Category Archives: commentary

That’s OK, we slept since then

It's We ate all the big stuff, most of the medium sized stuff, and we’re working on the small stuff now. Next comes the really small stuff, those critters so important to the food chain that their absence upsets the entire apple cart.

West coast salmon virtually collapsed this year despite our best lip service, we said we were conserving them like a sumbitch – and industry estimates backed our play. Then the bottom fell out – and everyone shrugs their shoulder and points at “not enough krill” – we were managing the take just fine.

Now they’re suctioning Krill – mostly because of the health benefits associated with Omega 3 fatty acids; you take a couple tons of the fundamental building block of the entire saltwater food chain, mash it up and add some Yellow Dye #3 – puke that into capsule form and serve it up to an aging overweight population as a miracle cure for what ails them.

Naturally the estimates of Krill populations vary depending on whether your livelihood is derived from their capture; scientists estimate 100 million tonnes, and the fishing industry claims there’s five times that amount.

Me, I see it as simple genetic manipulation, akin to the same stuff various organizations protest most violently. In the one case, we’re tinkering in an area best left to Divinities, and in the other – screw them, they’re just  salt water insects nobody’s exploiting yet.

It’s a kind of unknowing hypocrisy, what they really fear is we’ll unleash a biological atom bomb that’ll destroy the Earth in a couple of weeks, whereas destroying the Earth in a couple of decades is just fine.

I don’t get it.

Egghead scientists and eco-radicals get on the Telly – and once they start frothing the rest of us turn the channel. Normal folks are excluded from the same exposure because they don’t froth at the mouth, and make poor sound bites.

That leaves me, a semi-literate SOB wading up a polluted creek thrilled to catch 3″ fish that no one else wants, knowing that next year they’ll be 2″ – and fewer.

Just remember, Soylent Green is made from People…

At 65 it was your Doctor that said "Let it Be"

Fur Protesters That just ain’t fair, they get McCartney and I get the Hulkster?

McCartney, 65, posed for a photograph for the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) organization accompanied by the words: “I am Paul McCartney and I am a vegetarian”. It also features the quote: “Many years ago, I was fishing, and as I was reeling in the poor fish, I realized, ‘I am killing him — all for the passing pleasure it brings me.’

Jesus, Paul – but did you ever contemplate the impact of hearing “Say Say Say” twice in an hour, on grainy AM radio?

It comes with being an “A-Lister” – the national podium wherein no sound byte is ever discarded, and a “cause celebre” is required to expose your social conscience, after lining your pockets with coin from  commoners. We expect it nowadays, some esoteric cause swathed in flash bulbs, Rolex’s, and toy poodles – destined to make us choke on our porridge.

I wouldn’t resent it so much if he had his catharsis over a lamb chop..

The closest I got to a celebrity was guiding Clint Eastwood’s mom on Fall River. Clint owned the old Crosby Ranch on Rising River, and I had to ask – “Mizz Eastwood, how come you’re fishing here, Clint has all the good stuff under armed guard!”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t let me fish there,” was her response. I found out shortly that Clint was smarter than me, as I’m trying to pry fish out of her grip to release them, and she’s trying to kill them with a pipe wrench.

Nothing wrong with quirks, Lord knows I have my share..

Which C-Lister do we want as our spokesman?

Hulkamaniacs do Bass, Baby You can enjoy your pristine wilderness-kinda experience, then wonder why your congressman boots you out of his office, despite amusing his secretary with fish costumes and chants about indiscriminate water bottle use.

Money and “C” list celebrities are the new Tammany Hall mob, a lethal combination of pandering and getting the message across; it doesn’t matter whether you get the autograph or not, it’s the soundbite that counts.

Today, FLW Fantasy Fishing(TM) awarded the first of seven historic fantasy sport prizes: $100,000 to Christopher Toring of Minneapolis, Minnesota. With the groundbreaking announcement of FLW Fantasy Fishing and the largest fantasy sports payout ever, including $7.3 million in cash and prizes, the excitement and anticipation has kept participants and fans on the edge of their seats and eager to become $100,000 richer — just by playing FLW Fantasy Fishing.

