If nothing else, New York's Salmon River has its share of personalities. Just in case you need proof that one never knows what one might find while digging through YouTube for steelhead videos.
"Checking out my flies ... doin' different things wit' 'em."
.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
The Business
I've a number of friends and acquaintances who are involved in the business of fly fishing. When I say business, I do not mean that they work in retail or in the periphery of the industry - I once worked the retail end of things; retail is business, but it isn't the business (at least insofar as this post is concerned). Neither are these folks guides, outfitters, or tyers. They do not write product reviews or report on "insider gossip." They work to manufacture a product, and bring it successfully to market. They design rods, form the mandrels, and build the blanks. They test waders and new boot treads. They experiment with tying materials, and they pick new patterns to offer in new catalogs.
Standing outside the cage and looking in, I have to say that the process seems overwhelming. With a wary eye careful not to betray anyone's confidence, I would like to share with my readers a conversation I had recently with someone who lives and works inside the cage. The topic of our conversation was the utter ridiculousness of the particular nuances of contract and commercial fly tying.
Imagine you're a commercial tyer. Every year you fill dozens of orders for thousands of flies. You've been tying for three or four decades, and in that time you've tied just about any pattern asked of you. Thousands of Adamses and Clousers, Muddlers and Buggers, Hendricksons and Gotchas have passed from your vise to the tippets of a thousand nameless anglers. As the years progress you notice a subtle change in the flies you're asked to tie, and the orders you're required to fill. Increasingly, the flies call for plastic bodies, rubber legs, and polypropylene wings. Natural materials are giving way to synthetics. Flashabou, Krystal Flash, Gloss-n-Glint, Estaz, Laser Dub, Holo Fusion, Mirror Flash, Loco Foam, Angel Hair, and EP Fibers have replaced saddle hackle, silk floss, calf tail, and wood duck.
Holo what? Loco who?
What you wouldn't give to go back to the days when Swannundaze was all the rage.
But it isn't just the flies that are changing; the men and women who create and originate them are changing too. With such an array of materials from which to choose, tyers have become more innovative and less likely to abide by any particular tradition or school of thought. This is a good thing. If nothing else, this new breed of fly tyer has forced a debate on just what a fly is, and how flies differ from lures or bait. As contentious as it sometimes is, even this debate is a good thing.
Unfortunately, contract tyers have also become a bit more territorial. Increasingly - or so I am told - tyers insist on attaching their names to their flies. This isn't unexpected, it certainly isn't a new phenomenon, nor is it difficult to understand; fly tying is more functional art than science, and artists have signed their work since the days when caves were their canvases. The problem is that an abundance of people wish they were involved in the fly fishing business (or at least what they think is the fly fishing business), and they see fly tying as a vehicle upon which they might rocket themselves to piscatorial prominence (whatever that may be).
Look through any fly fishing catalog, and you'll surely see what I mean. A significant number of the latest and greatest fly offerings will bear the names of their originators. It's a rare occasion when a tyer takes himself out of the equation, and names an entire series of flies after a thespian of note, and gone are the days when tyers named their creations after good friends, prominent clients, or the local postmaster. Yesterday's tyers relied upon the deadly effectiveness of the pattern and its reputation to bring some small financial reward.
Tyers are not only naming flies after themselves, but they're also trademarking their creations, and patenting the techniques used to construct their flies. I'm guessing the argument here is that the patterns may be easily copied, and this process forces wholesalers and retailers to pay a premium to use the recipe. What happens as a result? Wholesalers and retailers don't offer the fly. The tyer loses his or her commission, the shop loses sales, and the angler loses what is potentially an effective fly.
So count this post as my appeal to everyone in the business, and to those who hope to be in the business. Stop the foolishness. No one ever made a fortune as a fly tyer. Give up the dreams of stardom. Tie because you enjoy tying. Tie because you enjoy catching fish on your own flies, or better yet, tie because you enjoy watching someone else catch fish on your flies. And please ... please ... if you tie for a living or to otherwise augment your income, remember that fly tying is a surer path to poverty and notoriety than it is to fame and riches.
