Author Archives: KBarton10

How to Piss off an Angler – A holiday gift giving guide

It’s the age old quandary, someone in the house fishes and no one knows what to get him for Christmas. Catering to his passion results in feigned enthusiasm, as even a valiant attempt results in both the wrong size and color.

I’m thinking this year you roast the oaf –  in full view of kids and in-laws. You risk nothing, as the only penalty is he won’t drag you off to some mosquito infested swamp where you’re featured as the entree.

fish_skel_cord

Start with accessories, an extension cord that he’ll treasure forever, no worries about size or whether he has six of them already – this item ensures uniqueness. The fun part is when he plugs it into a US 110v outlet and fries whatever device he plugs in, made in Japan, so it’ll require a US power adapter to function properly.

salmopillow The Salmon Pillow will serve as a painful reminder of how few fish “Bwana” brings home. Add it to his kit bag prior to departure, attach a simple note like, “This is what they look like in case you forget,” then make yourself scarce. Odorless, non-toxic, can also be used to beat him into submission upon his return.

Payback is a bitch For the overbearing faux-environmentalist, we recommend the Live Sushi Impaler. Razor sharp needles suspended over the water drop at regular intervals, if “Nemo” happens to be underneath – he’s now a cocktail weenie.

Wasabi mustard not included.

George MacFly For the “ostentatious prick” who admires his reflection in his Rolex, hustling the kids off to finishing school so’s not to be late for his pedicure… MacDaddy lures has exactly what’s needed. Depending on your budget, you can go for the “One Million Dollar Lure” or a smaller keepsake, the $24,000 fly.

Six generously sized diamonds, set in 14K pure gold is pure bragging rights, who cares whether he likes it – when he shows it off at the clubhouse, it’ll be his idea anyway’s. 

The way I hear it, the Spring Ridge boys all have one.

If it had depthcharge racks I would get two If you need nautical overtones, or are simply paired with an angler that can’t find his arse with both hands, why not a full GPS and electronic fish finder in one elegant ensemble?

Dubbed “The Seagull,” this remote controlled craft has a 500m range and can operate 90 minutes at top speed. Fish location is fed back to the hand held video controller. The only thing missing is a bow mounted BB gun and some depth charge racks.  If your favorite run is occupied, let the “PT109” give the competition a few broadsides, that’ll clear the area.

Comes with 1000 vassals Want to see eggnog come out of his nose? If you’re one of the Unfortunates –  wedded to a Dry Fly Purist whose nose wrinkles at anything other than rare bamboo, Alsatian fedoras, and ancestral coat-of-arms, it’s time he assume his proper station and titles.

What better way than to have his vassals giggle when he unwraps his ancestral estates for the first time, the Guasinito Worm Factory – complete with 1000 hard working serfs tilling his vast acreage..

Remember the look you gave him when he announced he was headed for the Cayman Islands with only one ticket? How he dared not meet your gaze, scuffing the carpet with his toe while insisting, “..it’s just a fishing trip, I didn’t think you’d want to come.”

It’s payback time.

Gross, just plain gross For the worldly angler who routinely abandons spouse and household in singleminded pursuit of self indulgence, we have the “shorts safe,” designed to keep money and passports secure during travel.

The fun part will be when the Custom’s officer holds these up to the assembled masses waiting for inspection. Think of that delicious moment when he stammers his way through an explanation – while everyone shrinks away from him like a leper.

Revenge is a dish best served cold, and if he objects to any of the above lock him outside.

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"Nondescript?" – Hell, that won’t score points at the clubhouse

I love collecting flies, fly patterns, and have a head full of esoterica that’ll make me the bane of your next cocktail gathering.

Earlier this week I had asked Singlebarbed lurkers what their favorite nymphs were – hoping to complete some flies owed to pals. “Curly Friede” made the mistake of mentioning some I had never heard of – he wasn’t alone, but an entire series of flies made it double alluring.

Curly followed up with the pattern descriptions for the “Nondescript” nymph series, and as I was headed out to the Little Stinking anyways, so I banged out four or five to see how they performed.

