Category Archives: Fly Tying

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 ..”

The similarities end short of the bailout

Shad flies share similarities with the automobile industry, like cars they have a few features swapped out and a yearly naming convention. Trout fishermen refine flies to catch more fish – and Shad anglers refine their patterns just to tie something different…

Look what they've done to my car… must be something to do with catching 50 or more fish on the same fly in a single day, you’re no longer concerned with selection as much as incorporating new colors or materials to fix weaknesses.

My continual quest for materials has me “cheek to jowl” with something that’s bound to turn 50 into 100 fish, or so I think – and it’s all trundled onto the tying bench to patch together the 2009 variant of whatever was successful last year.

The last couple of decades were ruled by fluorescence, this decade pearlescent is the go-to material.

I’ve banked quite a bit of pearlescent oddities for just this purpose; addressing shortcomings and frailties found on the 2008 version, so the 2009 flavor is sleeker, shinier, and twice as confounding to tie.

Pink has been pure death for the last two years, so I’m sticking with the tried and true –  updating the hackle to bulletproof compliments of Bernat Boa and its indestructible nylon fibers, ribbing the body with ultrafine pearlescent braid – which’ll keep the soft crimp Angelina from being torn to shreds, and upgrading the tail to the heavier crimped Angelina so it’s not missing after the fifth fish.

Shooting heads and heavily weighted flies translate into a truly abusive environment, slippery running lines and cold fingers relax at the wrong moment and it’s a watery bullwhip that highlights all shortcomings in construction – and you’re left reaching for a replacement much sooner than you should.

2009 Peppermint Kestrel 

Last season I went through about 10 dozen flies all told; snags, knots that I should’ve checked but didn’t, broken off fish, and shredded patterns retired just before the bare hook showed.

Figuring friends, friends of friends, and older brothers – I’m thinking 15 dozen ought to get me through this weekend, and partly into next. Those rare days where you’re doing all the catching warrants packing a couple dozen at a time so you can share with the fellows on either side.

Funny how manly Pink can be when the fellow downstream is landing his seventh fish ..

I’ll just use up the last of the trout hooks before moving on to the big and shiny

I’m unashamed at an unnatural fascination for Claret; mostly I’ll blame Andre Puyans – many of my tying references were black and white and seeing him with a handful of Claret was the same eye-opening experience as finding out that Fruit-Of-The-Loom made something other than tidy whities..

I recognize it’s a weakness, some deep seated fascination with red – which has no obvious parallel in Nature, is bled out by the water column posthaste, and yet some rebellious gene has me throwing a pinch in when it’s least warranted.

Michael’s and eBay take turns catering to my obsession, but it was the claret floss that played to my base nature, sending me lurching for the counter dribbling little bundles of metallic thread in “nickel” bags.

 Mouline DMC Jewel Effects

Call it a six-strand, floss-cored, mylar-wrapped, tinsel sold in the floss aisle. Each strand is multicolored, tough as nails, and can be unwrapped from the other five with a twist.

Mouline DMC of France is the maker, offering “Jewel Effects” and “Metal Effects” the two types shown above. It’s available in pearlescent and glow in the dark – neither of which were available for me to paw over.

Shad are at the mouth of the American, just minutes down the road – and when they’re available the Brown water looks dingy and lonesome, as I’m crunching big water gravel intent on silver torpedoes.

It was the Claret that done it, each fiber about as thick as a strand of Moose hair; ribbing for trout flies, sparkle for the dirty water, and irresistible metallic gleam for the voracious maw of the American River Lesser Tarpon.

This time of year is an embarrassment of riches, and I’ll shove aside the earth tones and pastels and crack out fluorescence; limes, reds, pinks, and yellows.

Last year it was the “Peppermint Kestrel” that took all my fish, this year it’ll be reborn with an accumulation of brightly colored tidbits purchased just to make it more so. I’ll pile on the Angelina and hot pink Bernat Boa I purchased, wrap a flashy mutt yarn around what’s left and introduce it as the “Vomit Comet”…

A single thread wrapped as the body of an AP Nymph 

… making it easy to tell last year’s lies fish stories this year – changing just enough so it sounds different.

In the meantime, a little sparkle on a trout fly shouldn’t offend our sensibilities too terrible much.

Michael’s will teach that tawdry strumpet, JoAnne’s a thing or two

It just opened up, and now I must tithe one tenth my get For some it’s drugs, booze, or gambling, for others it’s the rush of adrenaline. For the chaste, it’s religion, or a triple decker, three cheese, bacon-wrapped grease-meat with a side of stained paper bag.