Standing outside the cage and looking in, I have to say that the process seems overwhelming. With a wary eye careful not to betray anyone's confidence, I would like to share with my readers a conversation I had recently with someone who lives and works inside the cage. The topic of our conversation was the utter ridiculousness of the particular nuances of contract and commercial fly tying.
Imagine you're a commercial tyer. Every year you fill dozens of orders for thousands of flies. You've been tying for three or four decades, and in that time you've tied just about any pattern asked of you. Thousands of Adamses and Clousers, Muddlers and Buggers, Hendricksons and Gotchas have passed from your vise to the tippets of a thousand nameless anglers. As the years progress you notice a subtle change in the flies you're asked to tie, and the orders you're required to fill. Increasingly, the flies call for plastic bodies, rubber legs, and polypropylene wings. Natural materials are giving way to synthetics. Flashabou, Krystal Flash, Gloss-n-Glint, Estaz, Laser Dub, Holo Fusion, Mirror Flash, Loco Foam, Angel Hair, and EP Fibers have replaced saddle hackle, silk floss, calf tail, and wood duck.
Holo what? Loco who?
What you wouldn't give to go back to the days when Swannundaze was all the rage.
But it isn't just the flies that are changing; the men and women who create and originate them are changing too. With such an array of materials from which to choose, tyers have become more innovative and less likely to abide by any particular tradition or school of thought. This is a good thing. If nothing else, this new breed of fly tyer has forced a debate on just what a fly is, and how flies differ from lures or bait. As contentious as it sometimes is, even this debate is a good thing.
Unfortunately, contract tyers have also become a bit more territorial. Increasingly - or so I am told - tyers insist on attaching their names to their flies. This isn't unexpected, it certainly isn't a new phenomenon, nor is it difficult to understand; fly tying is more functional art than science, and artists have signed their work since the days when caves were their canvases. The problem is that an abundance of people wish they were involved in the fly fishing business (or at least what they think is the fly fishing business), and they see fly tying as a vehicle upon which they might rocket themselves to piscatorial prominence (whatever that may be).
Look through any fly fishing catalog, and you'll surely see what I mean. A significant number of the latest and greatest fly offerings will bear the names of their originators. It's a rare occasion when a tyer takes himself out of the equation, and names an entire series of flies after a thespian of note, and gone are the days when tyers named their creations after good friends, prominent clients, or the local postmaster. Yesterday's tyers relied upon the deadly effectiveness of the pattern and its reputation to bring some small financial reward.
Tyers are not only naming flies after themselves, but they're also trademarking their creations, and patenting the techniques used to construct their flies. I'm guessing the argument here is that the patterns may be easily copied, and this process forces wholesalers and retailers to pay a premium to use the recipe. What happens as a result? Wholesalers and retailers don't offer the fly. The tyer loses his or her commission, the shop loses sales, and the angler loses what is potentially an effective fly.
So count this post as my appeal to everyone in the business, and to those who hope to be in the business. Stop the foolishness. No one ever made a fortune as a fly tyer. Give up the dreams of stardom. Tie because you enjoy tying. Tie because you enjoy catching fish on your own flies, or better yet, tie because you enjoy watching someone else catch fish on your flies. And please ... please ... if you tie for a living or to otherwise augment your income, remember that fly tying is a surer path to poverty and notoriety than it is to fame and riches.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Reflections on Super Bowl Sunday
The Super Bowl was a grand spectacle; a nail-biter that was exciting in a way only the most media saturated sporting event on the planet possibly could be. There were dropped passes and heroic catches, locomotive runs and smothering sacks, genius play calling and misguided officiating. All the ingredients were there.
Half-time was an extravaganza, featuring a 53 year-old, former pop diva who showed that talent and sex appeal aren't reserved for strung out twenty-somethings. Yes ... this year's Super Bowl was something special.
Half-time was an extravaganza, featuring a 53 year-old, former pop diva who showed that talent and sex appeal aren't reserved for strung out twenty-somethings. Yes ... this year's Super Bowl was something special.
But I wouldn't know. I didn't see it. There were steelhead to catch.
