Author Archives: KBarton10

It might’ve been called the Day of Best Intentions

It’s always been a Singlebarbed trait to delight in the suffering of others. We cackle and point fingers, toss barbs quicker than most – yet lack the social niceties that defines the true prima donna.

No, my good lord: banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins; but for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, being as he is old Jack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry’s company: banish plump Jack and banish all the world.
Henry IV. Pt. I. Act II. Sc. 4. L. 520.

Our soiled punctuation linen is never far from public display. Some might sulk or nurse an imagined hurt, instead we’re giggling at our foibles with the rest of the crowd.

My New Year’s Resolutions

1. Accuse dry fly fishermen of unimaginable crimes.

Fish are wet, the river’s wet – you’re moaning over a leak in your waders, and being rained on – yet insist your fly remain dry?

2. Fish more often.

The press of Mankind on a finite resource is taking its toll. Salt or fresh, gamefish or no, the only certainty is that next year there will be less. These are the Good Old Days – don’t lose sight of it.

3. Embrace the Smart Phone format.

Now that people can (and will), read novels on their cell phones, the writers craft will have to undergo a revolution comparable to that engendered by the Gutenberg press. While this doesn’t mean a generational change from Shakespeare to Doonesbury, you get the general idea. “Less is more.”

As eloquent as I’ve seen it phrased …

4. Share with the “young guns” (who’ll be carrying the banner the next half century) and imbue them with what was passed to you.

The good stuff. Rare materials gifted by the prior generation – the reels no longer made yet still purr after a century of use, and the knowledge that came after a lifetime of doing things the hard way.

The issues they’ll face will be more onerous than anything we’ve endured.

5. Fire Weather permitting, make that trip to Montana this year.

6. (you can fill in those I missed)

Tags: Good Old Days, New Year’s resolutions, fly fishing, smart phone, fly fishing, fish more often, them as inherits,

A most flagrant violation of a fly fishing reserved word

Nike Mayfly Most would agree that Nike has always been a poster child for cutting edge marketing coupled with a flair for picking the proper spokesman.

Michael Jordan is an empire unto himself, and while Tiger Woods is no slouch, the “Just Do It” mantra might have touched a nerve …

Nike’s mistake was using one of fly fishing’s most sacred words to brand a product – affording me the luxury of taking them to task.

Mayfly? You sure you want to name them that?

I’d sure want a $50 dollar running shoe designed for a single 100m marathon, complete with Tyvek uppers and embossed wings – until I learned the real “Mayfly” spent up to three years underwater and emerged for a week or so intent on nothing but sex …

… I’d tiptoe around these two or three times trying to determine whether I’d burrow, cling or crawl, scratch all my skin off – then mount the fellow holding the starter pistol …

Tags: Nike Mayfly, Tyvek paper, sexual stage, branding

Beware white vans carrying Skinheads

I’ve often wondered what a fly fisherman does when they’re 80 years old and joints aren’t as limber, reflexes likewise, and they yank your driver’s license as you’re unsafe at any speed.

I saw myself as one of the “past their prime” old bastards sunning themselves at the casting pond, throwing an occasional word of encouragement at the fellow prying a dry fly out of his forearm. Mostly I’d be watching all the strolling females a third my age trying to straight face lecherous intent.

I’m allowed that as I can aspire to a dirty minded SOB as well as an ex-fishermen.

Now I know better. Me and the “Over the Hill” gang will be slapping knee and laughing at all the legal manifestations of water rights and cloned fish, and how the IGFA will be slapping asterisks on positively everything.

Young guys will shrug and dine at “sustainable” eateries, like us they never cared for the fish eating – it was the catching that made fishing fun. The middle aged fellows who got the last taste of wild fish when they were kids will be protesting asterisks and whether a salmon that tastes like a potato is still a salmon or no …

We’ll have little choice other than acknowledge our part in pillaging the watershed; how we didn’t know our feet was spreading pestilence, and the taint of urban runoff made our hook wounds turn into flesh eating disease – dooming Carp and Sticklebacks into a lengthy and painful demise. We had the best of intentions with Catch & Release, and how were we to know?

The Past became the Future when fish farmers mapped the Atlantic Salmon genome.