Fly tier’s eschew such quaint mood-altering luxuries. We’ve pissed away the “milk n’ egg” money, and when we squealed out of the driveway it was with the vision of pleading wife clutching half dressed waifs, dry eyed as they watched Poppa in wonderment.

We’re the Lurkers, the Night People – the frantic males dashing for the door; 17 minutes before closing – intent on bead encrusted, yarn draped, mayhem – the bane of disinterested teenie-boppers milling absently behind the register, counting seconds to the closing klaxon.

“You got any acid dye?

“Huh? … Betty, we got any “acid dye?”

Each clerk swivels expertly like Rockettes, looking expectantly at their neighbor until the grizzled gal with the manager pin heaves her bulk into view, “You see any over in dyes?” She fixes me with them gimlet eyes, intent – waiting for me to make a wrong move.

“Madam Treblinka” is awe inspiring, somehow avoiding censure at Nuremberg – and hired as Michael’s “muscle” – knowledge expert and den mother.

“No, ma’am.”

“Then we ain’t got any.”

I beat a hasty retreat back to the floss aisle, expertly throwing elbows at the obvious noOb’s. The press of fly tying humanity is stifling, so I point to the scrapbook area and let fly, ” Ooo, that’s Jungle Cock!”

It’s a mad scramble as the throng departs, leaving some motherly looking “bluehair” moaning on the floor, her bent walker wedged between glitter canisters.

A quick boot heel to the ribs leaves her gasping, and doubled over she’s no longer blocking the Claret silk, I reach for a handful just as the Two Minute Warning sounds.

Mission Accomplished.

The rest is merely a mop up – a police action, sifting through their dumpster for a stray fragment of gaily colored ribbon, or bent pipe cleaner.

Michael’s, a SuperStore that I don’t have to protest – except when I see my bill. It’s a fly shop without silly tackle in the way, it’s a freshly downed Wildebeest with us carrion-birds lurking in every aisle.

Driving by twice a day, it’s the Sirens calling to Odysseus – and I’m thinking Nurse “Treblinka” wasn’t sporting no ring …

It’s the perfect rainy day project, combat premature dubbing loss with Mohair

Mohair is the fur from the Angora Goat and has been used in textiles since the 16th century. It’s a wiry, spiky fiber – with muted luster, and unkempt appearance. Synthetics, with their bright colors and sparkle compete for our eyeballs in the same aisle, and the cornucopia of synthetic yarns has purged most of our aging stalwarts in recent years.

It’s also cheap, readily available in hundreds of colors, can be purchased at any millinery store, and blended with other fibers to make it softer, less spiky, or more durable.

I buy it in the “mutt” styles where each skein contains one to three colors and use it as filler on my dubbing blends. It’s a low cost alternative to an Australian Opossum (~$45ea) and is available in a bewildering assortment of colors.

Each skein is approximately a half pound, and if purchased in quantity costs about $1.50 each. It’s the preferred agent to learn “dry dyeing” or blending colors and natural fibers so you’re no longer dependent on the narrow range of dubbing available at your fly shop.

Creation via Destruction – Making the components

I’ll yank off 40 yards and break the yarn apart into its component colors. This is a great task for weekday quality time – when either the spouse insists on a romantic comedy or you’re stuck minding the rugrats.

Mohair "mutt" reduced to lengths of the component colors

The weave of the yarn dictates how small you’ll have to chop it to reduce in your coffee grinder. Sometimes twisted, others are woven – just make sure it’s 100% Mohair without the weave being a different material. 3/8″ segments should be small enough for both twisted yarns or the woven variant.

Each color is chopped into 3/8" segments and piled together

Your coffee grinder should be “blade” style, not the newer “burr” grinders. The cheap flavor is around $15, and you’ll need to be sensitive to heat buildup – as you can easily burn the motor up making a pound or more of dubbing.

It should not be the grinder used to make coffee unless you like drinking mustache.

I try to make at least a half ounce of each color, and when you start fiddling with blending primary, secondary, natural fibers, and sparkle – you’ll be a creative dervish and can burn that little toy motor into slag.

Stretch the process over a couple of days, use multiple blenders, and let them cool down between sessions. You’re going to like the result and the temptations to make additional colors will keep you coming back to grind again.

The Art of Blending – How to tear and mix without swearing

That ball of fiber needs to move around the container to blend The quantity of shreds added to the blender determines whether it’ll blend or simple remain immobile and make funny noises. In order for the grinder to tear apart and blend the yarn it has to move the contents freely inside the container, spinning the fibers like a cotton candy machine.

