fishing for words

(and tossing out random thoughts)

Monthly Archives: May 2014


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shaking the skunk off and paying it forward

There was a lot of fishing and more hiking crammed into last weekend that originally envisioned. Much of the time, there was more of a focus on adventure and exploration than catching. Perhaps it’s maturity.

Lessons have been learned the last few years and avoidance of the Bay Area commute dictates my departure time. Shoving off during the late morning and making a few stops along the way lead to a late afternoon arrival in Twain Harte. Being the Thursday before Memorial Day weekend, the town still had that hushed, pre-summer feel.

With gear stowed and a few hours of sunlight left, it was time to preemptively get the skunk off. Fifteen minutes up the highway and ten minutes down a Forest Service road is a stretch of a fork of a relatively well-known Sierra Nevada river that offers prototypical put-and-take habitat with all the conveniences. It’s easily accessed, offers a picnic area and toilets, and the makeup of the river in this area naturally corrals the hatchery brood into three pools.

The artificial twilight created by towering pines made it difficult to see into the water, but the occasional slurp confirmed they were there. This fork is just above 5,000 feet elevation, and generally doesn’t contain much water. Even less this year, compared to the same time last year.

It seems to me that even factory fish retain a natural skittishness, which this day warranted a dry/dropper setup with a light touch. Half a dozen rainbow trout made it to the net in the following forty minutes. During that time, a couple of other folks had arrived to try their luck. The skunk off, it was time to head upstream.

This is a place I usually think of as a quick venue to resurrect skills left unpracticed during the winter and to work the rust out. The spirit of this weekend, however, was to challenge myself.

Hatchery fish clearly abide by that movie utterance that “…life will not be contained” and I was counting on this. About 100 feet upstream, this river is marked by pocket water winding through thick brush. The burble of plunge pools hinted at possible places where any wild offspring might be found. Dappling more than casting, I found a surprising number of the more attractive progeny. None were longer than six inches, making me wish for much smaller rod.

Emigrant Pass

Sonora Pass (@Emigrant Pass): Where I’d be headed the next day.

There’s a feeling altogether different about fooling wild trout. Granted, they are hungry and more opportunistic, and high-Sierra trout will take most any well-presented fly; but they require a stealthy approach. Over-lining these fish guarantees they’ll scatter. Every suspect pool — successfully approached — yielded a fish. After about an hour, I returned downstream. There still being light and good water available, there was time to make a few more casts.

It’s fair to say, fly fishing, fully embraced, tends to permeate one’s life. Two years after attending a fly fishing class I had become the fly fishing club’s secretary, webmaster and was leading an annual outing. Later I was enlisted to help with that same class. One could have a long debate as to whether the hobby attracts those predisposed or the hobby itself engenders the idea, but paying it forward, it seems to me, is part and parcel with fly fishing.

So it was, after a few minutes of hearing the crack of a fly line that I wandered downstream to find a woman waving a rod around in a most inelegant manner. Greetings were tentatively exchange with the question if she’d like a bit of advice. The next hour I offered a condensed version of fly fishing basics, kept within my limited sphere of knowledge. She had whipped the fly off her leader, so I gifted her a couple of flies and used the opportunity to demonstrate a dry/dropper rig.

By then, the sunlight was fading, and having reassured myself that I could still manage to bring up a few fish after a winter away from fishing, it was time to head back to the cabin for dinner and an early bedtime. The morning would come early as my plan was to head over Sonora Pass and hike up the Little Walker River — despite warnings it was high and muddy earlier in the week.

But as I said, this trip was more about adventure than catching.

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my opening day…five weeks late

January’s promise to get out and fish earlier, more often and in different places now echoes with so much emptiness that the unthinkable is the only resolution.

Yes, I will be chasing trout this weekend. Memorial Day weekend.

The events and circumstances that kept me closer to home haven’t been unpleasant. They just didn’t include trout. Staying home last weekend included free and unrestricted quantities of barbecue and wine, not really a bad thing.

This is the first and possibly one of the few times to get to the cabin this summer, and despite the Sierra Nevada and its foothills being infested with a couple thousand campers and anglers, I’m going. With fishing reports read and flows checked, plans are firming.

An eyewitness account from a fellow fly fisherman suggests that a target river and one of its tributaries will still be high and muddy for a few days. But that bad news lends some optimism that little R Creek may have the water needed for guilt-free fishing for its wild rainbows. It’s a ten-mile dirt road drive to this little gem, so while in the area it’ll make sense to explore other blue lines on the map and not too far away.