We applauded knowing that they could build a wild fish out of spare Cytosine from junkyard hubcaps, Guanine from lawn clippings … it was a bold new world and soon the streams would be teeming with real gamefish.

Only their interest was commercial, and we hadn’t figured on them fiddling with the DNA pairings. Instead of silver Chinook we got pen raised Kentucky Colonel Salmon, in Lethargic and Extra Risky, and while they could spawn in sewers, each time they did so, white vans would pull up spilling skinheads in tactical outfits and how they’d point at the copyright logo on the gill plate and repossess them all.

As salmon flesh possesses so many essential Omega-3 fatty acids, those canny “anglers” at the home office eventually found it cheaper to grow just the ass of the fish rather than the front. It silenced the environmentalists who were rallying support to ban Krill harvests, and solved the dilemma of feeding fish to fish to make fish. Consultation with a consortium of Sushi chefs and Plastic Veterinarians taught them the fillet work needed to make the “export” side of the salmon indistinguishable from the “import” side, especially when saran wrapped with a brightly colored sale sticker over the pucker.

Same thing happened to the leases and beats across the pond. Owning river or land doesn’t count when fish genetics show interbreeding with a corporate trademark. The conservation organizations puffed up their chest and tried the legal angle – but they’d never heard of the case law surrounding Monsanto and their lock on genetic seeds – and they got smoked.

The judgment along with previous ones upon which it was built has been interpreted by many to mean that if any Roundup Ready® crop is found on agricultural land wherein it was not specifically purchased even if it found its way there through entirely natural means such as wind or insect pollination, the farmer is liable to Monsanto for “theft” of its property.

But best of all will be the demise of the IGFA and world records as we know them. They’ll wield the asterisk firmly until offered the big money by Long John Silvers who’s engaged in a bitter war with Colonel Saunders over whose fillet of fishlike substance has a higher percentage of Wild.

The largest salmon in the world has never been caught – and doesn’t swim. It’s an amorphous blob of test tube fed flesh in the Gorton’s Clean Room, kept under 24 hour guard and completely sterile conditions.

… and each day the conveyor belt spins up and that white light from the carbon dioxide laser begins cutting thousands of identical Gorton’s “Copper River Spring Chinook” fillets.

“… flash frozen for freshness.”

Meanwhile “Bob” and I take turns passing the National Enquirer around the bench, old eyes straining to identify the make and model of the broken fly rod pictured next to the sobbing child as Poppa is hauled away …

Brave New World, and another Epsilon Semi Boron in manacles.

Tags: Mapping the Atlantic Salmon genome, Monsanto Roundup Ready Genetic crops, Brave New World, Epsilon Semi Moron, lecherous old guys, retired fly fisherman, environmental lobby smoked, krill ban, it takes fish to make fish, casting club, Carp

Cal Bird’s Modified distribution wrap, for Monty Montana

In last Monday’s post we described the distribution wrap, a method to make feathers that were oversized act as hackle on smaller hooks. That post described how a single segment of even flank feather could be spun around the shank as hackle.

One of the more popular flies that Cal originated was the Bird’s Nest, where he’d use Tintex Maple Sugar dye to color heavily barred teal flank – and then use a modified distribution wrap to use feathers whose tips were crooked but whose sides were even.

Tintex Maple Sugar dyed teal flank

The above is a reference color from a batch of teal flank that Cal dyed for me. Tintex “Maple Sugar” is no longer made but the color can be reproduced with a good warm amber or imitation wood duck dye.

Tip clipped and used for the tail

Clip the tip and center stem of the feather and mount that fragment as the tail. The width of the sides sections determine whether the fly is lightly or heavily hackled. For the hook shown (#8) you will need about 3/8” segments on either side – about half of what’s shown.

Measure the teal against the tail

The front hackle should extend half way down the tail. This is a reference measurement before clamping the near side of the feather to the hook shank with my thumb (to freeze the movement).

Near side clamped to shank with left thumb

Left thumb clamps the fibers to the hook shank to prevent movement. The left forefinger will come down on the far side clump and pinch it to the far side of the fly.

The forefinger squeezes the other segment to the far side of the fly

Now that both segments are measured and secured with finger pressure, bring the thread up to roll them around the shank and even out the fibers.