The day of the Super Bowl may be the very best day of the year to hit the Salmon River. The game is a filter that processes and removes all but the most dedicated bug chuckers from the steelheading equation. Add to that the recent snow melt and the resulting high water, and you've a perfect storm of absenteeism. In what is arguably the most popular section of the most popular steelhead river on the east coast, I could count on one hand the number of people who fished within sight of our group. For most of the day, we had the river almost entirely to ourselves.
It was glorious.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Resurrection of the English made Orvis C.F.O.
When I began writing this post, I struggled to find just the right words for the title. Originally, the headline simply read, "Rebirth of a Classic." After giving it some time, I thought the title needed to be a little less trite, a lot less nebulous, and I wasn't sure I liked the connotation of the word rebirth. To be reborn is to live again, but to be somehow changed in the process.
Consider Stephen King's, Pet Sematary. The beasts that crawled from the graves of that burial ground were not the same as they were before they died. Certainly ... yes ... they were reborn, but they were merely grotesque shadows of their former selves. No, I couldn't reference rebirth in the title. That zombie child, Gage ... far too creepy.
I digress ...
In a move that is sure to surprise collectors and aficionados, the Orvis company has decided to resurrect the original C.F.O., and release a limited edition fly reel that is made in England by the Hardy company. Yes ... made by Hardy ... in England. The resurrected C.F.O. will only be available in size III, and production is likely limited to fewer than 250 units. Such lineage and limited production suggests the reels will demand a premium.
As I am sure you can see in the photograph, the new C.F.O. retains the hallmarks of the early reels (spindle cap, rivets through the back plate, slim reel foot). The production run will use all the original tooling used to craft some of the earliest variants of the C.F.O., and once machined, these new reels will be anodized rather than painted.
Most bug chuckers wouldn't notice these reels while flipping through a catalog. I'm sad to say that classically styled spring and pawls have been replaced by large arbors, sealed - stop a sub - drags, and custom camouflage anodization. I suppose this is what some people call progress. Maybe it is, and maybe I'm just a curmudgeon. Whatever the case, I have to say that the collector in me is excited to see this new reel, first hand.
If I was especially brave, I might even throw a line on one, carefully mount it to my old Far and Fine, and fish it at the height of the hendrickson hatch.
C.F.O.s - old and new - are meant to be fished.
Consider Stephen King's, Pet Sematary. The beasts that crawled from the graves of that burial ground were not the same as they were before they died. Certainly ... yes ... they were reborn, but they were merely grotesque shadows of their former selves. No, I couldn't reference rebirth in the title. That zombie child, Gage ... far too creepy.
I digress ...
In a move that is sure to surprise collectors and aficionados, the Orvis company has decided to resurrect the original C.F.O., and release a limited edition fly reel that is made in England by the Hardy company. Yes ... made by Hardy ... in England. The resurrected C.F.O. will only be available in size III, and production is likely limited to fewer than 250 units. Such lineage and limited production suggests the reels will demand a premium.
 |
| These are brand new reels ... machined and assembled just months ago. |
Most bug chuckers wouldn't notice these reels while flipping through a catalog. I'm sad to say that classically styled spring and pawls have been replaced by large arbors, sealed - stop a sub - drags, and custom camouflage anodization. I suppose this is what some people call progress. Maybe it is, and maybe I'm just a curmudgeon. Whatever the case, I have to say that the collector in me is excited to see this new reel, first hand.
If I was especially brave, I might even throw a line on one, carefully mount it to my old Far and Fine, and fish it at the height of the hendrickson hatch.
C.F.O.s - old and new - are meant to be fished.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Benjamin Bronze Studios
Ben Jose is one of my closest friends and fishing partners. He's a die-hard dry fly angler, intrepid steelhead junkie, and generally devoted to all things concerning the long rod. When he's not casting a tight loop over seventy or eighty feet of river, he's usually casting bronze in the foundry of Benjamin Bronze Studios.
In all of his pursuits, Ben's focus on excellence borders on obsession. Case in point, he learned to tie simple flies and double haul just days after learning the basic overhand cast. Once he experienced fly fishing, he was in full tilt. Such is the case with the art work he produces in the foundry he shares with the owner of Hudson Studios (a consortium of ridiculously talented artists and craftsmen).
