Trout Underground refuses cutting edge Cuisine, We demand Satisfaction

C'mon Tom, you really didn't mean that did you? I thought I was doing TC a favor, knowing his propensity for ungainly concoctions involving tube steak smothered in coagulated greasemeat with faux-coleslaw topping. I was prepared to cut him in on a real culinary masterpiece.

The Strawberry-Milk Fish Dog.

Naturally I gave him first shot at blog coverage, but instead of kudos and the promise of everlasting friendship, I get a note slipped under my door:

“You suck. If I see you north of Red Bluff, me and the homies are going to put a cap in your azz.”

Plumps like a Sumbitch, tastes like a sumbitch too, I hear Singlebarbed gets notes like this all the time, we laugh in the face of Death – traditionally during our morning commute, but other times too…

What struck me was the eloquence, the simplistic prose, the style unmistakably Tom Chandler. The prominent copyright confirmed my suspicions. 

I can only assume that as Singlebarbed has scooped him on the sacred culinary scene, he’s bitter and resentful. Then again, he may have actually ate one, worse yet, fed a couple to Wally and the L&T Nancy.

Jesus.

“What sets the real thing apart from all slaw-dog wannabe’s is the curried cabbage shreds, as well as the karashi (hot mustard) infused sauce slathered all over the top. Since the fish sausage has so little flavor, the main flavor comes from the karashi, the cabbage, and the white bread bun. In a word: blah”

I figured the above billing would suit them Mighty Woodsmen of Dunsmuir just fine, they way they tell it – they run down their game barefoot, and eat the meal at the squat.

I may have to go up there and make nice…

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Sushi threatens Mediterranean Tuna

Unfortunately, this may be true soonI don’t care to linger on bad news, but the terrible truth of these salt water statistics cannot be ignored. I guess as long as the local grocery store has something on the shelves, these issues can be held at arm’s length. At 6% of the historic population remaining, is that arm long enough?

“It’s not right that a resource that has sustained thousands of families for 3,000 years should be finished off by a new technology in 10 years.“

The Atlantic Bluefin tuna is among the most expensive and prized of sushi flesh, and Japanese consumers pay as much as $75.00 per quarter pound. Historically these fish have weighed as much as 500 lbs each, but the competition and harvest rates have reduced the Mediterranean population by 94%, and cut the average size of the remaining fish in half.

I watched with great interest the lively “damn” debate at the Trout Underground, both sides seemed to be literate and semi-lucid. Economic benefits of each side were noted (not necessarily agreed upon), and each camp retired unsatisfied.

How much longer will we be able to ignore the precipitous decline of the world’s fish stocks, before we are compelled to tear up cities and uproot established citizens so that we can nurse these fish back from the brink?

This isn’t about air conditioning in Seattle, it’s going to be about someone wanting to nuke somebody.

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Weird Science, I’m a Pectoral Fin Man myself

Food Porn Research at the University of Cincinnati is looking into “green” LED’s, specifically brighter colors enabled by Salmon sperm.

The military is well known for ponderous and pedantic “educational” films, the thought of a school of salmon being lashed into chairs to watch a venereal disease video leaps to mind – but as the US Air Force is funding the research, collection methodology is under a strict “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” policy. 

Thank God for that.

“The answer was salmon sperm. Why that? Because it’s considered a waste product of the fishing industry, and discarded by the ton.“

While LED’s are the first practical use of this research, the goal appears to be creating a “liquid transistor” that can convert the charged state of the liquid it’s in to electrical signals.

“… Such a device could co-exist in human body environment, for example, which is mostly liquid.”

Our guess is that these can be used to monitor conditions in humans and assist in drug delivery and efficacy. Rather than starve you for 24 hours before something shiny and stainless examines a part that you would rather not share, you may eventually be able to thank a Salmon for sparing you an indignity.

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Little Stinking succumbs to Intense overfishing

I’m practicing my “good old days” geezer speech, as I encountered something never seen before, another angler dipped in effluent. Two actually, and these fellows taught me an important lesson.

You remember the line your Poppa told you, “..any fool can be uncomfortable?”

I watched in awe as the first spin fisherman reaches underwater for a decaying chair, parks his rear in it, and begins sweeping the area with lures. Him and the chair move downstream where the scene is repeated numerous times.

Yep, that's a chair he's holding - I am jealous

Naturally, I’m thinking of the “greased bowling balls” that most of my trout streams are layered in – to hell with expensive felt soles, I just need a lawn chair.

I managed to beat the pair of them to the couch in midstream, feigning a midday nap, I had to let them know I was no beginner either…

It’s official, the Little Stinking takes its rightful place among the “Choc-Streams” that are officially on the decline, succumbing to overfishing and intense angling pressure.

