Category Archives: Fly Fishing

Where we touch on fly fishing theory aided by the Commutative Law of Base Mathematics

A valid theorem packed with fact If you think it’s because of the preponderance of green, or the gold tinsel rib, or because the river’s full of them and they’re about this size, or exactly seven turns of lead, or the dark barred grizzly collar, or the sun being off the water, or whatever you insist makes your fly an absolute killer, you’ve developed an original and possibly valid theory.

… and you’ve every right to insist on respect, as conjecture on why fish ate something can never be validated via direct testimonial, and therefore remains untested and inviolate.

In all of recorded angling only a single such theory has been elevated to  fact, as it can be proven without testimonial. A single theory whose outcome can be predicted with uncanny accuracy, as it’s roots are in base math – removed from fishing taint entirely.

“I caught all my fish on a #16 Adams.” ( I only carry one fly with me, it’s a #16 Adams, and it’s the only fly I tied on during the entire day, but its legendary killing power is a secret known only to me, hence my utter confidence in the fly.)

Most of your pals lose interest immediately, as your fly is at best successful only due to math, and not to any innate quality of the local insect population, or weakness of the native trout.

It’s the Fool’s Gold theorem, and any fly can be imbued with killing qualities if fished long enough. It is best practiced in the final phases of an angling career – in concert with sunlit benches and the welcome embrace of a couch.

Mostly it means the practitioner is unwilling to countenance change or variation at any level, doesn’t realize that whether the Adams chose him – or he chose the Adams, (A+B=B+A) the end result is the same.

… and he likes baseball, as every baseball fan knows …

“Never ‘fuck’ with a winning streak.”

Whirlwind fly fishing tour of Northern California, because the TroutUnderground left the SOB undefended

Kelvin fins through forest fire smoke You’re looking down at the tailgate wondering “how’d my five weight line wind up on a System 6 reel, and why is the SOB set for left hand wind?”

That’s when the cold prickly happens. Three hundred miles away from home, 20 miles from camp, and your buddy has his waders paused at his midsection looking at you expectantly, figuring you’re going to confess to an egregious screw up …

… and he’s not far wrong.

That awesome eBay score where you landed a System 6 for under fifty bucks, with an oxidized Cortland SL line in light green (which matches the color of your floating #5 on the correct reel), with a leader butt resembling a buggy whip, whose nail knot just parted when you sneezed on it …

That’s what you’ll be fishing with for the next four days.

… and if you can’t make it serviceable with the contents of your truck, assisted by a generous and overflowing parking lot garbage can, you’ve been domesticated to the point where anything involving sunshine is risky.

A nine foot leader comprised of eighteen inches of butt and seven foot of tippet might raise an eyebrow in traditional circles, but not in the pre-dawn abyss that is necessity.

Lassen Park

I likened it to a black cloud trip, where everything you fear most shows itself in a long string of misfortunes.

By day two I actually preferred my new leader, and reeling left handed. Only a couple of fish had attempted to break the long reverie of finning, stripping, and casting, and seven foot of tippet allows unparalleled sinking for nymphs and leeches.

Dark colored Rainbow with cheeks ablaze in embarrasment

Swim fins require you walk backwards when making the transition from water nymph to terrestrial bi-ped. That round piece of driftwood I stepped on while backing out of the lake was an instant takedown, and trapped in fins those big feet stayed pointing North, while the rest of me landed South.

I’m laying there groaning and holding the knee that got folded under and failed to rotate with all that falling flab, recognizing that the solution set was the same as the earlier calamity of the reel …

If you can’t make it serviceable with the contents of the truck, assisted by a generous and overflowing …

As fortune would have it, side to side stabilization was affected but finning my way through the lake was pain free, permitting me to endure 14 more hours fruitless finning and much casting.

Slowly and inexorably that black cloud began to lift. It started imperceptibly with the discovery of two dozen flies bobbing in the shore grasses, still viable in their The Fly Shop container. 110 meters of fluorocarbon tippet bobbed nearby, likely both donated to Davy Jones in a fit of pique. While feeling for my unknown benefactor, I helped myself accordingly.

