Tag Archives: Fly Fishing

Hobie ProAngler kayak

A Big Step for a Wading Angler, Contemplating the Move to an Angling Kayak

Fly fishing from a kayak is a welcome transition for the heretofore shore bound angler, as many of the issues that haunt slippery rocks and low hanging branches vanish with the mobility that boating offers. There are also many new hazards you’ll encounter and many tendencies that must be left on shore where they belong.

Getting Your Mind Right, dealing with Hoarding Instincts

hoardingThe only storage constraint on the wading angler is the capacity of his fishing vest. The practice of wadding everything into a maze of pockets to resupply the angler afield has morphed into a garment carrying old sandwiches, partially consumed protein bars, fly boxes, foam floats, rain ponchos, snakebite kits, tippet spools, insect repellant and the obligatory snarl of toilet paper.

These hoarding instincts we learned early as doting parents insisted our “angling empire” fit into one tackle box, later one fly box, and culminating into one overly warm car trunk, or closet.

While there are many kinds of kayaks and all with different options, angling kayaks offer the illusion that you can increase the amount of gear carried as the boat does the physical lifting instead of you. Suddenly that onboard storage sprouts neo-essentials like; extra drinks, dry clothes, spare spools, baby diapers (from a prior adventure) and a backup rod, and you must resist this hoarding instinct – as it will be your undoing.

The size and weight of your boat will influence where it can be launched. Longer kayaks are faster in the water but can be heavier on land. Wheel assemblies can be added to most kayaks to equip them for pavement, dirt, or beach sand, and assist the launching process tremendously. The wrong wheel type makes the launch extra burdensome, as thin narrow pavement wheels will dig into mud or sand and make the boat hard to move. New or strange lakes offer unknown launch scenarios and our Western states are in a multi-year drought, complicating matters further. As lake levels recede due to drought, the distance between parking area and the water’s edge increases. Man made lakes are typically steep “bowls” designed to as much water as possible, so it’s not a long, level walk to the water’s edge – it’s a sloping downhill slide with your kayak threatening to alternately run you over or drag you downhill.

Complicating things further is the composition of the newly exposed slope, which is often alternating bands of decomposing rock, loose soil, and shale. As you near the water include weeds and scrub growth, as well as sand and mud, ensuring your footing and launch are a mix of dicey and downright treacherous.

Fortunately, the easy part is getting the boat downhill … Gravity is a willing accomplice and while strenuous, rolling the boat down to the water’s edge gives you an invisible helper.

The return trip is another story…

After a long day on the water you have a physical and arduous climb UPHILL to the car. Cart wheels will fight you on every rock and root, dig deep into mud or loose cobble, and your footing will be uncertain due to loose shale and gravel, making that 100 yard trek back to the pavement nothing short of heart pounding torture. Adding to the mix is all the water you added into the hull via pedal motor housing, or simply slopping it into the boat via flopping fish and exuberance.

Many launch scenarios may have your boat out of sight of the parking lot. Multiple trips to offload gear could find you leaving the boat filled with valuable tackle, cameras, and other expensive items undefended, in a high traffic area like a day use area or beach. You need to keep your boat light enough to handle the return all gear to your vehicle in a single trip.

Be frugal with gear. Consult the dry weight of the boat and remember you will be adding food, drinks, tackle, anchors, drink holders, floatation devices, and many things you have no expectations of owning … fish finders (containing transducers, batteries, and cable), anchor trollies, milk crates, rod holders, onboard wheel assemblies, and assorted cordage, cable ties, and pool noodles.

Traditional paddling kayaks (sit inside kayaks) are light with many 12 foot models only 50-65 pounds. Angling kayaks (sit on top kayaks) can weigh twice that as they contain many amenities unnecessary to a paddle kayak. Seats, storage, battery harness, cable controls, and pulleys all add extra weight, and boats can weigh over 100 pounds dry.

My Hobie ProAngler 360 kayak is 12 feet long and weighs 105 (2020 weight, 2022 weight is 109.5) pounds empty. It is the “leaden battleship” of angling kayaks, not due to its size – rather due to its features and ability to expand via the Hobie Rail System. Assume you’re carrying nearly 40 pounds of tackle, 10 pounds of anchors, cordage and landing nets, a couple of rods, 5 pounds of drinks and food and all the leashes, tethers, and floatation devices (PFD), and you’re likely to tip the scales at 160-170 pounds, counting the inboard water. This is not a trivial burden on a thirty degree slope with uncertain footing …

You need to remain vigilant on what you add to your kayak, and you need to unload items unique to a specific trip on your return – so they don’t add unnecessary weight to your boat. Lowrance and similar fish finders are easily mounted to your new kayak, but do you really need to know there are fish fifty feet below you? Fishing a jig, fifty feet is nothing, fishing a fly and that same fifty feet is an insurmountable depth.

I carry a thermometer instead. I can check water temperature as needed, and while it’s not as convenient as on a Hummingbird screen, it is a hell of a lot lighter.

I can’t tell you which kayak is best – neither can the staff that sell them ..

There are many really good angling kayaks, most run between $1500 –$5000, which is significant cost, nearly all are worth every penny spent.

There is no “best” kayak, there is however a “best” kayak tailored to you, your needs, and the uniqueness of your fishing. Some will use them in both freshwater and salt, some in still water only, some for fly and spinning, some will troll, some in estuary or riverine environments, all will be stable and seaworthy craft, but the features you need for fly fishing are not obvious …

Pick your new kayak based on its power plant, its ability to reverse direction (instant reverse), and extensibility. These are unquestionably the most important features for fly fishermen.

Power Plant: Pedal versus Paddle: Both work, but one seems tailored to fly fishing

Propeller200Fly fishing is a uniquely “hand intensive” fishing style. We require constant contact with the rod and line to cast, mend, gather, and impart motion to the fly. Paddle kayaks require two hands gripping the kayak paddle, pedal kayaks are powered by an angler’s legs, leaving both hands free to cast or strip while the boat is under power.

Personal Opinion ** : My personal opinion is that pedal kayaks are best suited for fly fishermen, as they offer the unique ability to cast and move at the same time. Paddle kayaks are fine for fly fishing, but you have to lay down the rod to move any distance, and you’re constantly swapping rod and paddle, allowing running line to catch on all manner of things in the boat as you paddle to adjust your attitude towards shore or target. You WILL drop things in the water if you fish enough, do you want to risk your rod to the Briny Deep?

