In all this suffering can it be that an occasional fly fisherman can play fair without it being considered weakness?

Now that the worm is so much smaller does the resolve exist to do the right thing or are we fishermen insistant that previous wrongs have been so egregious we’re going to plow forward without thought to consequences and our fair share?

The federal government is starting to trim their budget meaningfully, not meaningfully enough to abandon that trillion dollars of rare earth discovered in Afghanistan, nor is it willing to leave Iraq and 12% of the world’s petroleum to its fate,  but it’s going to play hell with a half dozen  federal fish hatcheries – as well as renege on the promise of a few dam removals and let salmon fisheries wallow their way into extinction.

States meanwhile are raising the prices on licenses 30% to 50%, closing state parks on weekdays and reducing budgets on unnecessary entities like fish & game wardens and enforcement agencies – all to plug the gaps that federal funds and their sudden withdrawal have played in their fiscal integrity.

It’s the New Austerity, complete with the economy completely “fixed”, the big banks a feeding frenzy still on life support at the fed window, Wall Street is now honest again, and only the middle class civil servants defy the new frugal, insisting on driving the country deeper in debt and into the waiting arms of the Asian menace…

Naturally, the fishing and hunting conservation pundits are crying foul, insisting on “a day of Salmonid Rage”, hosted by Starbucks and someone’s film tour, without benefit of anyone knowing what to protest, so long as they look upset and slop coffee with verve …

… which draws me back to Morgan Freeman’s speech in “Glory” – “how them white boys have been dying for years and now its time we ante up like men …”

All this living beyond our means, dining out versus eating in, and a new car every three years was supposed to teach us something. Now when things are grim there’s no talk of “the tough get tougher” – rather it’s  mail in the house keys and walk, hoping the neighbors don’t notice you lowering their property values further.

Sure, John Wayne is long gone, and the last vestiges of the Marlboro men wink meaningfully from the damp rail at the gay bar – with them the pioneers and selfless individuals that tossed the yoke of oppressors, and built this cathedral in the first place …

Yet it begs the question, with the last of the Greatest generation becoming fewer, can this be our rallying cry – and if so, “how many trout streams is our part?

We arm wrestled federal and state governments at every turn, we claimed rare and sacred songbirds nested there, famous Indians were buried close by, and them timbers were the last refuge of the spotted owl. We litigated until we made it hideously expensive no matter what the solution was, as it was our tax dollars and it was about time that dam came out regardless of who was using it.

It’s a difficult topic to be sure. But with our conservation groups insisting we still should be angry should the teat be denied us, despite all of the hardship and suffering of those around us, it simply doesn’t sit well to resume business as usual.

With this latest tragedy in Japan demonstrating the frailty of nuclear reaction contained in our best engineering, it’s likely to come to a perfect storm for anglers, especially so due to all the uncertainty in the Middle East.

Islamic Fundamentalism could claim a couple more countries as easy as not, and we’ll feel obligated to occupy them too, or it’ll mean less oil exports due to sanctions from our government, and with nuclear no longer seen as “clean” we could see a redoubling of drilling in our interior, our exterior, and the wholesale embrace of the oil shale industry.

Which in contrast with liquid oil, is a dirty, water-intensive business.

Most of which exists in the Western trout states. Especially the Bakken deposit of North Dakota and Montana, rumored to contain as much oil as Saudi Arabia.

Fracking oil shale isn’t the same as pumping liquid oil. Freshwater is pumped into the ground to float the crude to the top and increasing a well’s recovery rate. Considering most of the West is flirting with drought due to population increase, it’s liable to add yet another commercial interest with the lawyers and politicians to force their way to the head of the table.

… where they can litigate farmers and livestock interests for the little clean water remaining.

… and they’ll bring those pipelines down from Canada, through Montana so they can carry all that brew to someplace that’ll refine it. They’ll want right of way, which won’t be hard to get especially if it involves national security or some heightened Defcon consideration.

