fishing for words

(and tossing out random thoughts)


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funny fish quotes

Got a chuckle out of a November 23rd post in Bret Burquest’s blog — Boldly Going Nowhere. The post, titled “Talking Fish“ starts:

In February of 2003, the BBC News reported that a fish heading for slaughter in a New York City market shouted warnings about the end of the world.

I’ve been shouting that for decades but no one will listen to me.

He then goes on to quote more than a few fish species. Here’s a sample:

Crappie in Medicine Lake, Minn. — “We are born naked, wet and hungry. Then things get worse.”

Largemouth bass in Table Rock Lake, Mo. — “Light travels faster than sound. That’s why bass fishermen appear brighter until you hear them speak.”

Muskie in Sunset Lake, Wis. — “Suppose you were a human being and suppose you were an idiot — oh, but I repeat myself.”

Rainbow trout in Cut Bank, Mont. — “I believe in the 50-50-90 rule — even if there’s a 50 percent chance a fly fisherman will hook you, there’s a 90 percent chance he’ll throw you back.”

Brown Trout in Yellowstone Park, Wyo. — “Things that come to those who wait may be things left over by those who got there first.”

Walleye in Stout Lake, Ontario — “A day without sunshine is like night.”

You can enjoy more here.


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autographed copies available soon…but I’ll keep the day job for now

No, I won’t leave the three readers of my blog — the wife and mom and dad — in the lurch even though an article pounded out with my own fingers found its way into the December 2008 edition of the California Fly Fisher. (For my fly fishing friends who get the magazine, check page 38. It’s the one on fly fishing podcasts.)

There’s no online version, but if you catch me motorcycling down the road or walking the supermarket aisle, chances are I might just have a copy to show you.

One article doesn’t make a career, but it made my day to see my name above an article.


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end-of-season fishing with a side of surprise

Sean and I double-teamed the driving to make a late-night run up the hill to squeeze in a final day of the trout season. If you’re lucky enough to have kids who understand the value of holding down a job, you know it’s hard to mesh schedules, so instead of the entire weekend our plan was to run up to the cabin Thursday, to fish Friday and leisurely wind our way home Saturday.

With a few short hours of sleep and only a day to fish, our eyes were on catching, not just chasing ‘em. So Friday found us on a tributary of Don Pedro Lake, a place not too far away and — fly fishing purists close your eyes — known to be stocked. I counted on the lackadaisical nature of fishermen who fall under the latter half of “put and take” to offer assurance that there’d be some rainbows left even though DFG trucks hadn’t visited this particular stretch in over two weeks.

Rigged up and ready, Sean was first to cast, and on that fish cast it was “fish on!” Though not landed, we took it as a good sign. Sean’s learned a lot since that first fly fishing lesson last spring, so it’s not only because yours truly graciously granted him first crack at one of the best runs that he landed four decent rainbows before I had a chance at a single one.

A bit later and a bit downstream I showed Sean a few seldom-fished and often productive pools, then it was back up to a more popular section. Thanks to the waders — most bait and hardware fisherfolks precariously perch on roots near this section — we effortlessly walked upstream and downstream near the opposite bank, targeting pods of trout as well as individual fish. Both of us hooked numerous fish and landed a few less than hooked. (Sean would probably agree that his fly fishing education might benefit from a focus on the hookset.) Our biggest were about 14 inches, with some broad-shouldered bruisers in the mix.

A better day we couldn’t have asked for. The sun was out but the air temperature was pleasant. The water was a bit high but the fish were willing.

But the “good day” rating was to be pegged just about lunchtime.

Fishing the tailout of a pool with a size 22 midge (very small fly for non-fisher folks) I was able to watch a fish adjust to the fly’s path and a white flash told me it had opened its mouth for the take. That white flash of the mouth — rainbows have darker mouths — suggested that this would be a brook trout left over from stocking earlier in the year. The fish sure did shake its head like a brookie. But then it jumped. “Whoa!” Sean yelled as it did. Another jump and it was heading downstream, taking me with it.

About five minutes later, after doing a “rock dance,” and about 20 more feet downstream, landing procedures commenced. It was then that the coolness factor of this fish rose quite a bit. I was a hooked-jawed wild brown trout headed upstream from the lake to spawn. All 15 inches of him. One very cool surprise.

The downside is that we left the camera at home. But ask Sean. I think he’ll tell ya it was a good day with a great fish among the many good.


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end of a season

It’s been a good year, trout-fishing-wise, that is. And tomorrow it’ll end in the Sierras with one last hurrah.

Sean and I will make a late-night run to the cabin with plans to spend Friday in the water. Maybe we’ll even hook some fish. If we don’t, it’s dinner at Diamondback Grill. And maybe a bit of manly video game action in the evening.

Saturday’s up in the air, but perhaps we’ll stop on the way home and hike to the Lower Stanislaus River, where there have been sightings of King salmon up to 30 inches. Can’t fish for ‘em but would be fun to watch.

BTW, nice sunny day here in northern California…so did the right thing. Rode the bike to work. Love that it now takes less than $7 to fill the tank!