Author Archives: KBarton10

I had a hell of time getting hooks last year, I may have solved that problem nicely, compliments of Togen

All I need is more things to fiddle with and nothing stirring to eat my creations. They say that’s what Winter is for and it appears as if I’m going to give Old Daytripper a run for his money…

Natural Bend Togen fish hooks caught my eye recently, a Japanese hook marketed by the Togen fly shop in Canada, their appearance is akin to a Tiemco, light colored bronzing, sharp small points (chemically sharpened), well formed and graceful, and really cheap…

My shipment showed this morning – I’d ordered the “scud” style (#18528), dry fly (#26528), 1X Nymph (#18538), and Natural Bend (#16428), figuring that would give me a nice cross section of the trout styles for testing purposes.

Standard Dry Fly The “Natural Bend” is an elongated hook and #20’s are about the size of a traditional #16, I ordered #20 – #16’s to accommodate the normal sizes I use.

Really nice hooks, nicely formed eyes, and I managed to imbed a point in my finger just opening the plastic bag – so they’re plenty sharp.

Now the “Good News” – they’re $7.00 US per hundred hooks, so it may be time to think on what you’re currently using. Togen sells them in packs of 100, or packs of 1000 – you can mix and match sizes and styles to build the 1000 pack. The price drops to $6.80 US per 100 if ordered in the “mix and match” 1000 bundles.

1X Long Nymph My thoughts on the subject are well documented. 100 years ago almost every fish hook in the world came from Redditch, England. No matter what the label said, it was a Sealy, a Partridge, or an Allcock. I think the same holds true today – no matter what the label says, it’s likely a Tiemco, Gamakatsu, or an affiliated factory.

As nothing else is biting, I may have to try these in the seafood aisle of my supermarket, I think I saw a Catfish fillet that weighed enough to deform a #20 – that’s if the damn Mergansers don’t beat me to it…

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Weather and temperature conspire, but at least I remembered the rain parka

Nothing like a three day weekend to come face to face with wanderlust. One day to do something responsible, one day devoted to NFL debauchery, and the last to piss away adventuring.

That’s my new “politically correct” term for walking around with a flyrod hoping that something other than exercise is on the menu.

A break in the weather afforded me the opportunity to check on Sacramento steelhead fishing; from the bridge I’d assumed a cluster of fellows waving flyrod’s meant something with fins was on the menu, none were in evidence, it was a spey casting clinic put on by a local shop.

I was afforded the rare luxury of watching unfortunates arse deep in too-cold water flinging stuff at even colder water, now I know what I look like to the casual dog walker.

The blue sky ran for cover, taking me with it

That’s the reoccurring theme in all my fishing of late, weather and temperature conspires to keep me fishless, with only the burn in calories to show for all the legwork.

The Little Stinking always offers a good hike, in expected fashion the weather held until I was 3 miles above the vehicle, then the rain started. I hadn’t seen a fish during the entire journey and had the foresight to take the rain parka so I meandered back to the car without mishap.

That’s my Pikeminnow, dammit

I had to examine the film I shot with the same care as the “Zapruder” footage, but I had seen a fish without knowing it. The Merganser armada was fighting over one of my treasured Pikeminnow, I couldn’t hold a grudge as they burn far more calories keeping ahead of me than I do keeping up with them.

At least somebody caught something.

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If you’re looking for cheaper "Ice Dub" then you’re at the right place

Mother of Pearl Angelina I found a better retailer for the Angelina (“Ice Dub”) fibers, Joggles.com features a better color selection of the “straight cut” Angelina, and the price is a buck cheaper.

These are half ounce packages, which is equivalent to about 4 packages of Ice Dub, featured at $3.75 per half ounce. 36 colors are available as well as some quarter ounce sampler packs.

I picked up another dozen colors, mostly the “hot” steelhead variety.

I spent part of the weekend dying hare’s masks and beaver pelts to build some nymph dubbing blends, tossing a little Angelina into each blend will add some needed sparkle.

I was eyeballing the “Angelina” film as a likely Czech nymph shellback material, these are pearlescent sheets of Angelina similar to mylar with the Angelina color scheme – still scratching my chin over this one. The film is listed with the dubbing material at the above link.

