Category Archives: Fly Fishing

Own a piece of Angling History, along with 302 other guys

Rivers Past by Ernest Schweibert Want to own a piece of Ernest Schweibert? – Lang’s Auctions will be selling 303 lots comprising the extensive collection of Mssr. Schweibert, on April 25th and 26th.

Original artwork, flies, rods, books, reels, manuscripts, and all forms of exotic tackle will be staged via live auction and eBay.

Auction houses commonly use eBay as a supplement to their phone lines, it’s important to remember that you still must register for the auction prior to submitting an eBay bid.

Registration details are outlined in the description of each of the eBay items listed. See the Hardy Princess or Hardy Perfect descriptions for details.

The complete .PDF auction catalog can be downloaded from the vendor annotated with notes on how and where the item may have appeared in a Schweibert book or article. Most of the gear is pricey, but with Ernest’s flair for the dramatic, none of us are surprised.

Flies and memorabilia from almost every famous fly tier of the last century, including every fly photographed in books by Bergman, Wulff, and Joe Brooks. To make it easy to browse them all, here is a rollup of the Schweibert items on eBay – consult the catalog PDF when viewing to answer any questions.

The physical auction locale will be the Holiday Inn, Boxborough, Massachusetts, to be held in conjunction with Lang’s Sporting Collectable’s Show.

If they offer that jaunty Alpine hat, I’ll be the sweaty fellow in the front row. His fishing vest is for sale, so I’m optimistic …

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Only on the late night self help circuit

It must be true I finally stumbled on the fly fishing equivalent of those “late night medical breakthrough” shows with faux MD’s hawking snake oil. We’ve all endured them – hosted by some ersatz skeptic who adds little other than, “Well, Doctor Bob – how can the viewers get Miracle-Krill?”

This 50 page tome claims to perfect your fly fishing skills in under an hour, but wait – there’s more … we couldn’t simply pass it on, we had to embellish just a wee bit..

“…here is just SOME of the Pro fly fishing techniques you will find inside:”

  • The best way to practice at home

I practice lying mostly; where I been, how much it cost, I’ve had this rod for years..  It’s the look of indignation that needs to be perfected – if you’re unable to look wounded by the accusation you’ve no business in this hobby.

  • What the pros do when they need to find a rod that’s perfect for them.

The Pro’s buy it and enlist a buddy to smuggle it into the house. Typically they’ll pretend to be fixing the rod or have their pal make a show of giving it to them free – all the time they’re stalking the mailbox attempting to intercept the credit card bill before their spouse does.

  • How to change the hold on your grip under any fishing condition.

Most of the grip changes are caused by frustration or the “Rock Slime Rhumba.” I toss the rod away from me when falling on dry land, and cradle it unto my bosom when landing in the water. I’ll switch grip to the “javelin” style and throw it at the first onlooker that giggles.

If the grip involves fish or a beer can, there’s no need to switch unless the latter is empty – or the warden’s approaching.

  • 4 top bait choices no expert would do without.

There’s no bait in fly fishing, I presume the author means “what bait to entice your buddies to join this sordid expedition.” Promise anything – but add, “I seen it, I was there yesterday,” to the end of each sentence.

  • The secret to keeping your dry flies floating higher and longer.

Stay in the parking lot, the sumbitch floats forever in a dust eddy.

  • 3 types of reels. (which one is right for you?)

The one you can afford. The other two types are; “the one you can’t afford” and “the one you used to have but your buddy broke.”

  • 4 ways to tie the perfect, tight knot.

Get someone else to do it, get someone younger to do it, or get someone with better eyes to do it. Use this season’s tippet (rather than last year’s).

  • 6 things to look for when choosing the fishing line that gets the job done (and doesn’t lose the fish)

The right line weight, as you can’t cast for crap I would order them as follows; floating, cheap, cheap, cheap, and buy a reel – so you can have the guy at the fly shop tie all those “perfect tight knots.”

  • 5 lures that any self-respecting fly fisherman will not be without.