Near side has thread, far side is coming around the belly of the fly

The thread is shown distributing the feathers. The near side clump becomes the top half of the fly, the far side clump wraps the fibers around the belly of the fly.

hackle collar complete

The hackle collar is anchored. Like the original distribution wrap you can wind back towards the body to redistribute the fibers any way you like. Clip off the remainder of the feather once you’ve finalized the hackle placement.

Completed Olive Bird's Nest

The completed #8 Olive Bird’s Nest. Cal preferred the old Mustad 7957BX hook which was 1X long, 1X heavy, forged model Perfect bend.

Woodcock & Orange

Here’s the same wrap done on a #14 Woodcock & Orange. A collaborative effort; seal provided by [Unknown], Woodcock arrived at Christmas – compliments of the Roughfisher – and glue lump assisted by a holiday sugar rush coupled with unsteady hands.

For Monty Montana.

Tags: Woodcock, seal fur, maple sugar Tintex, teal flank, Cal Bird, Bird’s Nest, soft hackle, Roughfisher.com, Christmas sugar rush, distribution wrap

Time to get “heeled” and do your Governor proud

Our dictionary defines “keeper” not as a fish large enough to eat, but a significant other whose charity feeds ~~our~~ my addiction. California 2010 Fishing License

… I suppose she could be having a torrid affair with some buff appliance salesman – using this as camouflage, but does it really matter?

Most fishermen are packing the night before and are horrified that another year has passed and they’re without Letters of Marque …

A gentle reminder that you’ve got about a week before your Governor puts his hand in your pocket.

… and don’t be surprised if the price has gone up a bit. A lot of state’s budgets are in disarray due to the financial meltdown and they’re looking to increase revenue stream.

California remains $41.50, same as last year.

About nine cents will make it to DFG and the fish, but it’s essential equipment.

Tags: California fishing license, Department of Fish & Game, significant other, keeper, torrid affair, letter of marque

Dear Red Fat Guy.

Hexagenia Mayfly responsible for polluting the Great Lakes, Asian Carp rush to the rescue

In an interesting turn of events it appears the Hexagenia mayflies of Lake Erie may be blamed for polluting the lake.

… nasty little buggers, those …

In a similar experiment, Chaffin found that a burrowing mayfly can kick up buried phosphorus. Once that phosphorus is back in the water, it can fuel more algae blooms.

“There is an effect,” Chaffin said “I don’t know if it’s just a drop in a bucket, or if it is a main reason why we’d be seeing these blooms come back since mayflies have come back.”

Even if the return of the mayflies has contributed to the resurgence of algae blooms and low oxygen, it’s not a sign that Lake Erie managers need to kick the bugs back out.

“It’s not necessarily the mayflies’ fault that there’s so much phosphorus in the sediment,” Chaffin said. “The mayflies are going to do their thing if there’s a lot of phosphorus or not.”

Water managers are less than concerned as they know the arrival of the Asian carp will ensure those pesky mayflies get their comeuppance in spades.

… it’s the cheaper alternative to dismantling the electric fish barrier, boosting the voltage and dragging it along the bottom to zap hidden mayfly terrorist cells.

“I grew up on the shores of Lake Erie, so I remember there being no mayflies,” he said. “So every time I’m wiping mayfly guts off my feet, I don’t get too upset about it.”

Tags: Great Lakes, Asian Carp, Hexagenia Limbata, algae bloom, phosphorus sediment, mayfly burrow, fly fishing humor

You might be a fishing wienie if

… sure it’s the season of friendship, hope, and orgy of consumerism, yet buried way down deep is still a hint of Christianity … hard to see, but baby Jesus is sandwiched somewheres between that Lexus commercial and all the reasons I need a 54” flat screen …

… absent the three wise men, whose star led them to Best Buy, where they’re poring over red and blue maps and the merits of Droid versus iPhone.

Yet, in all this I find Hope. Not that I’ve changed spots any. I’m still the opinionated antisocial prick of Posts Past – only there’s an item common to all fly shop clearance sales – suggesting you astute lads aren’t buying any. Simms Special Edition Wader mat

The Simms “Special Edition” wader mat. I’ve scratched my chin and after considerable thought decided if you own one of these, you’re a complete wienie.