Pedal kayaks have two basic styles of motion; pedaling a propellor-equipped or pedaling a fin equipped motor for locomotion.  Hobie uses “fins” to move the boat, all of the other manufacturers use the more traditional propellor for locomotion.

Regardless of the style of pedal motion, the core issue is your ability to snag the drive with your fly – or run over your fly line with the boat and get it tangled with the prop, and the motor’s ability to kick up when hitting an underwater object. Hobie fins have a hinge allowing them to fold up when striking an underwater object and restore themselves to the original configuration on the next power stroke. Prop drives have the ability to “kick up” in the same manner, but not all of them can do so, so it’s something to check on the boat, model, and manufacturer you’re contemplating.

You will hit underwater objects especially when you forget to retract the motor when landing the boat, or when you loan the craft to your idjit pal.

I have snagged my rudder, skeg, and fins while fishing, and it is problematic – but not overly so. You will learn to keep your fly line away from the boat as wind and pedaling can move the boat over your fly line and fly quickly. A tangle in the running line – or a few turns of loose line snagged on something inside the boat cockpit, and you risk getting the fly and line under the boat if under power. Recently, I disabled my rudder by snagging a large striper fly in the hinge and had to land the boat to remove the fly and restore rudder function.

With practice you will learn to stop your pedal motion and pause before casting. Kayaks are quite graceful in the water, and the boat will continue to move forward for 20 feet or so when you stop pedaling. Releasing your cast as the boat loses forward momentum means you do not roll over the line and do not have to frantically strip to catch up to the fly.

Instant Reverse: Floating Physics and the unique complications of kayak fly casting

Hobie360A traditional “sit on top” fishing kayak has the angler seated about two thirds of the way down the boat towards the stern. The angler is a “sail-like” object, so his profile and its resistance to wind will add motion to the boat in any breeze.

If the wind is behind the angler the boat will drift forward, wind in front, boat will drift backward, etc. Motion of the boat will add drag to the fly, or make it move twice as fast as intended, given how the boat can swing in circles due to its “off center sail”. A fly fisherman will need to constantly adjust his attitude to his fly, as the boat can move in any direction at any time.

This is markedly different from the wading angler, who remains motionless while adjusting the line between him and the fly.

“Instant reverse” describes the ability to change the boat’s direction quickly, and has multiple flavors among the many kayak manufacturers. Because of the vagrancies of wind on the angler, instant reverse will be among the top three issues of your fly fishing experience, as you will be constantly adjusting the boat and its angle to the fly or shoreline.

Hobie kayaks have multiple flavors of reverse on their pedal kayaks, those that use the 180 drive require you to reach down and pull a cable to initiate reverse (the same to resume forward motion), and the newer 360 drive, which allows the motor to thrust at any angle in a 360 degree arc, requires you to turn a handle to pick the angle of thrust.  Instant reverse then requires the handle to be spun 180 degrees to go backward, and returned 180 degrees to resume forward motion.

Propellor kayaks only require you to stop pedaling forward and pedal backward to reverse boat motion. Prop driven kayaks are superior to all others in this regard – and in my estimation are the only kayaks that offer true “instant reverse.”

I’ve not owned the propellor flavor, but having spent four seasons on a Hobie 360 – I am quite comfortable turning the handle while the boat is under power (as the rudder handle and motor thrust handle sit atop one another). The 360 Drive offers other mobility features superior to propellor kayaks as the drive thrust allows it to be turned without moving the boat forward, which is a huge advantage in tight quarters (think maneuvering in snags, docks, and chasing largemouth bass).

Personal Opinion**: Propellor based kayaks have true instant reverse, and in my estimation are superior to all others save paddle kayaks, which also have human powered “instant reverse” (typically preceded by the exclamation, “Oh, sh*t” …). The Hobie crank handle is fine, it’s simply not hand’s free like the propellor flavor. You never can have too many hands when managing fly line, boat motion, and sharp things flying in your direction …

Extensibility and all the gadgetry (weight) therein

One of the more important features in kayak selection is what extensions and capabilities can be added via third party. Hobie kayaks use a proprietary “H-Rail” system to attach additional features and connectivity to the boat. Their “H Rail” can be adapted to other standards via Scotty mounts, or RailBlaza Starport mounts. These connections to the boat allow you to add additional features that don’t come with the boat like fish finders, storage, GoPro Camera masts, rod holders, and dozens of other gadgets.

Hobie produces a generic plate mount attachment that allows you to modify, screw, or glue anything you wish to their hexagonal rail attachment, think Boom Box or similar outlandish need. Railblaza makes a similar, rotating platform attachment that is pre-drilled and can be modified, other vendors offer similar functionality.

Whichever kayak you fancy, ensure it has ample extensibility or you will regret the purchase. Not knowing what’s needed in the future or how your angling will change with a job related relocation, the extensibility of your kayak will determine how soon you outgrow it or whether that will happen.

When reviewing watercraft, determine which type of mounts and rails come native to the craft. Many of these can be added to older boats but require drilling holes in the hull, which adds additional issues with sealants, leaks, and the potential to weaken the craft via extensive modification. If you’re not being gifted a kayak or the sudden beneficiary of some similar freebie, I would recommend the purchase of a kayak that contains rails built into the superstructure or hull. The manufacturer choice I’ll leave to you, but get something allowing you to add to the base craft via supported mounts.

As other family members are likely to use your craft and don’t share your passion for fly fishing, the ability to add a drink holder or trolling rod holder may be highly desirable. Kayaks are a pleasant way to enjoy the out-of-doors and you don’t need to be a Purist to enjoy a comfortable seat, warm sun,  and a “stroll” around the lake. In fact, the “smart” lad will market the purchase as a “family friendly” non-gas guzzling, Green Initiative – as the price tag for The Beast will have to be negotiated.

There are other ways to add capabilities to your kayak, most are tailored to the specific craft or extensibility it offers; rails versus mounts, etc. I will cover some ways to modify the Hobie when I write about the specific configuration I employ on my 12’ Hobie ProAngler 360.

