Category Archives: commentary

It’s his last day of vacation, and a toast is in order

Fix half in four years and you've got my vote Please Lord, make this one a good one…

I’m tired of little gimlet eyed, squinch-faced pricks mumbling at me from the Oval Office. I don’t care to entertain more voodoo economic models with clever names like “supply-side” or “Haliburton.”

I don’t care whether he’s a democrat or a republican, what color he is, whether he drinks, kisses guys, fishes, or wears women’s underwear, just give me a bright, industrious president with foresight and patience, whose ethics or interests intersect my own.

In a foxhole there’s little distinction between the parties, and this  fellow is going to need all the help we can muster, just to compensate for the excesses of the last couple of decades.

We’re all guilty, and we’re all going to give something; your kids will get jobs, parents will prolong retirement, and the rest of us will donate cash. The next couple of decades may yield some heroes rather than villains, and Time can choose between someone other than Jeffrey Skilling, Bernie Ebbers, Paris Hilton, or Bernie Madoff for cover art.

I’m not pleased by an 11 trillion dollar legacy foisted on us by the last administration, but as the rest of you voted for him, I’ll do my share.

In the meantime, enjoy watching Barack Obama’s last day of vacation, it’s certain to be a spectacle in the coming months, and though cautious, I’d love to see another great US President rather than read about them in history books.

Rod company layoffs continue

More economic upheaval for rod companies First Winston Rod and now Orvis. MidCurrent reports that Orvis has laid off 27 salaried employees from the Manchester office, and an additional 12 positions from the rod shop.

Luxury items are the first to go, and with everyone tightening their belt, this is expected.

Luxury bellweather Tiffany’s reported a 30% drop in US sales, and nine hundred dollar fishing rods have little place given the current economic climate. My expectation is there’ll be a lot more layoffs announced by rod companies this year.

Orvis is especially vulnerable – a combination of high end clothier and rod merchant, with a penchant for undercutting their own margins via “warehouse” sales resold on eBay.

Getting a $600 rod for $49 bucks ensures us newly cost conscious anglers defer to the electronic marketplace.

The “fun” is just getting started, tighten your belts and hang on.

I’ll take Taxes for two hundred, Bob

Arnold_Troutstamp Politicians love to make distinctions that don’t exist in dictionaries. It’s part of the benefits of such a lofty post, caretaker of the public trust.

Miriam Webster doesn’t see it that way.

Main Entry:
user fee
Function:
noun
Date:
1967

: an excise tax often in the form of a license or supplemental charge levied to fund a public service —called also user’s fee

Main Entry:
tax
Function:
noun
Usage:
often attributive
Date:
14th century

1 a: a charge usually of money imposed by authority on persons or property for public purposes b: a sum levied on members of an organization to defray expenses2: a heavy demand

During times of economic hardship fees can never be taxes, as increasing taxes play havoc with economic recovery, and increasing fees just means those that used to enjoy something – pay more for enjoying it.

With the collapse of the financial system states and business’s are struggling to find new sources of revenue to bolster massive shortfalls in traditional taxes. Bond markets remain in upheaval, and many states are prevented from using the traditional tools to secure operating revenue.

That’s where you come in.

Your house isn’t worth pizzle, your investments have been cut in half, you’re squirreling money away rather than spend it, in short – you’re not holding up your end of the economy.

You’re not patriotic.

We can expect most of the 50 state legislatures to start getting creative with the fee versus tax distinction, and those groups with little representation (anglers) will pay much more for “normal” stuff.

New York state is soliciting opinion on their new 2009 Salmon – Trout stamp, ten bucks on top of the normal license fee. Salmon anglers are likely a minority – toss “trout” on the label and you’ve got everybody having to pony up.

We’re not suggesting that wardens and natural resources aren’t deserved of protection, nor are we suggesting that state’s raise and plant trout for free.  We’re suggesting these dollars will be siphoned off into the General Fund, and spent on something wildly different than their original intent.