Update: See the latest post on Angelina for information on the “soft crimp” flavor, this is what you’re looking for if you want the Ice Dub you’re used to buying at the fly shop.

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Think of that next time you toss the Sumbitch up onto the bank

Now I'm in for it Evolutionists have surmised Man is the result of a long chain of genetic events whose ancestors lived in water. Divine Theory has always touted the lack of evidence in the fossil record to support that conclusion. Four years ago a paleontologist unearthed a “fish” that had both neck and “hands“, the missing link in human evolution.

Armed with a public school introduction to Evolution, and setting aside the controversy of Divine versus Darwinism, it’s well known many branches of the Evolutionary Tree cast barren fruit. We’re at the top of the food chain for the moment, but any number of maladies could change that in the blink of an eye. Not surprisingly, the next sentient species may already inhabit our waterways.

While not overly worried that “them as inherits” is going to have a grudge,  we’ll be that “idjit ape thing” they find traces of … how we dominated the planet briefly and went “poof” for unknown reasons. I am intrigued by the notion of “which fish it’ll be” and how come we haven’t placed the entire genus off limits – so they get their chance.

It won’t be anything “Salmo”, as humans have turned over every stone trying to find a super-strain, they lost whatever legacy was possible when we started raising them on handfuls of dry dog food. In fact, you can forget all of the current gamefish species – we like ’em, so what we don’t eat we’ll screw up by tinkering with genetic code, possibly in an attempt to produce bigger ones faster, or other noble purpose.

I’m thinking it’ll be a member of the “bullhead” family, an underwater cockroach capable of surviving any known flavor of Armageddon, thrives on Zebra mussels and Rock Snot, immune to Ebola, and can reproduce in pure ammonia.

Think of that the next time you yank one off your line and toss it up on the bank, all you’re doing is selecting for the air breathers … brilliant move, Monkey-Boy.

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A long line release would be prudent but you’d miss the Big Payday

Big payday for a fisherman We keep hearing how the most dangerous occupation is Alaskan crab fisherman, I browse a lot of fishing news  and I’m starting to wonder about that statistic.

English trawlers have pulled in two WWII torpedoes recently, a third recovered in Australia, and yesterday the fourth was trawled up off of the Spanish coast. The “pucker factor” associated with the sight of that unstable ordinance has to qualify as an Extreme sport somewhere…

The “Mother of All Ordinance” was recovered by a Spanish fisherman, Francisco Simo Orts, a name never uttered in dry fly circles, but worthy of inclusion into someone’s angling hall of fame.

January 17th, 1966 – a mid air collision between a B-52 and KC-130 refueling tanker drops four H-Bombs onto the Spanish fishing village of Palomares. Recovery of the three on dry land proceeds swimmingly, but the fourth falls into the ocean.

The bomb that landed in the sea went missing for 80 days and became the object of an intensive search by the United States, which was afraid the Soviets might try to recover it.

A local fisherman, Francisco Simo Orts, had seen it hit the water and was enlisted to help the U.S. Navy establish the basis for its search operation. When the bomb was finally found, Simo Orts turned up in New York with an attorney, demanding the salvage award he claimed was due him in accordance with maritime law.

The U.S. secretary of defense said the bomb was worth $2 billion. Simo Orts asked for $20 million, or 1 percent of the bomb’s value, again in accordance with the custom of maritime law. The Air Force eventually settled out of court for an undisclosed sum.

Instinct suggests Senor Ort’s fishing was recreational after collecting on the reward.

It’s a source of amusement for me, aside from the threat of thermonuclear devastation, if the nuke had been found by a bird watcher it’s likely they would have returned it for free. Like Senor Orts, someone drops a nuke in my favorite riffle – I’m likely to take it personal.

…and here I am worried about whether my lead split shot will screw up the environment…

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Global warming tailored for the fishing audience

Just a tad warmer An informative handbook on the effects of climate change on Scottish fisheries was my latest find, published in August 2006, it discusses the broader issues of climate change for fishermen, not scientists.

Focused on the North Sea and the cod fishery, it still broaches a variety of lesser known effects of climate change on the ocean and neighboring land masses. It’s a mighty good primer if you plan on being assaulted by the topic at your next cocktail party.