Ben recently branched out, allowed his passions for the long rod and metal-work to fuse, and began producing custom bronze work for the fly fisher and fly tyer. Most recently, he crafted a medallion for Pat Cohen of R U Superfly fame. The two-dimensional logo of Pat's fly-tying business has been carefully reproduced in three dimensions of solid bronze. The medallion mounts to Pat's vise, and was on display during The Fly Fishing Show in Somerset, New Jersey.
Anyone who frequents or follows my blog knows that I am not one to write product endorsements. In fact, Ben's bronze work is the first product I've highlighted on The Rusty Spinner. My reasons for lifting the blackout are twofold. First, Ben is a friend, and I would like to see him be successful. Second, Ben does fine work, extraordinary work actually. While a medallion would be a fine addition to anyone's vise, Ben can make nearly any idea come to life. Perhaps a base for that vise? Bronze caps for rod tubes? If you can think it, then he can make it happen.
Contact Ben Jose of Benjamin Bronze Studios at (518) 653-9192 or via email at benjaminbronzestudios@fastmail.fm ...
In all of his pursuits, Ben's focus on excellence borders on obsession. Case in point, he learned to tie simple flies and double haul just days after learning the basic overhand cast. Once he experienced fly fishing, he was in full tilt. Such is the case with the art work he produces in the foundry he shares with the owner of Hudson Studios (a consortium of ridiculously talented artists and craftsmen).
Ben recently branched out, allowed his passions for the long rod and metal-work to fuse, and began producing custom bronze work for the fly fisher and fly tyer. Most recently, he crafted a medallion for Pat Cohen of R U Superfly fame. The two-dimensional logo of Pat's fly-tying business has been carefully reproduced in three dimensions of solid bronze. The medallion mounts to Pat's vise, and was on display during The Fly Fishing Show in Somerset, New Jersey.
Anyone who frequents or follows my blog knows that I am not one to write product endorsements. In fact, Ben's bronze work is the first product I've highlighted on The Rusty Spinner. My reasons for lifting the blackout are twofold. First, Ben is a friend, and I would like to see him be successful. Second, Ben does fine work, extraordinary work actually. While a medallion would be a fine addition to anyone's vise, Ben can make nearly any idea come to life. Perhaps a base for that vise? Bronze caps for rod tubes? If you can think it, then he can make it happen.
Contact Ben Jose of Benjamin Bronze Studios at (518) 653-9192 or via email at benjaminbronzestudios@fastmail.fm ...
The Fly Fishing Show
This past weekend the boys and I attended the annual Fly Fishing Show in Somerset, New Jersey. The trip was the first I've made in four years (no coincidence that my children are four years old). I'm disappointed to say that the show isn't quite the spectacle I remember it to be. Maybe it's the current state of the economy. Perhaps it's simply that the novelty has worn off all that shiny new gear. Whatever it was, I would be lying if I told you that I wasn't just a little bit disappointed.
In years past, the highlight of Chuck Furimsky's gathering was for me - aside from meeting old friends and swapping lies - always the sprawling assembly of vendors that plied their wares on the floor of the Garden State Convention Center. While I cannot be absolutely certain, the show seemed to lack many of the shops that had once been in attendance, and I don't know that they've been replaced. There seemed to be more lodges and destinations represented, but there weren't many new products to see, and even fewer deals to be had. I am - after all - all about finding a deal.
I remember attending a show some years ago, and buying inexpensive, one-ounce packages of bar-dyed marabou - five or six of them - before bar-dyed marabou was available through every fly tying catalog that arrives in the mail. That same year, my buddy and I picked up large bags of CDC at the booth representing Rene Harrop's shop; from Castle Arms we snagged a mature blue-eared pheasant skin that was just loaded with large feathers as opposed to the juvenile skins and small feathers available from another vendor this year. Fly Tyer Variant always set up shop just inside the doors, and sold Whiting products that were both modestly priced and available in abundance. This year Whiting was poorly represented and substantially overpriced, but I guess that's an entirely different story.