If it’s immobile it’s not mixing anything, you’ll need to remove fibers until the ball of material spins around unimpeded.

Run multiple small batches through the grinder to build the larger lump of fur. As each batch is reduced to fur (97% fur and 3% shreds), yank it out and start the next pinch.

Maybe you’ll have to run 10 or 15 small batches, but most won’t take more than 30 or 40 seconds each, so the task is neither time consuming nor arduous.

The resultant grind

There will always be some few shreds that don’t reduce, I’ll pick these out later (or use them) when I’m tying the flies.

From the above four colors we can make at least 8 additional colors by mixing them, and if we add sparkle and natural furs to the blends we can make upwards of 50 separate shades as well as multiple styles.

For a dollar you’ll become the next Picasso, but it’d be wise to consult the Artist’s Color wheel as it’s the bible for building shades and tints.

Adding Mother Nature – how to prepare animal fur for addition

I’ve never cared for commercial monochrome dubbing, most are made by dyeing white rabbit pelts and every fiber in the bag is the same color. Hareline and most vendors make simplistic dubbing – tossing skins into the dye bath and trimming the result into the plastic bag you purchased.

Mother Nature doesn’t color her bugs in a single drab monotonous color, and a mixture of shades and hues appeals to me on a variety of levels, both scientific and artistic.  Mohair is the base fiber of my bulk blends (beaver fur is the base for fine), and I prefer to break it up with natural fibers and guard hairs from both the Red Fox Squirrel and Woodchuck. Both of these animals are giant versions of a Hare’s Mask, and offer the same wonderfully marked hair.

Sometimes I’ll dye the Squirrel or Woodchuck for a specific effect, the rest of the time I’ll add them in their natural color, letting the amount of colored mohair determine the final shade. Small amounts will just break up the dyed mohair color slightly, larger amounts will make a new color – a drab, toned down version of the original.

As we’re fiends for earth tones, drab or muted color is exactly what we’re looking for in trout patterns.

I’ll use scissors or razor blade to remove all the fur and guard hair from the center spine of the hides, and toss them into a paper sack. We’ll have to break their affinity for each other with a coffee grinder, and that’ll turn the regular barring into a disorganized speckled mass of colors.

Ground Squirrel and Woodchuck

The same blending rules apply for natural fur; use small amounts from the pile to blend, and if the ball isn’t moving it’s not mixing.

All we’re doing is reorienting the fibers so they no longer stay together – they’re not all pointing in the same direction, or matted by grease so they stay together. When we add this to our Mohair color we’ll want these fibers to mix evenly with the colored mass -throwing some air in for added loft.

If you wish to make derivative colors by combining two batches of mohair it’s easier to do with the natural fur absent. Jot down notes if you want to reproduce the colors again – using color wheel style notation, it’s much easier to remember that way.

Ex: 2 Parts Green, 1 Part Yellow, 1 Part Dark Gray/Black, yields an Olive. Add yellow to make it a “warm” olive, and green to make it colder, add gray/black to make darker.

With the natural fibers you can make two styles of dubbing; you can make “tints” by adding small amounts of color to the natural, or you can make muted colors by adding 2/3 color and 1/3 natural hair.

Both Woodchuck and Red Fox Squirrel have a dark gray underfur and that will dampen the colors considerably.

Component colors ready for mixing

The top row contains white to dark brown. Equal parts of adjacent colors will make a shade in between. Use the bottom colors to flesh out your selection so the result gives you full coverage for the shades you’ll use most often.

Completed color range with natural fiber added

The above shows the shades of color made from mixing adjacent colors and adding “warmth” or “cold” to the result. The Woodchuck/Squirrel blend has been added to mute them into earth tones.

At this point I’ve built a color range of 30 different hues, not bad for the purchase of only 4 balls of yarn, 1 woodchuck, and a single squirrel skin. This has used about 1/6 of the yarn, so I can make 5 more batches in later seasons.

Mohair-Squirrel-Woodchuck with Soft Crimp Angelina added

Each of the piles is just under a half ounce – 4-6 packs of the small servings sold at the fly shop.

I’ve run these through the grinder one last time to add the Soft Crimp Angelina fibers for sparkle. I prefer adding sparkle as a separate pass as it offers better control over the overall effect. This yields 12 colors with sparkle, and 12 additional colors without glitter.

