fishing for words

(and tossing out random thoughts)

Category Archives: Fly Fishing


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support your local jeweler……maybe gold-plated hooks?

Don’t think anyone could have seen this one coming. Maybe the “No Pebble Mine” theme of the AEG Fly Fishing Film Tour impressed something on some goldsmith somewhere. A group of prominent jewelers, including Tiffany & Co., Helzberg Diamonds and Fortunoff, plan to throw their lot in with us motley fly fishermen in opposing the Pebble Mine, a massive, open-pit sore planned for Alaska’s Bristol Bay watershed. The Bristol Bay area is home to the world’s largest population of sockeye salmon.

Diamond merchants have their conflict-free diamond and jewelers’ got their “No Dirty Gold” initiative, an effort to support environmentally friendly gold and fight destructive mining practices. Support is support and any help — from the jewelers’ “Bristol Bay Protection Pledge” or otherwise — is welcome if it leads to preventing such a disaster in Bristol Bay.

At least somebody else is paying attention.


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Oregon DFW hunting for more revenue?

While I’m not one to cry “conspiracy” at the drop of a hat, maybe the
Oregon Department of fish & Wildlife has stumbled upon a novel method of raising additional funds. Seems that a new hunting and fishing license design adopted by the department this year disappears in a few weeks if placed in a plastic license holder. So far the ODFW has only issues a press release that suggests

…carrying the license…in your wallet as you would a receipt or using a paper or Tyvek license holder.

Upside for the ODFW: Oregon hunters and anglers left with a blank license will have to pay another $6.50 for a replacement.


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passion plus talent equal cool beans

Nothing like passion to fuel the use of one’s talents. While I tend not to be too gracious in accepting congratulations or compliments, it’s been very cool to see the reaction to a new Web site I put together for the Diablo Valley Fly Fishermen, a club I joined a year ago. My fly fishing remains far from polished but my skills in crafting HTML into something functional yet pleasant in appearance show promise.

Chalk it up to an innate characteristic to not leave well enough alone. Subscribing to the claim that the DVFF is one of the larger fly fishing clubs in the United States and that its presence on the Internet should reflect this, I jumped into a Web site redesign in November. The initial desire was to craft a prototype composed of a few pages. Roughly six weeks later a design – encompassing the whole site – had taken up home on my flash drive.

But again, I couldn’t leave well enough alone.  By the beginning of January a full revision of my revision of the original site was underway.

In a flash of genius insanity I also decided to add an online forum. As my father might say, it required a “big learning curve.” But I did it. And I think I did it well. Now, with the blessing of the club’s board, it’s ready to go.

Look for the new diablovalleyflyfish.org in a browser window near you.


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down the road we go

Maybe we’d better hope that the trout targeted this season don’t rise to the flies tied here at the House on the Hill. Already we’re beginning a battle the creeping curse that comes with fly tying.

Fly Tying StationYou can start with the materials strewn about the dining room table: hooks, bobbins, black thread, tan thread, red thread, small scissors, medium scissors, hackle pliers, red chenille, black chenille, olive chienille, pheasant feathers, partridge feathers, brown dubbing, olive dubbing, black dubbing, black marabou (turkey underwear), thin silver wire, thin copper wire, small red wire, white antron, muskrat hide, green “Krystal” flash, gold tungsten beads, silver tungsten beads… Apparently this battle is bound to escalate.

A fly tying station is already headed out this way via the seemingly unstoppable United Parcel Service. But already predicted is a need for drawers to comfortably contain a quantity of synthetic and animal natural materials.

The curse is not the cause of worry. The worry is that already I have pondered uses from the dog’s fur left behind after a good trimming. Heck, I’ve even considered brushing the house bunny…might make decent dubbing or even a hackle.

It’s not an obsession, it’s a hobby.


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tied up in fly tying

It began with a small brown trout dangling on the end of my son’s fly rod some two years ago. Since then I’ve taken a fly fishing class, joined a fly fishing club for which I am now webmaster and secretary, bought fly fishing gear and, yes, caught trout and bluegill on a fly rod. Ask my AP Nymphwife and she’ll tell you I look the part when fully geared up — sort of like a shorter version of Henry Blake in M*A*S*H when it was dressed to go fishing. (No lures on my hat though.)