It’s a certainty that a few high mountain streams will be walked, likely with the oldest son. A few will be familiar, others offering an opportunity to explore. Generally, this trip will be characterized by a philosophy that hiking a few thousand feet, maybe a mile or two, will leave the crowds behind.

Hopefully I’ll be the guy you won’t see this weekend.


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and now, to compound your fly rod decision

It’s not the press release* itself (below) that intrigued me so much as the question as to whether Douglas Outdoors faces an uphill challenge.

All the right connections are made in the announcement — it’s led by the former president of a well-known fly rod and reel manufacturer, who later was also involved with a mid-range manufacturer; has a connection to conservation and a rod who holds two IGFA fly rod records, and touts a “made-in-the-USA” label.

If it’s not enough to launch another mid-range fly rod line in a market filled with options, particularly from more established, formerly upscale manufacturers, Douglas Outdoors promises to limit sales through dealers, mainly independent shops.

A FRESH LEGACY

Jim Murphy, former President of Hardy North America and founder of Redington, announces the founding of Douglas Outdoors. This is a new partnership with the Barclay family, prominent conservationists and owners of the Douglaston Salmon Run (DSR) on the famed Salmon River, in New York. Douglas Outdoors will present two new fly rod ranges, a line of spin and casting rods, and two new fly reels at the annual ICAST/IFTD show on July 15 in Orlando Florida. This first product offering will feature the Eclipse fly reel, the first to be made in the Douglas Outdoors factory in New York.

“We are in the process of building a new fishing rod factory here in New York State.” Murphy said, “We have hired a leading composites engineer to head the team. Tom Murphey, formerly of the Air Force Research Laboratory in Albuquerque is not only a prominent scientist in the field, but is also the holder of two current IFGA records on fly. Tom will be applying the latest material science breakthroughs to fishing rod design. We will bring our first US Made rods to market in 2015.”

“Douglas Outdoors is committed to a dealer-centric program. Our focus will be on the independent dealers, and we will offer them products, programs, and support that will reflect on their key role in the fishing industry.” Murphy continued, “I look forward to presenting Douglas Outdoors to the industry and to offering a fresh legacy of tackle and services that anglers and dealers alike will find both new and familiar.”

*This appeared in my fly fishing club’s in box.

Disclosure: No, I have not received nor do I expect to receive any compensation for this post.

Lastly, I don’t know how a “legacy,” by definition, can be fresh. I blame the copywriter.


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ripples without water (or, this drought stinks)

The only reason I haven’t curled up in a fetal position and yielded to California’s 500-year drought is there’s at least a few days of trout fishing on the horizon.

It’ll be good news and bad news situation. The good news being that low water will allow access to most streams and rivers during my limited time fishing this month. The bad news is that the water may be gone when I can next venture into the Sierras.

droughtmapAs a native Californian, most of the drought news is the “usual” hue and cry about the fight to bring water to farmers, efforts to save water, dwindling city supplies and wildfires resulting from the record heat, as well as the not-so-usual and so-called Bay Delta Conservation Plan.

But the stories that truly illustrate the far-reaching impact of The Great Drought are smaller in scope and often just as alarming.

Spring fishing in the Sierra Nevadas usually means fewer people and rattlesnakes. This year, at least the rattlesnakes will be more numerous.

Wildlife experts from the high Sierra to Southern California report that snake sightings are up, largely due to the warm, dry weather that has gripped much of the West. Rattlesnakes, like many animals, have been drawn out of their wintertime dormancy earlier this year because of the mild conditions that have accompanied the drought, experts say.

Shrinking agricultural employment is affecting school attendance.

It’s not just fish that depend on insects — which often reproduce in water — but birds. The tricolored blackbird may make the endangered species list with help from the drought.

Reproduction declines have been noticed since 2007, before the drought, Meese said, but recent counts have shown even steeper declines. A statewide survey of tricolored blackbirds, known for their red shoulder patch with a bright white stripe, was recently concluded and the results are due out in three weeks.

At issue for the birds is a lack of insects since female birds require insects in their diet to form eggs. Also, young birds require insects during the first nine days of life, when they cannot digest plant material. Meese contends that the effects of the drought have created lower populations of insects, as well as less-extensive wetlands from which blackbirds can feed.

Even before the full effect of the drought can be felt, food prices are on the upswing. The $200 million cherry crop is expected to be up to half of normal. http://blogs.kqed.org/bayareabites/2014/05/13/light-california-cherry-season-thanks-to-warm-winter-expect-higher-prices/

…the warm, dry winter threw cherry trees off their game all over the state. California usually delivers the nation’s early season cherries, but with yields down around a third of what they usually are you can expect to pay a whole lot more at the market.