AP Nymphs showing 8 of the 30 colors made

It took most of the weekend to construct all this – as the grinder motor has to be watched carefully due to the volume of grinding and overheating. Having a second grinder would prove useful – but it’s easy enough to grind a half dozen colors every four hours, letting the assembly cool down between fits of artistry.

The perfect rainy day project.

The fly tying equivalent of the One that Got Away?

Fly tying success is akin to fishing success, you’re happy to bore tears out of your fishing buddies, describing the instant of clarity when goat nostril was the perfect tailing fiber for your pre-menopausal emergent mayfly adult.

So long as you’re buying the beer they’ll feign interest…

What’s never described is the 750 refusals you got earlier, how you couldn’t buy a fish with your variant – and the really big SOB they’re congratulating you on was foul hooked in the dorsal with an Adam’s.

Fly tying is the same way.

I keep encouraging you to buy bulk, cut out the middleman, and go offshore … but that really nice out-of-production yarn I found that you wanted – may have been the Lemonade, and while you’re piling onto eBay to score some, I’m sleeping with lemons.

Oopsie, that ain't Olive

Another “factory direct” shipment from Turkey, minimum order is 10 skeins, and that mildly interesting navy blue mohair wrapped with a thin strand of silver tinsel?

… that’s dark Olive.

Mutt yarns are always a “home run” swing, there’s no bunting or swinging for percentage – it’s either what you wanted or Jimi Hendrix lit it on fire at Fillmore West.

It's a cross between Chenille and a bottle brush

It’s a head scratcher, chenille on one side and a bottle brush on the other?

I may have found the World’s Most Awesome Pipe Cleaner. Dip it in bourbon and watch the tar and dried spit melt from your stem…

I’ll wind it around a couple of hook shanks to check the effect, but I’ll not hold my breath.

The knitting cabal at the nearby church keeps showering me with stale sugar cookies everytime I produce a bag of colorful rejects – in between complaining about their kids I’m sure they’ve seen fit to put me in the good graces of the Man.

I see it as cheap insurance.

The K-2 of fly tying, a solo ascent on dry fly hackle

It was a comment made by Alex at 40 Rivers to Fish that had me pondering fly tying as a whole. Like all artisans you wake one morning and realize you’ve explored most continents – and wonder is this the pinnacle of the craft, and after years of toil – are there no dragons left to slay?

Two or three hundred years of small hooks and smaller feathers doesn’t leave many Everest’s to climb, and with the few surviving manuscripts of “them as came before”, you never know whether it’s really invention or modification you’re working on.

Most real innovation in fly tying has come from new synthetic materials, rather than technique. Simple items we’ve taken for granted hold a great deal more promise than their older counterparts – and poring over countless synthetic fashion yarns has introduced new worlds for me to conquer.

The Granddaddy of all fly tying mountains has been hackle, and most tiers will admit that the big dollars is invested in their collection of genetic chickens, and the unending desire to accumulate more colors and rarer strains to assist in either floating flies or imitating the terrestrial bug.

So long as that continent remains untamed, there’s plenty of uncharted territory for the tinker tyer.

Despite all the synthetics we’ve grown from test tube, and despite the efforts of thousands of fly tiers attempting to find a substitute, only the Haystack/Comparadun series of Caucci-Natasi has yielded an adequate substitute for hackle. Some may argue that the Swisher-Richards No Hackle was viable – but mallard wings don’t stand up to abuse and once tattered, may be eaten as a caddis emerger versus the fully terrestrial mayfly dun.

Cul Du Canard (CDC) has its legion of followers, but most flies are hybrids – a mixture of CDC and chicken hackle – not the truly hackle-free dry that would free us forever of the genetic chicken.

In response to the larger question, I’d suggest there’s a great deal more real estate for the journeyman fly tyer – but it’s rarified turf, a combination of physical properties and technique, where you’ll have to know the first and invent the other.

I’ve attempted Everest many times, and this year I’ve got working prototypes. Chicken farmers are safe, it’ll take a couple more seasons to figure out the tool I need to tie these blazing fast, but the physical qualities are sound, the materials tough as nails, and all I really need are some hungry and desperate fish to make me feel the effort was warranted.

There’s still plenty of refinement needed in both form and execution, and my Brownline activities don’t offer the ability to test dry fly theory – most hatches are Trico or Caenis and I’m reluctant to fish things I can’t see – hackled or otherwise.

I’ve never seen their likeness anywhere – but that doesn’t mean some canny Victorian fly tyer didn’t get tired of his stringy old roosters and use Red Deer in a similar fashion – the only advantage I have is his work was lost to Time.