The final straw was the hour-long nap under the shade of the bank side bushes, completely forbidden, a hideous and shameful luxury, and I’m woken by Kelvin’s involuntary cry – who’d paddled over to see why them big feet protruding from the brush hadn’t moved in a fortnight – and something large and wild had ate his bug and delayed my rescue.

… nice to know that eventually someone would find the body.

Why 4X is your friend Why you resist the urge for 6X

It’s as brushy and formidable as the willows and pines lining the bank. A  lush green forest both above water and below.

Matching tippet to conditions yields more hooked fish, but it leads to even more heartbreak later. The scene at left demonstrates why swimming a nymph between those underwater “pines” might make 4X the better choice.

Freshly invigorated from my nap and in twenty feet of water, my innocent little bug was inhaled by something fierce and predatory.

A couple of throbs on the rod and it was dormant – intertwined with the fibrous vertical weed. The adrenalin of the initial grab quickly wears off with grim reality replacing it, yet the resolve of sticking with the heavy leader means there’s a chance…

Slim, made even slimmer if you don’t test your knots frequently.

Clearheaded and resolved to shake chance from the equation, and emboldened by the momentum swing in my direction, it had been my first thought once back on the bridge …

Yellow belly and red dots

… and I thanked my vigilance, as I wrenched up a big yellow-bellied brown with a yen for deep, no match for momentum shift, 40 winks, and fresh knots.

We revisit the Old Gal in her Dotage

Kelvin and I snuck over to my alma mater to pay the old gal a bit of respect. With the lake fishing slow, and Hat Creek only a bit further, it was a nice opportunity to stretch the legs while I revisited the creek that had aided me in learning flat water – and how easy a spring creek can humble even the best angler.

Hat Creek, and empty parking lots

Change was everywhere, starting with empty parking lots and new bathrooms, and magnified by a forest fire that had ripped through the watershed.

Gone were all the placards espousing wild trout and CalTrout’s involvement – replaced by run of the mill lectures from DF&G or PG&E. As CalTrout’s website lacks any mention of the creek or the wonderful project they initiated, I’m left wondering whether Hat Creek isn’t some soiled dove they’re attempting to disavow.

Streambank restoration by a consortium Bank stabilization efforts were dated 2004, and while all those wading feet had removed 100 feet of the Powerhouse stretch – dumping it into the flat water below, placards at Carbon Bridge suggested the consortium of CalTrout, Pg&E, and Fish & Game was still active.

I keep thinking of all those cleated rubber soles and how they’ll accelerate the problem, in the very places we revere most.

Carbon Bridge was as menacing as ever, but the slug of silt that played havoc with the creek many years ago was still very much evident. This former Holy Water was responsible for thrown rods, complete and total frustration, and was an inescapable draw for those that fancied a single grab from large and difficult fish.

Carbon Bridge stretch of Hat Creek

I spent summers on the far bank, mostly walking away muttering that I’d never return, but stubborn would get the best of me each evening.

Now it’s home to small fish, who were evident as they dined on the light smattering of spinners that comprised the morning grab.

We turned tail and ran.

Hat Creek Wild Trout, burned but recognizable

The entire stretch below Hat Creek Park had been burned badly and showed the effects of salvage logging.

I showed Kelvin the fish weir that marked the end of the trophy water, and even the sign had been consumed by flames.

Absent the shade of all those pines, the march back to the parking area was a blistering hellish moonscape. All the slopes leading down to the creek are matchsticks and once logged of the evergreen timber, will take many years to restore, if ever.

The oaks that give shade and cover to the creek were mostly intact, but even these weren’t spared.

It was a bit melancholy for a homecoming, but that was shortlived. Memories of all those good friends and better times were ever present, as every tree could still boast of owning a half dozen of my flies in the lower branches, there to rust with those of pals, now gone.

… and I still had a trick or two up my sleeve.