While a self confessed fly junkie, my weakness is simple buggy looking flies, fast to tie, simple pattern – allowing you to knock out twenty seven of them in the time it takes to craft two complex ties.

L to R.  Yellow, Brown, Black, and Gray Nondescript Some might call these “soft hackles” or “flymphs” – they looked good, so I put them in front of some fish to see how good.

Actually I put these in front of bushes and fish, as I left most of them on branches, logs, small children, and anything else within casting distance.

Must be the nine turns of 1-Amp fuse wire I used, the resultant gravity well warped the Space-Time Continuum, inducing a brush-hungry tilt to my casts.

I did manage to pick up a half dozen fish in quick succession, might’ve been more if I hadn’t squandered all them flies on foreign objects. Curly was probably giggling up a storm, knowing that the finished fly defies physics – it’s the perfect herbivore, and that’ll be the last time I follow his patterns to the letter.

I left one in a Smallmouth bass, nearly two pounds – the largest smallmouth the Little Stinking has produced to date, so I was thrilled. I was trying to “lip” the fish so he could pose for Curly, and he proved shy – taking my last Nondescript Black with him.

The name lacks retail sex, so we’ll have to polish Curly’s lexicon accordingly. I’m thinking the “Chlorophyl Alien” or “Brush Eating Di-Lithium Crystal” – something with some pizzazz..

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A Mackerel by any other name smells as sour

Nose on a chip I have nothing against Canaries, but they’ll be joining the ranks of the unemployed due to nano-science. It’s bad enough that the television has smiling, well coifed, ersatz people hawking underarm protection – but soon they’ll be hunting fishermen with torches and pitchforks.

Lots of different applications for the Electronic Nose in business, even in Society, but around fishermen these devices will likely achieve nano-overload. We’ll be the “dead spot” in coverage, the metrosexuals will turn surly, and we’ll be shunned as troglodytes.

I lurk on the fringe of society anyway, so no great impact to my social itinerary – you productive types may want to look at a new hobby though.

A couple of months from now and Orvis will debut the “Seersucker Florida Guide Shirt (available in; Sand, Mango, and Peach Blossom), that’ll display an LED on your Louis Vuitton Faux Semblant Rectangle LV Landscape sunglasses, a “pooty” meter, warning you when you’ve reached a socially unacceptable level.

That’ll give you ample time to tell the guide to head for the  barn. I’ll wave, then slide my pram over to your spot – where “Igor” and I will “bust a cap” on your fish.

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Don’t Bogart the Weed’Ez, don’t leave it adrift either

Tough Choice I can’t decide whether it’s chumming or littering, I guess I’ll leave it up to you.

“Weed’Ez” is artificial weed cover for fishermen. Plunk it into the water, and create your own navigational hazard. For merely $19.99 you can foul the propellers of your fellow fishermen, transport unwanted parasites to pristine waterways, and then get pissed and abandon it after you snag it repeatedly.

Each Weed’Ez pack includes four individual 60-inch plant clusters, which consist of three attached “stalks.” A float on top of each Weed’Ez keeps it floating upright, while a clip at the base lets the user attach a sinker for keeping the artificial plant anchored to bottom. Constructed of a tough synthetic material that won’t absorb water, Weed’Ez are tear resistant, even in the icy conditions of winter. When not in use, Weed’Ez fold up and fit into an included mesh storage bag, not much larger than a paperback novel, and light as a feather. Retailing for $19.99, Weed’Ez are portable and affordable fish attractors.

A perfect stocking stuffer for that hard to please fisherman. Remember that sound carries a great distance over water, and your trip will be shortened if you yell at your pal, “Dude, You need more Weed? I brought a ton with me..”

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I can’t seem to shake the lyrics from "Georgia on my mind" – wonder why?

Yes, it’s a hauntingly beautiful song that does Ray Charles homage, but I was thinking more the drought angle, if you think the Georgia-Florida-Alabama spat over water was interesting, California may eclipse it fairly quickly.