Strong words from a fellow that takes pride in offending everyone, wades in crap, and thinks the purity of decay is the new wilderness.

I recognize the object and its function, freely admit that twenty bucks isn’t likely to break anyone, yet I just can’t find a single worthwhile reason to own one.

… and based on recent sales data and the canny shopping of a spouse navigating the unfamiliar waters of the local fly shop, Simm’s may have invented the fly fishing equivalent of Soap On A Rope.

Why? Gals know dirt.

They’re tired of stumbling over your wet wading boots on the floor of the garage, the mud caked waders flung over the dryer as your anti-invasive strategy, and would just as soon fix all that.

… and there in the sale bin is their instrument of Truth. Precisely the same length as a four-piece rod tube – and when wrapped will fool you into visions of Sage, Scott, and she shouldn’t have … A carat and a half later (which you can ill afford) and the glee of Christmas morn shattered by a drip mat.

… and that’s the best case.

If we look at the raw physics, you used to have two wet boots, one set of wet waders (inside and out), a dripping hollow wading staff, and all of that gear wadded into the same area containing sleeping bag, half eaten loaf of Wonderbread, and room temperature Bologna – left opened in the trunk when you elected to dine afield.

Now there’s another wet, dirty object to taint your precious supplies, or leak into your sleeping bag …

Sherlockian deduction suggests it may be the car that is of greatest concern. Waders and wet boots stashed in finely tailored gear bags emblazoned with vendor label, crest of arms, or both – and while all else is neatly compartmentalized this will be draining into your cashmere interior – while you search the backroads for a rare steak.

… and the fact that you drove such a car down a pitted track to set gleaming next to mine, means you’re a wienie.

Volumes of literature and roadside signs warn you against invasive species. Tanks of chemicals allow you to sprits wading gear back to the sterile pristine, yet there’s a goodly compliment of passengers lining your “drip mat” – and while you and your gear are chaste, that mat is now host to everything you stepped in.

… which makes you a wienie.

Or it could be that you don’t want to get any on you, environment-wise. Slithering into a high priced prophylactic is done to curry favor with the outdoor clique at work, or perhaps it was the Boss – who thought this whole adventure thing would be a great team exercise. He’s self-made and only agreed to the boardroom suggestion of “off site” because he loves to fish.

If so, Mother Nature is likely to bust a cap in your arse and expose you as a wienie.

Try as I might I cannot come up with any desirable characteristics not furnished by an old Playboy or dog-eared newspaper, scrap of carpet, or extra floormat.

“Simms” brooks little argument and looks tastefully sexy in moonlight, but so does my tailgate. I remove dripping garments high above the taint of soil – where they’ll drain fetchingly next to the “4WD” accent.

… any fool can get a high-priced, low-slung euro-roadster down the hill, it’s getting up that grows the Iron Cross …

Unnecessary gear. Another item to forget on the day of departure, another excuse for a high pitched tirade by the car. It’s easier to move the loaf of bread aside, grab your buddy’s down jacket and use that …

… that only costs you dinner.

Tags: Simms Special Edition wading mat, fly fishing wienie, unnecessary bulk, waders, wading boots, invasive species, fly shop, baby Jesus, antisocial prick, IMHO

The “woodsy” self versus the thin veneer of civilization

Last night was a flurry of pots and pans, screaming cooks with blistered fingers, slopped sugary icing, and my complete abandonment of the angling world.

This time of year similar scenes are playing out in kitchens everywhere – and most anglers are smart enough to make themselves scarce, go fishing, or nurse barked knuckles after being repulsed in their attempt to lick spoons.

In stark contrast to their fishing personae, I’m left wondering how the women I’ve fished with transition from “did you wash your hands” to complete killers …

‘Because up here in Alaska, well, one, we — a lot of us, you know, we smell like salmon’

… and how is it that some vestige of the woodlands variant doesn’t mix with the civilized version.

As a guy “cook” I’m obliged to lay my offerings at the coffee pot along with the rest of the assemblage. Despite hours of painstaking preparation the Lemon Bars are housed in Taco Bell salad containers – and the Christmas Stollen lays astride a greasy cardboard box.

Surrounded by platters of carefully arranged and immaculately presented baked goods, moot evidence of my male insensitivity, lack of artistic merit, and unsanitary kitchen – while the female version looks twice as good as they taste.