But during the last week I have begun to flirt with fly fishing as an obsession. I tied my first few flies. I started easy, working on a flex tube scud and some zebra midges. I followed the instructions from a DVD to tie red and green chironomid (midge) pupa, replete with a red/green body, black head and white gills. Then I grew daring. I read the instructions for a Wolly Bugger…something I have yet to fish but is considered a good fly for going deep into some of pools I fish. I was rather pleased with the result, though I wouldn’t call if perfect.

My last two attempts were probably a bit too ambitious for the late hour of the evening. I began with a fur ant, which required dubbing and well as tying on a hackle. I think it turned out okay, but I’ve got to learn better how to lay down the hackle. Next I tied an hare’s ear nymph. (This design, also in other colors, doesn’t duplicate or imitate anything in nature, yet does well catching trout.) It was a bit of a struggle to get all of the parts in the right places and to figure out where my hand should go and where various parts should be held until it all came together. But it did come together. Again probably not the best example, but it offered a good learning experience.

If only I could get out and catch a fish on a fly tied by my own two hands!

(Yes, I’ve been warned that this may be only the beginning…next I’ll want to build my own rod…)


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amazing they’re ever caught!

Reasons anyone should be amazed at catching rainbow trout (Oncorhynchus Mykiss):

  1. Top Speed: 23 mph/37 kmph. Hogs (larger fish) can get in an extra 1 or 2 mph.
  2. Distance to Reach Top Speed: 1 foot.
  3. Average Speed of Line Pull: 33 feet per second.
  4. Vertical Leap Capability: Three to four times its length. (For a human that would be 18 to 24 feet).
  5. Strength: Large trout are known to break leaders two times their body weight. (For a human that would be equal to a piece of monofilament line rated at 350 lbs.)
  6. Sensory Input: 500 to 800 times more acute than the sensory input received by a fisherman.
  7. ESP: Pretty sure they have this too.


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skunked…almost

I flogged Putah Creek last Saturday, a semi-local trout fishery about an hour drive from home. The day dawned with the promise of decent fishing weather: overcast. The creek’s flows were up the week prior. (This is a “tail water” fishery as the water comes from the base of a dam, and the flow is controlled.) But in a wicked turn of fate, the creek’s flows were dramatically cut the night before. Trout don’t like change much, and when the water level changes, they are “put off” on feeding. But the wheels literally were in motion and I wasn’t about to turn back.

This was my first time on Putah Creek, a good opportunity to learn the lay of the land. Our fishmaster — a club member who leads fishing outings — gave us some flies made special for the creek and basic instruction in how he fishes Putah. We headed out, ambling cross county, wading one branch of the creek to reach another section on the other side of an island. 

I settled in on a long run with a deep section, as always, nearer the opposite bank. With little confidence in my abilities on this water, I stuck with the recommended rig; two nymphs dangling beneath a poly-yarn indicator. (A fluffy ball-kinda thing that that fly fisherman don’t like called a bobber but in fact acts like one and helps keep weighted flies at the proper level.) Inspired by frequently rising fish, I cast across the current, occasionally adjusting the depth of my flies. Then it became more of a game of trying to find the right nymph.

As the taunting continued, I sat back to watch the rise forms of the trout, estimating that they were targeting something just opposite the deeper water. Frustration mounting, about mid morning I switched to a dry-dropper rig (a dry fly with a weighted nymph below), and turned to my favorite go-to nymph, a black Zebra Midge. Shortly after the switch, this set up gave me my only hook up of the day. A nice 15”-16” rainbow — please let me dream while knowing that water does distort images — but two feet out it this fish opted for an LDR (long-distance release).

Lunch was easier to catch, and after a great Mexican roach-coach burrito, I headed back solo to fish a more remote section of the creek, access to which is gained only through overgrown trails. It’s quite surprising how “wild” the streamside is for a creek not so far from urbanites. I was rewarded, if it can be called that, with a very solid strike in a short pool made more alluring with its undercut bank. But low, overhanging tree branches precluded a solid hook set. That was all the action I would see the rest of the afternoon. Sure, hope sprang eternal as I clambered upstream to one pool after another. By now it was raining pretty well and the light was fading fast. I called it a day with newfound knowledge that might serve me when I return. I will return. Hopefully I will fish Putah Creek a few times this winter.