Hat Creek still has 20" fish, but you'll have to dig hard

Momentum was on my side, or perhaps it was the Ghost of What Once Was. The Old Gal is burned and wounded, perhaps a bit neglected, but there’s large fish left, as the above “hero” shot describes.

If I had squeezed in a nap they’d have been twice as big.

Lassen Brown Trout

Four days and a couple of memorable book-ends to the expedition, good company, and explains my silence of last week. I’ll have a bit more on the experimentals that slayed these dragons, but have to craft a note to friend Chandler – who’s halfway across the country while I’m pillaging his backyard …

Fly fishing was never designed to be all those things

flyfishing_motivational

We keep cropping up in the strangest places, tagged with even stranger attributes. How fly fishing can be linked with leadership is a stretch, given that we’re proponents of an antiquated sport that limits our casting distance, doesn’t sink very well, and lacks scent.

The taglines best suited for the above picture should have been …

Antisocial

The water’s icy, I can’t feel my feet so I can’t put them in my mouth.

… which is better than the fluffy vendor version, “A leader is one who knows the way, goes the way, and shows the way.”

I think you probably have six or seven better’n mine…

Can fly fishing regulation restore fisheries with a stroke of the pen

Increased regulations Outside of some rare conservation program that’s reshaped a creek with instream cover or dredging, regulations, or fish plants, I don’t think any angler will make the claim that his favorite creek fishes better than it did a decade ago.

Intervention at any level is always a temporary boon. The organizations that promote quality public water can’t sustain them for more than a couple of years, and with funding drying up in lockstep with a battered economy, and increased threat to other creeks and rivers, the result is too many chicks vying for a meager worm.

Few in number compared to other anglers, we can still degrade a fishery quickly with constant pressure. All them feet tearing into the bank at the egress points, all those fish mishandled or gut hooked, thousands of crushing feet on the aquatic wildlife, and the continual stream of guides and clients that are part and parcel of the premier waters.

Over time, no matter how slight the mortality rate, we compromise everything.

Kirk Deeter of the Fly Talk blog brings up a worthy point in a different manner, but ignoring the beadhead-bobbercator issue entirely, are fly fishermen willing to adopt even more stringent regulations in return for big fish and watershed preservation?

Not more water reserved for fly fishing, rather more stringent regulations on our existing water, potentially hampering us enough to buy additional years prior to destroying a unique fishery due to our weight of numbers.

It’s something I’ve witnessed first hand. Living on the banks of Hat Creek during it’s reopening as a trophy trout fishery, it’s popularity enhanced due to vigorous magazine coverage, that resulted in most of California making the pilgrimage to test their skills on large wary trout.

About six years later anything over 16” was a rarity, and six years after that it was just another creek, despite the occasional attempt from CalTrout to intervene. A two year stint as CalTrout’s Hat Creek Streamkeeper during its heydays made me privy to the causal agents and much internal discussion, but the meager and uncertain funding meant the creek had to defend itself once the initial makeover was complete.

Certainly there were many issues that were unrelated to anglers, the Baum Lake canal burst, sending a slug of PG&E’s sediment into a spring creek among others. Regulated flows prevented the watercourse from freeing itself of sediment – as it lacked the winter scour so important to sediment flush and ridding itself of foreign objects.

Most of the persistent issues were related to anglers. California hosts a large population, plenty of fly fishermen, and the trophy water being a scant three miles long magnified the impacts of all them feet.

With all the emphasis on invasive species, and watching the Powerhouse riffle widen an additional 50 feet due to wading anglers wearing the bank down by entering and exiting the creek, I’d think a “no wading” regulation is now more pertinent than ever.

“… fishing is Catch & Release only, artificial only, barbless hook, no wading allowed.” 

With the new conservation ethic disposing of the flat felt bottom, cleated rubber soles (equipped with studs to improve traction) may reduce invasives – but due to cleats and steel studs will certainly increase the amount of bank removed by a fishermen scrambling into or out of the water.

Via regulation are we prepared to get us out of that business entirely?

