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.

Perhaps we should insist on a waiting period to purchase trout

Idaho Total dollar value for all farmed trout sold by United States growers was $71.3 million dollars, at an average price of $1.39 a pound, down 5% from 2009’s total.

Idaho is the largest grower of commercial trout in the US, accounting for 50% of the nationwide total.

For trout 12 inches or longer, 64 percent were sold to processors and 17 percent were sold for recreational stocking.

Surely it sounds boring and innocent enough, but if trout farms sell 17% of their fish as recreational stockers, it suggests that all manner of genetically manipulated lumpy genomes will be plying our waterways in short order.

Twice the muscle mass and half the brains would be a formidable temptation for some angling enthusiast with a small pond, who wants something other than a traditional warm water fishery in his backyard.

Fast forward to the Asian Carp and a flooded farm pond, whose sudden presence in the Mississippi is liable to rewrite what’s native to North America for the next millennia.

Both trout farmers and salmon growers have insisted genetically modified fish would be grown inland, in restrictive ponds that wouldn’t allow release into the wild, and while much of the recreational stocking is likely state hatcheries purchasing fingerling fish to offset unforeseen calamity at one or more of their facilities, it sets the stage for the accidental towing of the wrong semi to the wrong destination, and suddenly that airtight glove of security is so very porous…

Remember, it’s Infidel yellow

WASHINGTON – Khalid Ali-M Aldawsari, 20, a citizen of Saudi Arabia and resident of Lubbock, Texas, was arrested late yesterday by FBI agents in Texas on a federal charge of attempted use of a weapon of mass destruction in connection with his alleged purchase of chemicals and equipment necessary to make an improvised explosive device (IED) and his research of potential U.S. targets.

The affidavit alleges that on Feb. 1, 2011, a chemical supplier reported to the FBI a suspicious attempted purchase of concentrated phenol by a man identifying himself as Khalid Aldawsari. According to the affidavit, phenol is a toxic chemical with legitimate uses, but can also be used to make the explosive trinitrophenol, also known as T.N.P., or picric acid.

Dear Khalid,

Heard you were in some legal difficulty and figured to offer a bit of advice to your legal team. Virgins being in such scarce supply here in the US, I thought you’d trade a couple of those 40 you’ve been promised, should I do you this solid …

… besides, think of all the caterwauling and drama them gals would be capable of and the impact to your book study on how to use cell phone primers and lay det cord.

Can you say Green Highlander?

You might want to try the “I was only going to dye a lot of yellow saddle hackle for all those salmon flies I use in Lubbock”, but that’ll require a sympathetic judge – certainly one that fishes regular.

Your lawyer likely has a big dossier on all the federal circuit judges and can play fast and loose until you are promised a favorable venue, so I wouldn’t worry too much.

(… unless the trial is held within the boundaries of the state of Texas, in which case your ass is lipstick and you don’t know me.)

What I’d do is get a spare copy of Kelson’s off the Internet and study which of the old mainstays need the deep yellow picric acid provides. In a pinch, I’d refer to it as “infidel yellow” that way the interested parties listening to your testimony can discern the difference between your “cursed yellow running dog of an infidel” versus regular Banana yellow …

In fishing, a couple shades difference in color could mean the difference between frying fish, and frying like a fish – something them idjit Texicans are all too happy to introduce foreigners to …

Hope this helps.

Apparel promoting a lifestyle of sustainable beer drinking

The concept is sound, I donate 99% to the care and feeding of your lifestyle, you return 1% to something that allows underprivileged kids to kill even more fish…

Is that what you meant by angling charity?

My Inbox is a steady stream of anglers whose high dollar sunglasses perch fetchingly on carefully rolled curly-brim, who insists that membership in their company dictates I should be more green, more ecologically sensitive, more caring, and more demonstrative …

… with my paycheck, naturally.

In typical fashion, some well meaning Montana angler is concerned about the environment and invents strike indicators of corn yarn, which degrades nicely in water, is green as hell and absolves the brotherhood of  explaining why bobbers are necessary to catch trout given that their bright colors bob in the bankside grasses and line most of the landscape.

Knopp creates the indicators by cutting the yarn into lengths and tying a loop into the middle. Then he coats the entire product in an organic paste to help it float. The final touch is coating the loop in beeswax. He plans to package them three to a bag and sell them for $10.

That “lifestyle” tag is going to blind me to the fact that 100 yards of the corn yarn is $8, or that plastic bubble-style floats are five to the pack and a third the price of corn?

… and we daren’t mention we took bread out of the mouths of babes – corn being a foodstuff and better used as aid to some drought stricken province teetering on the brink, versus floating some fly down an expensive resort river, with that doubly expensive guide hovering over your every move.

So why is it that the “Green” idea always has to cost more at the register, can’t we feel strongly about the environment and undercut the bobbercator price versus always doubling it?

Jesus only requires 10% of your get, can Mother Nature be that much more in tune with inflation?