Leashes and the need to strap everything down

Kayaks are tippy regardless of their size, and like canoes, standing up risks a bath. Kayaks are flat bottomed and lack a keel, so an aggressive lean to see or grab a fish coupled with a broadside wave strike and you could flip your boat instantly. Most angling kayaks are stable, and their stability increases with length, but the threat of an unexpected dunking is quite real, especially if you do something stupid.

Big fish make people stupid.

So does alcohol.

… as does that 24’ ski barge that rounded the point filled with liquored up Millennials … whose wake is about to sink you.

Everything you bring onto the boat must be securely stored via locked hatch or leashed to the superstructure with a lead designed for that purpose. This means once the hull storage is full, each item must be attached individually to the boat if you want to keep it. Paddle, Landing Net, Tackle containers, rod, drinks, food, pedal drive, yourself, anchor, absolutely everything not sealed within the hull must be leashed. If the boat flips, and it will, everything will disappear into the depths or float away while you scramble to get back aboard.

I am leashed to the rail as well. This way the boat cannot move more than six feet from me once I tumble into the water.

My Hobie ProAngler has restraints for extra rods that hold spinning or casting rods tight to the hull. These will not work for fly rods as fly rod pieces are too numerous and slender. I will lose my rod if I tip the boat and relinquish my grip on the handle.

So be it.

Your pedal drive and paddle are the only means of locomotion for the boat. I leash both to the Hobie rail, as the paddle is the backup to the pedal drive and I need at least one to make it back to shore.

My landing net is leashed to the hull in similar fashion and has more than one use in the boat. As it’s likely to be in your other hand when landing a big fish, and that fish could make me forget prudence, it will be lost if I roll the boat with the rod in the other hand. Hence the leash.

I reserve the hull storage for the expensive stuff. Lures and Plugs for largemouth when casting or spin fishing, first aid kit to stop bleeding and bandage the hook punctures, waterproof container with wallet and car keys, and all those tiny packages of split shot, strike indicators, fly boxes, GoPro batteries,  leader spools, and hook hones. (I will elaborate on this configuration in future articles tuned to my specific craft.)

Your rod is the only wild card in this mix, as a leash is unwieldy due to the casting motion. I opt not to leash my rod and recognize the potential for its loss.

If you wish to keep it, it must be attached to the boat.

There is no exception.

No FIshing Vests needed

stohlquist300Sudden immersion is a shock, and while you recover and begin to tread water – are you going to reach for the boat or your rod as it disappears into the water?

If you’re not leashed to the boat and there’s a stiff breeze your kayak will be moving to windward as soon as you hit the water. By the time you resurface it might be eight or ten feet distant, and if you’re in deep water you might be in trouble.

To hell with the rod, you go for the boat as it may be the only thing between you and drowning.

You must wear a Personal Floatation Device (PFD) in your kayak as the risk of flipping climbs with the popularity of the waterway, inclement weather, big tides, and drunken boaters. Choose a vest that is designed for swimming, not one designed for the crowd that frequents big party barges and hang on the cabin wall unused. California boating regulations require all kayakers to wear a PFD equipped with a whistle for alerting other boaters. As the PFD will preclude the use of a fishing vest, you will need to design a new tackle storage solution that allows the same freedom of access as a vest, yet will be leashed to the boat (with all zippers closed) when not in use. (I will describe my system in a future article on Hobie configuration).

Your PFD can have floatation around your shoulders but make sure it doesn’t have any in the lower back area. Any padding near the lower back and waist will interfere with your boat seat and your posture, making the seat less comfortable.

I opted for a Stohlquist Fisherman, as it had a few extra pockets, no padding on the lower back, and is of the “swimming” style.  These can be pricey, but being a life saving device is worth every penny.

If you use the boat in salt water many anglers stuff the kayak with pool noodles to allow additional buoyancy. The assumption is that the closed cell foam will ensure the kayak floats if upside down or full of water, giving you something to cling to while you BLEAT frantically on your attached whistle ..

Polypropylene is your friend. Poly won’t absorb water, so clothing that is windproof, rain resistant, and made from Polypropylene will provide additional safety. Big woolen sweaters, Levi jeans, and layered cotton shirts are all barriers for wind and cold, but they will absorb many pounds of extra water when immersed in the lake. If you flip your boat you will have to get back in it unassisted. If you are away from shore you will need to climb in via the nose or stern, or learn to belly up into the cockpit and pivot into the pedal well. If you have an extra fifty pounds of water in that sweater/jean/shirt/jacket combination it will reduce your ability to lift yourself out of the water and back into the boat.

Buy windproof clothing in bright colors (visibility matters) that doesn’t absorb water. Wear wetsuits in the salt (especially on the West Coast) and leave shoes in the car. Wet suit booties offer both floatation and will not absorb water when soaked and are much superior to shoes or sneakers. Most of your launches will be in muddy terrain and wet shoes and socks put a damper on the day no matter how pleasant the weather and fishing.

You’re more mobile than the fellow with the V8, respect the launch and dock protocols

Gas guzzling V8 owners replete with their spiffy Dodge RAM and attendant entourage actually need the dock to launch – you can shove your boat in the water with less fuss. If you are launching your kayak at a traditional lake launch frequented by big boats on trailers, prepare your boat at your truck and avoid using the dock for anything but the launch.

The standard wheeled cart assembly allows you to load your boat with tackle, clothing and food while at your truck. You can string your rod and place it into the kayak at the same time. Only when you are ready to launch should you move into the path of the dock and motorized launch area. Be polite, courteous and fast. If you are carrying your wheel assembly back to the car then keep your boat to the side with the least traffic, and only do so if the distance is short. These launches are designed for the motorized angler and their ritual requires additional maneuver compared to us kayak types.

Anyone learning to back a boat in the water requires considerable space, so give it to them regardless … never insist on imposing your will on a craft whose wake can swamp you.

This advice is doubly important at the end of the day when the crowd at the dock is liquored up and sunburnt. Don’t risk aggression by dawdling at the launch area with your boat, get it out of the water and into the safety of the parking area before wiping it down or storing gear.