It’ll send half of us back to the casting ponds as the available fishery is what you can throw and mend effectively. It’ll increase the amount of car traffic on nearby roads as we bounce between access points rather than crossing at the shallow spot, and will add “safe havens” for fish – as neither bank affords access or the ability to cast effectively.

Don’t expect vendors to help push this sterile initiative as it’ll remove a third of the gear we’re equipped with and a third of their gross.

“… fishing is Catch & Release only, artificial only, barbless hook, maximum 10 anglers, reservation only.” 

Limiting the human traffic will solve many ailments. Figure a fee-based system that pays for the 24-hour reservation system and limited back office staff to settle squabbles.

There’s brown water aplenty to handle those reserving too late, or turned away at the toll booth.

Profit can be recycled back into the fishery. Assuming a year long season and 300 capacity bookings, a $50 use fee equates to $150,000 per year. Figure half of that being chewed up by overhead and trash collection, road maintenance, and an occasional Porta-Potty, that would leave $50,000 a year for watershed improvements – or a Riverkeeper to maintain a constant patrol during daylight hours …

“… fishing is Catch & Release only, artificial only, barbless hook, dry fly only.”

Gear restrictions of any type would aid fish too, whether limiting the kind and type of artificials we throw, or how they’re thrown, should buy a watershed additional seasons of prominence. “Dry Fly Only” has a purism taint that obscures the conservation issue, but if adopted would impact fishing significantly.

… and no, an indicator is not dry. Nor is a dry fly with nymph dangling below, we’re insisting on only surface fishing – but we might overlook the dry fly pulled under and twitched fetchingly …

Having fished on dry fly only water, with mown trails between small fishing platforms (with seating) at each pool, I can attest that it’s rarified – but still fly fishing.

… and each phase of the aquatic insect would have to be ruled on in advance – and posted whether it’s dry or wet just to avoid your claims of innocence while being carted off in manacles.

I’m not sure that we’re capable of policing ourselves, so each turnstile into the quality water will have to be equipped with brass and tungsten detection…

“… fishing is Catch & Release only, artificial only, barbless hook, floating fly, upstream presentation only.”

There’s a perverted element that would welcome hideous restriction as the bragging rights would be commensurate. Thankfully they’re a minority albeit intensely vocal, but they exist.

Unfortunately as we pile on the restrictions we’re obligating ourselves to an increase in stern eyeballs monitoring all this extra ritual. Wardens being in short supply and with thousands of miles to patrol, we’d have to hire someone to monitor us while we alternate between spirit and letter of the law.

Which brings the spectre of fee based fishing and similarity with Europe.

The antics of Donny Beaver and viability of the private fishing club proves there’s enough rich folks to pay for exclusivity, the question becomes are us less fortunate willing to pay for a similar increase in quality?

“Quality” being a surrogate for less people, bigger fish, catered lunches, or whatever you find most attractive.

Despite their stated intent, many states tap license fees to cover shortfalls in other budgets. In the current economic climate that will persist for some time. Fee based fishing offers some small possibility that the funds would be dedicated to the watershed, the question would be is the angling brotherhood willing to pay for equal measures of restriction and pleasure?

The growth in “farm pond” fisheries suggest that both size and quantity are very compelling to anglers, enough so that many shops feature this type of “private access – hatchery enhanced” fishery – and participants are willing to pay extra for access to artificial lakes enhanced with brood stock.

Regulations are at the whim of the landowner, and some even charge by the hour.

It’s certain to be off-putting to some, but with all of the fanciful threats forecast by global warming, population growth, invasives, and alternate land use, and should only a fraction of that come true, it’s plain that public agencies and their stewardship of the public water could be unsustainable.

“… fishing is Catch & Release only, artificial only, barbless hook, floating fly, no wading, upstream presentation only, and the river is opened only in odd numbered years.”

How about resting the water every other season? That would make patrolling the Precious easier for wardens, as they’d be able to open fire on anyone seen on the bank …

With all we have vested in the sport, and all the conservation dogma we espouse at every cocktail gathering, why not alternate venues or pursue some other noble, more plentiful quarry in alternate years?