I’d love to limit my studies to insect lifecycles and ignore the faded Miami Vice pastel tee shirts at $25 per, each labeled with a fetching Catch & Release logo that I’ll have to explain to my girlfriend, who’ll think me a poor risk to be her baby-daddy and dump me before I can release her…

I recognize that Sesame Street filled your heads with the expectations that you’ll get some cookie too, but it appears that boat’s sailed and isn’t likely to avoid any iceberg.

As you skipped over history and aren’t likely to recognize real fishermen when you see them, here are the necessary qualities of an angling lifestyle …

lifemag_oldfish He gets an angling lifestyle …

Big bulbous nose, skin like a potato, foghorn voice, broken knuckles, thick clothing to keep out the constant chill, and enough broken veins in the nose to suggest a bottle close to the tiller …

… that’s the “steering wheel” for you lifestyle types …

 gaddafi … as does he.

… but only because all those protestors sprinted past his “line of Death” and he was forced to flee with most of the treasury in tow.

A few goats, a small cottage, and a leaking old boat should fool both the Mossad and the CIA , until the NSA cops to his ratting out Osama and their blanket protection. All the while the Montana legislature is falling over themselves to  rezone the Bitterroot to accommodate a log palace, given that “Mr. Gad-daffy” has elected to pay in uncut diamonds.

Anyone wearing sandals, a ball cap, or pastel shorts isn’t entitled to an angling lifestyle. You’re just avoiding real work, and lack any real flair for guiding or fishing outside of attempting to separate your client’s daughter from her underwear.

Sure there’s one born every minute, but not in this industry. There are few 401K’s and fewer health plans at fly shops, guiding is a young man’s game whose allure will wear off of all but the most gifted and diligent. The rest of us are college educated and at all levels of the real workforce, not the type to be easily impressed that you were able to roll out of bed before noon.

Should you acknowledge that some of us did all this before you graced the planet may make you understand why there are so many lawyers, bankers, and public servants … and so few successful fish bums.

A River of Ciggies and Frappachino runs through it

I’m thinking the only difference between the Trout Underground and my rag, besides his being able to spell, punctuate, and show real wit, is that TC is under 50, suggesting he’s victim to the occasional hormonal surge …

… so we get the occasional flash of round and bouncy, suggesting the gal might exist and sport an unnatural passion for portly and balding – versus my side of the Internet which simply dashes your spirits without the brief uplifting preamble …

… or the flash of skin. Age and maturity does that to old pricks.

Brit_SPears_Guide

Worse is the effect on the rest of the angling crowd; Dick Talleur and Sylvester Nemes exchanged looks before simply checking out permanently. Both were hanging on for the sequel to A River Runs Through It, now that Miss Britney is manhandling the script, greener pastures beckon.

The only good news is that in Kentwood, La – fly fishing contains ample Sonic burger and bait, and the white bucket ain’t for sitting on unless you’re binging or purging, or both.

Cutips or backhoes, we’ll mine the goodie

It must’ve been the Alaska Gold marathon running all weekend in my living room, companion noise while I hacked, chopped, and ground up most of the fur bearing animals resident to North America.

By Monday evening all the bearings in my grinder sounded oval, but she still gnawed away noisily at anything I wadded into the blade area. I could see the big seam on the inside had filled up nicely with tiny fragments of everything fed it in the last couple of weeks, and while my heroes were emptying sluice boxes and nugget traps, I was busy scraping the mechanism collecting the rarest of all fly tying colors, “Ear Wax Yellow.”

ear_wax_yellow

… like white being the sum of all colors, it’s a relatively indescribable yellow, possibly even a light olive, but once you’ve given it a name you see it in a different light – it being the sum of a thousand buggy colors, and how it takes on any shade your whim imagines useful.

EWY_Nymphs

Add a little brown thread rib and it becomes a darker hue – like a true chameleon using the colors of the environment to make itself less stark or obvious.

The tail may wag this dog

Now that my likeness on your post office wall has been eclipsed by Edward Rist and his takedown of rare and exotic birds, and while my accidental brush with depravity rings hollow – compliments of a couple of gifted song birds and an imaginary affront to Audubon, the only way to reestablish myself as some form of natural history anti-Christ would be find something twice as rare and make flies with it.

Us fly tying degenerates being a vain crowd, proud of our hardscrabble hoarding nature, and determined to accumulate enormous collections of shoeboxes that hide the grisly remnants of odd fauna frozen in death. Unfortunately the competition is becoming fierce, with Jeffrey Daumer and Edward Rist making it tough to one up the competition…

We feel we may have rose to the occasion. It’s much tougher when there’s only one available, but it makes a sturdy and handsome tail …

Beard of the Prophet

… given this week’s callousness, it’s Hell I’m headed for surely, but which remains unknown. Hopefully Salman Rushdie has brushed up on his classics, as we’ve got a couple millennia of small talk coming .