Bear in mind that new rods and reels - both of which were present in abundance at this year's show - don't really do it for me anymore. Many of them come out of the same one or two factories in China or South Korea; the only difference from one brand to another is hardware and appearance. Given that it's harder to find a bad outfit these days than it is to find one that performs well, I just don't see myself going all googly-eyed over the latest and greatest sticks. Maybe next year ...
Any reason I might offer for the perceived change in the show's offerings would be purely speculation. I'm sure the dwindling economy leaves many shop owners wondering if they can afford the expense of traveling and setting up shop at the show. As gas prices rise (they've almost doubled in three years), I'd guess fewer anglers are attending as well - choosing instead, to use their greenbacks to find some open water. But who knows? While it seemed there were fewer folks in attendance than there were in years past, I've really no way of knowing for sure.
The bottom line is that I remember going to the show five or ten years ago, and feeling a palpable excitement as I walked through the door. It was a feeling not unlike what one might experience as he or she dons waders before a day on the water. This year I didn't feel any of the hopeful anticipation that characterized The Fly Fishing Show in years past, but before I come off as a complete curmudgeon, let me say that the show was not without its highlights.
The door prizes were exceptional, even if the manner in which attendees registered for those prizes was a bit chaotic. Tyers row did not disappoint; I don't know that it ever does. Good friends Bob Mead, Pat Cohen, and Tim Blair were just three of the many talented folks in attendance.
True to form, Bob did his best to talk the ears off anyone who stopped by his table. For those of you that don't know him, Bob is one of the grandfathers of realistic tying and probably the art form's best ambassador. His flies were among the first of the genre (many of his peers would say Bob's flies define the genre), and almost forty years after tying the prototype, his praying mantis is as much in demand as ever. Bob's flies have recently found homes in print advertising and television programming. His mosquito is featured in advertisements for Sarna anti-itch hand lotion, and his black widow and hornets appear in popular sitcoms such as Royal Pains. He and I made tentative plans to hit the hendrickson hatch this year.
Pat Cohen may have been the busiest of the tyers in attendance. Throughout the day, he held court with any number of inspired fans. I think the appeal of Pat's tying is three-fold. First, he does exceptional work with deer hair. All of his deer hair flies are suitable for framing, and most are deadly fish stickers. Second, Pat is something of a fly tying Everyman. He doesn't work with particularly expensive or rare materials. As such, anyone can tie as Pat ties, even if they may not tie as well as Pat ties. Finally, Pat is something of an anomaly. Adorned with both tattoos and piercings, Pat stands out amongst his fellow tyers. There's an edge to his appearance, even if there isn't an edge to the man, and people seem drawn to that edge.
 |
| http://www.flyfishingshow.com/Somerset__NJ.html |
I remember attending a show some years ago, and buying inexpensive, one-ounce packages of bar-dyed marabou - five or six of them - before bar-dyed marabou was available through every fly tying catalog that arrives in the mail. That same year, my buddy and I picked up large bags of CDC at the booth representing Rene Harrop's shop; from Castle Arms we snagged a mature blue-eared pheasant skin that was just loaded with large feathers as opposed to the juvenile skins and small feathers available from another vendor this year. Fly Tyer Variant always set up shop just inside the doors, and sold Whiting products that were both modestly priced and available in abundance. This year Whiting was poorly represented and substantially overpriced, but I guess that's an entirely different story.
Bear in mind that new rods and reels - both of which were present in abundance at this year's show - don't really do it for me anymore. Many of them come out of the same one or two factories in China or South Korea; the only difference from one brand to another is hardware and appearance. Given that it's harder to find a bad outfit these days than it is to find one that performs well, I just don't see myself going all googly-eyed over the latest and greatest sticks. Maybe next year ...
Any reason I might offer for the perceived change in the show's offerings would be purely speculation. I'm sure the dwindling economy leaves many shop owners wondering if they can afford the expense of traveling and setting up shop at the show. As gas prices rise (they've almost doubled in three years), I'd guess fewer anglers are attending as well - choosing instead, to use their greenbacks to find some open water. But who knows? While it seemed there were fewer folks in attendance than there were in years past, I've really no way of knowing for sure.
