Author Archives: KBarton10

I wouldn’t mind so much if they only doubled their money, but they prefer the consumer pay much more

3911 feet versus 30 feet, 34 Gauge is standard flytying wireI use more copper wire than the Intel Corporation, and my recent whirlwind tour of fly shops gave me a shopping list of items to find in bulk . Copper wire was first on the list, as a measly 30 foot spool costs $2.00 at the shop.

I use the standard size and the “ultra” wire size, which is slightly smaller. The electronics trade calls this stuff many things, but “magnet wire” seems to be a common title. It is a raw copper wire with an enamel coating, and comes in a variety of colors.

I prefer the enamel coated wire to “raw” copper as the enamel prevents the wire from tarnishing. I usually apply a rubberband to the larger spools to prevent unraveling, the enamel protects the wire against discoloration caused by damp flies returned to the box, and the rubber band securing the spool.

A half pound spool of magnet wire is about $10.25. In the 34 Gauge size (our fly tying standard) you get 3911 feet of wire for the price of five fly shop spools.

I am guessing that the Ultra Wire is 36 Gauge, but as it is on backorder I cannot confirm this. I got two 1/2 pound spools today, 34 Gauge and 32 Gauge for larger steelhead flies.

The hard part is electronic supply houses don’t care about the color. You have to ensure that you are getting the simple “brownish” enamel finish, not purple or green, or whatever they have in the rack.

As a reference vendor, Action Electronics was where I got mine, but I got assorted colors which are less useful than the natural copper color. You need to call or visit to ensure color selection – as I haven’t found an electronics site that allows me to choose color via the web.

Singlebarbed readers do not tremble when shopping with a coupon, so buck up.

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I want all my flies tied by the Cottonelle folks

Ripples? More like Steel Wool dipped in Tabasco, and the Puppy, he can kiss my... Too damn many staid and conventional posts for my comfort, it’s lonely out here on the lunatic fringe, but we’re used to it.

When is a fisherman not a predator? When he’s shopping for groceries. A fat target lolling gracefully in the current, pinching cantaloupes and inspecting meat, oblivious to the fact that he is being stalked, his every move calculated…

I’m unpacking gear and damp stuff from the car, I glance down while hanging waders, and have to recoil in total fear, the bastard got me again. Dammit.

I’m looking at a 20-pack of Cottonelle toilet paper, sheathed in a second festive wrapper to hide both label and “hook”. I took the bait like some bovine, a victim of the sale aisle – finning comfortably sipping groceries, and then some grinning evil  Madison Avenue SOB set hook on me.

Those of you under age 23, Cottonelle is the only toilet paper refused by gasoline companies, as the employee mortality rate was considered unacceptable. Special embossing ensures your backside is raw after the third pass, and you bleed to death with prolonged usage. A 20 pack is the toilet paper equivalent of a double amputation.

I always saw myself as a skilled angler, yet I fear Cottonelle’s marketing director. I know he is a fly fisherman too, he studies my feeding pattern, is canny in the life cycle of male grocery shoppers – how we pretend to know stuff in the vegetable aisle, (so the feminine of the species thinks we cook) and preys on us specifically.

Sure, we make great sport of them Madison Avenue swells and their feeble attempts at fishing, but who has the last laugh?

Me, I’m grimacing.

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Too old to stand in cold water? glimpse the future

By the time we’re ready for this it’ll be cell phone sized with superhero option. I don’t need to leap a tall building. I’ll settle for getting my last dry fly out of that dangling tree limb.

Can I get the miniaturized cell phone version?

Our skills have been diminishing steadily with the increase in paunch, this may be the Fountain of Youth we’ve been seeking.

“The suit, which weighs four kilos, presents “some safety concerns for elderly people,” he said.

“So for now we have limited the suit to caretakers or even construction workers whom I think would benefit greatly from this. But we hope in the future this will give old people more mobility with their arms,” he added “

We have breathing room, but once the wife straps this on and limits your couch time – urging you to “get off your backside and mow the lawn,” Malekind may be doomed.

The NFL will be taking a significant ratings hit on Sundays, at least until we can afford two of them.

A small cooler clipped into the belt, with on-demand four wheel drive, and I am all over this.

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The Fishing was Good, although the Catching was Slow

All the colors in the rainbowUs snow challenged Californians have little fear of Fall, the leaves change color and little else. The riot of color is always breathtaking and the fishing occasionally takes a back seat to the simple appreciation of the woods in full regalia.

I got spanked savagely this weekend, but wore a smile the whole time.

It was all there, leaves changing color, few fishermen, lots of bug life, and mild temperatures. The fish were conspicuously absent, and our finest efforts went unrewarded – spankage; humbling, and photogenic.

I flung dries, wets, damps, weighted, unweighted, and ill concieved, I envoked numerous dieties yet I can’t say with certainty whether I was even nibbled,  not even a refusal marred the drift of my flies.

Lunch while watching the Mergansers

Up at dawn and fighting current, blackberry thickets, and deadfalls. Watching in vain as mayflies trundled off the water ponderously, with sprinkles of Caddis and midges, all completely unmolested.

Half the reason to fish, the most memorable part

The scenery was stunning, and more than once I warmed on some rock midstream and counted my blessings. Catching is the fun part, but it’s not as enduring as what Fall can sear on a retina.

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Gourmet Streamside Cuisine: If Boiled Taters and Steak gets you emotional, then you live near the fish

chevronLike Tom Chandler I mourn those fabled fishing lunches , but if you have to drive more than two hours to fish, dining is like crapping, required, but kept at arm’s distance.

