fishing for words

(and tossing out random thoughts)

Category Archives: General Discourse


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late summer lament, wife on the motorcycle, and a reminder from Churchill

"Four Seasons-Fenner Nature Center" photo collage by Aunt Owwee, used under creative commons licenseHi, I’m Patrick and I’m a fly fisherman. I cast my last fly…

Late Summer Lament

It’d soften the blow to say that I fell off the wagon this summer. The truth is that I nearly missed the wagon entirely.

There are plenty of excuses for not fly fishing as much as I’d have liked this summer. Sure, high water on many of the rivers for much of the summer is another lame excuse. Thankfully, I’m gainfully employed, which while providing the funds for fishing, also limits the time in which to do so.

I did squeeze in some quality and numbers of fish on the few trips I did make, but it’s been too many days. I’m feeling the shakes. The hope is to get in a quick fix next weekend.

But here in California summer won’t wane until late September, although the high country where I prefer to chase trout will have a light dusting of fall colors by then. That’s when we’ll expect to make up for lost opportunities. It’s the annual club trip and my time there this year will be nearly doubled. The chance of larger fish will also be raised with the hope of spending many of those days on a favorite lake that’s lately been giving up some big brown, rainbow and cutthroat trout.

In between now and then, we’ll be heading to Alaska via a cruise ship, giving devoted attention to The Wife, and there will be no fishing. We’re saving up for a week-long fishing trip in The Last Frontier sometime in the coming year. Or the next.

More Adventure on Two Wheels

The Wife surprised me a while ago. “So, when are you going to take me on the motorcycle?”

There’s no telling if it’s the experience gained over a few years of riding or the miles, or maybe the idea of snuggling at speed, but it was clear she was serious after a little discussion. I knew she used to ride, back when rashness of youth focused on the “bad boys” with their Harleys motorcycles.

After buying a helmet last Saturday (not pink and no rhinestones, thank you), we rode on Sunday. Not too many miles, about 15, but enough for me to get the feel of having a passenger. All went well, no doubt helped along by The Wife’s previous riding experience.

Having a wife supporting her husband’s hobby is pretty near; to join in, definitely a bonus.

When Fly Fishing Wasn’t a Political Photo Op

During some general browsing of the web, I came across the article below from the Ottawa Citizen, dated August 28, 1943. It struck me as an illustration of the resolve of leaders not too many years ago. Despite the troubles of the world, time was taken to enjoy a favored pursuit (albeit during a secret meeting codename Quadrant). A reminder, despite the troubles of today, to slow down and savor that which we enjoy.

Churchill Goes Trout Fishing after Secret Confab, Ottawa Citizen, Aug. 28, 1943 (Google News Archive)

Churchill Goes Trout Fishing after Secret Conference in Quebec,
from the Ottawa Citizen, Aug. 28, 1943 (via the Google News Archive)


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rooting for the little guy fly

There’s something so very American about rooting for the little guy who’s dreaming big.

Kirk Werner, aka Unaccomplished Angler and children’s book author, certainly seems to be one of those guys. [Insert joke about height here.] Ignoring what he might think of me, I consider him to be a shade more than a passing acquaintance, definitely a friend in the fly fishing fraternity, and now role model when it comes to unbridled ambition.

Olive the Woolly Bugger Hollywood Star

Maybe some day, Olive...

Kirk’s launched a campaign he hopes will lead to one or all of his books based on the character Olive the Woolly Bugger (also a little guy fly) being made into an animated movie. He might just have a shot. Just not for the obvious reasons.

It’s right there in his chosen moniker: Unaccomplished Angler.

Reading Kirk’s blog you’ll see that he’s certainly endured enough heartache at the fins of taunting trout. Though he doesn’t appear to display overt signs of depression, he’s suffered for his work like many a better-known author; possibly putting him in the company of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Samuel Clemens, Virginia Woolf, Robert Louis Stevenson and, fittingly for a children’s book author, Hans Christian Andersen.

And, in my humble opinion, the Olive books — to use industry buzzwords — offer nice pacing; quirky, likeable characters and interesting plot twists.