They can’t be that smart, they eat sticks and leaves

I’ve always struggled with fish vision and how it fits with my imitation of prey. Like most anglers I’m probably too quick to declare fly tying “success” and my brief victory may be for all the wrong reasons.

It’s hard enough to get into a fish’s head, but to look out their eye compounds the issue a hundredfold. The only adequate simulation is to chug a fifth in a single draught, erasing 160 IQ and yielding “fish eye” vision – but doesn’t give adequate time to tie enough flies before the remedy is expelled violently.

We’re left to guess at what fish see and think.

Prevailing theory has all manner of interesting wrinkles that most fishermen should be aware of:

An AP Black seen via binocular vision

Development of receptors for “blue” are among the last grown in human children, and it’s suspected that more primitive eyeballs (fish) lack these receptors – and view the color differently.

Fish eyes are tuned to their prey, and the movement of a fleeing baitfish is seen better by a Striped Bass, than a smelt.

The same fly via Fish Eye lens Fish vision is not binocular, they must integrate two separate images of the same scene when looking to the front. There is a gap of missing information between the two images – as fish have eyes mounted on their sides and cannot see what’s in front of their nose.

APBlack as two discrete images with gap Fish eyes have evolved over many millions of years in a pristine environment, now the Man has “muddied the waters” vision is limited by turbidity, and fish diets are changing – from what they’re attuned for, to what they can see.

While it’s a struggle to resolve the scientific detail, and our laymen’s understanding of vision, this has to be one of the reasons why a #16 Royal Wulff catches fish during a Pale Olive hatch.

While the Royal Wulff doesn’t resemble a Pale Morning Dun, if it enters the right focal plane it might be missing the entire red floss center section, or the skewed visual of hackles obscure enough to make it resemble what’s hatching.

It’s food for thought certainly, and when you stop to consider some of these theories, how many well known mayflies and caddis are blue?

Flowers are color coded so that the best pollinator responds to its bloom, I’m sure similar holds for the balance of nature – it’s why we gaze in rapture at the pictures on the restaurant menu, then gaze in wonderment at the lifeless turd that arrives on our plate.

I’d describe myself as an impressionistic fly tier, I rarely use exacting imitations with knotted legs and painstaking detail, those flies work best on fishermen. I like simulation and movement rather than detail, and the precise proportions we’re taught to use are skewed by water quality and the perceptive limitations of our quarry.

It’s akin to reincarnation, everyone is someone famous in a past life, and we accredit fish with all the “smart” traits because they outwit us. If that holds water, it’s likely they’re victimized by flatulence and bad breath as well.

I’d guess that trout eat as many twigs and stems as mayflies, like humans they can’t all have perfect vision, and the older the fish gets the bigger its prey. Not because it’s “big fish big meal” – rather it can see the big meal clearly, and little stuff could be food, but often as not it’s debris.

Could be I’ve stumbled upon the reason why there’s so many discrete streams of air bubbles in the Little Stinking, and how the residents earned the  “coarse fish” label.  We’re so concerned about the methane released by cows – and we’ve overlooked the real culprit.

It only took them two weeks and 17 pages, Geniuses all of them

Secretary Chrisman likes to double down It’s the latest trend among those in power –  circumventing the normal political process with urgency replacing the painstaking scientific work, and when called to task for the crime,  blame the other fellow for not thinking for you.

The financial crisis in Washington has emboldening every political hack with a year or less on his term to “fast track” legislation, but there’s still no surrogate for careful planning and research, especially when it comes to Mother Nature.

Now them idiot cabinet secretaries appointed by Schwarznegger insist they can build the peripheral canal without asking the legislature or voters. For those out of state, the peripheral canal is California’s answer to keeping the desert in full bloom, tapping the Sacramento River in Northern California and swinging the water around the Delta to fill the faucets of Los Angeles.

It was soundly defeated by voters in 1982.

The bad news is that the move will continue the orderly destruction of the Sacramento river delta, and what little remains of the Chinook salmon run.

It’s only 15 Billion dollars, and since Schwarzenegger is already in Washington with hat in hand, and his state controller issuing proclamations of the state running out of money in 45 days, might as well “double down” on the handout. How else can they fund the project without asking voters?