The study notes that the North Sea has warmed about half a degree over the last 100 years, and is projected to warm nearly that much every decade thereafter, what’s new is everything else they’ve noticed;

  • On average it’s 2 MPH windier in Scotland (and surrounding ocean)
  • The waves are 6″ taller
  • 20% more rainy days
  • 14% more sunshine in Autumn
  • 2 degrees warmer in air temperatures
  • Longer growing season, both on land and in the ocean
  • Migratory/seasonal species (mostly plankton and algae) are showing earlier than normal
  • Possible migration of some fish northward toward colder water

It’s a scientific study written for the angling crowd, and is an interesting read. Too often we assume “stuff is getting warmer” – when many of these side issues can be as beneficial or devastating as the original problem.

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Who knew Entomology would take us to the Dark Side of the Farce

I’m perusing yet another entomology tome that discusses the phases aquatic insects endure to finally get their wings, each author insists the “post-lactating-pre-nuptial” phase is overlooked by anglers, and fish knock snot out of flies that imitate it.

A dark spinner, looks innocent enough and you’ve got plenty in your flybox..

Just another wolf in Sheep's clothing

I got your “phase” right here, buddy. It’s short lived, and crucial.

Entomology Undressed

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"Its almost pushing the limit of how much light can be absorbed into one material"

The middle dot is mighty darkNanoscience to the rescue with line flash a thing of the past, and night fishing about to get a boost.

Scientists have leveraged carbon nanotubes to make the blackest black, almost 30 times darker than the current standard.  Light absorption would be a useful tool to cut line flash, it’d be the Stealth Fighter of fly lines.

Black is also the most visible color in deep water, as each wavelength of light is successively filtered out as depth increases; the “hot” colors are the first to go, leaving the darkest colors the most distinct silhouette. At depth, a “blacker” black would actually be more visible than any other color in the spectrum.

I was hoping the Stealth “radar absorbing” paint would be commercially available – now I’m thinking of mixing the two to make the ultimate fishing muscle car, you can’t clock me on radar, and once I kill the lights I’m invisible. Limits my driving to nighttime but that frees days for more fishing.

"Physics" Trip sounds so much better than Fishless Trip

I am the King of the “fishless” fishing trip, even as a raw youth I had the knack. It’s a title coveted, but not by many. While the bulk of the angling community has the good sense to go to work and be productive, I burn calories and daylight tromping through brush watching my breath precede me.

OK, so I wasn't entirely alone Ma’s Christmas fruitcake was burned off earlier this week, and that last indulgence of holiday See’s candy vanished today, but I have little else to show for my ardor other than muddy boot tracks and startled wildlife.

Vacation is drawing to a close and none too soon, as the number of experimental flies created and queued for testing is on the increase, with no fish to confirm whether merit is part of any design.

Today I fiddled with glass beads, attempting to determine whether they’d be too fragile for fly usage. These are the small “seed beads” – about $1.99 /thousand at the craft store.

Glass seed bead experimentals I assembled a “leech-like substance” by stringing 4 of them on a hook and adding a tuft of marabou; without protective hackle I figured they would take the brunt of casting, the false cast  dropped too low, and any in-stream collisions, enough of a workout to determine if the glass would survive.

They did, and even unweighted the combination of slim profile and bead weight allowed them to sink about a foot per second.

The river has returned to it’s historic flows and the color has morphed from brown murk to cloudy green, with about 30″ of visibility. That’s enough to get my hopes up, but not enough to make the fish receptive.

They couldn't figure where to cross either

I hiked upriver about 2.5 miles to see what changes had occurred and found plenty. Gravel isn’t a stable bottom and some areas had lost  multiple tons of it, other stretches gained those tons. Fresh deposits would allow your feet to sink 3-4 inches, so it was easy to feel where the missing river bottom had come to rest. It was fairly treacherous as all the river crossings of the past had to be discovered again.

I’ve got a new deep stretch created nearby, nearly 100 yards long and suddenly 3 feet deep – compared to the 6″ depth of two weeks ago. That’s an awful lot of shifting rock streambed, who would’ve thought it would behave like sediment?

I did chance on a fellow fly fisherman walking his dog, he didn’t run screaming at the sight of me, so the “brownliner” angle isn’t as off-putting as once thought. He confessed to fishing for smallmouth on occasion, so I may have found a kindred spirit.