Initially I’d assumed “lures” was a reference to flies, but with only 5 – I wouldn’t respect myself,  hell – 5 dozen wouldn’t hardly scratch the surface. He must mean the Great Falsehoods:

The lure that I’ll mow the lawn without being asked 14 times, honest.

The lure that after you let me go fishing this weekend, we’ll visit your Mother-In-Law next weekend, honest.

The lure that while watching this highly charged romantic melodrama whilst snuggled on the couch, I’m not thinking of how little oval tinsel I have left, honest!

The lure that were she to accompany you, she’d have a great time.

…. and a frog pattern Kastmaster. That’s five.

  • How the pros notice patterns with the weather, water conditions and more to make sure they bring home more fish than their buddies.

The Pro’s wind up with all their erstwhile pal’s fish, as he made the mistake of dropping them off first. Them pals insisted, “yup, I got everything,” knowing you were going to be stuck with all the stink fish … and guts … What that Pro really needs is a new group of buddies.

  • The secret to using sub-surface flies to reel in more fish.

Sub surface flies are the “second best kept secret” in fly fishing. Unfortunately, the “first best kept secret” is that “fly eating rocks” exist, are lying in wait for you specifically, and lead wire can drive a #4 hook into your ankle better than all else.

The “third best kept secret” is that all your buddies are inebriated and will insist on using vice grips to remove the hook.

  • 9 tips from the pros to help you fish at night, from fallen trees, in coves and more.

The nine tips are common to every venue and every gamefish;

  1. It’s illegal to fish in freshwater at night for anything you’d want to boast about.
  2. Dark clothes are best, so is “Delta Force” face paint
  3. No flashlights or campfires, the insurgency must make do with night vision goggles.
  4. No glass bottles, they clink.
  5. The wounded will be left where they fell, no screaming or moaning will be tolerated.
  6. The warden is lying in wait.
  7. The warden is going to unleash his big angry dog on your ass, just as soon as you’re comfortable.
  8. Your wife will not recognize you in your combat attire and face paint, so if you evade the warden, she’ll shoot you.
  9. Use black flies, they give the best silhouette.
  • The trick to reading the water like an expert who’s been doing it for years.

It’s cold, it’s wet, it’s fuggin deep.

  • The place where fish like to set up feeding stations (the perfect spot for your cast).

Hatcheries have the little nickel vending machine that yield a handful of trout chow, start there. If that spot’s taken walk down the creek until you see the glowing neon arrow pointing at the water…

  • When night fishing is the only kind of fishing worth your time.

After your wife changes the lock. What could you be risking at this late juncture?

  • How to use perfect form when you cast.

Since when has “form” been important? All the best casters I’ve seen have either a double joint somewhere you don’t, or possess an indescribable stroke that you can’t reproduce. “Form” matters only in the retelling of mighty deeds, but that’s for the fawning noobs in the parking lot, not real fishermen…

  • 6 rules of etiquette to follow so you don’t step on any other angler’s toes.
  1. Don’t wade upstream of him
  2. Don’t wade downstream of him
  3. Don’t ask how big that last fish was ( and edge closer )
  4. Don’t ask what fly that fish ate ( and edge closer )
  5. Don’t assume the bikini clad teenager on the bank is his daughter (and edge closer)
  6. Don’t assume that because you observed #1-#5 above – that he likes you, and welcomes your feet in his riffle.
  • 4 ways to change the way you cast for changing conditions.

Duck, Snagged, Dodge, and “Oh Shit”..

  • Why beginners like the slow-action rod (besides the fact that it’s cheap), and what you should know before you spend your money on one.

Bamboo and glass are expensive as hell, and you should know you’ll prefer a fast action graphite after you try one.

  • 4 more etiquette rules to keep you from embarrassing yourself and angering other fly fishers.

You’re a slow learner, that ain’t his daughter topless on the beach towel. Your only hope is to duck, weave, dodge, and run.

  • 4 safety steps to wading through water safely every experienced angler follows.

“Moonwalk” and “Tip toe,” anything else is asking for it.

  • Why the pros use more than one tackle box.