All that’s coming soon enough, but for the time being I’m not going to protest to my senator or congressman on the next three rivers I’m asked to save. I figure that’s my share for the dream of a balanced budget given that I’ve responded like a proper whiney-bitch-spendthrift and complained that the government should save ________ by removing its dam, intervene in the water pumped south for lawns, or ban the use of dill pickles in sandwiches, all of which saved the spotted owl.

I need to save those precious goodwill-fairplay credits for when they’re really needed, like in the next couple of years …

Fly fishing being a lot cheaper than most of us think

It was a nice enough thought, how to restore an aging libido who’d squandered his youth huffing aniline dyes and white wine vinegar. I’m not sure why the unsolicited advertisement suddenly put things in perspective, but figuring a $350 rod, a $60 reel, $200 worth of waders, and $500 dollars more in terminal tackle and flies, I’m thinking fly fishing is much cheaper than first thought.

Sure, we got roving gangs of middle aged civil servants stealing from our fly shops, and smashing our windows at pull-out points near the river, but when you compare fly fishing to some of those seminal moments of your life … kicking the kids out of your house, a Smithfield Ham, your first parking ticket, or the first time you used your medical marijuana card and scored something other than billy club … erection_pack

… it still worked out to be less than $7.50 per …

Whether it was Old School or New Age dating; $350 for the clothes, one or more pricey two-person dinners, $200 in gas and Pepsi, and $500 so the cleaning lady found and hid all your porn beforehand …

… all this so your average marriage can last eight years.

Figure the first half is “constantly” and the second half being “occasionally”, your lifetime batting average (with half your belongings paid out every 11 years) renders a “10 Pack” completely useless.

Like beer, when you’re young a 10 pack is half an hour, and in your dotage becomes an ambition, never realized.

As you fish between 9-12 outings per year, and assuming them to be weekends, you’re afield nearly 24 days per year, with a precision rod lasting a decade or more, figure four fish per day, that’s nearly one thousand fish for an $1100 buy in, pretty cheap for “the best entertainment you can have upright lying down, depending where you are in the cycle.”

Ripped lips won’t make a big enough hole

I remember reading a Flyfisherman magazine back in the Eighties that attributed the exceptional size and growth rate of the trout in some Pennsylvania creek to an upstream cheese factory, whose rich effluents imbued the entire waterway with curds and whey.

Sure, it was white and unsightly, probably adding a little foam to the fast water, and stank like sour milk in summer – but who wouldn’t overlook any indignity if it grew bigger trout.

We were young and gullible then, and assumed that occasionally fish could win an industrial-age lottery, and while most creeks were imbued with things that rhymed with curds, somewhere we’d achieve symbiosis, where the fish received something from us that assisted their growth, instead of retarding it.

fish_drugs

Now I’m questioning whether our UK brethren had it right all this time, that trout once stung by the hook will never take the artificial again. The only reason catch & release was ever successful is because the industrial age guaranteed both wastewater-borne and factory flushed – and we’d addicted a couple of generations of trout to painkillers, which neatly explained why they took our flies multiple times.

Pharmaceuticals turning up in streams and rivers have made headlines in recent years. Now for the first time in the U.S., researchers have shown that such drugs may come directly from plants that manufacture them. Research published in Environmental Science & Technology (DOI 10.1021/es100356f) documents that treated sewage effluent from drug makers can deliver to streams concentrations of painkillers that are as much as 1,000 times higher than levels in effluent from other sewage plants.

– via Chemical & Engineering News

Now that I’m aware of the issue, I’m not so sure I won’t lead with a couple of large rocks followed by a fleshy cannonball, it’s plain I’ll have to get down there and fight for my chemical teat, as them lazy arsed fish are deep and serene while huffing on leaky pipes.

… it’s either that or leave the barb up, once them mandibles are like a sieve it’ll be more for the rest of us.

Do German trout streams really smell like that?