Flies float because of combination of surface tension and square footage. Meaning, materials heavier than water can float so long as they occupy enough surface to prevent the fly from sinking. Chicken hackle itself is not lighter than water, neither is the hook, tail, or dubbing.

The hackle above the water provides no flotation, neither does the hackle underwater, so it’s the cross section that occupies enough real estate to resist sinking.

Drop a needle into the water point first and it sinks instantly, lay it on the water lengthwise, carefully, and it’ll float.

The answer to our Everest is to find a substitute material that’ll provide the same cross section as chicken – and if it’s durable and cheap, we’ve got something.

Like the Caucci-Natasi Haystack/Comparadun, I’m exploiting deer hair.

The profile is a parachute dry, which after a couple decades of intensive personal use, I fish more frequently than the traditional Catskill dries popularized over the last century.

The Brownline NoHack, slow water edition 

This is the lightly dressed variant, a Blue Wing Olive in size 16. Dun gray elk hair is tied in as the wing, then bent 180 degrees and flared around the post. Wing length and “hackle” retain traditional proportions. The whip finish is spun around the wing rather than the hook shank, as the wing is the final component of the fly.

I had an idea that I could cut the wing loops and pull down more hackle if the fly was fished in broken water. If it works you’ll be able to adjust the amount of hackle with your nippers.

That and you could sever the wing to make the spinner, leaving a little nub so you can pick it out from all the other naturals in the surface film.

The heavier hackled variant is tied completely differently and is still in the beta phase. I’m hoping to finish a couple dozen for the season Opener, which’ll give me and SMJ something to giggle over while fishing.

 Brownline NoHack PMD freestone flavor

Above is #16 Pale Morning Dun using the “heavier hackle” construction method. I didn’t put too much more hackle on this version, but this style allows me to reduce the wing mass despite the use of more elk hair. Hackle and wing are a single bunch of elk/deer that’s trimmed to produce the final wing shape.

I guess I’d answer 40 River’s comment with something different; you spend a couple decades painfully mastering the craft, and when you look around and see nothing that stimulates you, it’s time to stimulate others, taking the craft one small step past your comfort zone.

For me, the tinkering component is an endless amount of hideous barriers to overcome; chicken hackle a physical obstacle, and angler perception an emotional barrier, both await some fellow not satisfied with a McGinty – and wonders can he make a better bug’s arse with a popsicle stick.

The fly tying equivalent of two buck chuck is a three buck flyer

While everyone else is hunting a “10” – us unkempt fly tying types are content with a four. We’re not lowering the bar, rather it’s how many dozen flies we bang out before exhaling.

New materials are like that, anything capable of strumming the Creativity gene, leaving an “Edward Scissorhands” cloud of snips, tucks, flying debris, and a wake of forgotten half-filled coffee cups – is worthy.

Friday’s mail included a “three dollar flyer” – a package of unknown yarn whose grainy eBay picture looked promising, but out of focus. I saw sparkle and the potential for a trophy mutt – whose colors and qualities could generate a four or better.

 Berocco Crystal FX "Amber Mix"

Saturday morning I woke with fly tying scissors still in hand and a trail of dander leading to neatly ordered phalanx’s of replacements marching across my desk.

The yarn is called “Crystal FX” from the Berroco Yarn Company of Italy. It ceased production in 2007, so like everything else it’s in limited supply. eBay still has plenty, offering an assortment of colors for $8 per 147 yard skein.

Leech patterns showing color transitions 

I’d describe it as similar to an Estaz, Fritz, Cactus, or Glimmer chenille – but in a soft and flexible yarn form. Comprised of 100% nylon, it’s a flexible, semi-stretchy braid with mylar strands coming off as a fringe. It’s a trophy “mutt” – with color changes every 3 inches, which allows flies to take on any number of color transitions as the yarn is wrapped forward.

I’d purchased two skeins of “Amber Mix” which is blue, green, olive, gold, rust, and brown repeated along the fiber. It lacks the opalescence of glimmer chenille, but makes a fly that looks like shattered glass, with enough sparkle to blind a camera lens. 

 Czech style caddis with a single wrap

Ribbing the finished body reduces the scruffiness somewhat, allowing you to adjust the fringe effect to whatever length is desired. It’ll produce a “Czech” style caddis with a single wrap, and yield a worm if you plan a color transition at the head.

It’s heat sensitive, so you can melt the top fibers and leave the bottom shaggy, and lends itself to just about everything.

