Category Archives: Fly Fishing

Hooks don’t rust like once thought, but there’s still a bronze lining

Rust is slower than once thought Nobody likes busting a fish off despite it being an annual Opening Day ritual. Hammy hands and adrenaline results in that sinking feeling where the knot can’t be blamed, the tippet was new, and only your Gorilla-like reflexes turned success into a shameful ruddy blush.

It’s the “Nine Trips a Year” syndrome, it’s been three or four months since your last combat, and the presence of your buddy only adds to the anxious heavy-handed hook set.

There’s good news for all of us, recent research has shown how Largemouth Bass once caught are more likely to be caught again, and from Australia research on 249 species and a quarter million anglers – claims that leaving a hook imbedded in fish gives you an 18% better chance of it taking a lure again.

… assuming it survives.

Hooks decompose much more slowly than once thought, and tests in saltwater on larger circle hooks suggest it may take 3 or 4 months to decompose to the point it loses integrity.

Our smaller freshwater hooks may take as long or longer, as freshwater contains little corrosive agents to assist the process.

My personal best was recovering three flies from the mouth of a 13″ rainbow on Hat Creek, it’d developed a yen for Copper John’s (2) and a Gold Ribbed Hare’s Ear.

Take it from someone who knows, anything tastes better’n mashed mayfly with a side of Elodea…

Birds and Bees do it, but nobody raw-dogs Old Faithful

Let Darwin mete out punishmentI suppose Grandma viewing the deed via web cam requires management intervention, but I’m not sure corrective action is required, as Old Faithful is likely to get some – when least expected.

“Raw-dogging” a geyser probably had them fellows in hysterics, as it’s the highest form of Russian Roulette with the Precious. I figure it would’ve made YouTube anyways – probably spawned another Internet sensation or two – but if the fellow hadn’t consulted his watch, or Old Faithful forgot daylight savings, that would have been funnier.

Fishermen are a bit more discreet, but just barely. We’ve peed on almost every sacred monument and artifact out there – and if it wasn’t in it, it was near whatever fed it – which counts double.

Being experts in fluid dynamics and swathed in impenetrable layers of Goretex or Neoprene means every step is calculated; which houses are visible, road traffic patterns, joggers and dog walkers, boaters and hikers, each threat is logged, noted, and categorized.

There’s a shiftiness in eye movement that betrays the deed. Intently scanning water gives way to clipped syllables and furtive glances at available rocks, Old Growth, impenetrable blackberry thickets, and the calculated measurement of mid-riffle to bank – and whether he can get back before opposition slides into his spot.

Impromptu just doesn’t fit the mold. The average bladder is 1 liter capacity and gives the signal when half full. Naturally it’s overridden by whether the fish are biting, a hint of fish activity, or human competition.

Banned from Yellowstone for two years is harsh, an overcooked dog and six months of skin grafts, priceless.

I’m with Darwin.

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Cold water, mountain bikes and minimalism

Jam a fly box and a spool of tippet down your waders, wade out far enough so’s you can execute a double haul without slopping creek water over what freeboard remains, if you’re careless you’re wet – and the fish care not.

Primitive is a good thing – you soak it up for those “technical” outings that require stomach pumps, landing nets, hatch charts, gossamer and tiny; where you rattle up and down the creek bank with vest bursting with supplies, medical utensils, and more gear than necessary.

Stuff it all down your shirt front and call it good I’ve got dozens of flies in a dozen colors, but this one will do just fine.

The first trip of the year reacquaints you with everything you forgot from last year; “Shad knitting” – how to hold 70 feet of monofilament using only three fingers, and how a double haul is yanked parallel to the surface, versus casting pond vertical form. It doesn’t take long as half gallon of cold water in the armpit serves as a harsh reminder.

Dawn broke with me waist deep in the American but the flow was heavy and I wasn’t expecting fish. 4300 CFS gets you about 30 feet from the bank – not far enough away from the dog walkers and jogging crowd to cast with impunity – but far enough so’s no one will be tapping your shoulder.