I figure the entire fly fishing industry has a combined advertising budget of less than $7.3 million, the amount the fantasy fishing game is giving away.

But wait, there’s more…

Hulk Hogan just signed as the spokesman for the contest, can the reality show be far behind? Nothing like a canny marketing juggernaut to kick sand in our sandwich – I have to applaud, they know their demographic, and are destined for something astraddle the evening news.

Don’t despair, Ted Nugent still fishes, and I think Mr. T is available.

As half your paycheck is involved, you may want to kick the hooks and check the floatant level

Fly tiers have it a bit easier come Spring, all those rainy days allows us to address holes in the fly box – we always wait till the last minute, but the theory of “winter tying” is sound.

The rest of you will procrastinate as well, but that initial outlay of cash for flies each season is a mixture of fear and dread; fear that the spouse will see the bill, and dread that all the #18 Pale Olives are gone.

Every fly shop is a mixture of flies, typically the traditional patterns are tied overseas and the flies unique to the area are tied by staff or local talent. Like everything else, flies can be hellishly expensive, so it pays to know a little about their construction – so you can be discriminating with your hard earned, inflation damaged, dollar.

Clean and tight, testament to the skill of the tyer When examining another tier’s work I look at the head of the fly, it tells me everything I need to know about skill and degree of craftsmanship. The shape and size of the thread finish, the amount of debris trapped by the final knot are testimony to proper execution of proportion or whether he was crowded for space.

Crowding often leads to weakness in the finished fly, it’s a simple thing to check as you select from the hundreds in the bin. Too many final steps have to be tied off in too short an area – tempting the tier to use less thread to secure materials, and leading to bulbous knots that are weaker due to the buildup of thread and materials.

The material will wick cement into the eye, note crowding Head cement is thinned to water consistency, materials trapped in the finish knot will wick head cement into the eye closing it completely. It’s a personal peeve of mine – 15 minutes of light left, fish slurping all around – eyesight failing – and your last #16 Elk Hair Caddis is a glue lump, nothing makes me swear louder.

You can clean them beforehand, but we’d rather suffer than be proactive.

Flies can fall apart for dozens of reasons – most are legitimate as we bounce them off rocks on the backcast, snare them in trees on the forward cast, skitter them through debris and if blessed, subject them to rows of fine fish teeth.

A fly that shows signs of wear may even fish better than the pristine flavor, we’ve little issue with failure after 4-5 fish, and may give the tattered remnant a place of honor in a hat band.

You can test dry flies by gripping the hackle between thumb and forefinger and wiggling the fibers in any direction. The hackle opposite your grip should not move – if it does the fly won’t last long, perhaps after it’s rapped on a couple of rocks behind you or after the first fish.

Nymphs can be tied in weighted or unweighted flavors and are often not marked when loose in the bin. If you want to know whether the fly is weighted, the lead will be located under the wingcase of the fly, you should be able to feel the lump between your fingers. The above assumes a “standard” mayfly style nymph – and wouldn’t be true of a giant stonefly nymph which may have lead along the entire hook shank. It’s still a good rule of thumb – simply pinching the fly should reveal a bulge somewhere along the shank if it’s weighted.

The fly shop may be midway to your destination, a helpful tip would include doing all your barb pinching in the parking lot before saddling up for the back country. Many dry fly hooks are forged making them slightly more brittle than a round wire nymph hook. If you’re headed for special restriction water, pinch the barbs down in the shop parking lot, there are always one or two hook points that snap with the pressure, and knowing your casualties up front is easier than destroying your last fly deep in the forest after a two day hike.

Many fly shops have moths, and nothing is tastier than natural fiber. You may not know the “dust” in the bin is the eggs of a thousand voracious fly eating demons, you’ll find out next season when you pull your vest out of the closet, but now they look like sawdust. When your season closes toss your fly box in a cedar drawer to prevent unwanted surprises – at two bucks each it may save you some heartbreak.

Dry flies are especially prone to damage – not just from moths – but pressed together in tight confines can set hackle askew or flatten it completely. Part of your pre-Opening Day ritual should be to examine the box and steam the hackles back to their original shape with a teapot.