So, being sucked into Kirk’s delusion of grandeur, I’m not only dropping a little image into the side bar supporting Kirk’s efforts in the hope, but offering public words of encouragement.

It never entered my mind that there may be a commission if this all pans out.


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a milestone and 10,000 miles wiser

By the time you read this it’ll be official. I’ll have ridden 10,000 miles on two wheels.

There are those who’ll say I was getting in front of a possible midlife crisis with the purchase of my first motorcycle just about four and a half years ago. I’d disagree. The idea of riding has bounced around my brain since riding a friend’s off-road bike, so long ago as a kid.

Like fly fishing, riding was one of those things that looked fun, but something I never truly could envision myself doing. And like fly fishing, choosing to ride any particular day influences planning, gear and even the pace.

To be clear, in both cases I favor a slower pace.

This pace was reflected in the process that led me to motorcycling, starting with a Motorcycle Safety Foundation class, just to see if I might possess the skills to ride and to determine — taking into account the possibility of dropping someone else’s motorcycle — whether it still offered the enjoyment I remembered from years ago.

I’d be remiss to not give credit to my wife, who works in the healthcare field and often used the term “donor-cycle,” for supporting my desire to at least try motorcycling. Even knowing that my dad had a decidedly unpleasant motorcycling accident that led to his not riding, I went ahead with registration for the class — with my oldest son joining me — with no particular plan to purchase a motorcycle. That’s not to say I didn’t have thoughts about something in the Honda CB series… Sean and I both passed the class with flying colors and by early December 2007 our driver’s licenses carried an M1 endorsement.

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The first bike.

Though I had no immediate plan buy a motorcycle, the universe had something else in mind. Only four weeks after getting my M1 endorsement I became the owner of a venerable 1982 Honda CB650SC with about 8,000 miles on it. Now owned by my son, this vintage Nighthawk gently taught me the basics. It was a great starter bike; easy and fun to ride. It also taught me that two-wheeled transportation, while giving one a true appreciation for highway speeds, can make one feel more connected to the world. Maybe it’s the safety-conscious swiveling of my head, but I seem to see more when riding.

I definitely feel more when riding. My commute is about 30 miles one way on a state highway that passes through reclaimed marshland of the San Pablo Bay National Wildlife Refuge, farmland and by a cattle ranch, all the time skirting the upper edge of San Francisco Bay. (Technically it’s San Pablo Bay.) Despite protective riding gear, the microclimates are readily apparent. When the weather’s warmer, the water of the marshes retain enough heat to create a “banana belt” that makes my early morning ride more comfortable. But once I drop over a small ridge, heading closer to the coast, the air temperature invariably drops 5 to 10 degrees.

Over a year and a half with the 650, I learned basic repairs, added a vintage luggage rack, overcame a fear of riding in the rain and took a good number of local trips.

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Two bikes, two fly rods, two reels and an extra gallon of gas.

It was sad to see that first bike go, but nice to know it’d still be in the family. Even more exciting was the fact that on July 24, 2009, I took possession of a motorcycle that through its production years (1992-2003) had been my favorite: the Honda CB750F/Nighthawk 750. Mine’s from ’97 and had less than 4,000 miles on it when purchased. It’s now fitted with a windscreen, luggage and risers. I like it and its average of nearly 50 mpg.

Sean and I took our first long motorcycle trip after I bought the 750, heading over familiar roads and fly fishing along the way.

So here I am, 10,000 miles later. Yes, there have been two close calls, both due to inattentive drivers. (And yes, my wife knows about them.) I’m thankful that whomever is watching over me is doing so and I’ve learned to ride within my limits. I’ve come to grudgingly accept that the buffer I put between myself and the car in front of me is often instead seen by “cagers” (car drivers) as an opportunity.

Those who know me know I take care of my vehicles. But the motorcycle is unlike the cars. Once and a while I find myself simply staring at the motorcycle, an old-school symbol of freedom, still not fully believing I own and regularly ride one.


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summer sickness (and justification for a dark man cave)

Take it from me; teaching kids to share will come around to bite you in the arse.

Thanks to this lesson — perhaps too well learned? — I was sick this last week. (That’s an optimistic “was.” I’m not quite out of the woods, yet.) I’d never heard a death rattle before and I’m not so certain that I didn’t this week.