It may explain why your child is less than interested, after all, exposure to the woods for 12 minutes means the sensational odors are no longer distinguishable from your average alpine slum.

It’s possible that all those high priced woodsy accommodations are only a welcome sight to those whose youth was spent in the woods before they started smelling bad …

Now we’re so used to pre-pasteurized and sterile air from the conditioner, it’s possible we’ve been unable to smell the true countryside for the last decade.

Canned Cow Fart,  is that what the woods smell like now?

Canned cow farts have been a hot seller in Germany, giving the suddenly frugal Deutsche the ability to bring the scent of his favorite trout stream to the doorstep, rather than drive his precision 12 cylinder gas hog to the creek.

Suddenly frugal so long as the banks of Greece, Ireland, and Portugal need another infusion of Euros …

And the Oscar for Fastest Thinker Caught Red-Handed goes to

Smallest_fishIt remains the “fatal flaw” of a slotted catch & release regulation, and as I clawed my way out of the water and hustled up the bank, I realized the warden had only to flick ash from his cigar and motion to his “boys” to cart me away – and I would be sharing the same bed as Bernie Madoff and his ilk …

My sin was fishing a catch and release venue that allowed fish bigger than 18” to be kept, everything else had to be released. These slot-style regulations are fairly common, given that trout over 18” are no longer considered the best breeders, and fish & game didn’t mind you pulling the occasional cannibalistic fatty out of the creek for bragging rights.

Unfortunately my delicate little #16 pheasant tail had lawful knowledge of a four inch trout, and when I set the hook, I sent the child skyward with great force to land in  the Star Thistle behind me.

Knowing a big fine and a cavity search would be in the offing, I did my best to salvage the fish, but the tall grass meant he gasped out his life somewhere in my general vicinity…

… with me checking the high ground for the tell-tale glint of binoculars.

Thankfully It was a vertical set, and I didn’t try something clever like “completing the circle” or roll casting it:

Regardless of size or how obtained, it is illegal to use any sport fish for bait. (Sport fish species listed on page 5). Minnows are defined as all fish, except sport fish species, less than 6 inches long.

… that’s illegal as well …

What I didn’t know is how close I came to setting another world record:

Lawrence Co., KY, USA — Fishing with a rod and reel (a fishing pole), angler Andy Pelphrey, 28, caught a Blacknose Dace measuring 2.4 in. long. and 0.9 in. round, weighing in at o.oo8 lbs. (3.5 grams) – which sets the world record for the Smallest fish caught on rod and reel.

A quick glance at the Kentucky Fish & Game laws suggest Mr. Pelphrey may have been sweating it as much as I did:

Sport anglers cannot use blackside dace, palezone shiners or relict darters for bait.

Which was likely what he was gasping frantically to the warden when they clapped manacles on him, “ … wor .. world record ..”

Damned quick thinking if you ask me.

Sure Titanium is expensive, but is it even capable of a patina?

Your balky recalcitrant gate is merely prolonging the suffering. You took the easy path last weekend opting to ignore chores and familial responsibilities in favor of the NFL Pro Bowl – or worse yet the NFL Combine, and now the missus has your elbow clenched tightly to her as she strolls the flea market gushing over damask tablecloths and window treatments …

… which she really doesn’t care for, but knows it tortures you horribly …

Suddenly your practiced eye seizes on the top of half of a split cane something-or-other, and as your gaze follows the carefully spaced thread windings to the table, you see that aging Hardy Perfect next to a few other reels – most adorned with the patina of the last century.

Naturally your spouse is pulled clean out of her shoes while you hustle over to the kid manning the booth, and while his mom empties the arse-end of an aging station wagon onto the table, you’re left hefting a Pre-War Perfect and some level wind contraption called a “Ustonson Original Multiplying Winch” …

With only a sawbuck to your name, the quick glance at your spouse confirms you’re no longer on speaking terms, and when she starts boxing your ears later – it’ll sure seem like she’s a multiplying-wench, so do you lay down for the Perfect knowing that it’s enormous value should console her briefly even though you’d never sell it?