Make yourself a pot of tea and hold damaged dry flies into the stream of steam from the whistling pot. Held for a couple moments with forceps will allow the hackle to return to its original shape. It’ll also allow you to examine the hook point and touch it up with a hook hone for the coming festivities.

Most of you are getting a little antsy by now, as we’ve less than 60 days before the season starts, this exercise is a sure cure for cabin fever. Remember that a bystander will not understand when you cackle like Scrooge McDuck as you count the number of #16 Adams you possess…

Earl Gray, no sugar please.

Gulp, I sure hope nobody runs the statistics on me

Singlebarbed Fly Recovery unit in action I’d just finished another hallway conversation wherein I defended myself, the rest of you louts, and our beloved pastime. I was fumbling for the file to notch my “gunbutt” with another eco-radical kill, when I was brought up short…

It was innocent piece, really – but it cited a statistic that fascinated me:

Each year, more than 12,000 tons of rubbery “soft baits” land at the bottom of lakes, streams and rivers, says Hobbins, who is president and CEO of Waunakee-based Lake Resources Group.

An enterprising lad has devised a new “plastic worm” that resists tearing, doesn’t come off the hook, and lays claim to the ecological “high ground” for low impact artificial baits.

My snappy comeback failed, I’m thinking it has to have TransFat in there somewhere. The old adage of “..if it feels good or tastes good it’s bad for you” leaps to mind, especially for a tactile yummy like a gelatinous worm.

Thankfully we don’t have a similar statistic for lost flies, but it has to be right up there in gross tonnage. I’m discounting the lead split shot, as we’re already drinking a couple hundred years worth compliments of duck hunters.

I’m guessing our lost tackle is nearly two-thirds the worm total, a lot of our flies are smaller and weigh less, many weigh more, but they wouldn’t be representative of the “average” fly.  Tyer’s like me and Daytripper tip the balance, as we’re more comfortable throwing leaden death than the gossamer stuff, even so – 8000 tons of flies wedged in rocks and tree limbs is a economy stimulating total.

As this is a “per season” weight can we turn this into a lucrative profession? Scuba gear is expensive, but there’s a thriving industry recovering sunken golf balls – why not flies?

I’m leaning toward one of those Montana trophy streams – I can lay in wait behind the big rock and pluck stoneflies nymphs off your leader like dollar bills – so long as I give you a couple tugs you’re happy, you’re just going to lie about it anyway’s…

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We did poorly at Physics and Chemistry and they know it

You work till May for the IRS, now work until August for us I managed to whip myself into a froth over the purchase of a new rod. It was a self inflicted wound so I have only myself to blame, TC didn’t help much with his scholarly work on the resurgence of fiberglass – I was feeling “retro” anyway’s, all he did was fan the flame.

My second mistake was entertaining the idea seriously – serious enough to take a look at what was available, and then glancing down at the $#%@& price tag… Sweet Jesus…

If I was to dump $700 on something, I would be wiping it daily with the sleeve of a clean shirt, I would yell at a dog that got near it, and I’d consider striking a small child if they got milk-breath in proximity.

So much for graphite.

Those fiberglass rods sounded sweet, so I looked up the vendors TC mentioned and gazed fondly at their product, then glanced downward at the &%#@! price tag … Sweet Mother of God…

The only “fiber” in my “glass” will be Metamucil.

I built all my own rods as a young lad – money was tight and blanks were cheap, it added to the whole “roll your own” mystique; you tied your own flies, built the rod, and knotted together a leader; it was a rite of passage, and proof of your dedication. Thirty years later with a steady job and I’m still in the same boat – what’s wrong here?

The “elitism” thing has never been apparent in fly fishermen I meet –  there are a few notable exceptions, but in large part the fly fishing community is friendly, hellishly opinionated, frequently misguided, insufferable in a social setting, but rarely snooty or elitist.

Is the root cause the vendor community and the usurious prices they charge for our tackle – leaving the common fellow to gasp in shock and damning us all as “rich guys” and pricks?

Tackle has me gasping – who in hell decided I needed Titanium in order to fish?

Bamboo rods required skilled artisans that spent decades learning the intricacies of cane and tapers, the advent of the Industrial Revolution shoved all them geezers to the side, and spat rods for everyone – mass production, reducing the man hours per rod and yielding a lower price point.