Summary:

The move from wading angler to kayak angler requires money and a lot of thought to established fishing practices. Many of the tendencies developed from years of angling need to be retooled and rethought rather than simply ported to the new craft. Everything you bring onto your boat is a liability and subject to loss, so you need to plan your storage and leash system – and you will require several seasons before the configuration you chose will become second nature, so plan for an evolution of your boating behavior. Closing tackle boxes and zipping up your fly box will be cumbersome and inefficient at first, but losing the entire collection to the lake is far worse – and may even end your trip completely.

Expect to evolve your kayak use, don’t assume it will all go swimmingly despite hours of YouTube review and classes attended.

Keep weight and items to a minimum, especially if you’re in a drought area.

Assume a new or strange lake might have a poor launch facility, one that requires portage of boat and equipment to the water. Try to keep it to a single trip from car to water, if you can’t then prioritize your valuables based on the risks.

Anything not tied to the boat will be lost, that includes you.

Dress for success, avoid items that absorb and retain lots of water.

If forced to comingle with power boats, use the dock sparingly and fast. Do not rig tackle or dawdle. Save the fish stories for the parking area, not the boat dock.

I consider it a draw

The Striped Bass population has been elusive the last couple of years with occasional flurries of fish and much head scratching afterwards. Most of the fish caught have been small, predominantly under the legal limit, and even those are quick to vanish at the slightest opportunity.

Given the time of year and the paucity of other species available, they are a welcome quarry and an excuse to wander around the Delta hoping to be the lucky fellow whose perseverance discovers where the sumbitches are hiding …

My latest foray was inconclusive. I managed to sting one fish using an experimental “Baby Bluegill” fly versus the more gaily colored monstrosities in white, red, or chartreuse (or all the above). The more somber patterns are often overlooked and therefore underfished – and not caring whether it was eaten by the resident Largemouth, I was fiddling with “natural” baits instead of the normal fare.

BabyBass

I fished the last two hours of incoming, stuck the solitary fish – which came off promptly, and then lingered to fish the following four hours of the outgoing tide. When the wind came up I swapped the fly rod for a spinning rod and stuck three additional fish, two undersized and one keeper-sized.

BloodyThumb700

As I was freeing the larger fish from the net an awkward flop imbedded the free treble into my thumb. Normally I would have taken this personal, but under the circumstances I thought it fair. I stuck him  and took his measure – and he repaid me in like coin. Rather than howl shamefully, I removed his treble, my treble, and the net, before releasing him with a wave (and the corresponding blood spatter)..

I considered it a draw.

The Skunk BEING Off the Boat

It’s something we share with baseball players; the Obvious Funk, the hitless streak – where reading all the books, and tying all the flies, and all them hours afield and all that practice results in repeated blankage … no hits, runs, nothing left on …

Unfamiliar turf to be sure. I found myself starting with forlorn, moving to melancholy, which quickly became resentment as the streak continued.  As my lower lip began to resemble Pinocchio’s nose and my suffering intensified, I realized that “getting bit” was akin to Popeye’s Spinach, how without the ability to torture things smaller than me, I was a caricature of my former self.

I’d love to blame Southern California voters, or Republicans, or some faceless nemesis  in human form, but my adversary has been so much bigger than me that I can’t envision a standup fight, so much as a duck and weave – and hope I can outrun the SOB. As mentioned ad nauseum,  weather and its after affects have shuttered most of the fishing in my area. Drought extincted the small water – or warmed it enough to kill everything  in it. Drought emptied the reservoirs, and their subsequent filling has left them unstable and unproductive.

I’d hoped my annual shift to Shad fishing would buy me a precious few months of solace, but after each trip I returned despondent and empty handed – which after a few hours always became a source of mirth. Us alpha predators being  gifted with an overly active optimistic vein – which converts sulking and self pity into  new flies, new resolve for exploration, and the adrenalin to get up at 5AM and submit to additional piscatorial ridicule.

Like last year exploring Lake Berryessa, this year I’ve been moving through all the access points into the American River as it moves through Sacramento and the outlying burbs. Not being a native, yet working in Sacramento, my coworkers are assisting in pointing out which access lead to the nudist beaches, which are the most prone to car hijackings, which have the beer parties and all the underage talent, and how the northern accesses are the affluent neighborhoods and the southern accesses less so …

shadface500

My adoration for shad has me fishing alone, as the few fishermen I know in the area simply don’t care for them much.  This makes exploration of a new stretch of the river extremely slow, but it is beneficial in soothing my wounded ego.

I use a “10 and 10” style for covering water. Ten casts and then ten steps, which is a slow but surefire way to find the deep holes the fish inhabit in between egg laying.

Most of my fishless outings end with me living vicariously through the long lines of spin fishermen catching them with floats and flies. I find watching others catch fish is akin to  Methadone for opiate addiction, not the same … but takes the edge off.

AmerShad600

This morning I tried a new spot and as I surveyed the mile or so of water visible to me – all those books and false casts whispered, “if I were a fish I’d live right … here.”

… no one was more surprised than I was when I set the hook.

Fatty Eats frog meat

It was the prudent thing to do. Prior to scaring hell out of everything by sky lining myself hop-skipping across all that erosion inhibiting rock, I flung that big weedless frog past the debris field of dumped roadbed just where the boulders disappeared into deep water.

Naturally there was something big and mean waiting for something small to do just that, and my morning was shattered by an aerial display worthy of a steelhead.

FattyBass600

I figured it was one of two options; either he’s given up on rain and was learning to gulp air, or was intent on all those bikini clad college girls drinking and screaming from mid channel.

While the college gals were friendly enough to make me suck in my gut, I figured the return voyage would feature a lot less sweaty and “Gone Wild” – and more sunburnt and heaving … over the side.

The Sheriff thought so too, and his boat followed the flotilla at a discrete “binocular” distance. He was “fishing” too … kind of like the shadowy edge between rock and a hard place …

berry62715

As this is peak irrigation season – and were in the grips of drought, I have been curious how the local impoundments are being drained for water deliveries to farms.

They’re already talking about Folsom Lake going dry by September, and both Berryessa and Oroville are reeling due to drought, so each trip I eyeball the banks to get a feel for releases. The above photo shows the more than 200 foot distance between underbrush and current lake levels, and the encroaching brush that covers the exposed banks as the water recedes.