It would be curtains for many of the destination shops who are struggling already, but the agile will exploit the Internet, and the fortunate have more than a single watershed to service.

Perhaps three or five year closures might make more sense. Giving our discarded tippet and water bottles more time to flush.

“… fishing is Catch & Kill only, limit two fish over 6”, artificial only, barbless hook, floating fly, no wading, upstream presentation only, and the river is opened only in odd numbered years.”

Limiting our time on the creek might also work, although we’d have to stooge around on the bank waiting for a buddy to get his limit, or convince him to claim one of the carcasses was his. Naturally, you’d have to cough up cash or buy the dinner as you’ve obligated him to cease fishing on his next successful grab …

Local tourism and fly shops would be the benefactors, perhaps a few anglers would take up upland birds – spending the balance of the evening blowing hell out of pine trees.

“… fishing is Catch & Release only, artificial only, no wading, upstream presentation only, barbless hook size 20 or smaller, and no artificials may contain : a) rubberlegs, b) lead, c) beads, d) synthetic fibers, e) or may be predominately Olive, Brown, Gray, or Black.”

Now that most of the stoneflies, half of the dry flies, and three-quarters of your fly box is off limits, remember to get there early … to allow for ex-TSA employees to go through your vest and impound everything you can’t use.

As a fly tier I wouldn’t object too much. Knowing what goes in every fly I’ve tied has me dressing on the other side of the fence, watching you get hustled to the ground for illegal synthetics you didn’t know you had.

I’ll avert my gaze when I hear the snap of the rubber gloves …

The “20-20” Club is something that motivates a lot more anglers than you think, and with hooks being what they are and 18” fish having imaginary extra length there’s many fewer members than claim credit.

How big would the average fish have to be for that kind of rigor? Remember we’re protecting both fishery and fish, and any indignation is worthy…

“… fishing is Catch & Release only, artificial only, no wading, upstream presentation only, barbless hook, and each angler is limited to a single fly in possession.”

Again it’s a time limiter, you can select the fly after much observation the evening of your arrival, I suppose you can take a roundabout way back to the car after you snap it off on a tree limb and get another – which will spawn new paths through the underbrush to avoid the turnstiles and the watchful eyes nearby.

Or you can merely go straight to the extreme and stand in line for what will surely be the new esthetic:

“… fishing is Catch & Release only, artificial only, no wading, upstream presentation only, barbless hook, and each angler must construct his terminal tackle using native flora or the contents of the parking lot’s garbage can.”

Sadly Tonkin cane is in short supply throughout much of Montana as well as the Rockies or Sierra’s. The invasive threat being what it is, it should arrive within the decade however.

Saplings are fair game, and those skilled in furled leaders could conceivably weave some type of weight forward from the native grasses. Small game will suffer – as they’re chased about and disemboweled to return gut leaders to prominence. It’s not much of a reach to plant pen raised squirrels to ensure survival of native fish, and their fur can be utilized to craft both dry flies and nymphs, ensuring full utilization as a resource.

While I’ve strayed fairly far afield from the original question, given the trend of irreparable damage fostered by us stewards, and the outside issues that add to that mix, should we consider changing regulations to restrict our impacts on the Pristine, and in what manner would you make that palatable?

It may be us colonists like a good insurrection

I had wondered whether the e-zine phenomena was a reflection of the US fly fisherman and the paucity of quality reading material we’re forced to endure. With a blizzard of product surfacing, it might be that us colonials are practiced at grass-roots insurrection, and therefore unashamed to show our collective discontent.

Then again, it may be a world wide angling issue and like all asexual invasives, it just takes a little time to gain a foothold in more rarified venues.

New Zealand colonists join the e-Bellion

Instead it may be the colonial thing, what with New Zealand entering the fray with an e-zine featuring horribly colorful and obese trout whose obscene lust for feathers will make you shield your child’s vision, lest they be tainted forever …

We missed the first issue, but it’s available online.

Flyfishers Inc. is in the stunning photography coffee table mode, where you quickly leaf through the pictures in awe, yet there’s little text to accompany the work. Each issue features a reader poll, which is a hint of interactivity, something not yet seen in the US versions.