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quick trip to fish a new place

I made deal with myself to try new waters this season. I’ve done so twice already, but earlier this week got the bug to do so again. I quickly rearranged my schedule for a quick overnight trip with my son. Morning comes and my son needs to do a bit of running around, we stop for Wild Trout from Beardsleylunch instead of eating on the run, linger a bit too long at the local fly shop and mistakenly followed my GPS’ idea of a shorter route. (Led us down some unpaved forest service roads – some of the same roads a friend took us down in his 4×4.) Then, because we were led down the wrong roads, we are faced with a .8-mile walk down a dirt road with at least eight switchbacks. (Does that hint at how STEEP this road is?)

What I had hoped would be an afternoon and evening in the water turns into an hour and a half of twilight wading. But it turned out to be a good ninety minutes.

The destination was Beardsley Afterbay. I had heard hints that the afterbay was a great place to fish in the fall and I wasn’t led astray. I first picked a good pool with a strong seam about three quarters of the way across. After fishing the near water, less than a dozen casts later, a small 6-7” rainbow hint my prince nymph harder that one would normally expect. (I apologize for the blurry images related to this post.)

Without another fisherman in sight, my son and I moved, bypassing some “flats” and ending up across from some undercut banks. I picked up a small, maybe 7-8” rainbow in an eddy behind a boulder. Taking a bit of time to watch upstream, I spotted some subtle rises about two feet out from the undercut bank. Getting lucky, I set my dry/dropper right in the lane. The dry dipped and with a quick strike I had the biggest fish of the evening, an honest 12-13” rainbow.

With bats chasing our dry flies and the sun’s light disappearing, we headed back toward the car and I was rewarded with one last fish, a decent rainbow; wild from the looks of it.

Then the climb began. I estimate it only took 30 minutes, but it was a tough climb. (Remember that before this hike we were wading and boulder-hopping in the river. And now it was nearly dark.) Obviously, we made it up the hill. Panting, we shed our fishing gear and started the drive back. Again, the GPS was looking for the shortest route down these single-lane, rock-strewn forest service roads. Just as it began to look unfamiliar we were confronted by a deep ditch…the same ditch that our friend with the 4×4 had to gently navigate. But I had to turn around. Thank goodness there was a wide turn just behind us. We finally made it to the highway and breathed a sigh of relief.

Saturday morning we slowly showered, dressed, changed the bed sheets, etc., and about 11:15 a.m. were fishing Moccasin Creek. I was counting on some fish still being in the stream even though it hadn’t been stocked in quite a while. Last month, when Sean and I visited, it was brimming with fish.

My guess was correct, and a few casts into a deep pool and I had a chuck ol’ planter in hand. We spent the next hour or so casting ‘n catching. Christopher had a few strikes and brought one fish to shore. I netted about six, with a few lost to LDR (long-distance release). About an hour and a half later we were on the way home.

It was a quick but fun fishing adventure.


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fly fishing, a saving grace?

Seems that “rock bottom” came for rocker Eric Clapton while he was fly fishing. (He’s an avid fly fisherman.) In his new book he writes of just how fly fishing finally led a full realization of how alcohol was destroying his life.

Early in the morning a few days later, wearing my new thermal underwear, I crept out of the house to go fishing on the River Wey. I had some new equipment, including two rods.

On the opposite bank were a couple of professional fishermen, with a tent and everything beautifully laid out. They were watching me. I was drunk, and I had just about managed to get my gear set up when I lost my balance and fell onto one of the new rods, breaking it clean off at the handle. I saw the fishermen look away in embarrassment.

That was it for me. The last vestige of my self-respect had been ripped away. Being a good fisherman was the one place where I still had some self-esteem. I called Roger and told him: “You’re right. I’m in trouble. I need help.”

This comes from the TimesOnline.