The pro’s only use one tackle box, the other they got off the guy that winked at their wife sunbathing. One box is enough for dries and nymphs, an extra spool and a sandwich. The other is a cooler, it’s the one he’s cradling like an infant.

  • The secret to wading without losing your footing.

Stay in the parking lot, or be really tall…

  • Little-known ways to choose your clothing so that pesky insects will stay away.

Wear olive drab and add a shoulder patch and a sidearm. All the insects will stay clear.

  • 8 pieces of equipment you should never hit the water without.

Something to break your fall would be nice, barring that – waders, boots, wading staff, rod, vest, belt, flies, and … your choice of license or beer, pick one.

  • Why you shouldn’t use one size fly all the time (and how to know when to switch it up).

Using only one fly is a time honored practice resulting in you admiring everyone else’s fish, switch flies only when you run out of that size.

  • 10 expert tips for catching salmon by the bucket-load.

Dynamite and 9 seconds of fuse? Bring two buckets otherwise you’re catching salmon by the arm-load, that’s cheating.

  • Why your rod matters and 3 other proven tips for fishing for trout.

Your “rod” is the only thing separating you from the female of the species, without it you’d be spending weekends playing tennis or ensuring your progeny are suitable for public display.

  1. Lie convincingly
  2. Shower occasionally
  3. Soak yourself in insect repellant
  • Tricks you need to know for releasing trout (you may regret it if you don’t know these).

Release them gently, if they’re really big – release them reluctantly, always carry a camera because you’re unskilled at embellishment, everyone assumes you’re a lying SOB.

  • 4 dead-serious techniques for scoping out where the trout are hiding and likely to bite.

You entered the water like a water buffalo in full rut – the gunfire was a nice touch, as was the yelling and swearing.

Hint: the deepest, darkest, farthest away-est – is where the trout are hiding. They’re not biting anything other than their lower lip.

  • How to outsmart the “smart fish” (trout).

Don’t fish for them, if you do you’re playing their game and they are better at it than you are. Instead, take the family to the Casino with the intent of doubling your paycheck, it’s cheaper.

  • 5 things you need to consider before you choose the perfect fly for trout.

This is a trick question, as all experienced anglers know there’s no Perfect Fly, it’s a myth like the Holy Grail or Bigfoot. Little “squinch eyed shopkeepers” perpetuate this myth solely to put their children through college with your money.

If the goddamn perfect fly existed, why would you consider anything before using it? (Why would you consider using anything else is the better question.)

  • Why smart beginning anglers make a list (not an equipment list) to help them succeed faster than their friends.

The list helps get everyone’s stories straight when returning home spent and broken. Catching more fish than your friends doesn’t require a list, it requires only that you take the car – leaving them stranded at the motel.

  • The difference between fishing upstream and fishing downstream (and which helps you catch the fish).

I’ve tried both and they’re overrated. Upstream means the line is coming much too quickly and you start swearing because you can’t set a hook properly – downstream the line is departing rapidly and you can’t throw slack fast enough to prevent you from swearing.

I prefer fishing midstream – as the fly just sits there…

  • Why using a net wrong can lose your catch.

Using a net won’t lose your catch, but if your buddy uses his net your fish is gone.

  • How to care for your fishing rod and reel so you don’t trash your investment.

Put them in a darkened room with other of their kind, the next time your spouse peers at them, they’ll have reproduced like rabbits. They reproduce asexually – so even slipping condoms over them will not help.

It is impossible for the owner to trash a rod or a reel, that’s what his pals are for…

  • How to handle fish once you bring them to shore.

You hook a thumb under the gills, lift the wriggling mass skyward and yell for your buddies to come look. Dropping it adds additional weight and may increase it’s length by and inch or two.

  • How rock color can help a beginner learn to fish.

You look at a rock and note its color. Ask yourself, why in hell am I looking at rocks, there’s got to be more enjoyable hobbies. Pick one, If you’re continually frustrated, bitter and cold – you picked fly fishing.

  • 4 more tips straight from the mouths of experts that will help you become a better angler fast!

Avoid women, work and taxes … inherit or remain on the public dole.