The same couple of old fellows were slinging sardines for Striped Bass. They’d upgraded their retirement tackle to include a mountain bike with saddle bags to hold hooks, bait, and terminal tackle. I stopped briefly to chat and they suggested breakfast was time better spent.

Old guy’s know – as they’re out everyday, while us working stiffs only pound chest, get soaked and dream of such obscene luxuries.

Water flow is my nemesis this season, mostly the lack of it – I wasn’t prepared for an over abundance. We’ll hit it again next week if she drops so much as a pint.

Single Tasteless and Artificial Only

It’s demonstrative of the raw power of Singlebarbed prose – Berkeley has introduced a “mutt” Powerbait, but what’s scarier is they’re claiming the moral high ground with a “green” biodegradable Trout Nugget.

Single Barbless and Artificial I’ve always assumed “bait” had to be biodegradable by definition, if not it’s artificial.

Plastered on a single barbless hook, it’d fit the spirit of the “single-barbless-artificial” requirement of trophy water, and I can’t help wondering why some angry fellow hasn’t tested that statute.

They’ve planted Pike in Lake Davis and Sunfish in Martis Reservoir in protest – why not engage in some massive class action suit that ties up these regulations for a couple millenia?

Even Merriam Webster is in the know “3: a decoy for attracting animals to capture: as a: artificial bait used for catching fish.”

The California Department of Fish and Game lacks a definitive answer in their regulations pamphlet, and I drew a blank on both website and the volumes of errata and legislation contained therein.

“Artificial-fly” is defined in the 2009 Freshwater Regulations:

1.08. Artificial Fly.
Any fly constructed by the method known as fly tying.

PB&J_Stone

The “PB&J Stonefly” I whipped up would qualify; I should’ve used Creamy versus Super Chunk, but  the proportions were close – and Strawberry is every kids favorite.

The technique was simple, daub a finger full on chenille so it sticks – wind the resultant mess up the hook shank, smooth to the proper taper and top with jam.

… and before you get all huffy, note the jam was applied with a dubbing needle just like head cement – only with a lot more finger licking.

Caper & grilled Mozerella Midge

The “Caper Stuffed Grilled Mozzarella Midge” simply leapt off my plate.

Melted Mozzarella partially cooled and spun into a gelatinous fiber – wound around a Scud hook, and topped with a neutral buoyancy Caper.

… the Brown Trout variant uses Sauerkraut …

With all the robust and fibrous foodstuffs available, I’m wondering whether the “Rachel Ray of Fly Fishing” isn’t worth some serious coin on the lecture circuit.

… sure, all the purist SOB’s would boo and catcall – then notice their wife had wandered off and the outcry would dim accordingly  … she’d be clustered around my sample tray inquiring which wine went best with a Royal Stroganoff…

I’d be the next “Doctor Death” – and while the gendarmes would follow me around the state, giggling as they slapped the cuffs on me, my attorney would be filing yet another motion daring some court to prove that a Chicken had Nuggets – or the McNugget was part of something with a recognizable Genus and Species …

I’m sitting in the docket looking all polished and remorseful, and my attorney leans over and whispers, “… and if he starts me off with that weak-ass breaking ball, I’m gonna take him downtown ..”

I’ll confess to being tempted to try a swallow

Considering the number of scientists working feverishly to combine the proper amount of glitter, motion, color, and scent, a 65% “eaten” rate isn’t bad. Unfortunately, tank-raised Brook Trout have the IQ of bar soap -which may skew the numbers a trifle, and adds a little urgency to the bulletin.

Gummy Lizard

Maine would prefer you not drop worms and grubs in the water any longer – and if possible, retrieve those that you do ..