Ustonson_reel

-via the Angling Times

While a 3 5/8” Perfect would nicely appoint a Spey rod, you just missed purchasing what many consider to be the most expensive reel in the world, valued at about $50,000.

… assuming you ever found out what you’d passed up, just keep it to yourself. Confessing to the Missus would merely require you to serve both sentences consecutively, instead of at the same time.

Free Scissors to club fly tying classes, Inquire Within

Sixthfinger Part of selling all those Sixth Finger scissors is the quality control each set recieves prior to shipment. I’ve got a fairly consistent failure rate of nearly 10% on every shipment of scissors I receive.

Which makes for a lot of functional scissors that are destined for my closet.

After checking with the tax man it appears I can give them away to casting clubs for their fly tying classes without incurring harm or obligation to either party. If you know that your club could use some freebie scissors, drop me a note.

It will be our understanding that you’ll not market them as the real product, rather what they are, “free defective samples so you can learn to tie flies for less cash.”

The defects that make these unworthy of sale include; uneven tips, too blunt of tip, uneven blades (width), rough closure, visible defect, or won’t cut at all. Only the last issue renders the scissors unusable, so I’ll remove those from the mix.

The scissors may be a mixture of sizes and metals (some tungsten and some stainless) and all will be usable.

I’ll need your request for quantity on club stationary or what passes for same, and a link to your club website for verification.

My email address is in the “about” page at the top of the screen, just drop me a note to reserve your space in the queue.

About those moths, Madam

feat Never having seen an issue with as much bitter vitriol, that undoes 60 years of woman’s suffrage, polarizing the fly fishing community with tempers flaring in a frenzy of miscommunication and righteous anger …

… and all because some poor gal dares add a dab of genetic saddle hackle to her flowing mane …

Last week you were hoping she was around the next bend, and that she’d stalk you like a lioness in heat, now that’s all changed.

While this issue has been covered with great vigor in other venues, I thought you might want to read a darned good, dispassionate view of the fad, part of Angling Trade magazine and Kirk Deeter.

Make sure you read the comments to get some straight facts from Tom Whiting (of Whiting Hackle) – it’ll add some scope to the issue and outline what it all means for us anglers and coming seasons.

Us hoarders have stocked up on a couple seasons worth of the goodie, and can withstand a little scrutiny from Fashion Week and the couture crowd.

It’s nearly as much fun as eating sofa as a breakfast food

After three or four months you look down at the handkerchief and the sodden remnant of flaming pink raccoon tail you just sneezed up, and your first thought is about the fly tying “15 minute rule” and whether you’re allowed to recover and rebag it once dry …

Thirteen “pillows” of fur isn’t much to show for four months work, given the nearly 20 additional colors completed in theory, yet lack any physical manifestation.

14 actually, I started “Dreamy Mint Julep Caddis Carapace” this morning.

It’s the sum of every rainy weekend, all the frosty winter mornings, evenings after work, and why you should have listened to Poppa when he mentioned college – and how if you were as smart as claimed you’d be using head instead of back …

WMD

In the current economic environment, especially since both Tripoli and Wisconsin have fallen to revolutionaries, it’s a bit of a comfort knowing that I won’t be pressed into service as a short order cook, given my second career and the vast potential it holds.

Making little ones from big ones being a cornerstone of the US penal code, so I’ll have plenty of company with a single misstep.

Many of you participated in this experiment, and I owed you an update. Some picked colors and offered feedback, some fiddled with textures, most experimented with it, and at some point it will be available. My initial attempts at automation have failed miserably, so everything above has been made by hand.

Looking at all that dubbing makes me think of Edwin Teller, and the amount of suffering a handful of raccoon’s backside could mean to most of the major watersheds in North America …

… and how easy it’ll be to sleep at night, given the circumstances.