Why is it my feminine side is only on display when fly fishing?

Perfect presentations and artistic sensibilities abound when tying or fishing, yet food is “.. it’s got sugar in it, shuddup.”

… and the converse is just as true. Safely ensconced within civilization gals are concerned with artistry and hygiene, and in the woods can’t hit the broadside of a barn with a spatula, yet mix fish guts and sandwiches with the best of us.

The fingerprints in the icing don’t slow the “vanish rate” any – as stern looks surrender to the beatific smiles of sugary satiation. But that’s proof of subconscious lust – conscious thought being suspended.

… and I can go on all day about the proper accompaniment for a bronze dun hackle to assist its contrast with an olive thorax, then scuttle away horrified if the subject shifts to curtains ..

Busy calling the kettle black – I may have answered my own question.

Tags:woodsy self, unwashed hands, chief cook and bottle washer, fly fishing, unsanitary Renaissance Man, shuddup

In the rare case when “inmate” coffee is an asset

It was a cup of coffee that fixed my issues with upland birds and waterfowl feathers. Cal Bird had a taste for strong brew and the shop’s pot was always bubbling ..

I was usually the first person at the store and figured that if one of those neatly trimmed Styrofoam cups made the brownish “ick” we drank yesterday, three or four of them should make real coffee, the kind that explodes a sleepy employee into a dynamo…

… like Popeye and spinach, only warmer.

Cal would show on Saturdays with a wreath cake and watch me struggling with some small bit of dander, and in between my fits of childlike petulance would show me the better way of doing things.

Cal was inordinately fond of upland birds and waterfowl as they possessed the most desirable color schemes and mottle effects, yet Mother Nature never saw fit to size them to suit our needs. All the best markings and coloration tend to be on the larger flank feathers which are much too long for small flies. Breast feathers are smaller, but small being synonymous with fragile – and markings are much lighter and can be indistinct.

I’d be struggling trying to fit a #6 partridge hackle on a #14 hook, with him smiling and offering encouragement, and as I mangled the feather into a semblance of functionality he’d point out how I could do so with less cursing. Part and parcel of the Consummate Gentleman, as he always had a kind word for everyone.

On one such Saturday he showed me what he called a “distribution wrap” – making no claim to its invention, but making my use of upland birds and waterfowl feathers much less formidable…

Single Segment: If you’ve got a feather with only a single side that has roughly equal length, you can trim that segment from the feather to make your hackle.

Single segment of feather trimmed from the stem

Just measure the length you want the body hackle and press the segment against the hook shank with your left thumb. See below.

Fibers pressed against the shank, thread poised to move them

The thread will be our instrument to move the fibers around the shank. We’ve a tenuous hold on them and will allow the thread to take them completely around the shank. If we using the three-turn anchor, we can wrap those turns loosely, and position fibers to cover the bare spots before securing the material tightly.

I've dropped the forefinger onto the material to guide it

I’ve dropped the forefinger on the top to start the material curling around the shank. Take a slow loose turn with the thread to complete.

Wrapping the back side, thread moving around to the front

The thread has trapped fibers at the top and is moving around the far side to populate the hackle. My fingers are there only to stop the motion and hold everything for the camera.

Three turn anchor holds everything, but you can still move it around

Once the fibers are mounted and anchored, if you take additional slow turns in the direction of the body, you can redistribute the hackle with each turn. Once the coverage is to your liking, wind only toward the eye.

Additional wraps towards the body has moved the fibers around

After taking additional wraps towards the body (and redistributing the material) I have the hackle to my liking. Now I’ll dub the thorax and finish the fly.

The finished fly

The finished teal hackle. Mother Nature doesn’t always assist us with small hackles, sometimes we have to get “medieval” on the raw materials to yield what’s useful.

This same technique can be used on most upland bird hackles and all species of waterfowl, but a lot also depends on the kind of hackle you’re attempting. The above fly has the luxury of a dubbed head which hides all my thread. I’d be much more precise with my thread if the hackle was the last thing on the fly.

Tags: Cal Bird, distribution wrap, teal hackle, soft hackle, strong coffee, wreath cake, fly tying, fly tying materials, teal flank