Take a tank full of 14 year old humans and toss in a combination of Rice Crispies, Chex, Corn Flakes, and Raisin Bran, along with a shovel or two of Gummy Bears, and you’ll see “natural selection”, where the healthy crap is trodden under in a rush for sweet goo.

Given that soft plastic lures are the product of countless hours of painstaking research, materials from the Space Program, and millions of dollars of seed money from the likes of Rapala and Shakespeare, now that they appeal to all kinds of fish they want us to stop using them?

Thirty-eight brook trout Salvelinus fontinalis were fed a commercial trout diet mixed with a free-choice assortment of soft plastic lures (SPLs) over a 90-d period. Fish growth was recorded and compared with that of a control group. The brook trout readily ate the SPLs from the water’s surface as well as from the tank bottom. At the conclusion of the study, SPLs were recovered from the stomachs of 63% of the test fish. Several fish stomachs contained multiple lures. Twelve percent of the fish voluntarily ingested more than 10% of their body mass in SPLs. These fish lost a significant amount of weight during the study, had a significant decrease in body condition factor, and began displaying anorexic behaviors. For these reasons, anglers should be discouraged from discarding used SPLs in trout waters.

After a lifetime of careful testing, observation of trout feeding patterns and entomological behavior – I finally develop “King Solomon’s Mines” – the fly that catches a fish everytime it’s thrown. Whilst enjoying my new found stature (I haven’t paid for a drink in weeks), some bespectacled fellow in a white lab coat admonishes me for dropping them in the water?

Here’s a better solution; consider growing a Brook Trout that can distinguish between a dog turd and a tootsie roll, and eats one and not the other, then I’ll feel properly mortified.

A two hour movie is all that separates you from Lefty Kreh

Agent Smith knows Spey Casting Every guide has been there, a novice client attempting to learn fly casting while fishing, and for the want of practice no fish will grace the deck anytime soon.

The Matrix had the promise of knowledge at the touch of a button, but “wet-wiring” the cerebral cortex may take a couple more decades.

Until then we’ll have to rely on a two hour special on Spey casting and the Haptics jacket.

It shares the same tailor as those Startrek tee shirts circa Shatner & Nimoy, but science has never understood fashion – and once Simm’s or Eddie Bauer adds floor length leather and three layers of Goretex we’ll be cracking the piggy bank for sure..

The jacket contains 64 independently controlled actuators distributed across the arms and torso. The actuators are arrayed in 16 groups of four and linked along a serial bus; each group shares a microprocessor. The actuators draw so little current that the jacket could operate for an hour on its two AA batteries even if the system was continuously driving 20 of the motors simultaneously.

A couple of fish porn DVD’s with the wearer buffeted by tactile feedback and you’ll have the muscle memory of a casting professional. Add a 100 pound Tarpon thrust into your living room with a flick of the remote, and dispel cabin fever instantly.

As the entire human race is at stake, it’s certain why the jacket ends at the waistline.

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The Creek ends here

I may have been just a tad hasty distancing myself from all those blueline trout fiends –  now that I’ve been banned from all other venues, some dry fly purist dam operator just gave me my comeuppance.

The Creek stops here 

Add three consecutive years of drought, a ton of tomatoes, and a satanic water manager with a grudge, and it’s time for a profuse apology.

“I love trout fishermen and their pristine environs, in fact, some of my best friends fish dry flies...”

Rings kinda hollow, but it was a semi-sincere first attempt. I figured a stunning Mother’s Day bouquet left on his porch tommorrow, with the inscription, “Me sorry, now turn the creek back on Mother%$**r.”

The “home water” is no more. Potholes and the deeper runs will contain water, but as temperatures grow and the flow isn’t restored – it’ll be a dead creek shortly.

Not much a fellow can do other than empty his hydration bag in the deep spot, and stifle the sobs with Shad.

The Trip of a lifetime is how Much?