That’s still true today. Metal mandrels are wrapped with carbon film, heat shrink tape applied, and the result baked to completion. It’s the “McRod” – some fellow hits the “Crap Rods” button on a roomful of machinery and some other fellow catches them as they’re expelled from some mechanical bowel, they’re sanded, dipped, dried, and hung in a “clean” room.

It’s still a fast taper in Harm’s Way, meant to precede us through the brush, tossed into a pickup, and leaned against a pine tree while in camp. I can see my way to do that with $200, but not with a rig costing nearly $1300 with reel attached.

That violinist understands after parking his arse on a million dollar violin, … at least he had the good sense not to carry around a  Stradivarius.

I’ve never heard a carpenter lust after the $600 hammers they sell to the Pentagon, so why is it we lust after this stuff?

and she knows If it’s ostentatious we’re looking for – I’m going the Chihuahua route; a hairless rat-dog clutched tightly to my vest as I scour the fast water, a good trainer coupled with my ability to throw a tight spiral and it’s a hell of a fishing tool.

Madison Avenue is full of sharp fellows that know physics and chemistry were our weakness in school, so they plague us with terms like “NTiQ” – nano-titanium quartz. We oblige them by not looking it up to learn that nano-titanium powder, is among other things, a disinfectant, and you can call a fellow to quartz your garage floor with the same resin.

…but in a new flyrod … it’s the penultimate awesomenality* and you gotta have it.

The angling press deserts us when we need them most – to give an impartial review of new tackle, instead they obligingly regurge the copy provided with the “free” rod, and are convinced it’s cool because they got one..

… has gone out of their way to apply an exotic material, a fine layer to Quartz, that adds durability to withstand saltwater conditions, and adds the incredible power needed to play tug-a-war with the mammoth fish that reside in the ocean.

The Quartz adds power to the rod? … this from the guy that lit the Chem lab on fire?

I’m not old enough to mean it when I mention the “good old days” – but I know enough to prefer waving a 9 foot semiconductor in a lightning storm – to a full conductor compliments of Titanium.

Despite all the semi-scientific evidence cited, the final rub was knowing the Bush stimulus package will  deliver a maximum of $600, enough to get a nice rod off of EBay, but it’s shy of contemporary gear. If we can restart the entire economy with that – imagine the industrial juggernaut we’d unleash if everyone bought a new rod.

You think maybe these damn things cost too much?

* Props to Buster Wants To Fish for the use of his prose.

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At least I started off feeling patriotic, now I’ll just scratch my head and wonder

Max that sucker for God and Country Like it or no it’s an election year and the current regime feels obligated to safeguard the economy until December, so’s they can blame whatever party takes power shortly thereafter.

It’s a time-honored tradition, and with $600 bucks hurtling your way – coupled with your patriotic duty to blow it in an orgy of consumption, we ask – which flyrod are you gonna buy?

Yes, I’m talking to you, no need to glance around panic stricken..

The commandments are simple; you’re not allowed to bank it, you can’t pay off your mortgage with it, and you’re Al-Qaeda if you contemplate anything like paying down your credit card balance. It’s $600 and anything short of a consumer frenzy is simply unacceptable.

It’s 270 flies (with tax) which should represent a full season for most fishermen, except me, as the Little Stinking is a preserve for Charles Schultz’s “deadly kiting eating trees” and their offspring, the “deadly fly eating low hanging scrub” – even then, 270 flies is most of a weekend.

It’s one reel and extra spool, so long as you covet one of the large arbor “economy stimulating hand tooled aircraft grade something-or-other” – you’ll still have to pop for the fish graphic abstract, but we’ll call you a “super patriot” and can quail hunt with Dick Cheney if you opt for the any of the custom finishes.

It’s most of a flyrod actually, you may be able to get a whole one if you order it off the Internet, but that would raise the “commie” issue as you avoided sales tax entirely. You’d still get to meet Dick, but your cell phone calls will be taped for posterity.

What’s plain to me is that none of us will qualify, because even knowing about this gear means you make far too much money already.

… and that’s an ugly thought – that last rod purchase made us miss the mortgage payment, and we’re the cause of the entire debacle?