It’s our fate that “fly eating” foliage pops up to cover anything older than a couple of months, and fly fishing is limited to the points of coves where a back cast can parallel the bank. While far from ideal, we’re spared the shredded flesh and indignity of a Blackberry thicket.

GeorgeSpotted

This is “Meathead” from work with a nice Spotted Bass, who graciously instructed me in the finer points of “drop-shotting” bass. I gave him the “frog” and insisted he dump his inexpensive and highly functional tackle for something that costs ten times more and can’t sink very fast.

Neither side had a convincing argument yet both had moments.

Most of our fish came from 20-25 foot of water (as measured by casting gear), and outside of the “Fatty” going for a top water offering, most were eating on the slopes of points close to the bottom.

I returned the following day with both fly rod and drop shot rig, and tossed large minnow imitations when the water depth was friendly, and practiced drop-shotting when perched over deep water.

We’d seen balls of Shad and bass giving chase, but those eruptions are temporal and never sustained. Just about the time you change your fly both predator and prey are gone.

I’ve got a few ideas on how to better imitate the fish, but I’m puzzling over the notion of a drop-shot bait being used on a fly rod – and whether I can dress something with a similar action.

KikiSpotted640

I got one Spotted Bass on Sunday. I figure he collided with one of those Party Barges that were parading past – and got disoriented enough to want to eat.

I wasn’t complaining much at the sudden attention – and it was nice to see fat healthy fish in their element, rather than gasping Carp in a mud bucket.

Drought, thorns, and Branch eating Frogs

The problem with declining water levels and the increase in exposed bank is finding out the floral equivalent of the Common Cockroach, the Blackberry vine, actually thrives in drought.

Drought is supposed to be the Great Equalizer, and any thoughts of a soft landing when skidding down the bank, is quickly dashed by the gaping holes in waders, the streaks of blood on palm and exposed flesh, and the sickening reality that cockroaches thrive in adversity, and are immune even to my curses.

Drought and receding water levels has made the journey between foot path and water’s edge uncertain, and in many areas, outright daunting.  Even if you’re lucky enough to gain the water’s edge upright and intact, back casts are nearly impossible due to the height of the exposed banks and their liberal cover of fly eating foliage.

Skinned knees and shredded waders are now commonplace, and I’m tired of fragile breathables and shredding heavy plumber gear, and have opted to swap out my gear entirely.

As shallow tends to be lifeless, I’ve been bypassing my normal haunts in favor of anything deep that hasn’t had the oxygen boiled out of it, and may host a few fish willing to eat.

Deep water means lakes and impoundments, and neither plays to the strong suit of fly fishing – given how poorly our gear sinks. Water less than ten foot deep is about the limit of our fishing, and while that makes us productive in the shallow edges of bays and inlets, we rarely can compete with other tackle types when the fish are deeper still.

My “exploration” rig is now a casting rod and weedless frog – and hiking boots instead of fragile waders. A 5’ bait casting rod threads through Blackberry brambles more efficiently than a 9’ fly rod, and most of my overly warm water is covered in algae and weed, so my weedless frog is a huge upgrade from flies.

Frog6001

More importantly, I can wing the frog from safety – and not have to fight my way down to the water’s edge to gain casting space. (Note the double hook riding up onto the back of the frog, imparting complete immunity from fouling on weeds and “cheese” mats.)

“Cheese” and wind-driven duckweed compound the fishing even further. Drought has reduced the water volume and summer temperatures cause the floating mats of vegetation (Cheese) to bloom sooner – and swallow entire waterways. Afternoon breezes push the floating duckweed into thick mats on the windward side of the impoundment – and flies simply bounce off the vegetation or are immediately fouled and useless.

Cheese600

Normally this envelopment occurs in August, but the the absence of Winter and the unseasonably warm Spring have give the vegetation a couple months head start – and I’m running out of open water.

In the above photo, I can cast the frog over the Cheese and walk it back over the mat of vegetation without fear of snagging anything.

This spot yielded a couple of “tail slaps” from an unknown species, and in between picking my way through thickets of Blackberry, managed to observe one lonesome 3” bluegill along with what appeared to be something feeding on the vegetation, which I assumed was carp.

I returned the following morning with fly gear and the duckweed had closed the open waterways above. I managed a bit of fishing on the far side around the downed timber, but that was fruitless given the far bank is a ten foot drop to deep water.

While I had high hopes for Largemouth, this may be a bluegill only area – and they may be quite small to boot.

Dyneema and the Demise of Monofilament

The interesting bit of switching to conventional gear is learning of the changes in the tackle since last I tossed a plug in anger. The biggest change being Dyneema braid, which has largely replaced monofilament line in both casting and spinning gear.

The new braid is a learning experience given that 30lb test has the diameter of about 8lb mono. That means an unwary angler can  shatter his rod if he’s not pulling straight back to free a snag, or could slice fingers if he were a damn fool and wrapped it around anything but a stick.

This type of braid possibly brings new life to older, smaller capacity fly reels – as you can fit a hundred yards of 30lb or 40lb test, where Dacron’s thickness might not make backing possible.

The same line is used on spinning reels as well. Most of the spool is wound with the equivalent diameter monofilament, and the last 100 yards with the braided line. 

I re-equipped my conventional rod with 10 pound monofilament backing  and 100 yards of braided Dyneema rated at 30lb test. The mono backing lessens the strain on the spool the higher rated line is capable of adding. This material requires an Albright knot to join the mono to the braid, and a Palomar knot for tying lures and flies onto the end. The line cuts itself quite easily as if using conventional knots like the Clinch, or similar.

It’s a bit heady to drop the lure into the brush on the far side on an errant cast, rip the branch off the tree, then tow the entire mass across the pond to be sorted out without fear of harming lure or line.

Us fly fishing types are not used to announcing ourselves with such environmental authority …

… and if you’ve not bought bass tackle in awhile, you’ll understand the importance of these new braids. Lures cost $7 –$20 each, and it’s my understanding that hard core bass fishermen use 65lb test braid to ensure the hook straightens and the lure returns home safely.

What’s really needed is a weave of that same braid covering for my waders. While it’s nice to be dry and absent a pant’s leg full of cold water,  it would be nicer to navigate both snakes and thorn bushes in full Kevlar.

