fishing for words

(and tossing out random thoughts)

Category Archives: General Discourse


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fun with family, apples, wine and birds

There’s nothing like family gatherings and a trip to apple country to turn a weekend into a barrel full o’ fun, and make it rush by in no time at all.

My lookalike devastatingly handsome cousin Bill and his wife Laura (and dogs Meika and Eugene) rolled into town in The GRYWHL on Friday. To hear Laura tell it, the familial visit was a ruse, but I’ll take that as a compliment to the staggering number of attractions in our immediate area; namely wineries and birds. And a few wineries named after birds, I’m sure.

The wife and I set out the everyday dishes – the fact that we set out dishes at all is an honor itself – and enjoyed a tremendous dinner and conversation. The wife outdid herself with a home-baked version of store-bought rotisserie chicken with the always welcome mashed potatoes. The visit also served to reinforce the similarities between Bill and me. That’s not a bad thing. Rest assured, it’s a compliment to be compared to someone so handsome, steadfast and just an all-around good egg.

Saturday our two groups took separate paths in pursuit of beverages – wine and beer for Bill and Laura and apple cider and related concoctions for us. A visit to Apple Hill is a 15-year-plus tradition for me, and no fall seems complete without a taste of apple cider straight from the press. We mixed it up a bit this year, arriving early enough to make apple cider doughnuts a part of our morning repast. This was followed by obligatory visits to a few other orchards, crammed full of craftsfolks and their wares, tubs of apples, refrigerators full of cider, and piles of baked apple goods. A heavy discount prompted my picking up a carved trout that will become part of my future fly tying room. And the wife got her world’s-best corndog for lunch. Throw in four gallons of cider, and you’ve got a great day.

In typical family fashion, Sunday centered around food. In an attempt to overwhelm offer Bill and Laura an opportunity to also meet my sister and her family, a group dinner was in the offing that evening, with plenty of visiting beforehand. My sister’s family – including my now-all-too-tall nephew – arrived in the early afternoon, after the rest of us had time to lounge, watch a bit of football and rave about our respective Saturdays. Though not said directly, I think that even Laura was a bit astounded at the sheer number of wineries only 20 minutes from our doorstep. And it may be a safe bet that if Bill can work it out, they’ll be back with motorcycle in tow.

Dinner was a simple affair of make-it-yourself tacos, but sharing extended family time was the main part – and most enjoyable – of the meal.

But mostly, it’s a great thing to have weekends consumed by family and fun. Eventually, Monday initiates the humdrum workweek (except for those retired or traveling without a firm itinerary in a big RV), and the weekend seems all the more cherished.

P.S. Bill and Laura, thank you for the goodies and thanks for stopping! Hope you have a safe trip further south (and enjoy a visit to the Jelly Belly factory today).  We’ll be watching your blogs…


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one more hobby

One more hobby — and boatload of money — and I’ll be ready to retire.

As mentioned before in this space, fall’s close to the top in my list of seasons, and motorcycling in the crisp morning air with a glowing sunrise at my back is part of that greatness. I’m closing in on the first year anniversary of owning my bike and now that I’m back in the saddle after a month-long forced sabbatical, I’ve found that it’s another one of those things that prompts sudden smiles.

Those smiles turn into dreams about moving up from my vintage — yep, it’s 26 years old — 1982 Honda CB650SC to something a bit more contemporary. Preferably with locking hard saddlebags. The dream is a late ‘90s BMW R/R series bike or an even younger K/RS-series. Then again, if the price is right Honda’s ST1100 looks nice…  Like the Goldwing too, but a contemporary model’s out of my price range.  Regardless, gotta start saving the pennies.

While motorcycling gives me something to do throughout the year in sunny California, it’s more of a spring/summer/fall thing. Same goes for fly fishing. That means I need a winter hobby.

It’ll be a while before I can set aside money for myself — seems for now I’m ensuring my parents’ social security checks don’t bounce — but it’s never too early to start thinking. This is your chance to throw ideas in my direction as to a suitable winter hobby. But forget skiing. I already know about winter steelhead and can tie only so many flies. What do you think is a good rainy day hobby?

P.S. Flying to the tropics doesn’t count.


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small mistake fills gas tanks at 1968 price

File it under wish I was there (but not worth the 2151-mile drive):

A Citgo station in Wisconsin Rapids, Wisconsin, was chock full of customers this morning after an employee made a mistake and sold gasoline for just 34.9 cents per gallon of premium unleaded instead of the $3.439 that the station advertised on its sign. The bargain prices lasted long enough for about 40 transactions, or about 250 gallons of gasoline.

Station owner J.P. Raval changed the prices after 90 minutes when the attendant on duty alerted him that there was a mistake and he didn’t know how to change the prices.

“People kept coming, so fast,” Raval told the Associated Press. “Everything was crowded; it was like a fairground.”

Apparently some motorists were even filling up gas cans to cash in on the savings.

From LeftLaneNews.com


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reflection on a summer of firsts

Summer’s official end — not the one marked on the calendar — came crashing down this morning with the standard fall overcast and threat of rain.

