Category Archives: fishing

Norway contemplates ending salmon season

Norway California will have company shortly as Norwegian authorities contemplate ending the salmon season. Quotas and restrictions have already been instituted, now a complete ban of wild salmon fishing is on the table.

A multitude of possible culprits exist – global warming tops the list, with acid rain and farmed fish escapees also cited.

The association of landowners and the SGSL – Sea Salmon Fishers disagree with the research and legislation, both groups profit greatly from the salmon fishery – and have a vested interest in the outcome.

It’s a similar tale to what we’ve experienced, just on the other side of the planet.

The Return of the Silver Surfer

amshad I swore I wasn’t going to let it happen to me again, so here’s a gentle reminder that the “Silver Surfer” runs are approaching with as much vigor as your Trout Opener..

It’s the same vicious ritual each year, you focus on refilling the missing trout bugs from last season preparing for the Opener, then a couple weeks after your return some ne’er do well calls with, “Dude, Shad. Go Now!”

Light water years always seem to come by surprise. Water managers claim victory in December, then little falls from January through April and everyone realizes another dry years’ ahead. Water flows dictate migration, and less water means miserly flows and makes the “window” of prime conditions all the shorter.

Trout season in California is the last Saturday in April, and in a dry year the Shad may already be in the rivers – taking “second fiddle” to the horde of trout fishermen intent on feats of prowess. Given an early start to Shad, you may have driven by better fishing enroute to your mountain adventure.

Shad flies, heavy and gaudy as you can make them

Flies are simple and easy to tie – allowing free license to purge your fly tying kit of all the underused fluorescent materials that settled near the bottom. American Shad are plankton eaters with a yen for anything bright within striking distance – that attraction has never been explained, and us fishermen have never questioned a “gift horse” too closely.

I love fishing for these bony SOB’s – they’re plentiful, fight well, and are one the few species where a good day might mean 50 or 100 fish – enough to yield blisters. Local fishermen occasionally strip the females and smoke the skeins of roe – but I didn’t find the flavor compelling enough to want to thump any, it’s a big sardine, oily and full of bones, so you toss them back as fast as you land them.

I’m liable to get a few looks – what with my waders drying on the coat rack in my office, but with the river only 5 minutes away – I should be able to explain my obsession convincingly. It’s last week’s sandwich aging not so gracefully in the vest that’ll earn my banishment from the premises..

East coast fishermen are facing closures this year, so check your regulations, I think Chesapeake Bay, and NY state has closed the Hudson River as well.

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Pacific Salmon verdict due Thursday

Just Close it, Salmon season that is The Pacific Fisheries Management Council is expected to render its decision on the fate of pacific salmon this Thursday. Based on the outcome the National Marine Fisheries Service will implement the decision by May 1st, 2008.

It’s expected to be one of three options; the total ban on salmon fishing for California and Oregon, limited fishing in selected areas (balance to be banned), or catch and release fishing for scientific purposes only.

Eating is not considered a “scientific purpose” but points are awarded for creativity.

The real question will be duration, most of the options above have received significant press – very little has been discussed on the possibility of a multi-year edict.

Coupled with the piece on Chilean Atlantic salmon farming, I’ve resolved to do without – might have to make do with Fillet O’ Fish until they make the endangered species list – or I do..

The announcement will be widely publicized as it can’t be anything other than unpopular, consult the PFMC website if you’re anxious.

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Like all marginal ideas it was ahead of its time

Smoken 'Em Charters In a stunning display of pique the  forces of decency have dealt another blow to angling fantasy.

Singlebarbed has felt the sting of being “unpopular at the pier” but we’ve never been asked to leave the Marina…

Apparently “Smokin ‘Em” Charters  violated the boundaries of good taste by offering offshore trips accompanied by your choice of tanned and topless deckhands.

“We had no idea this was going on,” said Dean Kubitschek, manager of the Fort Pierce City Marina. “I can’t have families running up to me with brochures with nude ladies on them saying, ‘What’s this?’ It’s not right.”

Who’s he kidding, the families had been abandoned at Disney World, this fellow was tired of portly middle aged gentlemen hammering on his office door at all times of night.

We have a lot of trips booked and we are looking for some hot chicks to go fishing, no experience needed but you must be HOT in a bikini !!!

Don’t expect too much assistance from them deckhands, as their recruitment of new girls suggests skill with fishing is not required.

Explain "Catch and Release" to the Judge

Do your explaining here It’s absence is glaring and with all the hand wringing over the decline in hunters and fisherman, no mention that less of us may help things, after all, we’re the barbarians putting pressure on declining populations – why no uptick in critters?

Politicians and the Captains of Industry may like our dwindling numbers – as we’re one of those gadfly groups that complain bitterly about exploitation of natural assets, and have upset the applecart on many occasions.