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Fish remain undisturbed, Week 2 of Underwater Smog

Whatever is happening upstream I sure wish it would stop. This is week two of the Greasy Effluent Harvest, and it has me stymied completely. The local area is in full production and the tomatoes, corn, and sunflowers are being scooped up by the truckload. Because of the harvest machinery they have stopped all watering yet the Little Stinking has risen and the volume of debris has tripled.

Plenty of evidence of fish, but they have retreated to the edges of the creek and are staying out of the main body as it’s roiled, impenetrable, and likely they cannot see anything to eat it.

I have always wondered what fish did when the runoff reduced a mountain stream to a chocolate torrent and now I know. Height gives me a vantage point, and I can actually see the carp amidst the grass at the waters edge.

A large carp in 10 inches of water

I can’t get a fly in there if I wanted to – nor can I approach without being both seen and heard.

Instead I spectate.

I suppose I could try the zealotry approach and visit whatever county official is responsible for crappy creeks. The idea of objecting to the condition of the creek is appealing, I’m struggling with the wording.

“Sir, it is an affront that you would co-mingle raw sewage with toxic farm chemicals, I must protest.” Better just to claim I saw an endangered species as that would bring both protestors and the eyewitness news team, while one is filming the other, I could get a few casts over productive water.

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The Blackwater of Brownlining

Brownline Recruiting Poster I’ve always considered myself a mercenary, a freshwater whore, willing to sacrifice morals and principles for a chance to get bit. It’s that predation instinct that keeps me abreast of the cockroach in the food chain, repugnant – but just try to get me out of your kitchen..

I’m gearing up for another “blueline” adventure – scarring the face of some pristine forested stream with my Brownline accoutrements and effluent sharpened reflexes. I’m thinking that the Department of Fish and Game should post special regulations for us – like the grocery store nearest the high school, “No More Than 2 students at one time.”

Brownlining > Bluelining.

  • Brownliners know constant adversity, there is no “best” time to fish, or “should’ve been here last week.” We wear radiation badges, and when that sucker goes red, we’re out of the water and headed for decontamination.
  • Brownliners ignore rain, wind, and cold – also all regulations and season closures. We must escape and evade irate farmers, gang bangers, and overly zealous ecologists just to get to the waters edge.
  • Blueliners require insect activity to fish, Brownliners are the insect activity.
  • Blueliners are incensed that others have the audacity to fish their favorite spot, Brownliners wait 15 minutes and when the interloper is overcome by fumes, we “roll” the bum and toe the carcass into the underbrush.
  • Blueliners must wash their waders to prevent the spread of foreign organisms, Brownliners wash their waders to prevent the spread of Cholera, Typhus, and Malaria.
  • Blueliners decry a beaver doing what comes natural, Brownliners welcome beaver – we saw the hair in the water and assumed it was another corpse.
  • Blueliners require wild fish stocks and pristine ecology to ply their craft, brownliners only require girls with low standards and questionable virtue. “Pristine” is an unopened Bud Light.

…and finally, Blueliners get wound up and pout when a harsh winter changes stream flow or heavy runoff obscures a favorite run with silt or debris. Brownliners welcome change because the “agents” of change are bigger, meaner, and outnumber us.

Where the Carp Sleep at Night

We’re optimists by nature, one man’s crap is another man’s holding water. Them effete blueline trout don’t stand a chance. 

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No, it was a WILD Triploid

farmed salmon Fish farms have been on the ascendancy for some time, what with obscene pressure on wild fish stocks, and the Medical community advocating the eating of fish “two to three times per week.”

Migratory fish can be augmented by hatcheries, but table fish that don’t migrate have to be raised in the ocean in enclosures. Genetic tinkering of any lifeform, whether animal or plant, is still a hot topic – both in the general populace, and even among fishermen.

The Trout Underground’s post of the triploid rainbow trout record showed the divide that exists even within our little community.

Get used to it.

A small story on the BBC illustrates how “table” fish stocks are unwittingly being tampered with – purely by accident. Seals are hungry, and a big net full of salmon looks mighty appealing, in gorging themselves – they’ve released 157,000 genetic salmon into the wild last year.

In February, the Scottish Salmon Producers’ Organization (SSPO) said the number of salmon escaping from Scottish fish farms into the wild had halved.

It told a ministerial group that 157,000 fish escaped last year compared with about 300,000 in 2002.

The SSPO at the time contested claims that escaped farmed fish outnumbered wild ones.

The story lacks much detail, but 157,000 fish likely attempted to mount something (or vice versa) – so that lunker you landed last week was a wild fish? Prove it.