I assume they figure no one will ask what was done with the cash, so what’s the worry.

I can’t make the case that urgency warrants bad legislation. The fact that “everyone else is doing it” sets a precedent, but it’s a shameful one. We’d hoped we were electing our best and brightest, instead we got another set of clowns that copied someone else’s homework.

Unpopular at the Pier, No Bailout for old rod companies

Tom Chandler published a short piece on the struggles of some of our older, venerable rod companies, how the downturn in the economy was forcing layoffs and depressing sales.

Tom asked for comments.

 

Dear Rod Company Executive,

Recently I’ve learned of the downturn in the economy and the Hard Times that will surely follow. It’s my understanding that as part of the Darwinian process – where the strong companies responsive to their customers have a small chance at survival, and those that didn’t have none …. many of you won’t be around much longer.

That’s Good.

As the sole author of a pissant little angling blog, my readers have been subjected to much spit and vitriol on this sacred subject; the state of the fly rod industry, and its absurd pricing.

It’s my steadfast belief that a fly rod made of paper-backed silica or carbon scrim, containing 12 rings of Portuguese cork, 8 stainless or chromed guides, a lathe-turned aluminum reel seat, and 50 yards of nylon thread has no business approaching $1000 dollars in price.

… this from your industries’ Dream Customer, the guy that owns more rods than fingers, loves new technology, and is itching for an excuse to own more.

Sorry, I’m not interested in your tackle. Your canny Madison Avenue marketing geniuses mistook the Wall Street banking crowd as your constituency, and you’ve been making rods for them – not us fishermen.

You’ve set your cap on an unsustainable economic model, and assumed this tiny niche could endure any form of price indignity. We’d swallow “NiTQ” as something really rare – rather than a silica garage floor coating, we’d perceive a lighter rod as worth an additional $250, insist that a carbon reel seat was sex compared to rare wood – it’s lighter and cheaper for you to make, certainly – sex it’s not.

Real fishermen know sex, we know it’s sweaty, wet, dirty, and some fellow on the far bank is yelling “Woo Hoo, Yeaah!.” We’re not the effete little poseurs you bet your entire company on.

 

Those guys – the back-biting little pricks shown in recent advertisements, aren’t answering your phone call, they’re on the street wondering whether Obama means jail time – or whether they can sell their New York condo before they’re foreclosed on …

Good Goddamn riddance – to them and you.

It’s the perfect storm, Mr Rod Company Executive; a severe recession looming, financial markets in disarray, and none of those institutions are going to loan you a dime. You make luxury items, really expensive luxury items, and with a decade of belt tightening looming – that Chinese blank is looking mighty sweet to me and my pocketbook.

You’ve had your heyday, relying on “buy American” to lure us back from what we could afford – to the outlandish priced crap you’ve insisted are pre-requisites of excellence and keeps the “club” exclusive. Most of us are still making payments on that rod courtesy of extended credit and misguided loyalty.

You blew the excess inventory out in warehouse sales, which hit eBay only days after you did so, and now we’re left wondering why that sonofabitch local vendor sold us a rod for $800 that can be bought on eBay for half that. Your current models should’ve been shredded – or donated to clubs for charity fundraiser’s – instead I can get a new Helios for less than $400, which really confuses me – as we’ve been so loyal to you.

… and the whole fly fishing thing is evaporating in front of us; angling on the decline, quality water in freefall, the government either outmanned, outgunned, or wants to mine what pristine watersheds are left, we’re besieged on every front with invasive species, water rights, water diversion, power generation, stream access, and global warming, and I’ve got to ask – where are you?

Shouldn’t some of you have been pounding fist at a congressional hearing on one or more of these pervasive issues? Now that everyone is taking a turn at the Public Trough – suddenly you want to be “hat in hand” in front of a congressional panel with your fleece outers and tweed uppers?

Them senators – ill-informed and misguided though they may be – are hoping they can keep bread on someone’s table, preserving industries and jobs for folks that can’t afford your tackle already.