I’m relieved that our Indigenous Summer was short lived, giving way to crisp autumn air, fresh pressed apple cider and that last hustle to any water high enough to keep trout on the pre-winter feedbag. Things have been busy on the fishing front this trout season, with a lot of firsts.

Tied my first flies. Caught the first fish with one of them flies. Landed my first brown since picking up fly fishing in earnest. The first group fishing trip organized by yours truly came off well. (My strategy counted on keeping everyone stuffed with good food in the event fishing was poor. Got lucky. It wasn’t.)

And I made a first attempt at mentoring a gentleman considering joining the sport. The downside is that he’ll now have to unlearn the bad habits I taught him.

In a month I’ll inaugurate the first of hopefully many end-of-season visits to the cabin to do the last bit of trout fishing before the mid November close. I’m trying my level best to balance the need desire to remove myself from the world via fly fishing with daily commitments and responsibilities, but dates in my mind increasingly are filtered by the opening days of various rivers or Sierra Nevada passes. The wife already knows that any suggestion of travel prompts my immediate inquiry about the inclusion of a fishing day.

Leaving tomorrow for the Seattle area will mean visiting family, gazing slack-jawed at spawning salmon and probably tip toeing between raindrops. And like fly fishing, planning and anticipation is half the fun.


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to infinity mpg and beyond!

The public relations hype news about the Chevy Volt possibly getting a 100 mpg rating from either the EPA or the California Air Resources Board could go down as one of the better attempts by a car maker to dupe consumers. The GM marketing machine seems to be trying to change the rules of the game to fit its skewed own model.

According to General Motors E-Flex spokesman Rob Peterson, the automaker has reached an agreement with the California Air Resources Board (CARB) that would see the 2011 Chevy Volt get a unique classification different from other current hybrids. This new classification takes into account the fact that the Volt’s 40-mile battery range allows it to complete the bulk of the emissions and economy test procedure without ever running the engine, which would likely give it a mpg rating of 100 mpg or better. [On AutoBog.com]

FYI, the EPA hybrid testing cycle currently requires that dual-power vehicles “…complete the test cycle with a charged battery.” This dooms the Volt to an overall 48 mpg rating — Prius and Civic hybrid territory.

According to GM, the Volt doesn’t use any fuel for the first 40 miles of driving, but having to end the cycle with a full battery will require the use of gasoline for recharging. So, based on GM’s argument, which implies thinking that the Volt shouldn’t have to end the testing cycle with a full battery, drivers shouldn’t be concerned with the second 40 miles, during which the Volt’s mpg will fall.

Assuming the Volt gets 50 mpg with the gasoline engine running to charge the battery, its actual mpg rating should require a sliding scale. 

Taking into account that the car can go 40 miles using no gas, if one where to drive 50 miles, during the last 10 miles it would use about 0.2 gallons, equaling 250 mpg.

While the average commute for U.S. workers nears 50 miles a day, add any additional miles — pick up the kids, groceries and that coffee iced double tall soy latte — and the rule of diminishing returns comes into play. Add another 30 miles for a total of 80 miles (40 on battery/40 with the engine running) and the total fuel economy falls to about 100 mpg.

Visit the relatives 300 miles away, and the Volt’s mpg dips to 62.5.

This is without including the cost of the electricity to charge the Volt when plugged in. And assuming 50 mpg with the engine running. And assuming driving only on flat ground. (I know from experience that the Prius mpg drops significantly going up hills.)

Does this mean an electric-only vehicle, which doesn’t have a gasoline tank, get ∞ miles per gallon?

Perhaps the EPA should determine mileage over a testing regime that runs for the equivalent of a tank of gasoline, say 400 miles?  Sort of like us consumers do?

The truth is somewhere in between, to be sure.


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another reason to like trout

You don’t need a .380 handgun. From a story in the Atlanta Constitution:

Leonard held a fishing rod outfitted with 15-pound line, which the gar could easily have snapped if the angler rushed things. So Leonard fought the fish for about an hour, letting it dive, reeling it in, then letting the fish run some more.

Finally, he dragged the fish to shore. “I was whooped,” said Leonard. “My arms were sore.”

But not too sore to pick up a .380 handgun. Bang! Bang! The gar lay still.

Read more here by clicking here.


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casting a fishy look at presidential candidates

[Non-fisher folk should make sure to read the footnotes.]

Herbert Hoover fishing the Klamath River at Brown's Camp, Calif.

Herbert Hoover fishing the Klamath River at Brown’s Camp, Calif.

While that hard-hitting bastion of political commentary, Field & Stream, didn’t dig up much news when it comes to presidential candidates Barack Obama and John McCain, an underlying current hints at a convert, nearly imperceptible effort to divide and conquer the fly fishing world.

On the Field & Stream Web site and in the current issue, interviews with both candidates hit the usual high points: the environmental and energy, gun control, the Clean Water Act, etc.

Meanwhile, the more important truths come out in the details.