Stooping over a fly-tying vise would only exacerbate the wheezing, so that was out of the question. I got what work done that I could then filled the days with reading, sniffles, television, coughing, and video games peppered with vacant stares into space. It’s been 10-plus years since I’ve suffered through a summer cold and this go-around has got me thinking that there’s a need for a well-stocked man cave/fly tying room into which I can draw the curtains and sink into darkness until my physical and mental outlook brightens.

With all that time on my hands, you’d think I could’ve devoted time to writing a long and winding piece full of interesting or entertaining words. The desire was there. The mind wasn’t. Like most marauding viruses, this one mysteriously turns one’s thoughts inward, alternately focusing on the suffering and possible relief, with the question “Why me?” creeping forward once and a while.

And slowly I began to detest the technology that allowed me to remain recumbent with the whole of the World Wide Web and all of its blogs in my hands.

Negative thoughts weren’t helped by learning that The Unaccomplished Angler’s apparently less unaccomplished son Schpanky not only gets paid when work is slow at the Carnation Golf Course, he can whip out a rod and pull some beastly bass out of the course ponds. Many young adults entirely dismiss their fathers’ advice, but there’s something almost acceptable about doing so to fish on company time.

The Trout Underground threw up seven posts in five days, reminding the rest of us that the self-employed can ignore work sneak away whenever they want, whether to Maine via Bass Pro or small streams so crazily beautiful they earn a triple-X rating. Over at Singlebarbed.com we’re told that there may be no stopping invasive species, so the gov’nment might as well contract with Gorton’s to make ‘em edible. Reinforcing the idea that I’m slacker, even a writing prompt from the always prolific Outdoor Blogger Network couldn’t get my mind in gear. At least I could get away virtually for a while, living vicariously through Owl Jones journey out west… And it was nice to see Mark at Northern California Trout, who fishes some familiar foothill waters, back in the saddle after futilely thinking he could walk away from this whole addiction blogging thing.

There were rewards found in having a lack of mental focus too much time on my hands. I stumbled across a fun blog written by a female fish cop who entertains with tales of life as a mom, outdoor lover and state game warden at Fish-Cop Out of Water, especially things you don’t want to hear. From there it was on to discover Mysteries Internal, with its lyrical writing about fly fishing, fixing up a home and discovery.

It wasn’t a pleasant week. But, thankfully, no fishing trips were cancelled due to this illness.


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fishing for words turns five after fourteen years in the making

fishing for words (ffw) was born on April 19, 2006. However and without knowing it, my blogging started fourteen years prior to that.

During the mid ‘90s — the beginning of the end for most grunge bands — I joined the few civilians who could make sense of this thing called HTML to launch a website with the unoriginal title “My Little Corner of the Internet.” It was a kooky little site for which every new entry required incorporating text into hand-coded HTML.

The trend at the time was to post a relatively static website about one’s self, and looking back one can see that the early “posts” — stories about trips or family events — popped up once or twice a year from August 1997 through July 2003. There seemed to be more to write about starting in 2004. I don’t know if was the fact that the kids were growing up and it didn’t take a trunk full of diapers, bottles, food and a stroller to travel more than five miles, or the fact that my new wife actually encouraged me to enjoy some adventures on my own.

My writing was largely directed at family and a few friends. Though a student once thanked me for my page on Aloha shirts (apparently it aided him in writing a term paper), I suffered no delusion that anyone would take an interest in what I wrote if they didn’t know me personally.

The Future of Outdoor Blogging

Perhaps the future will bring a new immediacy to outdoor blogging. (That’s not me...it’s my son with a wild rainbow on Stream X.)

Things changed in 2006 with this stuff called CMS and easy-to-use blogging platforms — both of which coincided with my first experience brandishing a fly rod over a Sierra Nevada stream. It was all in place: a website/blog that could easily be fed and a hobby that could provide material.