Something to consume with your lunchtime sandwich.

Didymo bloom affects California’s Bear River, there’s algae in them there hills

Diatomes are tiny, invisible even It was only a matter of time, the Sacramento Bee reports that a nuisance bloom of Didymo has been identified in a 10 mile stretch of the Bear River, outside of Grass Valley, California.

But scientists know very little about the algae, and they’ve grown alarmed by a mysterious change in its behavior in recent years.

So-called “nuisance blooms” of didymo, like that in the Bear River, are being reported with increasing frequency around the world. Experts don’t know why, but suspect everything from climate change to a genetic mutation in the algae itself.

What’s unfortunate is that the Bear River is a popular gold panning site, and the modern day 49er and his suction dredge doesn’t fit the “clean, dry, protect” solution popularized for fishermen.

… and with Grass Valley being a compelling gateway to the Sierra’s and the gold bearing forks of the American, it’s possible we may see a few more pollination vectors than the birds, bears, anglers, and boat owner crowd.

Those of you frequenting this nearby watershed should be on heightened alert, and anything dampened should be quarantined per standard procedure.

This isn’t a zebra or quagga mussel the size of a sand grain, this is a single celled algae that is too small to see with the naked eye. Anything damp is a potential carrier, and that includes your fly line backing, trapped water in your wading staff, and your flies.

With last week’s Lake Tahoe mix up, where a visiting boater was barred from launching his craft after he identified its use at a “high risk” lake in Arizona, who promptly drove to another ramp and gave the officers different information and launched without decontamination, suggests us wading fishermen may be the only folks taking the invasive message to heart.

A nice $5000 dollar fine doesn’t offset what our pal from Arizona may have left us, but he can tell his pals we take our water serious …

Funky, like skateboarding, Gee.

Sup' Gee Now it all fits. We can’t lure young folks into the sport as we’re using the wrong bait, and the entire “X-treme” movement is fostered by old guys wishing they could flash gang sign – but can’t knowing white boys from Vermont only get laughed at …

There appears to be an underlying movement (and I’m not sure when or how it started) to make fishing funky – along the lines of skateboarding or in-line skating.

Different terms are being bandied about to sum up what it is all about, but I guess the best is ‘urban fishing’. Basically it’s all about trying to get youngsters involved in the sport for a couple of hours a day, particularly on the inner-city rivers, canals and waterways.

– via Tackle Trade World

… and it makes perfect sense. All we need add to cedar dog beds and Georgia Fatwood, is Dr. Dre and Snoop Dawg dropping dope rhyme like, “I’m down like Lead Free Solder,” featuring a couple reels of Eminem getting his fillings rattled by a Blue Marlin, and then we can trot out Lefty Kreh with his belly tatt’d with “ZUG LIFE.”

The Zero Gravity could have been the “Sup, G” – and Gary Loomis could have discarded all that legal trouble by debuting the “Gee Money” line of graphite rods – then sued the pants off anyone else with a “Gee.”

… and the kids would have abandoned Playstation’s and X-Box’s enmasse.

Given a decade of use, it works out to the price of my license

Dude, Sorry According to my jaundiced perspective, three hundred and fifty bucks is a fair price for a fly rod expected to last me a lifetime.

Figure a lifetime is about a decade or so – usually accompanied by a hammy handed pal closing a car door when you’re preoccupied extinguishing a fire or shooing flies off the cold cuts …

The both of you hear that sickening crunch at the same time, and he starts apologizing about a millisecond after. The best that can be hoped is that you’re closer to the end of the trip than the beginning, if not, you kick his ass and take his rod.

It’s the Law, in any water, blue or otherwise …

I wasn’t expecting to see much in that zone when I opened the Orvis flyer, and I was taken off guard to see their new line of Access rods for both fresh and salt – both filling the bill for a low cost serviceable weapon.

I am a sonofabitch as regards vendors, and am completely unapologetic for my opinions of their conduct. After 25 years and a half dozen fly shops, and with most of the industry cuddling up for fear of giving affront, mean guys are mighty few, making them especially valuable.