The Eco-fringe has insisted repeatedly that we’re the root of all evils, but they too are silent. Statistics on the decline of licenses have existed for the last decade – and if there’s less of us, why no small restorative effect?

I can only conclude that we’re not the reason for much of this mess, and despite the blood on our hands, we’re among the least offensive of the predatory groups.

We all know our license dollars assist in wildlife management and fund wardens, most of these agencies are “on the ropes” – as their funding has been hammered twice; they’re the first to take cuts in bad economic times, and there’s less of us to make up that gap.

The Fish Geek points out that less of us means less conservation dollars, less restorative projects, and states are scrambling to unlink wildlife budgets from license sales. Gasoline tariffs, sales taxes, and speeding tickets are being contemplated as a replacement.

I’m thinking the silver lining in all this is everyone else that swears we’re beasts now gets to put their money where their mouth’s been.

We’ll still buy our licenses and contribute more than anyone else, but “85 in a 65” means more trout, and that might be worth it.

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I just wanted to share the suffering equitably

The battle between Man and Fish It started innocently enough, a brief piece on Carp fishing on the Monument water in the UK. The proprietor has banned the use of maggots as they provide little nourishment to the trophy fish that inhabit the impoundment.

Boilies and pellets will now be the only two baits allowed at the fishery, as they are known to contain far more weight-gaining proteins than any other anglers’ baits.

It’s Singlebarbed custom to pounce on anything worthy of a giggle – and a lot of stuff that’s unworthy, but I was a little put off that I have to watch what I eat and fish don’t? 

This coming opener half of you will be fishing over planted fish, and with all of the medical community conspiring to deny us everything that feels or tastes good, why wouldn’t we look at what fish are eating to maximize the angling experience?

Excluding their surroundings and everything else up to the hook set, what part of the fish-Man battle is the best part?

I’d figure some anglers love the sound of the reel screaming, some prefer an aerial display, many like the bulldog tug of war of a fish headed for deeper water, perhaps a sick bastard even loves the head shakes that reverb up the line from a fish below you – knowing that fly is perilously close to being dislodged..

Our license fees pay for much of the hatchery program, and specific species are selected to ensure a hardy strain of planted trout, but is that going far enough? “Trout Chow” is something swept off the floor at the granary, mixed with leftover vitamin supplements from Cheerios and Wonder bread, I’m thinking a couple extra bucks might yield tenacious whippets that smash tackle, demean fishermen, and cause Mom to pull her dumpling back from the water’s edge.

We’ve got all that Human Growth Hormone confiscated from the cyclists and baseball players, and since you’ve no plans to eat any of this brood – why not add a couple gallons to the pond?

Plenty of science remains and you can help; we’ll leave the precise mixture to the folks that know best, but we’ll  need to tell them what fighting property to enhance – unless you want to go the dementia route, in which case “fat fish in their 40’s” will do…

{democracy:3}

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That lean whippet was last year, Butterball

Spring is like Christmas, before you know it the Redbud starts to pop and you realize Trout season is here and all the chores you promised you’d do remain unfinished. It’s a horrific marathon of nailing, mowing, plumbing, and painting, supplemented by moaning and Ben Gay. All this to avoid the “lump of coal” in your stocking when you announce your pending absence and trout pilgrimage.

That’s why they call it Redbud

Like you I learn the hard way and when you’re at altitude that lean whippet shows itself false as your legs wobble and your wind starts to sputter.

I ran the Little Stinking this weekend to see what changes the floods had wrought. Fish are starting to appear, the weeds are starting to grow on the newly scoured bottom, and every mile I crunch through means additional freeboard on the float tube.

That’s the part you forget each year – and you’re reminded of mortality on Opening Day. All them rainy Sunday’s watching football took last season’s lean predator and softened him up. Add a 3000 feet of elevation and waist high current and you’ll find out how soft, them Cheetos and dip you pounded during the Superbowl come back to haunt you.

I prep with the Little Stinking’s StairMaster, a 300 yard stretch of 30″ deep water, and if you can take the entire run midstream without pausing, you’re getting close to the shape needed for your Blueline creek.

Mr Sore Mouthed Bass lives here

I had a pocketful of streamers from the Gunfire Lake adventure, my little 5 weight groaned in protest but I managed to get all that lead airborne.

This is the Big Bass stretch, and the clay formations in midstream offer plenty of ambush points and shadow.

4X tippet and 20 turns of 2amp fuse wire is a really poor idea, I knew it was trouble when a large shadow detached itself from the clay bank and inhaled the “Angry Sunfish” I was twitching.

Two head shakes and the tippet parts – and while I curse myself for a fool, a five pound largemouth comes clear out of the water with Angelina fibers glittering in its jaw.

Both of us had forgotten all the painful lessons of last season; he hadn’t gnawed on “fake minnows” in six months – and I’d forgotten the hinge that develops with too fine a leader and too big a hook.