Now, 139,512 words and 458 posts later, I still resist defining my blog. It remains a place for family and friends…with a loose definition of “friend.” Over the years, nearly everyone in my immediately family has made an appearance in my blog — whether they liked it or not. Friends run the gamut: fly fishing club members, fellow bloggers I’ve surprised by actually showing up on their doorstep met face to face; folks who thanked me for suggestions on where their kids might have a good first fishing experience; even a few buddies met online with whom I eventually shared a fishing trip or two. Every reader is a potential friend, just like the older gentleman and younger guy wearing waders that were too clean and waving barely used rods.

While ffw doesn’t subscribe to any specific definition, it’s definitely been about sharing a personal story. It’s about stepping out of my little universe to share encouragement, a laugh, an experience, a tip or a trick. And every once and a while I’m pleasantly surprised to learn that my words do encourage or earn a chuckle.

Some folks might lament about how much things have changed in five years. I’d say that it’s only our methods of our interaction that have changed; the folks behind it remain much the same. Take a look at the Outdoor Blogger Network, for example — a group of good folks coming together over common interests. They’ve got to be good folks; they let me and my little blog join in the fun. And fun it’s been, sharing my misadventures and adding a couple of new readers every year.

As for the fly fishing, the places I fish usually are not covered in the slick pages of magazines. These are places that can be reached with relatively modest means and without a 4×4. (I did learn last year that a 4×4 would be helpful on the roads to and from Yellow Creek.)

My hero shots find heroism in fooling small wild and skittish brook trout with a fly tied with my own hands. (This summer, hero shots may include a fly rod built with those same hands.) And though the “body count” isn’t so important to me anymore, it’s still about duping that first dozen fish and the story that comes with it.

I’m hoping that there will be many more fish to write about.


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fly shop offering entry-level paying position for the aspiring writer younger than this author

If you haven’t yet observed the lack of advertising on my blog, there are no advertisers influencing my writing this is not a revenue-generating venture. I don’t want it to be. Getting paid would mandate more frequent posting whether I have anything worthwhile to say (as it is, judge that for yourself), as well as better writing and accountability. Besides, I recently disclosed the real reasons why I blog.

And while I’ve dabbled in some freelance writing, I just haven’t yet found the time between my day job, fly fishing and the rest of my life to scratch out another article or two. (Also, modest fly fishing skills seem to require full use of my limited brainpower and, since I don’t take notes while fishing, it’s tough to write suitable-for-publishing after-action reports.)

For a younger person who aspires to start a career eking out a living as a fly fishing writer, Leland Fly Fishing Outfitters is looking for a “Fly Fishing Writer.”

Leland Fly Fishing Outfitters

Fly Fishing Writer

As the leading fly fishing retail store in the heart of San Francisco, just off Union Square, we are seeking an outgoing English or History major/minor student to join our customer service team. The Applicant will exercise a high level of skill with the written word, as well as advanced computer knowledge. Applicants must also have excellent people skills, must be team oriented and have a strong knowledge of fly fishing and fly fishing equipment.

Starting pay is $11.50 an hour.

At $11.50 an hour it’s not going to be easy to save up for that next trip to Kamchatka, but it’s $11.50 more per hour than this writer gets paid to write his Weekly Drivel®.*

Sure, you’ll have to do real work, actually interact with customers and answer the phone, but it offers a paying opportunity for a greenhorn writer. There’s also the possibility that all that interaction with customers will offer raw material for freelance articles or essays.

This is an opportunity not to be scoffed at my young friends. In this day and age, at least one online fly fishing magazine looks for writers who are “…NOT paid, but fueled to write by their enthusiasm for the sport, to draw attention to worthy causes, or promote themselves or a favorite destination.” Enthusiasm is a must for writing, but it won’t pay for that new 3-wt rod.

*Although “Weekly Drivel®” is a trademark of The Unaccomplished Angler, there’s no profit to be had here, thus no infringement.

The act of fishing, particularly fly-fishing, is similar to the act of writing. The masochistic urge to wake in the predawn hours and stumble with loaded thermos toward an icy cold stream to catch something you ultimately let go is not dissimilar to the quirky yearnings that guide a writing life. Both activities draw adherents who crave and breathe solitude. Both fly-fishing and writing abound with foible and reward. Both offer fissures of clarity amid the ambiguity of everyday life.