Olive Marabou meets NASCAR

In the past, I was the fellow scrambling away from the approaching bow wave, shaking fist at V-8 wielding interlopers insistent on warbling through full Doppler enroute to some distant zip code.

Yesterday I was the portly fellow astride all that horsepower – ignoring the angry epithets and screams of our victims as our rooster tail washed the peasants off their isolated beaches and rocky points, while we belching 8 cylinders worth of carbon footprint into the drinking water supply of California’s wine country.

Knowing we’d decimated any chance of  the 2015 Chardonnay winning medals, and with all the ecological carnage in our wake, what was needed was to stomp life out of a few fish to feel complete.

I got lucky and was invited to fish with a professional angler, a competitor in both local tournaments as well as the B.A.S.S. (Bass Angler’s Sportsman’s Society) circuit, who knew more about largemouth, smallmouth, and spotted bass than anyone I’d met, and more importantly – was willing to share that knowledge with a fly wielding sissy.

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Note the solitary fly rod in the above 45MPH dash across open water, contrasting sharply with the 10 pre-strung rods on either side of the Captain’s chair in the bow. As I snapped the shot I’m thinking of Michael Douglas’s “Gordon Gecko” speech and modifying his quote to be, “enough tackle so’s not to waste time.”

… and the first pearl of wisdom dispensed dashed any hopes I had of jettisoning job and spouse, as I found out how “rich” never describes the tournament fisherman, “optimistic” or “lucky” might be better suited, and “broke” a quick second.

Any fly fisherman with the nerve to wander through a bass tackle catalog can’t help but recognize the hard core bass angler is a kindred spirit. Only degenerate gamblers, fly fishermen, and ardent Bass anglers are capable of dropping an entire paycheck on things they can’t explain to “normal” humans – and not think anything amiss in so doing.

Tackle boxes filled with things that rattle or squirm, colors like  Raspberry Red, Lemon Yellow, and Orange Orange, acres of jellified gummy animals, and Pork rind in Frog, Begonia, and Mottled Asphalt.

Where we insist on blowing several hundred on a single rod,  they buy eight or ten of the cheaper flavor, whose total cost is about equal to our own. We change spools and they change rods, and with a mobile platform containing plenty of storage, they can make the contents of our fishing vest (and the dollars squandered on its contents) seem puny in the comparison.

But of all the wondrous arsenal of tools demonstrated, it was mobility that was most foreign to my terrestrial fishing, and likely the most tempting to misuse. I wondered how many fruitless casts would it take before a V-8 wielding angler launched himself on a high speed intercept for somewhere else … and at 4 miles per gallon, how long could he do so before his spouse questioned his financial acumen.

With all these questions bubbling to the surface, and each angler seated within talking distance of one another, I was pleased to find bass anglers are prone to conversation and are far more sociable and well adjusted then fly fishermen.

Fly fishermen race each other out of the parking lot and only snarl a greeting if forced into eye contact – especially if two fellows choose to fish in the same direction. Bass anglers offer you cold drinks and a sandwich and cast to the best lie when you’ve got both hands full. The end result is similar, but the game is friendlier and you’re more tolerant of your fellow Man.

I liked that. The light banter of anglers coupled with the conversational tone due to the short distance separating us made any lull in fishing less burdensome.

I enjoyed both the similarities and differences of our two cultures, and threw flies when the water was friendly – and plugs when it wasn’t, and soaked up as much knowledge of my quarry and its habits as I could.

Economy of motion was the most apparent – as the professional angler’s focus is on the seconds they shave from a cast, from playing fish, netting them, and storage in the live well. More casts in an eight hour period means more opportunity for catching fish – with a single fish often being the difference between placing in the money and not.

“Single fly Theory”, wherein the angler has the utmost confidence in his offering and uses it to the exclusion of all else has a parallel in bass fishing, as we threw only three different baits for the entire day.

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Nor could you argue with the end result, as this Berryessa Largemouth proves most handily. The angler is Leroy Bertelero, a big fellow, over six feet – making this huge bass smaller in the comparison.

While the similarities between the two groups outnumber the differences, the nature of professional fishing can’t help but intrude on the pleasure aspects of our craft.

Catching fish for money is a noble concept – akin to all other money sports like tennis and bicycling, but the tournament aspect makes fish doubly precious, and where we curse when we lose a fish – the tour angler takes additional steps never to do so.

Most of the reels were loaded with 50lb Dyneema braid, with short monofilament leaders of similar pound test. Considering your average bass to be somewhere within 3 – 5 lbs., you’d think that overkill.

In comparison, our pleasure fishing and notion of selectivity almost always results in our lightening our tackle – and counting coup for landing fish that weigh more than our tippet. Tournament anglers need the opposite, the ability to hoist the bass out of a tule thicket – laden with grass – without fear of repercussion.

It’s something I puzzled over briefly before winching my quarry over the gunwale. There is a certain luxury in horsing your fish into a live well with minimal effort, likely making it easier on the bass in the long run. A bit less excitement than we’re used to given how a big fish cartwheeling on a light tippet makes us so religious, and our prayers so fervent.

Awesome experience, good company … by next weekend I’ll be back among the peasants (if they’ll still have me), and just as eager to extend digit when hit with the chill of boat swell.

More Pain then Wadding a Sharp Hook through Gristle

With every Californian intent on their Memorial Day Exodus, I lounged against the garage jamb and waved as my neighbors wadded their protesting kids and worn camping gear into anything capable of towing something else, then followed their neighbors onto the Interstate, all in a mad rush for the woods.

Having competed with this angry mob many times in the past, and knowing the lack of water would compress anglers even further, we opted to splurge on the local private bass water . We knew the cost of a full day’s fishing was much less than the gas, food, and campground fees we’d absorb if we donned our “Mad Max” garb and chased Charlize Theron (and everyone else) up the interstate enroute to the Parched Pristine.

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… not that Miss Theron isn’t worthy of chasing, its the notion that frayed nerves, squealing tires, and campground backing accidents, resulting from too many people crammed into too small a resource, are never a recipe for decompression and relaxation, rather they have the opposite effect.

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But an entire lake filled with voracious gigantic bass, off-limits to kids, unruly pets, and powerboats,  and rimmed with wildflowers and framed by beautiful weather, followed by a fine meal of rice balls and grilled Spam, that’s the makings of workplace water cooler legend.