The bottom line is that I remember going to the show five or ten years ago, and feeling a palpable excitement as I walked through the door. It was a feeling not unlike what one might experience as he or she dons waders before a day on the water. This year I didn't feel any of the hopeful anticipation that characterized The Fly Fishing Show in years past, but before I come off as a complete curmudgeon, let me say that the show was not without its highlights.
The door prizes were exceptional, even if the manner in which attendees registered for those prizes was a bit chaotic. Tyers row did not disappoint; I don't know that it ever does. Good friends Bob Mead, Pat Cohen, and Tim Blair were just three of the many talented folks in attendance.
True to form, Bob did his best to talk the ears off anyone who stopped by his table. For those of you that don't know him, Bob is one of the grandfathers of realistic tying and probably the art form's best ambassador. His flies were among the first of the genre (many of his peers would say Bob's flies define the genre), and almost forty years after tying the prototype, his praying mantis is as much in demand as ever. Bob's flies have recently found homes in print advertising and television programming. His mosquito is featured in advertisements for Sarna anti-itch hand lotion, and his black widow and hornets appear in popular sitcoms such as Royal Pains. He and I made tentative plans to hit the hendrickson hatch this year.
Pat Cohen may have been the busiest of the tyers in attendance. Throughout the day, he held court with any number of inspired fans. I think the appeal of Pat's tying is three-fold. First, he does exceptional work with deer hair. All of his deer hair flies are suitable for framing, and most are deadly fish stickers. Second, Pat is something of a fly tying Everyman. He doesn't work with particularly expensive or rare materials. As such, anyone can tie as Pat ties, even if they may not tie as well as Pat ties. Finally, Pat is something of an anomaly. Adorned with both tattoos and piercings, Pat stands out amongst his fellow tyers. There's an edge to his appearance, even if there isn't an edge to the man, and people seem drawn to that edge.
Tim Blair is one of the signature tyers for S.S. Flies, a small commercial tying operation that markets flies tied only in America to a predominantly saltwater audience. Timmy and I worked together some years ago, before either of us had children or minds to pursue anything that didn't have gills. I'm a little older than Tim, and I remember his first few rudimentary fumblings at the vise (he had a real penchant for "Gummy" material back in the day). I now have to admit that his tying skills have likely grown beyond my own. He's a talented tyer, a committed bug chucker, and a genuinely good man. S.S. Flies is fortunate to have him on board.
When all is said and done, I suppose it is the people and personalities that make The Fly Fishing Show a success. Most of us can do without the gear. I know I can't make the newest rods perform much better than the stick I've been fishing for ten years. It's the author that shakes your hand and signs a book, or the tyer that whips up a fly for your son and offers it up without charge, that make the three hour drive worth while.
So ... I suppose I'll continue to make the occasional trip to Somerset for the show. I won't expect to be awed by the latest gizmo or blown over by the blow-out, close-outs on fly tying material. Instead, I'll make the drive knowing the show is about people who share a passion, old friends and new ones alike.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Danny LaRusso's Gonna Fight
Remember that scene near the end of The Karate Kid? I'm sure you know the one I mean. Danny LaRusso - the quintessential, downtrodden outcast - is squaring off against Johnny - handsome, rich kid bully and leader of the Cobra Kai. Standing in the background and off to either side of our antagonists is the always stoic, Mr. Miyagi and the frequently incensed, Sensei John Kreese.
Danny is hurt, but he has held his own. In match after match, he's proven he is every bit the equal of the Cobras, and that he'll never again be pushed around. But this final fight is important. Without this last fight, Danny will never have balance with Allie. He'll never have balance with himself. Without this last fight, there will always be that tiny but constant drip of doubt.
And then come the words that leave an indelible impression upon an entire generation of movie goers.
"Sweep the leg."
In that moment, the tone of the film darkens. The audience recognizes that the battle is no longer between two teenagers, one a cruel tormentor and the other his hapless victim. In that moment, we see that the real fight is between conflicting ideologies.
The first stresses power, and the imposition of that power on the weak and less fortunate.
"Mercy is for the weak."
The other stresses equilibrium, the outward and inward balance of one's life with one's spirit.