Cars are a luxury too … but they’re not the “obscene” kind of luxury befitting a thousand dollar item used only 9 times per year.

No sir, you haven’t paid much attention to us. We recognize that most of you aren’t fishermen – having freely imported plenty of Wharton’s finest – and losing your soul in the process.

Great rod companies, with great product and enough cash on hand to withstand a 50% drop in sales for the next decade – will survive. But I’m not going to help you, not one bit.

I’m legally bound not to reveal my “media” discount, but it confirms what I’ve written about your tackle – your base costs are unchanged, and less than one hundred dollars per rod. Each small iteration in “rod tech” is trumpeted by your colorful advertisements and cocksure staff, obsolescing what I’ve bought with a robust price increase – and little else.

We’ve always loved your product, but we love our kids and homes more.

I’ll buy your rods later from the receiver – after they’ve shuttered your doors and you’re left in the parking lot with a cardboard box and your precious red stapler.

Internet Outage, Part Deux

Once again I’m without Internet access at my home and unable to post or check email. It’s one of those special moments for a computer geek – calling Technical Support and listening to some gum-chewing SOB with skills much less than your own…

“Yes, Bob – it was working this morning, and then the light on the modem blinked off, and it hasn’t worked since. I can ping your modem, but can’t see anything past that – and I’m noticing the the DHCP service on your router isn’t issuing me an address.”

“Reboot your computer.”

“Done Bob, a “trace route” yields nothing past your modem, I still don’t have an IP address, and I’m getting kind of really pissed, Bob..”

“Did you try rebooting your computer?”

“Yes, Sweetpea – I kicked it several times, and when you get off shift tonight, it’s you and me in the parking lot doing the Tire Iron Dance, Moron… Now Bob, can I talk to your supervisor?”

“Uh, no. He’s rebooting his computer.”

You look quickly for a wide spot and hold the rod behind you

Trains are part of the fabric of the Upper Sacramento, a mixture of positive and negative that keeps you mindful of their presence and noise.

I’m sure locals have a more realistic vantage, having endured the extinction of the river in the Cantara Loop derailment many years ago.

I remember resenting their intrusion on my initial visit, but enjoy the spectacle in the years since then.

It’s an odd mixture of gaily “tagged” boxcars, horrendous vibration, deafening noise, and the wail of the horn; drowning your peaceful reverie in a cacophony of industry. It’s so out of place as to startle you no matter how often you witnessed their passing.

The watershed is a steep notch bisecting mountainous terrain where movement is never simple. Deep pocket water forces you onto the slope to move around boulders, and felt soles don’t offer much purchase. The level grade of the railroad tracks follow the river throughout, offering easy navigation and the vantage of elevation to scan likely water.

But you have to keep an eye on your surroundings, as blind corners can vomit a million tons of steel at a moment’s notice.

Squealing metal takes on an eerie component in the quiet of evening, with the draws and canyons alternately baffling and enhancing sound. Tromping the tracks back to the car after a full day of fishing and a sudden squeal lends wings to tired feet – especially when there’s so little clearance between you and all that freight.

Especially if you’re on the outside of the turn – in the river, you can’t help but expect some tank car to come over the lip and head for the streambed.

I was watching all those tank cars and remembering the Metam Sodium spill – wondering how much “soil fumigant” enters the Little Stinking on a daily basis, and how only the PPM (parts per million) makes one a stream enhancement and the other a stream killer. 2005 statistics suggest it is #5 in the list of chemicals applied to Yolo County, likely all 83,000 pounds used came through this same narrow canyon.

I still like trains – but now “eat a tomato, kill a trout” is running through my head – and maybe Vegans are bad for the environment …

I figure most of the caddis are addle-pated from the vibration of train traffic. Nothing like getting bounced around inside a stone casing to make an “October Caddis” emerge in November instead.

Guys don’t whine if there’s a gal in the boat

Photo courtesy Dick Blume / The Post-Standard I hear the logic but remain unconvinced. Barriers to coed sports have been breached on many levels, but fly fishing requires us to drop all the advances of the last 100 years and isolate women from men?