Mean has to be tempered with fair, and this is a step in the right direction. Given the economic maelstrom occurring outside the sport, and their stated desire to assist in bringing the halt, lame, and fishless into our beloved sport – you’d better have a comprehensive line of fair-priced tackle to back up that play.

I’d suggest the Access line appears especially comprehensive given the 10’ 4wt, and 10’ 5wt – which fit the tournament/Czech nymph rods that dominate Europe. The 10’ and 11’ 7wt sound like a nice answer to a two-hander – and a nice size to use for Capr and their saltwater cousins, and cater to us single hand types that are still better with five fingers than ten.

It appears the Access line will replace the aging TLS Power Matrix rods, which appear on their website at significant discount, likely in preparation for these new beasts.

I simply like the trend. Prices peeling back from the haughty nosebleed levels of 2008, and offering more than a half dozen models – created solely for the purposes of “we got those too.”

Full Disclosure: I’ve never seen, touched, or cast, anything described above, nor am I getting soft in my dotage, just saying is all.

Capr Orvis, Access fly rod, Czech nymph, fly fishing tournament, carp, bonefish, fly fishing

Anglers no longer passive in battle against invasive species

solar_toothbrush The War against Invasives takes a bloody turn this week compliments of weapons that assist the socially responsible angler maintain his squeaky clean.

The Solar-Powered Toothbrush is a multi-purpose tool allowing the ecologically concious angler to eradicate germs and plaque-causing microbes in his mouth, then aggressively scrub his wading gear and boots of all threats to the watershed.

The Soladey-J3X has a solar panel at its base that transmits electrons to the top of the toothbrush through a lead wire. The electrons react with acid in the mouth, creating a chemical reaction that breaks down plaque and kills bacteria. The toothbrush requires no toothpaste, and can operate with about the same amount of light as needed by a solar-powered calculator.

The researchers have already tested the toothbrush in cultures of bacteria that cause periodontal disease, and demonstrated that the brush causes “complete destruction of bacterial cells,” Komiyama said.

It’s the end of standing around the ice machine at the gas station, hoping your waders will freeze and thaw before the evening grab. Now you can go after the little bastards, listen to their screams of anguish –and watch them pop and sizzle.

Of course the next morning your mouth will taste like you’ve licked the inside of Goldfish bowl, but what’s a little suffering when it comes to ensuring the Pristine for future generations …

Me, I use an old head cement bottle and a dram of single-malt, making the entire experience heady and rewarding.

Test Invasive species, solar powered toothbrush, fly fishing hygiene, wading boots, waders, fly fishing humor, clean dry mantra

When waist deep in the brown water, it’s all about the antibodies

I’m sure myself or my brown water brethren would have attempted to cool their ardor some. As much as we like standing on the bank giggling while you discover that it’s not Rock Snot – and really is toilet paper, we’re still obligated to get you home safely …

… mostly, a limb missing or suppurating infection is close enough.

It’s been all over the papers and is likely old news, but when you take a passel of hedge fund managers with those dainty dry fly only predilections, mix in an urban setting with white wine and a pedicure,  the results are predictable enough.

Bleached and embalmed

Those aren’t little chalk outlines, those are the bleached and embalmed participants.

We’ve harped on this many times, regardless of Orvis’s release of a carp podcast, sanctioning roman noses and inferior fish, if you lack the proper antibodies, you’re a goner.

It'll be a while before next of kin are notified

– via luzinterruptus

Sure, I wish I’d been there to give them a wave off, but the combination of dry fly purism and one-upmanship would’ve had the crowd ignoring most of my lecture. I would’ve consoled myself by gathering up all those expensive rods and accoutrements – and felt pretty good about the whole experience, however.

It’ll be awhile before the shockwaves hit Wall Street, most of their DNA has been wiped clean, and notification of kin will be problematic.

Test brown water fly fishing, dry fly purism, carp, Orvis podcast, fly fishing humor, pedicure