For the last month we’ve watched thousands of Southern California mansions vanish in a puff of smoke; these are the same folks whose taps will be running dry based on the below:

On Monday, the state Department of Water Resources told the water agencies that serve two-thirds of Californians that they can expect just 25 percent of their normal allocations next year, down from 60 percent this year. Several cities in Southern California have declared water emergencies. The fire danger remains high, as this week’s Malibu fire underscores. Within a few days, a judge’s order that curtails water deliveries to the San Joaquin Valley and Southern California from the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta to save endangered fish will take effect.

A lot of wealthy, media savvy citizens will be hit with a double dilemma, not enough to drink, and what little that’s left may be needed to douse the flames of next summer. We can expect significant coverage, as these are the moguls of Hollywood, with ready access to actors and the media.

It’s not unexpected, most of Southern California is reclaimed desert, and the cost of maintaining all those swimming pools and acres of lush lawn is about to come due.

Northern California is sparsely populated in comparison, so whatever SoCal wants, SoCal gets – it’s not even close. Naturally the “Governator” will respond promptly, but dams takes years to build, as do Peripheral Canals. I’ll expect many billions in hasty legislation this year, accompanied by little planning and even less environmental impact studies.

Remember, it’s a marathon, not a sprint…hang in there.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Thls_tMuFkc[/youtube]

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Guilt coupled with John Wayne makes for a fearsome sandwich

Hisself needs no commentary A lethal combination of work related interruptions and procrastination strained my credibility, and I was making good on promises this weekend by cranking some flies for past favors. On rare occasion a tier has no idea what his pals use, nor what they like, and has free license to tie an assortment that he knows are “guaranteed death” for anything with fins.

The “Guarantee” part is always subjective, and usually lasts six seconds out the doorway, or six feet past the driveway – but anglers never read the fine print, so we don’t get called on it much.

I figured five nymph patterns would be a good baseline to cover the Lion’s share of anything encountered in freshwater, ditto for dry flies. Looking at my own flybox that seemed consistent with my own habits.

I needed “Top Gun” – the best of the best, the five patterns that would catch freshwater fish anywhere the angler found himself, and as I’m mulling over  favorites, the TV blares suddenly with the Saturday Matinee; John Wayne, hisself, in “The Searchers.”

I’m staring at the flies in my palm, and the mental light bulb goes off, that’s exactly what I’m looking for, the five patterns that resemble everything, and imitate nothing, the Searchers.

My list: (California, trout as principle species)

AP Black – Andre Puyan’s Black nymph, you may know it as the “All Purpose” Black

Pheasant Tail – predominantly brownish, mayfly imitation

Gold Ribbed Hare’s Ear – predominantly grayish – mayfly (can be caddis also if tied extra scruffy)

Bird’s Nest – I use both the gray and the olive – caddis imitation

I was stumped on the last choice, as I had at least twenty candidates, but no single fly as the obvious choice. The requirements are simple, the five nymphs so good – if you tied them in 3/0 a Sailfish couldn’t resist..

The Ball’s in your court Gent’s – what’s the top five “All  Killer, No Filler” nymphs in your arsenal, and as a double bonus – the collection is owed a SingleBarbed reader, so if any consensus emerges – this stalwart fellow is going to own them.

Wipe that evil grin off your face, anything that is recognizable as an Atlantic Salmon Full Dress is not going to be tied in size 16 – not by me at least…

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The Big Payoff, it’s not fame nor money, but it’s also not "shorts and tee shirts" neither

mom I love genius when I see it, and as I see so little in my work I have to live vicariously through others. This time it’s the Daytripper blog as he surfaces the obligatory Christmas list to friends and family – not really a list, but it’s the one thing he could really use …you listening Daytripper Ma?

Christmas is coming whether we like it or not, and everyone’s Ma is arming themselves with the soap onna rope, shorts and tee shirts, cologne that smells like a service station bathroom, and all forms of fattening edibles that you’re obligated to like, no exception.

Friend Daytripper is smarter than the rest of us, as he’s announced to his family what he needs, and if it don’t show he’ll retain the moral high ground with, “..you mean you don’t read all the stuff I write?”  His Ma is doomed.