Hardened fishermen lack the servants and fine cutlery of TC’s Maine adventure , but as woodsmen and survivalists we always have a “three star” culinary pit stop close at hand, the Chevron Minimart.

One star is for gas, one is for restrooms, and the last is either the cuisine, or the freeway onramp, I’m never one to quibble…

California Cuisine, Nouveau Chevron

The entree, Jalapeno Beef Jerky. A piquant mix of searing flame with a hint of bovine.

Beef requires a full bodied “red” – and the overly warm Diet Dr. Pepper is a lifesaver, especially near the bottom of the jerky bag, when the Jalapeno stifles rational thought and the frantic reach for liquid is purely defensive.

A handful of blackberries from the thorn bush you fell in, matched with a partially trod upon banana completes the repast.

The Kashi Bar is to guarantee that once you’re cinched and buckled into the waders you can “cork” the entire gastro-intestinal tract, so there’s no need to tear the gear off as you bunny hop for the restroom.

Low Fat, Crustless Berry Pie

We spurn “Glam-pers” but recognize Berry Pie when we see it. The “No Fat, No Crust” kind, enough sugar to pull your way up the bank and realize you have no recognizable landmarks.

A fire and a follow on nap would be nice, but a road flare and damp waders will have to do.

Can we rethink our distaste for offroad vehicles?

…or is it too late, and we’ve gone on record too many times to take it all back?

Chalk it up to a burgeoning midlife crisis, or the dirty secret that my credit cards  are paid up, this augments those unmentionables folks claim are the purview of high powered hand guns.

tesseract.jpg

This is the latest in ecological damage compliments of Yamaha, all it needs is a rod scabbard and my overly large bottom affixed to it, and I command the Brownline – environment be damned.

Yes I’m joking, but the above picture is inspirational, no?

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Billy Bass Eats Chrome

big-mouth-billy-bassNo rocket scientist needed, as we were as nauseated by the “Billy Bass” phenomenon as you were. So what do you do with a warehouse full of singing articulated liability?

Simple, hammer them onto a trailer hitch.

Necessity is the Mother of Invention, and one million plastic bass wilting in a warehouse likely breeds desperation.

In this day and age of the Michael Vick Pet Backlash, this won’t sit terribly well with the animal rights crowd, but the shotgun displayed in your gun rack will keep them at distance.

For those that giggled at the testicle trailer hitch, and realized it was inappropriate on anything other than your wife’s car, now you’ve got options.

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Would you swear at a blacklash in Space?

World's Strongest Fiber I was interested in the post about European engineers attempting to return objects from space using a “really big fishing reel” and a 30 kilometer tether. Scientists rarely have a sense of humor, so the tether only paying out 5 miles of line before getting stuck was an “inconclusive experiment.”

I call it the “90 Mile High Monstrous Backlash”, but they likely wouldn’t see the humor in that…

What was interesting is that they mentioned the “strongest fiber on Earth” was used to make a tether only 2/100’s of an inch thick. The fiber is called “Dyneema” – and I’m  wondering does it have a practical fishing application?

It appears a number of vendors make it already. “Dyneema” is a braided fishing line that may be suitable for fly line backing.

RAPTOR Line (Diameter) — Compared to — Monofilament Line

10 LB.         .003″                                                         2-4 LB.

20 LB.         .007″                                                         4-8 LB.

30 LB.         .009″                                                        6-12 LB.

50 LB.         .012″                                                     12-20 LB.

80 LB.         .025″                                                     30-50 LB.

130 LB.       .032″                                                     50-80 LB.

The above demonstrates how much thinner this round braided line is than monofilament, it may be capable of packing considerablly more yardage on a spool than Dacron. Due to the small diameter, it’ll likely slice you to ribbons if you aren’t careful, so you won’t want to grip it firmly if a large fish is in full flight.

 The Raptor line above was $6.95 per 100 yds, Berkeley makes it for $15.95 for 125 yds  – certainly bears looking into especially for smaller reels.

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Clarity is always fleeting, Oops, we missed it

madscientist2 A fly tyer is responsible for the entire sub-prime mortgage debacle, and the proof is on my tying bench.

I know where I’m fishing, I know what bugs live there, yet I insist on tinkering with what works, in favor of just tying what’s needed. It’s not just me that’s afflicted, as I have heard many fly tyers gnash teeth over the same self destructive behavior.

Local intel reveals ALL the fish are committing suicide on any Gold Ribbed Hare’s Ear. In response, you starting digging out bunny parts slamming them onto the hook, and a vision appears;

“The Gold Ribbed Hare’s Ear would be better if it had a red tail.”

Just as quickly the vision is gone, and you look down at your blistered fingers and see 34 dozen Hare’s Ear’s with a red tail.

Why do we do this to ourselves?

As I’m a willing victim of this aberration I’m not sure I can shed light – but intuition suggests greed and ego may have a hand in the outcome, it could also be a left brain/right brain issue, as I always struggled to keep the crayon inside the lines in elementary school.

I assume that “good can be made great” which is why most tiers tinker with patterns, and all the great chefs in the world are men. (Even more than fly tiers, men share the “tinker-lust” despite repeated and very public failures.)

I don’t want a fly tyer managing my 401K because the self destructive dimwit would be swinging for the fences with every purchase. If a safe but staid 10% return is available, he would ignore that in favor of some shady penny stock that he “visioned” was going up five bucks.

Plagued by these artistic visions, it’s little wonder that greed and excess have spilled into the mortgage market, as all of the fly tying mortgage brokers and hedge fund managers said, “Hell yes you qualify, I seen it!”

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