This Angry Sunfish vanished on the next cast

The sting of failure was shortlived, and while I was snapping my fly rod into 47 pieces and chewing my protruding lower lip – I realized that was a damp dollar bill circling slowly in the eddy with my running line.

Will wonders never cease?

I didn’t argue, I slipped the good fortune into a dry pocket and resolved to bring more flies next time.

Every trip is a worthy experience, even if you learn only what not to do. Most of the lessons and hard knocks of last season are forgotten, and that calf-searing-at-altitude hike you’re remembering fondly is because you forgot the numerous stops to blow…

You got about a month to get into fighting shape, Sluggo – now drop and give me twenty!

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3:10 to Yolo

It was “The Last Train to Gunfire Lake” yesterday, with me and the  “Wiggletail Kid” for backup.

The Local Militia can be had for JuJubee's and a Baby Ruth

The howitzer was a new twist, but the Kid and I bartered our safe passage; a battered Baby Ruth and a handful of Juju-bees for a day’s fishing.

The lake was murky but airless, and while I’m pumping up my ancient float tube, Kelvin (Wiggletail Kid) is doing pirouettes complemented by Force Fins, and underwater fish finding gear. He’s out of rock range, and there’s little I can do but make threatening gestures.

I see his net come out and a 14″ Kokanee falls victim to an Olive J.Fair Wiggletail nymph. I was hoping to wean him off the fly (as it’s the only fly he carries) but he’s thumbing his nose at me  – knowing the wake of his passing is enough to cause me consternation.

I’m one Oreo cookie away from being the Edmund Fitzgerald; the combination of lard arsed angler, old style tube, and gear has made my freeboard less than optimal.

The gut I was working on already, but I resolved to get a new float tube – mine was the original Mountain Trader circa 1988, and it’s time to let the Old Girl pass peacefully.

The Kokanee proved a fluke, the cocoa colored water was impenetrable, and despite our best efforts nothing else showed. I lost a couple streamers to underwater branches, and Kelvin donated similar.

The Creek arm was clear and blue

The wind hit at 10:00AM, and with waves breaking over the windward side of the tube – I lost no time getting to shore.

I had a chance to speak to some other anglers that inquired how we did, and found the southern access had been restored – but the water was as murky there as it was on the northern arm. No one seems to know what’s causing the discoloration, and fishing has been poor all Spring.

I took Kelvin on a quick tour of the North Fork, which won’t open until the end of April, and as the creek arm was clear, we fiddled around for a bit. Kelvin caught a 12″ Rainbow Trout on the Wiggletail – and I’m keeping an eye on a fire building on the eastern rim of the lake, no air tankers showed so I assumed it a BLM controlled burn.

The east ridge was our way out – and brush burns fast and hot even in Spring. The idea of meeting a strike team of wildland engines on that narrow canyon road was a bit daunting, and as the fishing was slow we beat a hasty retreat.

Getting outfished isn’t as painful as it sounds, I’ll have to recount the deeds at work and invent a few superlatives, but focusing on his fish will be less painful than drawing attention to my gut…

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At least he tried, that’s more than I can say for the Tooth Fairy

While fishing I always am eyeballing “sign” – bird tracks, beaver tail drag marks, cloven hoof prints, you name it. It’s all part of the outdoors mystique, and occasionally might alert you to something worth knowing.

The Easter Bunny made the attempt, knowing my passion for jellybeans, but like usual I was waist deep in some toxic brew completely oblivious to its presence.

The Easter Bunny done crappled here

…but he left ample sign, and now some undeserving, angelic, rug-rat is scarfing my candy.

Ah well, at least it was thinking of me..

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Long on waders and short on boats

Mussel encrusted pipe In a surprise move for Southern California anglers, water agencies have closed a number of local lakes to boat use. Fearing the spread of Quagga mussels and concerned about the liability of clearing pumps and intakes, authorities in four counties have banned all boat traffic from  lakes Casitas, Westlake, Wolford, and Cachuma.

They consume so much plant life that the water turns clear, allowing sunlight to stimulate the growth of a blue-green algae that can cause taste and odor problems in drinking water..

We’re not overly surprised, it’s a foregone conclusion that reliable drinking water will beat out anglers or migratory fish, it may put a crimp in boat sales over the long term.

“My water district customers are not going to feel good about paying for something that is introduced by recreational activities over which they have no control,” Charles Hamilton, general manager of the Carpinteria Valley Water District, told Santa Barbara County officials.

We think of “aquatic hitchhikers” as a nuisance, requiring a pungent yet brief dose of Formula 409 or bleach, but the inability to remove them once entrenched may hold larger ramifications in the future.

While it’s not likely to include a cavity search in the parking lot by sterile technicians wielding canisters of Agent Orange, most of the foreign hosts have been “friendly” – at some point that may not be the case.

Some large arsed toothy sumbitch laying on the bottom waiting for you to take your sweater off – because it likes emergers ..