"Ah Danielson, you all wet."
So, what has any of this to do with fly fishing?
Absolutely nothing. This short diatribe (complete with video), just demonstrates how bad the shack-nasties can get in January. January may be the cruelest month for a bug chucker. The rivers slow, and the lakes are frozen. Tying is mere distraction.
The stream of consciousness flows. Sometimes it runs to steelhead. Sometimes to trout, bass, or carp. Sometimes we drift to Danny LaRusso and the silhouette of a bonzai tree on a blaze orange background.
Sigh ...
I need to go fishing.
Danny is hurt, but he has held his own. In match after match, he's proven he is every bit the equal of the Cobras, and that he'll never again be pushed around. But this final fight is important. Without this last fight, Danny will never have balance with Allie. He'll never have balance with himself. Without this last fight, there will always be that tiny but constant drip of doubt.
And then come the words that leave an indelible impression upon an entire generation of movie goers.
"Sweep the leg."
In that moment, the tone of the film darkens. The audience recognizes that the battle is no longer between two teenagers, one a cruel tormentor and the other his hapless victim. In that moment, we see that the real fight is between conflicting ideologies.
The first stresses power, and the imposition of that power on the weak and less fortunate.
"Mercy is for the weak."
The other stresses equilibrium, the outward and inward balance of one's life with one's spirit.
"Ah Danielson, you all wet."
 |
| "Drive a punch Danielson ... make good fight." |
Absolutely nothing. This short diatribe (complete with video), just demonstrates how bad the shack-nasties can get in January. January may be the cruelest month for a bug chucker. The rivers slow, and the lakes are frozen. Tying is mere distraction.
The stream of consciousness flows. Sometimes it runs to steelhead. Sometimes to trout, bass, or carp. Sometimes we drift to Danny LaRusso and the silhouette of a bonzai tree on a blaze orange background.
Sigh ...
I need to go fishing.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
2011 Year In Pictures
A very quick photographic summary of a year that has come to a close far too quickly ...
Monday, December 12, 2011
Old Farts
There are those days when we're willing to walk for miles to find the right fish ... not just any fish, but the right fish. There are also those days when we're willing wander the countryside, and perhaps - both literally and metaphorically - wade upstream all day looking for any fish at all. And then there are those days when we want it to be easy. We don't want to hike ourselves into blisters and moleskin. We don't want to struggle to find a big fish. We don't want to sweat. We want it to be easy. We need it to be easy.
We need a day of steelheading without the sore shoulders that sometimes accompany swinging an Orange Heron on a 15' sink tip with the 13'6" big gun. We need eager fish. We need plentiful, eager fish. We need gentle wading, and perhaps most importantly, we need a short walk back to the car.
What we need is a run that oozes steelhead: four or five feet deep along most of its length, few snags but plenty of current breaks and structure, heavy riffle at the head and a gradual incline at the tail. Swing it or nymph it ... you'll bang 'em. We need a run with a name indicative of the kind of fishing one might expect to find there, a pool that comes complete with its own lounge chair.
What we need is ... Old Farts.
We need a day of steelheading without the sore shoulders that sometimes accompany swinging an Orange Heron on a 15' sink tip with the 13'6" big gun. We need eager fish. We need plentiful, eager fish. We need gentle wading, and perhaps most importantly, we need a short walk back to the car.
What we need is a run that oozes steelhead: four or five feet deep along most of its length, few snags but plenty of current breaks and structure, heavy riffle at the head and a gradual incline at the tail. Swing it or nymph it ... you'll bang 'em. We need a run with a name indicative of the kind of fishing one might expect to find there, a pool that comes complete with its own lounge chair.
What we need is ... Old Farts.
 | ||
| Old Farts Pool ... 11' 8# switch ... Ommegang Three Philosophers ... Three great tastes that go great together (at 9:00 in the morning) |
 |
| So glad Great Lakes steelhead appreciate rubber legs as I do |
 |
| Pretty sure, however, that they do not share my affinity for rubberized net bags ... |
 |
| The pool is literally 75 feet away from the parking lot ... usually a bad thing ... sometimes however ... the best of things |
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