What the trees want is a wet, chilly winter with fog that keeps the daytime temperatures under 55 degrees.

But, clearly, the trees aren’t getting what they want.

California honey prices are being pushed to new highs. California was at the top of the list of honey-producing states a couple of years ago. Not anymore. This third year of drought could cut production to its lowest since 1981.

Suction dredge mining remains an issue for our rivers but, apparently, now is the time to shut down those machines and pick up a pan in the search for gold. Accessibility is creating a mini-gold rush in the Sierra foothills.

If there’s a silver lining, it’s that the severity of this drought has shifted the discussion on fracking.

Fracking a single oil well in California last year took 87 percent of the water consumed in a year by a family of four, according to the Western States Petroleum Association, an industry lobbying group. That amount — a modest one by national standards, the oil industry argues — has become an increasingly delicate topic since a drought was officially declared early this year in the state.

The drought, combined with a recent set of powerful earthquakes, has provided the momentum for about a dozen local governments across California, the third-largest oil producing state, to vote to restrict or prohibit fracking in their jurisdictions, as concerns over environmental effects and water usage have grown.

At the same time, a bill that would declare a statewide moratorium on fracking has been gathering support in the State Senate, a year after a similar effort failed.

The frail nature of our infrastructure — arrogantly designed to fight Mother Nature’s wisdom — is certain to be tested in the many months between now and the next rainfall. A switch to ignoble warm water species might salve the itch to fish, but at what cost to one’s pride?


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(not) all fishermen are liars

A few weeks ago in preparation for the coming trout season, I decided it was time to replace the line on my 5 wt. rod. I won’t say that I’m cheap, but this line had served well during its all-too-long life. It wasn’t as if it had developed any hinges or cracks, but last September the welded loop broke and I used a nail knot and monofilament to create a new loop-to-loop connection, then finished the season without having to replace it. But while I’m not a great fly fisherman and don’t demand perfection in my equipment, a floating line that doesn’t float is a bit of a problem.

When I first set up this rod and reel, I used line purchased at a club auction. It was a great deal for a name brand line. Truthfully, I’ve since wondered how long it might have been in the club inventory. It would be hoped that it spent it’s time in a house closet; where the temperature was regulated and exposure to ultraviolet light limited, but it more likely spent its time in a garage, baking during the summer.

This was a plain fly line, nothing special. Its entire length was that vibrant green that makes outsiders question how fly fishermen catch anything. In my pre-fly fishing life I too wondered how fish didn’t see that bright, large-diameter line, not knowing then that there was nine feet of leader and tippet that I couldn’t see, to which a fly was attached.

I’m getting a late start this season, so replacing the line wasn’t imperative. The real decision was where I might get it replaced. I don’t have many choices in fly shops around here. I could drive an hour into San Francisco. There’s a new fly shop in the city, a shop within a shop, apparently, owned and operated by a guy well known in local fly fishing circles. I haven’t been there yet, but hear it’s pretty nice.

There’s another shop south of me, not too far away and across a toll bridge. But like many local fly shops, it is one that seems to be only surviving, not thriving. It’s in the suburbs, not near any fly fishing destination, not in a convenient location and not in a high-traffic area. More than that, it seems that inventory is lacking. I understand it’s a business and inventory is money, and no business owner wants money sitting on the shelf. However, the last time I spent a significant amount of money in this shop was a few years ago, when I found a pair of the previous season’s waders on sale and was lucky they fit. I was apprehensive that this shop would offer much choice in the way of line.

The other option was to head north, a little farther, but not an unreasonable distance. Luckily, my wife had suggested making a day of it, stopping at a new brewery, having lunch and casually exploring places we’d never stopped before. And this sporting goods store has a pretty good reputation for a wide selection of fly fishing gear and accessories.

It’s a well-stocked store, divided into clear sections dedicated to conventional and fly fishing, as well as hunting. I was greeted the moment I walked in but left alone to ponder a myriad of fly lines. Without counting, I’d guess that between the different brands, types of line and specific applications for each of those lines, I was presented with at least 60 choices.

I nymph a lot and boxes of lines dedicated to this tactic were printed with key words and phrases such as “easy mending,” “extra powerful turnover” and “high flotation tip.” Camouflage lines are neat, but I was hooking fish with the bright green line, so why change?