  • Why letting fish see you isn’t that bad 

Wave with the right hand – palm open and pointed towards the fish. Mime taking a drink of water. This will relax the fish as he cannot see a rod and will assume you’re thirsty.

…as he resumes feeding, aim that big rock you were holding in your left hand, and …

  • 6 great fishing areas (with lots of oxygen that attracts fish) that you should be on the lookout for.

These spots are easy to find, look for the nicer plots marked with the “No Trespassing” sign – fish put these signs up so you’ll drive past. If there’s both a sign and a 3000 pound bull with snot coming out his nose – he’s your guide.

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Old Mister Redeye, won’t you sing me a tune

Smallmouth bass are fast becoming my favorite quarry, readily available, alternately finicky and voracious, and never disappoint in the ensuing brawl. They’re the nearly perfect predator, adapting their coloration to the surroundings at will, and fish a hundred yards apart can be colored almost like two different species. Common to all is the “Cylon” red eye, glaring back as if to say, “If you were only a little smaller Mister Homo Sapien, I would bust a cap in your ..”

I don’t piss them off as I’ve only got a 150 lbs on them – and somewhere one of these finned missiles has ingested laboratory waste and is lying doggo – waiting for the out of shape angler and intent on mayhem.

I’ve been lucky the last couple of weeks exploiting a short lived weakness, managing to land a number of them measured in pounds rather than inches. They fight hard – jump often, and are alternately somber and brilliant in color.

The creek is still running at 50% of normal, last week I walked three miles of bank and spotted these fish in the reduced flow, normally the water would be too deep – it affords me an opportunity to see where Old Red Eye sleeps at night.

They’re still as skittish as trout and a bad approach will have them out of their haunts and gone. I slide in on the far side of the river and run a half dozen casts through – then move on. I get two tries at each lie – one on the way up, and again on the way back.

This is what your spaghetti sauce does to my fishing

Yesterday I had a “tomato opportunity” at one of the more skittish fish, effluent from the field above was pumping muck into the creek and discolored his holding area, giving me a better approach.

He’s fast becoming my favorite fish, only the surroundings favor trout

A Brown Birdsnest was his undoing – slipped dead drift through tomato waste. This fish is only a hundred yards away from last week’s fish (photo) – yet this one is pale and matches the surrounding clay impeccably.

With all the dry fly activity I watched them feed aggressively on the small mayfly spinners, they’re opportunists and will eat whatever’s delivered close. All I had with me that I could see was a #16 Pale Olive parachute, I flung it and was ignored.  That big arsed Pikeminnow saw it as a candy bar however – and afforded me the first 20 inch fish I’ve caught on the Little Stinking. Pikeminnow are long and nearly cylindrical, and this fish was just shy of 24″ and nearly 4 lbs.

24? of lean Sacramento Pikeminnow, returned to the Tomato Stretch

I tucked both safely back into the water for the next fellow. My kind of fish, they eat whatever’s served and I fish whatever’s close, a match made in Heaven.

Next time you lift that fork full of Ragu to your lips, you remember who trod on those tomatoes first – and where that boots’ been..

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A couple days of warm weather and it’s Bug Central

Trico freshly hatched and ready for loveIn traditional fashion I brought one dry fly and a half dozen spinners, those by accident, and was completely unprepared for the massive outpouring of insect life.

Another couple days of balmy weather and the upper elevations will be abuzz with critters, here on the valley floor I walked into a five hour long spinner fall with 3 hatches occurring in the midst of the rain of bugs.

Everything was eating everything, and I couldn’t tell whether that was a Trico I just ate or something new, each time I inserted the cigar in my gob it was flavored differently.

Wings still in the shuck, nearly out

I did manage to get a nice picture of an emerging caddis, I grabbed it out of the surface film in time to hatch it in my hand. Caddis pop so quickly that the “emerger” is rarely seen, here’s one in his Birthday suit..

He quickly yanked the wings out of the remnants of the shuck, dried them, and took off like he had business. Mighty nice of him to pose for a bit.