It's a Dead Zone ... It’s one of those conveniences we forget in our rush to make the plane. Months of careful planning, itinerary, careful scrimping to get just the right package for a once in a lifetime fishing adventure…

… and the post-trip bill arrives from your cell phone company to the tune of $24,000?

I suppose that password feature that was never set would have saved the day, and us fellows prone to “butt dialing” enable that lifesaver at the first opportunity.

The “911” operators in my area have an APB out for both “Gluteus” and “Maximus,” – and if I get in a wreck I think I’ll opt to bleed to death.

As this Canadian fellow discovered, Ma Bell is less than sympathetic when a cell phone is lost or stolen. It’s just one more thing to consider in addition to avoiding the water.

It’ll take a better man than me

I’ve got my share of adventurous and proximity to either coast gives exposure to the cuisine of many continents. I’ve happily crunched my way to obesity via chicken feet, raw fish, gelatinous stuff I can’t pronounce, dead stuff that I’d as soon forget, odiferous stuff that I can’t, and McDonalds – which extrudes lips, beaks, jowls, and gonads, through dye and onto little molds that resemble fish and chicken.

… well, after they breaded it and added sugar …

Carp Caviar, for them as won't faint

I never have developed a shine to fish eggs, likely because they’re bait. I don’t care what the price per gram is – a couple of decades filching Pautske’s and Balls O’ Fire out of a jug, builds .. associations.

Like the time you thought the goo in the bottom might be Strawberry flavored.

… by the time I finished spitting, I was a dry fly purist.

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Technology enables as much devastation as innovation

Technology can prove painful All of us have a pet gear peeve, hoping someday that space science, nanotechnology, or pixie dust will fix that silly component that’s plagued us for years.

For me it’s the venerable fly box, and despite metal springs, gimbaled doors, foam, clips, slots, fleece lined, or adjustable compartments, none of the boxes will hold what I need held. Extravagance isn’t limited to the rod making front, as I’d be the first to buy a brace of $700 fly boxes, knowing I was finally delivered from polystyrene hell.

Dyneema is one of many recent advances in ordinary fly fishing sundries. There’s still a problem or two with fast moving fish and traumatic amputation of fingers, but once the cost drops we’ll be discarding thick Dacron and piling on yards of braided razor blade.

I’ve never been accused of being a Luddite, but lately it seems like all revolutionary changes in fly tackle hurt like a sumbitch.

No? Attach your weight forward Sharkskin to a motorcycle – and after you finish blowing on your fingers to cool them, examine your fingerprints …

Scientists have discovered how to make a spider’s silk gland – and while you wonder how that pertains to our death wish,  they’ve added metal to the silk to make extremely strong fibers for surgery.

We’ll be blessed with 7X backing rated at 450 lbs, and fly tying thread that a beginner can wield to turn a 3/0 stainless hook into a knot. Both will cost a fortune, but we’ll send the kids to a year of undergraduate studies at the University of Burger King, and divert the freed cash to ourselves.

Finger guards will be replaced by chain mail gloves, prosthetics will be the darling stocks of Wall Street, and we’ll witness the demise of both wet fly and the married Salmon wing. Bass bugs will be made from closed cell foam, and the Elk Hair Caddis joins a long list of flies that can only be tied with the “old” stuff…

Tiny diameter will allow the silk to sever rather than bind materials, and mallard wings and spun deer hair will be exclusive to the diminishing stocks of “old school” – hoarded by white haired, vengeful geezers like myself.

My recollection is we’ve had issues with technology in the past. Prick your fingers with a handful of urine burned fox and it’s gangrene with a tetanus chaser, and Picric acid has killed or maimed untold hundreds of unwary fly tiers who swooned over the stunning yellow it created.

Just mention “chemically sharpened” and “sock feet” to a fly tyer and watch their face drain of color. Forged was bad enough, now the debris field under the desk is fatal.

With only hair-trigger reflexes keeping limbs intact, is fly fishing “a young man’s game” – and it’s technology that puts us aging starlets out to pasture?