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To compound our good fortune, our guess as to the lake’s readiness was perfect, and “should’ve been here last week” was forgotten in the howl of,  “gotta be here goddamn right now.” No sooner then we were clear of the vehicle and armed, we were assaulted by hungry bass intent on eating flies, fingers, floating tippet spools, and anything else exposed to the water.

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Morning till noon was the big meal bite, using larger, slow sinking flies resembling frogs or tadpoles. When that slowed the fish shifted to smaller food, Wooly Bugger style flies in drab colors. We caught fish all day long and yielded the water grudgingly around 5PM.

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I’ve seen plenty of manicured trout water; everything from the rough hewn management of a “sugar daddy” conservation group like Cal Trout, to clubs meant for wealthy capitalists like Rising River Lodge and the Bolibokka Club.  Each has its own personality and appeal, but grooming the lake to achieve a singular vision of bass fishing is  quite unique in my experience. Every bush, sapling, and flower individually planted to yield a specific effect when mature –including rafts of dead timber and tules planted around the periphery and lake center.

The notion of mixing wildflowers with fishing makes for an interesting duality. On the one hand the bright colors and gay borders are akin to fishing in a garden, but they assist in stabilizing the earthen mounds from eroding into the lake.

Most certainly the fishing takes priority in your enjoyment of your surroundings, as it is superb, but being able to take your spouse along without having to entertain her may be worth even more.

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I keep thinking that with this as the destination for the first exposure to fishing – wives and girlfriends might seriously contemplate the pastime versus their traditional baptism … shivering as mosquito bait.

No sympathy from me …

With all this amazing good fortune, I found my mortality by midafternoon. My host showed up in his truck and watched me land a fish, and commented, “…you’re doing pretty well, every time I see you – you’ve got a fish on.”

I showed him the left thumb, scraped raw from “lipping” bass, and then unglued my feet from the suction of loose mud at waters edge, avoiding pressure on the blister on my knee from crouching on the side of berms avoiding being “sky lined” so as not to alert my quarry,  and he chuckled. “You’ll get no sympathy from me …”

Can’t say as I blame him – nor was I looking for some, I just had the cathartic realization that fishless fishing has its share of aches and pains, yet even when moon’s align and the Cornucopia spills open, there’s blisters aplenty … and only the wound locations change.

That evening as I hobbled to the bathroom, I did some mental math. Landing a fish requires three squats; the first when kneeling on the berm when casting, the second when extricating your mending line from Poppies and bankside debris, and the last when you squat to lip the fish at water’s edge. Figure (with the Bluegill) you land 140 fish in a single day, and you’ve neatly explained the blisters on both knees and why you groan like Grandpa when you get off the couch.

So you like tormenting the fish then …

Back in the 1980’s I worked the night shift in one of those cold edifices that shadow Market Street. As I left one morning waving at my fellow workers, I noticed a quiet looking number with a shy smile in the company of one of my female coworkers.

The next day the lady I worked with asked if I’d consider a blind date with her pal, to which I readily agreed.

To make the story short, I found myself on an East Bay lake, with no fishing tackle, attempting to look interested  in my companion, while fish cavorted about thumbing their collective nose at me. She was a nice gal without any interest in the out of doors, and I tried my best to appear engaging and personable.

As I was wont to do, I attempted to couch my confession into my best “Mac Daddy” moment. I mentioned I enjoyed fishing and the woods, and spent lots of time there. She responded in Big City fashion, how, “.. she would never eat anything caught out of the water as it was likely unsafe ..”, unfazed by her ignorance about where fish lived, I opted for the “catch and release” gambit …

“Yea, I let them all go, actually.” As I pick an imaginary speck of lint off my sleeve, expecting her to think me a swell fellow and consummate sportsmen. Rather than swoon in rapture as I was expecting, she replies, “.. Oh, so you like torturing them?”

(No lady, that’s what this date is all about, really.)

This same scene played in my conscious mind after this weekend’s debauch. Realizing that age and overindulgence are combining forces to ensure that should the fishing be either good or bad, I’m taking more abuse; lumps, scrapes, contusions, and actual blood loss – than the goddamn fish are.

No. I don’t enjoy tormenting fish … I have a yen to be tormented by them. Through my own actions of pursuit and capture I inflict much more pain on myself than I ever do wadding a sharp hook through gristle.

I just … need a nap … before I do it again tomorrow …

Somewhere between tenkara and Hardy

It positioned me on the fringe of acceptable, but I’ve always felt comfortable there given my insistence that a hobby should cost less than a 30 year mortgage. A twenty-nine dollar fly rod and my prized,  eleven dollar “Red Rocket” reel made my ensemble cost less than fifty bucks … and at that price most of the “debutants” I was rubbing shoulders with were shunning me for not propping up my portion of the economy.

… but not before asking what fly I was using to land all them fish, naturally.

The reel was a trifle exorbitant, given that I had to buy six feet of extrudable nylon to use for the venerable “click-pawl”mechanism, and the postage from Amazon was another five, so the reel was ninety seven cents worth of powdered corn husks and six bucks worth of nylon scrim.

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As I’d always stocked my vest with non perishables should a misstep leave me stranded on a trail somewhere, knowing the reel was once plant proteins and equivalent to a Wonka Everlasting Gobstopper, I knew a broken leg meant while awaiting rescue I could gnaw on the spool for precious proteins.

Calories not withstanding, us candy-assed “technological fishermen”, with our fixation on precision engineering and expensive materials from aerospace and the military, have never really thought through the physics of what we do and the cost benefit of what we carry.

Tenkara-style fishing has adequately demonstrated a reel isn’t critical to fly fishing. For eighty percent of us, our quarry is a nine inch, pen raised, pellet eating, softie – not likely to peel line for a city block or give us more than a few head shakes before we stomp life out of it.

It shouldn’t be overly surprising that hot plastic shat via computer nozzle can construct complex shapes whose tolerances make a simple storage device with a classic drag. “Ruby Red” and “Lemon Yellow”,  won’t earn any envious glances from the parking lot throng, and may even draw a few snickers, but parking lot loyalties have always shifted to whomever is catching fish, despite their initial fixation with form and fashion.