I think it’s a farce, led by canny vendors and abetted by guides doing “high five’s” as next week is “the Amazon outing, wo0t…”

Women haven’t embraced fly fishing with any real vengeance, and while inroads have been made in other leisure sports,  I’m thinking part of the problem is their introduction and exposure to our silly notion of segregation.

It’s hard enough to instruct your spouse, but after she’s been mauled by a bunch of louts from the local shop, the memorable part of our sport is the stuff that sucks blood, and stuff that sucks … period.

Women can be vicious wags at the watercooler, their voices grow silent as you approach and animated as you depart. Guys do it too – we’re certainly no saints, but why would we introduce them to a supposedly restful and relaxing sport, when they’re subject to the haughty glare of whichever female clique takes possesion of the lodge and its environs?

Guys go fishing, it’s not “Special Guy Week”, it’s some gaggle of oversexed, overfed, and overbearing fellows, vying to impress others by how long they can go without bathing. Casting classes are not “for Guys Only,” yet somehow the “for Women” label seems to crop up at every opportunity.

I think it’s a setup. A “puppy mill” for hopeful boyfriends, desperate spouses, and avaricious vendors hoping they’ll dump their overstock of claret fishing vests and petite waders.

Guides, shop owners, and lodges don’t clear the decks of males to “ease the learning curve” – nor is their staff suddenly chaste, they’re giggling amongst themselves while the gals endure the presentation attempting to get some “rise” from a participant – and reluctant to acknowledge any “refusal.”

This ain’t a “Lonely Hearts Club” – and most are there at the urging of partners, boyfriends, and husbands. Likely they’d feel a good deal easier if there’s a friendly face to explain some of the technical detail, rather than having to strike up a friendship, and absorb the lesson all at the same time.

I’d want to be there when the instructor mentions her Shakespeare wasn’t as good as my Sage, supposedly the gear was split equitably – and now I’m the callow, gear hogging spouse that’s not to be trusted.

Having taught fly tying for 20 years, women aided the proceedings immeasurably. It keeps the machismo crap to a minimum, and most fellows watched their language – something they never did around kids. The ladies felt welcome – and were catered to politely, never pestered, and made comments that were insightful and welcome. It didn’t matter if they were 13 or 86, they had the same calming effect.

Women are the better novice, guys are too enraptured of the technical detail and reluctant to ask questions and take instruction, as they’ve been taught it’s not masculine to appear helpless. Mixing the sexes at the novice level is a good match – it’s liable to steady both participants; he’d stop whining and she’d have someone to break the current when crossing the deep spots.

Given the choice, I’d rather fish with women. They smell better, are less vain, tell the truth with only minor embellishment, share the fish equitably, and are as gracious in victory as in defeat.

Guys, well … they aspire to that.

I don’t expect some enmasse migration to the Brown water, but I’d expect a steely set to her jaw when I explained the fish wasn’t fit for Man nor beast. It’d be a sharp contrast from her trout loving boyfriend – who’d be dancing around the shallow end hoping I’m there to take the fish off his hook.

Vindication, Now us Rubenesque types can wag finger

Food worth dying over Brownline authors are a sordid lot, living a half-life of darkened ritual, half truths, fawning groupies and poor diet..

Lectured repeatedly on how much Sodium my beef jerky contains, how the chocolate Old Fashioned is the work of Satan, and how countless well meaning health buffs with an unnatural interest in my colon would liberate me from chocolate and sprinkles. 

Now, a little payback is in order:

The Wake Forest School of Medicine report found that farm-raised tilapia contained higher levels of omega-6 fatty acids than foods like doughnuts and bacon.

Excessive levels of omega-6 fatty acids have been linked to a number of diseases, including heart disease, arthritis, osteoporosis, cancer, and depression.

So, after a long productive life enhanced by leafy greens and whole grains, you’re wheeled into my room – and while we both wait to expire -I assault you with tales of the glazed obscenity you should have ate instead of the eco friendly cardboard foisted on you at the health food store?

Sure, I’m headed for the “hot” place – but they got bacon there too ..