Both can give you hand cramps.
                                    — Holly Morris


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what we see… (04/13/2011)

  • A guide’s story about the worst clients…ever: http://bit.ly/gBZ6or (Makes me not feel so bad about the one time I arrived on the dock while my fishing license remained in the cabin.)
  • Fun write up over at Eat More Brook Trout about a great day not fishing: http://bit.ly/hOnpod
  • Continuing with brook trout… Over at Small Stream Reflections a nice pictorial of the seasons of brook trout: http://bit.ly/g0Npv4
  • By the seventh day, you shall have beer… It probably can’t make the best double IPA or Doppelbock, but the high-tech and all that stainless steel and chrome certainly up the “I want it” quotient. (And everything sounds so much cooler with a New Zealand accent.): http://bit.ly/gmRhQh


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modest proposal suggests concrete amusement parks for the catch-and-keep folks; good ideas for catch-and-release fans

At first it’ll likely prompt feigned outrage as the bait and hardware crowd wail and gnash teeth, claiming that the real goal is to enjoy the outdoors… That’ll die down once the realization sets in that it’ll mean easy access, flat surfaces for lawn chairs and coolers of beer and a near-guarantee the freezer can be filled without breaking a sweat.

Hatchery Fishing

Buried deep on the California Fish & Game Commission website is a little pdf titled “Trout Hatchery Production for Angling Opportunity” that suggests opening a raceway or two at one hatchery to recreational angling.

This is only one of a few proposals and changes at California Dept. of Fish & Game growing out of the Center for Biological Diversity’s 2006 lawsuit and subsequent proceedings. Now that I’ve moved up the ethical pecking order to become a catch-and-release fly fisherman and have washed away any lingering odor or memory of ever using bait, it’s easy to write with a straight face that perhaps this isn’t such a bad idea. (Not to worry, this modest proposal still allows for an outdoors experience with the stocking of mutant triploid trout in reservoirs.)

Most of us are guilty — at one time or another — of enjoying the rewards of a 100-plus-year-old stocking program but the commission may be on to something here. It’d be easier to outlaw deadly barbed treble hooks on streams and rivers when the option for Power Bait aficionados is a raceway brimming with stupid hungry trout.

Though the state is trimming the budget, there’ll be no need for access fees…lure in the crowds, and there’s new income to be found in raceway-side concessions.

Besides the reduction of streamside competition accumulation of empty Power Bait jars and Styrofoam worm containers, there just maybe a bigger upside for fans of catch and release.

In addition to increasing triploid production for future years, DFG is developing greater capability to successfully produce and stock heritage (native) trout species. Currently, four native species are being produced in DFG hatcheries. Kern River Hatchery is being modified with a water delivery back up system and other infrastructure upgrades for production of the native Kern River rainbow trout. Establishment of a broodstock is expected by fall of 2011. Five heritage species should be in production by January 1, 2012, with 25 percent of overall production to be comprised of heritage species. The feasibility of rearing Lahontan cutthroat trout for the Lake Tahoe basin restoration…

If it means an opportunity for me everyone to target more of our native species, that’s a sacrifice I’m we’re all willing to make.


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when it absolutely, positively has to fool your friends (and people you don’t really know)

It’ll be like you’re once again big man on campus in high school as you amaze your buddies. It’ll rain down shock and awe and bring a smile to your face as you confound retired friends formerly secure in the knowledge that your payments into Social Security allow them to fish more than you.

Cloud Girlfriend Screen

Let’s face it; we’ve all jumped into the digital multiverse, “friending” anyone and everyone with the remotest connection to the hobby. Even that gray-haired guy on the river who would have been a fly fishing mentor in the more refined days of yore has adopted social networking, and now he’s one of your thousand-plus friends validating their devotion to the sport with a constant stream of grip and grin hero shots.

Fortunately, in watching the bleeding edge from on high, we may have a solution in sight. Rather than lament that Cloud Girlfriend didn’t exist when us nerdy types were in high school, we can soon look forward to Cloud Fishshot.