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One of the fellows from work had printed out a prototype using Eclectic Angler’s plans, and while fluorescent green PLA was a bit hard on the eyes, the action on the reel was sound. The prototype is about the size of an LRH Lightweight (or Medalist 1494 1/2) and can hold 50-75 yards of backing and a WF-5F.

I was quite pleased with the reel and its simplicity. While reel companies fuss over titanium and composites it’s nice to return to the bare essentials – if for no other reason than to understand how  tackle has evolved into software; new features added without thought for the quarry, the physics, or the ROI.

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Considering 3D printers are flirting with the $400 price tag already, this capability is likely to be mainstream fairly soon.  While the 3D reel is not likely to replace your existing trove of tackle, I would think it a great way to introduce your kids to fishing. An old rod coupled with a new technology yielding a flashy reel may stimulate your kid into giving Dad’s pastime a try – perhaps even making a life long impression.

Where these will really shine is the casting club’s twice yearly casting classes. Marry these with a couple dozen Chinese manufactured double tapers from eBay, and you can teach the public without fear of theft or breakage.

Exploring what little damp remains

Tracking down “little blue lines” on a map hasn’t proved fruitful of late, given that which was once blue … is now overly warm or dried up completely.

Having come over the hill from Santa Rosa last week and skirting the edge of Lake Berryessa, I noted a lot more bank was visible, yet Putah Creek still had ample flow despite scarring from the Monticello Fire of early June.

Olives, Pomegranates, and walnuts are compelling, but I’d played the  “Domestic Goddess” for most of the last month – it was high time aprons and fruit Pectin played second fiddle to a wisp of fiberglass waved in anger.

Last year I had fished Putah Creek from above, through the UC Davis campus and south of Interstate 80, and while access was plentiful due to sprawling campus, the water was sheathed in oak woodland which alternated with brambles, thickets, plowed fields, and blackberry bushes. So parking nearby was easy – yet achieving the water without injury proved much less so …

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Wading being a mirror of the terrestrial experience – given the perils of interlocking wader-killing underwater limbs, slick clay patches, and rotting vegetation that appears firm until it isn’t.

Opaque olive water may be off-putting to the trout crowd, but it’s a welcome sight to us “frog water” aficionados that recognize a combination of tough access, obvious bouquet, and discolored water, are hallmarks of the “new Wilderness” … ignored by fishermen, scorned by dog walkers and joggers, and home to unknown fisheries and homeless encampments.

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… and while everyone else roars past oblivious to the dark line of trees hiding the creek from traffic, it’s not without its moments ..

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… and even if the bulk of its inhabitants were of the five-inch class, there were indications that an occasional resident reached larger dimensions. Naturally, they would only make an appearance when sliding across the slick clay yielded a tree branch through a wader leg – as only outright suffering makes wary fish less so.

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A point debated by my fishing buddy, whose obvious delight at basking in the sun while monopolizing the only real estate permitting a free and unfettered back cast, overcame his lust for larger fish.

After clawing my way through alders, clinging underbrush, and gingerly negotiating a homeless bunker complex, the idea of resting without peril next to the babbling brook was most attractive.

Part 1: Trophy Water Gentility, all the fart bars, sardines, and fly rods you can stuff into a Tacoma

When I’d first heard of it, I wondered whether it was a preview of what the future holds.

Our scientists grow ever insistent that in the coming decades Global Warming will reduce salmonids to 50% of their current range, and in that overly warm future, anything “at-risk” now will be lethal to our cold water bluebloods.

… and while we’re enamored of trophy trout and spare no expense to introduce them in even marginal conditions, at some point will the environment force us to shift from inbred salmonids to a Trophy “Cockroach” fishery, and might we ever hold them in similar regard?

I was fortunate to get a glimpse of the future this weekend. A local rumor of a city planner, turned bass pro, former tomato farmer, whose passion it is to create trophy bass ponds for private land owners.

Access being limited to a couple of local schools and their charity auction, which is about as exclusive as any rarified millionaire’s retreat. One of the fellows from work had stumbled upon the trip last year, and with my urging managed to snap up both of the trips offered this year, and I whined and moaned until he tired of my protruding lower lip and agreed to split the adventure.

boysuit… then, after weeks of enduring his vile torments, “ … my wife wants me to take the kids, instead …’, he relented. I would supply the flies, tie all his knots, and if the landowner questioned my schoolboy’s outfit (and matching bowtie) I would claim to be his son.

… the half wit version, naturally.

Proving that any fisherman worthy of the name would endure any indignity, or humiliation, for a crack at the Holy Water.

Honoring my part of the bargain was simple, only Bass Pro’s and fly fishermen lack a common language. When asked what the fish were biting on, the response was “frogs.”

Live ones? Top water deer hair flavor? Green, Yellow … what?

I was to find that my “dad” was a half wit as well, and “frogs” was to be the only intel to be had.

Wharhol.frogDutifully I spent the next week piling mounds of olive and yellow deer hair around the vise, possessed by every bit of top water fancy imaginable. I did normal, fanciful, exacting, and literal. I did frogs by Salvador Dali, Andy Warhol, Monet, and Jackson Pollock.

When I tired of imitation I would mumble like Bubba of Forest Gump fame, “ … frog leg, frog sandwich, frog soufflé, frog sushi, frog eye salad, caramelized frog …”

With fly boxes bulging with rubber legs and trimmed Olive deer hair, and house freshly cleaned of hair via rented leaf blower, I was beginning to feel that “well heeled” feeling, the invulnerability that comes with knowing that even if I stumbled and fell in head first, I would float to the surface in an oil slick of silicon and yellow dye.

Trophy water and private enclaves are typically a genteel sport, and despite the warm water quarry this would be no different.

The luxury of stuffing a vehicle full of every imaginable fishing necessity is foreign to us hardscrabble public water types. Wicker picnic baskets and exotic livery just get in the way of the bloodshed, yet I found myself delighting in adding every possible amenity; a float tube, chest waders, hip waders, and waist breathables. A car within a stone’s throw of the water meant four rods, four reels, a couple of room temperature hydration packs, apples, oranges, sardines, and fart bars, everything necessary to survive hostile environments, ravenous meat eating trophy bass, and with the sketchiest of intel …

Part II Tomorrow, We use worms …