In response to Deputy Editor Anthony Licata’s question, “Do you fish?” McCain responds:

Oh, I fish all the time. I fish for catfish. I fish for bass. I fish for bluegill that all are on our property [in a small pond] and in Oak Creek, which is our property up in northern Arizona. It’s on Oak Creek. Also, there is a fish hatchery that’s down from us — not on the property — obviously the state fish hatchery, trout, but I have to admit to you I’ve never caught one of their trout. Maybe they’ve never put them into the creek near our home.

Roughfishermen1, and by default that includes brownliners2, McCain may be your man.

But contrast grows, albeit not to the levels of black and white, when Obama answers the question, “What do you like to do outside?”

…one of the pleasures of being a presidential candidate has been traveling all across the country, and we spent quite a bit of time in Montana recently. And I’ve got to say that I am absolutely certain that one way or another, after this presidential process is over, whether — because I lose or because I win — and I’ve got a little vacation time coming, I’m going to learn how to fly fish, because that land is spectacular.

Obama: the hope of the blueliners3?

Admittedly and sadly, I probably disdain the divisiveness of politics more than any rabid and fanatical supporter of the Democratic party or GOP4. But I can’t help but wonder if we’d all be better off if any sitting president spent more time fishing5.

1 A moniker applied to those who fish for species deemed less desirable, i.e. carp, catfish, pikeminnow and often anything with fins that resides in often odiferous warmer, urban waters and the sluggish flows of irrigation ditches.

2 From “brownliners”: Those fishermen who dare to chase water fish is to be found in the aforementioned warmer, urban waters and irrigation ditches.

3 Those fishermen who chase the wily trout in snow-fed, crystal clear waters, such as alpine streams, spring creeks and wild rivers.

4 Ironically, southern Democrats first used the “grand old party” nickname and the Democratic party is, in fact, the older of the two political factions. The term was allowed to slip from the hands of the democrats    co-opted by the republicans used by the press in reference to Republicans in 1884 with the election of Ulysses S. Grant. (In the early days of the automobile, the “GOP” nickname gained another popular, although fleeting, translation: “Get Out and Push.”)

5 Fishing presidents, good and bad, include Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Herbert Hoover, Grover Cleveland, Jimmy Carter, Dwight D. Eisenhower and George Washington. FDR had a special chair built into his boats to allow him to fish. Eisenhower tried to teach vice-presidential running mate Richard Nixon to fly fish. (“It was a disaster,” Nixon admitted. “After hooking a limb the first three times, I caught my shirt on the fourth try. The lessons ended abruptly.”) Jimmy Carter loved fishing but admitted to being “piscatorially retarded.” And George Washington was, for a time, a commercial fisherman.


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fly fishing leads the way

Leave to the fly fishing industry to set an example of deciding what’s best for the sport, i.e. consumer, with the bonus that it’s more environmentally friendly.  A calculated risk to be certain, but I’d call it a smart mix of business acumen and anticipating an audience’s needs.

On day two of the Fly Fishing Retailer Show, Simms Fishing Products announced that it would stop using felt soles on its wading boots by 2010. While other boot makers offer rubber-soled wading boots, I think Simms is the first to ban felt from their entire line. The press release on Specialty News Web site sums it up:

[Simms President K.C.] Walsh said Simms’ decision to do away with felt is a result of the material being implicated in the spread of aquatic nuisance species and fish-killing disease. Walsh noted that anglers have always been among the nation’s first wave of conservationists, and with options to felt now on the market, anglers had a responsibility to both the resource and the tradition of angling to cease their use of felt.

Granted, the decision wasn’t made in a vacuum:

Late last week, national conservation leader Trout Unlimited asked at its annual meeting that wading boot manufacturers phase out felt by 2011.

While anglers are noted for an environmental consciousness and Simms professes to be “…eager to lead the charge” in leaving felt soles behind, it didn’t have to do so. The fact is it did.

Wonder if American auto makers might have benefited from adopting this approach a few years ago? Scary to think that because of a lack of forward thinking or opting to build what consumers might need — instead of selling them on bigger and faster — that we can no longer apply the idea of “too big to fail” to the big American auto makers, or, for that matter, any industry. Just ask AIG or Lehman Brothers.


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gotta get me a gig like that

It’s clear that someone missed the boat when it came to choosing a career path.

While the ASVAB would point me towards logistics in the U.S. Army and local community college’s career assessment would suggest fish and game warden or interior designer carpenter, not once was it revealed that scratching out a living in a rock and roll or funk or reggae band might nicely dovetail with fly fishing.

A story in The Destin Log tells of how Justin Powell’s four-piece Fly Brothers Band arose from “…this silly idea of forming a band so we could go around and fish all these hotspots.”

There’s an elegant simplicity to it — get paid to play all night then wake up and play on the water during the day. Sure, a few morning hatches might be missed thanks to the occasional and probable hangovers that come with the job.

It seems, however, that the monkey’s thrown the wrench into Mr. Powell’s plans…success may poison his plans. With real work comes dusty fly rods.