For an as-yet undisclosed fee, Cloud Girlfriend will provide a living/breathing female to act as your girlfriend for the purposes of Facebook updates. No bodily fluids will be exchanged, nor will you be seeing any naughty pix or paying for’ ‘hot chat,’ but you will appear to be less of a pathetic loser to the world at large.

It’ll be unbelievably simple to suitably adapt Cloud Girlfriend.

Step 1: Define your perfect fish.
Step 2: Specific photo: rod/reel model and preferred background or headless hand/arm shot.
Step 3: We generate your photo.
Step 4: Post the photo publicly on your favorite social network.
Step 5: Repeat as necessary to intimidate impress friends and gain their admiration.

Sort of like Tenkara, but without the rod. Or the line.

Cloud Fishshot Splash Screen


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why I blog (or, what’s in it for me?)

This post brought to you by the writing prompt
“Why We Blog about our Outdoor Life”
from the Outdoor Blogger Network (OBN)

blog: (n) web log, a shared on-line journal where people can post diary entries about their personal experiences and hobbies, with postings usually in chronological order.

For me, writing is work. Blogging is for fun.

I began my career in writing 25 years ago, long before the words “web” and “log” merged to create the everyday term. My livelihood revolves around news and analysis, and I still enjoy it after all these years. My blog is a personal extension of what I do.

It seems that I began to flirt with the idea of writing during my middle school years. The lack of social interaction that comes with being a nerd left plenty of time for other things. So, I spent time in front of an IBM Selectric typewriter, pounding out stories based on the fictional futures of classmates. The choice of a journalism class as an elective during my sophomore year in college brought me to the attention of the school newspaper advisor and, without thought to the dismal pay that comes with trying to make a living writing, I soon declared my major to be journalism.

Since my college education included a few elective computer science classes mixed in with Journalism 101 and Mass Media Law, within a few years I had become the go-to guy in our small office for software installation (Remember DOS?) or computer repair. Soon I was tapped to design and launch our first website.

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The boys, August 1997, Eagle Lake

My web log grew out of HTML knowledge gained on the job. That first personal website wasn’t in a format that today would be recognized as a blog; nor was it easy to use. It consisted of hand-coded HTML. Any new “posting” required new code, whether it was a simple trip report, a photo gallery or even a link. (Though I launched this website in 1995 — hosted on AOL — the earliest post included on this blog is from August 1997.)

Perhaps it started with a preoccupation as to whether or not I could produce and maintain a personal website, but the struggle to determine content led to the idea of a virtual logbook through which I could share my adventures — the most exciting of which were out of doors — with family and friends.

Laziness also may have been a factor motivating the creation of this website. Back then, sending out an email to a number of recipients wasn’t difficult but email applications wouldn’t allow photos to be inserted in the email body. Everything was an attachment. Without captions or associated text, there was no context for photos. There was also the little matter of Internet dial-up service topping out 14.4Kbps. A website partially solved these problems. My first entry described one of the first camping trips with my kids in the Lake Tahoe area. Flash forward a few years and you’ve got blogging applications that allow everyone into the pool.

The reason I blog, however, has grown beyond a simple recounting of experiences. It’s taken on a more personal aspect. I still write to share experiences, thoughts and photos with family and friends, but after so many years writing and editing dry analytical niche newsletters, my blog has become an outlet.

Here I can experiment with attempts at humor and storytelling. Here I can fail in a most public manner and just as easily deliver the goods in anonymity. At times I curse writer’s block (or the fact that I apparently don’t fly fish enough to provide blog fodder during the lean winter months). Other times prose flows easily.

There’s a vanity inherent in the act of writing, and blogging is much the same. But it offers rewards. Comments, positive or negative, suggest that people other than my parents, siblings and spouse actually read what I write and that my words occasionally spark thoughts. It’s also been a catalyst for friendship and camaraderie, both virtually and in person.

Has my bog changed what I do besides devoting time to its care and feeding? Yes, in many ways. Perhaps most important, it’s knowing that I may blog about an experience that constantly reminds me to truly live in and savor those moments spent doing what I enjoy, so that later I can share the details.

It’s said that secretly all writers want to live forever. Barring that, they hope that their words will live forever. Seems we all got our wish with this little thing called the Internet…and the blogs that live within it.