’ll be attempting to get blood on it…

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