I managed to take advantage, and nursed my single dry fly through plenty of eager fish. Bass and Pikeminnow were feeding methodically in the carpet of mayflies and caddis, add in the cottonseed dander on the water’s surface and it was difficult to pick out who was eating what.

A carpet made of lots of these

Trout season is a scant 13 days away, another week of warm weather and it’s looking like a gutbuster.

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I’d trade Manhattan for some glass beads too

I think the real beauty of fishing is in its perversity, you have little control over the outcome, no control over the environment, yet you drag yourself out of bed time and time again knowing somehow someone will deal you some Aces.

I’ve been at the mercy of water managers most of the last 40 days, with “too high” or “too low” interspersed with “off color” and wind. Just when I figure conditions are right some unfeeling SOB pulls a handle and the water department has another chuckle at my expense.

Friday I’d taken the gal out for a wade on the Little Stinking, outfitting her with a set of Hodgeman hip boots so she could finally see what lay beyond the roadway. New to wading and tentative, the creek offers a nice gravel bottom that’s easy and friendly.

While wandering up the StairMaster stretch I kept seeing wakes heading upstream on the shallow side and assumed they were beaver. It was spawning Carp, and assisted with my “spotter” I had some brief fun throwing flies at them with little effect.

Dammit, those were fish – more fish than I’d seen for months and I figured to come back and try it again this weekend.

The water managers had a better idea, and as I climbed out of the vehicle yesterday morning, the creek was smaller by half. As most of the outing was the exercise, I’m primed for another five mile hike with little to show for it, add in Saturday’s coffee flavored “Gunfire Lake” trip – and I’m feeling a bit put upon.

The Carp are gone and I take a seat at the top of the StairMaster run determined to enjoy everything else. Beautiful day, pleasant hike, and perverse fishing.

… then the Stonefly landed on my left shoulder. I’m assuming it to be some crop pest intent on gnawing my arm off – glance over, and am taken completely off guard. Stoneflies are sacred stuff, requiring heavily oxygenated water, riffles, and are used as a water quality barometer. Their presence means “good things” – and as I’d never seen one on the Little Stinking, it was welcome.

I’m reinvigorated as someone’s mistakenly dealt me an Ace..

As the creek is down by half, I march up to the Big Bass stretch knowing it’s the deepest water for miles, and the drop in flow may mean they’re  more accessible  – and a likely spookier.

Plenty of fish visible on the bottom, most are Pikeminnow intermixed with Bass – it’s nothing new, they sit tight and give you the “finger” while you rummage through the fly box hoping for a miracle.

I fiddled with flies, finally opting for one of the glass bead experimental leeches I’d made last year. I flipped it across the creek and in doing so, wrapped a couple turns of running line around my foot. While extricating myself I feel the tell tale tap of a fish, hit and gone…

Dead drift, on the bottom, no motion – let’s try this again…

Nice Smallmouth Bass with a weakness for glass beads

Must’ve been a fluke, one large desperate bass with a taste for glass beads? All the finely crafted flies I skittered, bumped, and swam past their noses – and a little dead drifted glass is the bloody secret?

Sacramento Pikeminnow in winter plumage

Apparently so, and I didn’t argue much as my hitless streak had grown to legendary proportion. Even the big Pikeminnow lying untouchable on the bottom ate the leech like it was candy.

But the shocker was better than anything I’d imagined, I’ve landed a couple bass and a pair of large Pikeminnow, and I hook what appears to be another smaller fish. Funny, it’s not fighting like the Pikeminnow does – it’s long and silvery, can’t be anything but …

… a trout.

Bright silver with no hint of the pinkish side coloration – it’s laying in my hand and I forgot camera and everything else. I’m guessing it’s actually a steelhead, about 13″ long and full of piss and vinegar.

Despite the Mercury, sinister water managers, and chiding of fellow anglers, and the long odds of that fish coming all the way up from the ocean, to meet briefly over a bit of brightly colored glass.

It’s a perverse and wonderful sport.