After just about the right amount of time had gone by, the salesman who had greeted me sauntered up.

“So, have you picked one out yet?”

“No, there’s quite a selection to go through.” I had narrowed my choice to two selections, grabbed the appropriate boxes and asked him directly, “I’ve got this one fly line here. It claims it’ll do everything I want and will slice through the wind for the longest cast possible. The truth is I don’t cast much more than 20 or 30 feet, unless on a lake. That’s the way it is where I fish.”

He didn’t jump into a sales pitch, but instead countered my question. “Where do you fish?”

We ended up discussing streams and rivers in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and exchanged stories as fly fishermen often do. Obviously, this painted a good picture about my line needs. He told me of some of his favorite water and experience in aiding with the development and testing of fly line for one company. I tend to believe that most fly fishermen are pretty honest except when it comes to the fly that’s working that day, but I was a bit suspicious, and steeled myself for the hard sell.

Still I stood there with the two fly lines in each hand, each the same brand I use on my 4 wt. rod. In one hand was the special-purpose, “highly textured” line; in the other was a standard weight-forward line for half the price. “What do you think?” I asked.

He replied, “All you need is this basic line. It’ll do everything you want and even stuff they don’t print on the box. The other line is only what you want when casting into wind.” Then he whispered, “Really, that basic line will do just as well, it just takes a bit more skill.”

I felt a bit embarrassed that he’d recommend the lower-priced line when I had walked in prepared to spend much more. I made up for it with the purchase of some flies, extra tippet, beads and other items for which I don’t have an immediate need, but will eventually use.

I don’t know if this guy is paid on commission or not. Perhaps he’s evidence that there is such a thing as an honest fly fisherman.


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don’t forget your basics (or, don’t trust that others remember theirs)

Like many who’ve taken up fly fishing, the most enjoyable moments often bubble up in sharing one’s love of the sport. That’s why each Opening Day I’ve donated time to helping others learn just enough to get into that fish that lights the fire of a lifelong hobby. It may not be the first fish one lands on a fly rod, but everyone has that fish, the one.

For better or worse, it’s fallen to me during the spring and fall novice fly fishing classes to sum up and illustrate the basics of hooking, playing and landing a fish. About ninety minutes of the day-long class is dedicated to casting at a nearby pond and during that time pairs of students are cycled through one station outlining the basics of using a Belgian cast with an unwieldy nymph rig and my station. With about twenty students, that gives me ten minutes or less with each pair. And that’s how it went this last weekend.

I take a certain pride in my brief involvement. Casting, presentation, fly selection and an understanding of fish behavior are necessary and area the main aspects of any lessons about fly fishing. But the game really begins when those skills are well executed and a fish hooked.

I’ve been fly fishing long enough now that those ten minutes aren’t enough, even with my narrow, trout-centric experience. It starts with an outline of the scenario: on a large stream or midsized river, algae-slickened rocks all around, and fish that’ll take a fly. If one is chasing trout on a day trip not too far from here, if the rocks aren’t slick with algae, they’re weathered into an unstable roundness or, on smaller waters, can be still sharp glacial erratics. We’ve all been there; you must play the fish where you stand.

Fly rod and line control come next, focusing on the instinctive thumb grip, teaching that the index finger (or finger of choice) isn’t only for casting, and demystifying stripping. Lacking willing quarry, one student becomes the “fish” while the other reacts and I offer feedback. This fighting the “fish” quickly reveals poor line control and other mistakes. After proper line control is understood, we take time to talk about stripping behind the index finger. A simple enough process to comprehend, but when the pressure is on it’s more difficult to execute that one might expect.

Last Saturday, when rods where being disassembled and put away, I was told that a single student hadn’t made it to my station. I recruited a “fish,” put some distance between us the rest of the group, and asked this last student if I could check their rod before beginning. I made a quick cast only to find myself wondering why this rod was casting like a piece of rebar. To my question the student answered that it was a 5 wt. rod. That’s what she had been told at the shop, so the reel was loaded with 5-wt. line.

The identification of a rod’s weight (size or size of line it will cast) and weight (mass) can be found on the rod, above the grip. This rod was inscribed “Length 9’ • 5 3/4 oz.  #9 Line.” Translated, this was a nine-foot rod weighing 5 3/4 ounces and designed to carry a 9-wt. line.*

That afternoon I ended up teaching a bit more than usual, and was reminded that it all starts with the basics.

*For those who don’t fly fish, this mismatch of line and rod is akin to dropping a small four-cylinder engine into the chassis of a Peterbilt semi.