 An AP style mayfly nymph tied with Crystal FX

The yarn is thin enough to be useful on flies down to a size #12. The AP style mayfly above is a size 10, and showcases the fiber sizes and width of the mylar straggle.

You can trim the fibers easily with scissors to allow the dull nylon braid to show – I’ve left mine full length to test whether they break with abuse.

I grabbed some hot pink to use for Shad flies and the magenta mutt to use for steelhead. I tested them yesterday for fragility and they’re bulletproof.

Good color transition for streamers and leeches

This is first class leech material. Most of the patterns I’ve used in the past have some sparkle, some hackle, and fur to complete the forward portion of the fly. This delivers all three plus the added bonus of the color transition – which can be planned at any point on the completed fly.

Roughfisher has a good thing going with his glimmer chenille patterns, this may be a useful addition as the yarn dimensions are different enough to allow use in areas where glimmer chenille becomes unwieldy.

It’s a commercial fly tier’s dream

The Dubbing Divan I had the same problem with watercolors as a kid, sooner or later the entire sodden mass was a muddy brown from intermingled color.

Dubbing dispensers have rattled around my tying area with similar issue – the top layer becomes a blend of everything I’ve tied in the last couple of weeks. Dander and feather duff mixed with the original color, whose self-sealing lid no longer keeps adjacent colors at bay.

The idea of a “dubbing divan” is appealing. A couple of shades purring contentedly close to hand, allowing the tyer to wrench a handful whenever it’s needed.

No drifting dustbunnies to aggravate family allergies, no mess other than an occasional coughed-up furball, and your source is mobile allowing you to change colors at a whim.

Philoplumes and the shaft after

Lead gray skies offered little hope so I swung by the Little Stinking to see what a week’s changes had wrought. The water was clear enough to fish but still much too high to wade – many tons of gravel have changed the entire streambed and scoured every vestige of weed and bank foliage.

With the vegetation gone the creek looks like a construction site. Barring another downpour it’ll be fishable next week.

I took advantage and banged out all my lingering chores; removing lock plates swollen by the wet and removing enough metal so the bolts once again lined up with door jambs.

The water table is being replenished, which makes the entire Central Valley rise nearly four feet. Naturally you hope your slab foundation rises with it, and every year some small thing winds up needing coaxing.

philoplume With all the pressing chores finished I started working on the Caddis flies. I’d been sidetracked by an “old school” reference to Polly Rosborough – whose fur collared flies reminded me of Jack Gartside’s Sparrow nymph, which suggested Cal Bird’s woven bodies, and the drone of Clint Eastwood Spaghetti Westerns hummed in the background while I rediscovered my attraction to Philoplumes.

Philoplumes (aftershaft feathers) are the little marabou feather attached to each pheasant body feather. They’re largely overlooked but Jack Gartside made great use of them on a lot of his flies, and were popular on the Gimp Nymph back in the 80’s.

 Jack Gartside's Sparrow Nymph (minus the tail)

The Gartside Sparrow uses the philoplume as the collar at the fly’s head. It’s quite delicate but offers considerable movement, and the fly is a tremendous caddis imitation. Tied in a variety of colors, using a similar shade of pheasant body as the hackle.

The original Sparrow has a tail of grizzly marabou which I omit on all but the largest sizes.

I thought I’d finished with the stoneflies, but the “Philo-urge” had me fiddling with a combination of Cal Bird’s techniques. Cal used a copper wire tail support on his steelhead flies which also added breadth to the body for woven materials.

I grabbed a hair collar from Polly, a philoplume from Gartside, and Cal’s tail and woven body to come up with flies destined for my box; it’s “tier’s prerogative” – untested intricate flies that only the creator gets to fish.

 Should we call it a Cal Poly?

It’s not that they’ll catch more fish than anything else – they’re twice as much work as the rest of the box, so in-laws and relatives can just keep their grabby mitts off…

That was when I realized I hadn’t tied any of the patented-death stonefly nymphs that actually work. The orange and black variegated chenille monsters, complete with black rubberlegs. It’s the pattern you pass over enroute to the sexy woven body flies – thinking “if I was a fish, I’d eat those multi-colored sumbitches first.”

Huge mistake.

 The Orange and Black Death

In the fly shop they look like Bluegill flies – when wet the orange turns brown and you’ve got mottled death on your hands.

I sure hope there’s a lot of stonefly activity this Spring, I’ve got an entire box full of shapes and colors and would be sorely put out if the fish wanted to eat the itty-bitty stuff instead.

I’m sure Carp would eat them too, so I’ll find something other than a tree branch to hang these on.