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Let’s hear it for the "unsung" hero, as he needs some "love" as well

2008 World Fly Fishing Championship

Fips-Mouche is over and Team USA concludes this year’s World Fly Fishing Championship with a best ever eighth place finish . Overall winner was the Czech Team, with New Zealand and France as the 2nd and 3rd place finishers.

But it’s the “unsung hero” of the US Team that needs the love, some nameless fellow sitting in a stuffy hotel room tieing flies for everyone else. All them heroic anglers popping champagne corks, and the fly tyer is left to toil in obscurity. I sure hope one of them stalwarts brought him a cheese sandwich from the buffet.

It’s an old story – “Jocks take the Prom Queen to the dance”, but the bespectacled guy that helped with the Chemistry final is dateless and forgotten.

In 2005 Loren Williams from New York was chosen as the first fly tier on Team USA. He traveled to Sweden to participate. Prior to leaving he tied over 1,000 flies based on intensive research on what his team members would need. Weather conditions just prior to contest demanded all new patterns which had to be identified, designed and tied…

…Loren has subsequently decided to try out for the team as an angler for the 2006 Championship in Portugal.

I can’t find any mention of this year’s tyer but imagine his predicament; a weeklong trip to the finest trout water on Earth, and if he reaches for a rod, his hand gets slapped…

I couldn’t do it – and I love my country more’n most…

If some fellow burst into my hotel room exclaiming, “Bob says the Wooly Buggers have a tiny bit too much yellow, needs more lead, and wants 3 dozen right away!” I would pull on my vest and retort, “Tell Bob he’s a prima donna and him and his tailing loop can park it where the Sun don’t shine..”

Indentured servitude always was a contract for seven years dozen – and once on the water it’s always been Everyman-for-hisself, no?

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The "Shrek Trout" a merit badge for the adventurous

The Asfar (Yellow) troutAnother exotic venue to add to your list as the rarest of all trout will debut next year in Dubai.  Genetically engineered to thrive in higher water temperatures, the “Asfar Trout” (Yellow Trout) will be featured on the two community islands of The World, and also the freshwater lagoon of the new Dreamworks theme park, which broke ground earlier this year.

Strict angling regulations have been adopted to preserve the resident fish – and “no take” permits are only available to residents of the The World and vacationers staying in the penthouse suite of the theme park hotel.

The product of extensive genetic manipulation, the Asfar Trout gains it’s tolerance for warm water from the “Hamour” – a local grouper found only in salt water. Hamour and Rainbow trout make up the bulk of the genetic variant and tendencies from both species have been noted.

Fisheries biologists are keenly interested as this variant retains some of the migratory instincts of the steelhead trout, yet laboratory tests shows the “Ham-Trout” variant infertile. With ready access to salt water – the real  question is where will it migrate..

“Opening Day” will be April 2009, and if you’re staying at the hotel, you’d be a fool not to take advantage.

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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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Strange place, stranger flies, and the honor of your country at stake

Waimakariri River The 2008 World Fly Fishing Championships will be held next week in New Zealand. One of those events we find out after the fact, as no media stateside appears to be covering the proceedings.

Despite our insistence the sport shouldn’t be made competitive, the rest of Europe has had fly fishing competitions for many years. It’s our amateurs against their “Dream Team” – and last year’s 11th place finish was our best showing to date. Considering all of the forces arrayed against a competitor, it’s amazing that they can assimilate everything foreign and catch fish in the same week.

Probably half the field has never fished there before, the flies are new,  as is the stalk, tactics, and presentation – all of which are assisted by a couple of Time Zone changes and unfamiliar everything.

A good outing is preceded by frying your razor in an international socket, the shower draining in the opposite direction, driving on the wrong side of the road, and night when they’re shouldn’t be any. All this and asked to produce more fish than any other angler?

I sure hope they’ve guides and assistants to figure out all the exchange rate, local customs, and to assist in the driving – because with everything else to worry about, you sure won’t have much time to tie flies.

Fips-Mouche is three phases, the Waihou (spring creek), the Waimakariri, and the final stage, the Otamangakau and Rotoaira lakes. All fish must be greater than 18cm (7 inches) to be counted.

Luck to our fellows, they’ll surely need it.

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