Not too late to start your own blog, save yourself while you still can…

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Will Gas prices limit your days afield?

gasoline.jpgI was listening to some financial pundits argue about the decline of the dollar, how speculation in oil prices was going to drive the price of oil past the $100 dollar mark, and how the subprime mortgage mess was going to take us all into the poor house.

Of interest to me was how the pump price of gasoline hasn’t fully reflected the slow climb in crude oil. Raw math suggests that if $3.50 per gallon is reflective of $70 per barrel crude – then $4.90 per gallon would be the true cost of $100 oil.

{democracy:2}

Always stay on the good side of the cook, especially when he ain’t served the pie yet

Sometimes I think Thanksgiving should be expressed in military terms, where “Thanksgiving+2” denotes the original dinner plus two nights of leftovers.  No one ever complains about leftover pie, but ask the gathering who wants to take some turkey home, and suddenly you’re talking to a bunch of kids standing around a broken window.

As I was the cook again this year, none could complain when I skipped the midafternoon couch orgy, and slipped out the back for some fishing. It’s the beauty of Brownlining, five minutes away – and no better place to burn that stuffing off than a brisk march upstream.

Fog and chill dominated all else, and the walk kept me heated enough to enjoy the solitude, normally I’m intent on fishing, yet I managed to hold it at arm’s length long enough to see the larger picture.

I think there’s medication for this

My favorite was the beaver afflicted by Attention Deficit Disorder, I stopped to survey his handiwork marveling that his attention span appeared shorter than a kid on a sugar binge. Clearcutting is a human trait, but this furry fellow needs some medication, as every tree and stem seemed to have a half dozen teeth marks on it, with only three eaten to completion.

It’s like the family member that presses their thumb in the bottom of the See’s candy, hoping to find the one with the cherry center. An abominable practice, but every family has one..

I managed to get a couple fish, but the fog and cold had had subdued much of the bite, and I didn’t mind as I was more intent on exercise. Fog muffled much of my travel noise, and I managed to scare up a four point buck out of the undergrowth, it’s plain he was lounging on the couch as well.

Fog on a fir branch, ain’t Nature grand?

While crossing the creek to survey the newly completed beaver dam I recovered a big barbell equipped minnow imitation likely brushed off the vest of another fly fisherman. It was a monstrous green and white concoction that was someone’s favorite bass fly.

Nice to know I have some company, we didn’t cross paths, as I spent most of my time enjoying the out of doors, knowing some other poor bastard was doing my dishes.

It’s the Cook’s Prerogative, a hint of complaint and no pie for you.

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Everyone in Hell is special, but some are more special than others

Ninja Golf Pond Bass Killer Golfers and Fisherman have a special Hell reserved; fishermen will burn everlasting because we took the worst the Devil offered and still enjoyed ourselves.  When Old Beelzebub froze us, we went ice fishing, when burnt – we slathered on sun block, and carried twice our beer ration – what’s coming we earned, as Lucifer does not take being mocked lightly.

Golfers share a similar fate, mainly because of them silly clothes. When the Devil sent the Torments they ran for the clubhouse, rather than endure and laugh in the face of impending doom, guzzled fruit drinks with umbrellas and laughed at new members net income.

It’s OK though, the ring of Hell reserved for us has all the fallen debutantes and wastrel heiress’s – golfers get the wino’s and porn freaks.

Want a little payback now, on this earthly plane?

Hammacher Schlemmer has the ultimate Ninja Poaching ensemble for fishermen denied them enormous bass on the 14th hole. A “water trap” iron with reel attached, the business end hidden from view in your golf bag, leaving no trace of your real intent. Wave each group through the hole while you “search” for your missing golf ball, they’ll think you’re a real sport, while you thump snot out of all them placid elitist bass.

If you want to take some home, that’s fine by me – the “Priest” is built right into the rod…any range marshal will be sympathetic as they count the number of “strokes” you’re penalized, just mark your score accordingly.

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