Say it ain’t so…

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You ain’t as clever as you make out, now you’re looking at someone your own size

Lock and Load, Baby I got my question answered and it wasn’t the screenwriter’s what done it, just a run-of-the-mill Legal type wrote the script. This time they might’ve driven a wedge in the farming community and garnered fishermen some unlikely allies, something they’ll soon regret.

The “Water Wars” continue unabated, and last weeks suit of the State of California by the Coalition for a Sustainable Delta, has escalated a bit – in my mind, a bit in our favor.

This coalition is the front for the farmers in Kern county, who are suing the Department of Fish and Game and the State of California for the promotion of a foreign species, Striped Bass, whose predatory antics (they claim) are causing the current decline in smelt, salmon, and most other fisheries.

This time they pooched it – as they’re also interesting in examining wasteful water practices from “…thousands of unchecked farm water diversions in the Delta itself.”

It’s no longer fishermen and ecologists against farmers, it’s going to be farmer on farmer. Whose crops are more important? I don’t think they want to surface that question, not with all those intertwined subsidies, corporate “farms” – and water intensive produce.

This will make one hell of a battle and will likely have some strange allies, and stranger opponents, with us “small yet vocal” fishermen prodding both 800 lb Gorillas… from a respectful distance of course.

A war on two fronts is a poor strategy, those that don’t learn the lessons of history are doomed to repeat them.

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Hell, we tried lawyers a dozen times, maybe a fisherman would bring some marketable skills

It ended his election, he should've driven a Bass boat It’s officially an election year, and we’re about to be courted by all the candidates and their apparatchik. Each campaign has a smartly dressed fellow with a overly stuffed briefcase methodically checking off the the important voting blocks each candidate has to acknowledge.

We’ve seen it in prior elections; a baseball cap doffed in Iowa, a tank driven in Michigan, a Hummer valet parked in California – each photo opportunity carefully crafted to appeal to some minute segment of society, “Vote for me, ’cause I’m like you..”

Fishermen are one of those demographics that will get addressed later in the year, the larger blocks of voters get first “dibs.” The question for us is “exactly what does a fisherman president bring, that a non fisherman wouldn’t?”

I’m not talking about the obvious stuff, the Right to Arm Bears, or any of the controversial nonsense, I’m talking about character.

I’ve fished with most socio-economic levels, professions, and all four sexes, so I was mentally comparing common traits, a good president doesn’t need to be a fisherman, but there are some innate talents anglers have that’d be beneficial for a senior statesman.

Whenever they renegotiate the next SALT treaty, I’d rather have a fisherman at the table, as he can mention that we’ve got a space based death ray, and can do it with a straight face. Fishermen don’t see a small exaggeration as lying, and that’ll come in real handy.

The Republicans appear to be beating each other over the head with the immigration issue, a fisherman president would solve that in a fortnight, as over-limit may be embarrassing but it’s still a good thing.

Vote I’m thinking the federal deficit would still be an issue, especially if they stock the Executive washroom with Orvis catalogs, and the Iraqi conflict would be settled in a week, as there isn’t any gamefish worth the continued expenditure.

It would be gratifying to have a “rip snorter” president akin to Teddy Roosevelt, them powderpuffs that inhabit the Beltway would have to lobby whilst swatting mosquitos, a welcome change from conducting state business in a Minneapolis washroom.

But don’t expect to see any trout fishermen, “America’s Fish” is now the Largemouth Bass, so we’ll likely see more wake then wading, it’ll play well with them Southern fellows, and we’ll have to determine who can tie a clinch knot via television special.

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The fishing don’t last but cooking do

Singlebarbed Santa I’m mortal, guilt got the better of me and I spent the better part of the weekend baking for neighbors and well wishers. Certain occasions require even the staunchest fisherman to succumb, I figured additional “brownie points” could be banked for later.

For the 60% of you that have to travel in the next couple of days, leave early and keep a weather eye peeled for the meathead that’s celebrating in earnest.

We’ll be on the road ourselves, fueled by a lethal combination of strong coffee, Ma’s cooking, and See’s candy. Here’s hoping Santa brings you a quiet moment with your family.

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