Half of the world’s sea food is now being farmed,” Mr MacMillan told Newsnight reporter Liz MacKean. “In order to have sea food available to consumers, it has to come from aquaculture.”

That is an amazing quote. I can only wonder what a lab engineered salmon thinks is his home stream, and who do I have to pay to get them all programmed to come to my house?

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Heat Fusible, SingleBarbed braves the fiery inferno of feminine scorn for Science

Domestic bliss shattered by my failure to iron shirts, but as it was for  Science, it’s a worthy martyrdom.

Angelina fibers are available in a heat fusible flavor,  insert a pinch of fibers into a paper napkin, pass an iron over them a couple times and the of fibers fuse flatly to each other, yielding a “Tyvek” style mesh cloth.

A thin “Tyvek” style mesh clothThis fabric is only as strong as the volume of fibers used and the degree of their overlap. Additional experimentation is required to find the best pattern to melt; parallel fibers, cross-hatched, further testing is needed to  determine what proves strongest.

One look at the result and about 75 different uses pop into your head, so allocate some time to fiddle.

Mayfly wings was the first thing I saw – the opalescent hue looks just like a shiny spinner wing. I trimmed a set for a #18 hook and managed to secure it without too much trouble. They are light and flexible wings – they will bend in flight rather than remain rigid and “helicopter” the tippet.

Nice wing effect, but too fragile yet

The photo shows what happened after I gave it a good yank. The direction of the original fibers when fused will have to be tinkered with so they don’t tear out. A #18 hook doesn’t give much area to tie down, the wing frayed badly when abused.

The intact wing shows the effect of the fabric trimmed to a shape, I folded the material and cut both wings at the same time, leaving a narrow adjoining section to tie to the hook. That was my mistake, as the narrow “neck” between the wings did not have many fibers secured. When pulled, the wing slowly fragmented into oblivion. Visually it’s a nice wing effect, but durability requires us to test further.

My next attempt was to roll up some fabric into a cigar shape then trim to the proper length once attached – exactly as a polypropylene yarn spinner is tied. I figured more fibers would be secured in the small tie down area and the wing should hold together much better.

This flavor will see action immediately, tough and durable

The result is depicted above, after I mauled them badly trying to pull them apart. The fibers separated a little bit but that was the only evidence of damage. Like all good flies the more it’s eaten – the better it looks.

The above pattern is what we used on Fall River and Hat Creek for the Trico spinner falls, when the solid black flavor didn’t yield any fish we switched to this variant – it went by many names, mostly we called it a “female Trico.”

Now I just call it “too damn small for me to see” – along with every other fly smaller than an #8.. I will debut these this weekend on the foam line just for the fun of it – assuming I get out of the Doghouse by then.

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Fly Tying begats legal spousal abuse

I am a dead manThere are times when I think fishermen are the only folks allowed to abuse their spouse systematically without fear of legal action.

This morning I approached my gal while she was finishing up the ironing of her work outfit. I gestured at the iron, “Is that hot?” She got that dreamy emotional look, the one that men recognize instinctively –  massive emotional points scored and your doghouse days are over.

Flustered and off balance, her voice rising in disbelief, “Yes, you need to iron your shirt?”

I produce a napkin wrapped object and quickly give it a couple of passes with the iron, “Naw, I just wanted to fuse some of these fibers to see whether they make spinner wings.”

I left her sobbing and broken, my crime was getting her hopes up and I am going to pay large tonight.

Salvation Army beats a hasty retreat, Giorgio Armani saves our Beloved sport

You thought I made this stuff up? Giorgio Armani introduces his latest line of couture fashion featuring a “fishing” theme. It may be dark when you roll out of that greasy sleeping bag, but that’s no excuse not to look your best.

Remember, some folks follow fashion, and some set fashion, and it behooves you to consider your spouse’s wardrobe before you go tossing them old waders in the trash.

Models wore fine mesh nets over their hair and the fishing theme was extended to shawls and shoulder shrugs in a lattice worn with slim silk evening gowns.

Gill nets are now haute couture, not the indiscriminate killers we once thought, but must be worn aggressively, paired fetchingly with a couple days growth of stubble, or last weeks underwear.

Please don’t confuse last year’s ensemble with this year; the hot colors are Sand, not Dirt, Rock Grey instead of Dingy, and Marine Blue. Any true dry fly fashionista knows the difference between Sand and Dirt, let’s not go there…

You’ll be thrilled to know those bulky Hydration packs are out, but form flattering clutch purses are back. If fishing sucks, rather than bemoan poor timing, assist your fellow anglers by dispensing fashion tips in the parking lot. Make sure that is a “blueline” parking area, us brownliners will take a dim view of both you and your ensemble.

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