I once said April was the cruelest month (taxes, insurance, quarterlies for self-employed due, general trout season should be open but isn’t, etc), but I’m now expanding the “cruelest” designation to include all of winter (it turns out the Underground Owner’s Handbook gives me broad discretion in this area).

I’m replicating last winter’s string of Meski-induced sicknesses, and starting to wonder if I’ll ever wake up with a clear head again. It’s not that the gallons of snot produced by my tiny pointed head are so daunting; it’s that my intellectual processes operate as if they’re lubed by molasses, and the writing contains all the color, sparkle and oiled smoothness of beach sand.

Complicating matters is the Underground’s recently purchased Mega Pro Extreme Supercomputer of Doom, which now sits quietly in its original packaging, waiting for a trip back to the vendor after dying a slow death in the midst of a “get the damned work done” frenzy.

Needless to say, not much did get done.

Sure, it’s covered under warranty – and I’d intelligently repaired the old desktop and run it in parallel, so the switch to the old machine was largely painless – but the whole episode suggests bad karma on the electronics front.

When I suggested the karmic curse, the L&T – familiar with my reverse Midas touch (every electronic item I touch turns instantly to inert metals) – just said “duh.”

Still – if the popular entertainment media are any indication, it’s clear the forces of good will eventually triumph over the forces of evil (viral or electronic in nature).

Until then, expect more sand here on the Underground.

Spring Comes to the Late 1900s

I lived in and around San Jose (and the rest of the Southbay area) for a long time – watching it transformed from a sleepy place with orchards into a thriving high-tech center filled with hordes of people on the verge of road rage.

When you’re a fishermen, you do what it takes to get your fix, so out of necessity, most of my fishing was of the warmwater variety (I float-tubed a lot of the smaller lakes), including the early mornings I’d drive to one of the pothole reservoirs before dawn and start casting to bass with topwaters as the sun came up.

I grew up in a family of people with little interest in fishing, so in one sense, my twenties served as a second childhood, at least from a fishing perspective.

Fishing my 7.5′ 5wt Fenwick glass rod or an ultralight spinning rod while creeping along the shore or skulking in a float tube offered up the kind of good time (and fishing education) that resonates today, even as I live amongst California’s better trout and steelhead waters.

You’ll pry my clear, cold (and nearby) trout streams from my cold, dead fingers, but anybody who looks down their nose at chasing bass with plastic worms or small surface plugs needs a high colonic performed on their attitude.

Which is why – in the grip of winter – I felt a pang of nostalgia when I read this morning’s Bay Area fishing report, which included a few of the lakes I fished in the 80s and 90s:

CALERO: Bass are moving to shallow water and can be found from 4 to 15 feet. Use jigs, crankbaits or spinnerbaits. Colors don’t seem to matter. Crappie are starting to show. 408-268-3883, 408-463-0711.

CHESBRO: Jigs, Texas-rigged worms and drop-shotting get bass to 4 pounds. Average bass is 2 pounds. Catfish bite is very good with chicken livers, sardines or anchovies. 408-358-3741, 408-463-0711.

UVAS: Catfish and bass bite have turned on. Cutbaits get cats. Bass are moving into the shallows so shore anglers and boaters have a good shot. 408-463-0711.

No wonder winter seemed so short when I lived down there; with bass moving shallow at the end of January, it’s clear it barely even existed from a fishing standpoint.

Most of us maintain a fishing history involving catfish, bluegill, bass and spinning equipment, and what’s odd is how some feel the need to hide that history, as if touching warmwater fish or conventional gear stains them to this day.

When we were younger – and even though we might have longed for the kind of Lee Wulff big trout/remote places adventures spelled out in the sporting media – we fished not because it was extreme (unlike the videos, it was never accompanied by a driving rock soundtrack), but because it was damned good fun, even if we wanted something else at the time.

Someday…

Someday, California Fish & Game will drag itself into the 21st century, and we might see enlightened management of rivers and streams that recognizes the existence of catch & release (just like on the Upper Sacramento River).

(And yes, were it legal, I damned well would ski my way up to a few nearby streams and fly fish them for tiny trout.)

Still, the Upper Sacramento River is starting to fall into nice shape, and though the BWO hatches are largely gone, there’s still hope.

Things Change, Even In Winter

My consulting biz is going good; I’m building out a pair of websites this week, including the second phase of a big project the Undergrounders will eventually find interesting.

And while the Underground hasn’t been sold to an industry player (like this firearm blog), it’s possible I’ll find myself writing for a wholly revamped conservation website a couple months from now, which will mean a little less time for the Underground.

Until then, I have to respect the Freelancer’s Code: Naming a new client before the contracts are signed is really, really bad juju.

Finally, it turns out the company that produced the theme defining the look and feel of the Trout Underground isn’t abiding by the WordPress license (WordPress is the software that powers TU).

Because I don’t like featuring the work of people who don’t play nice, Singlebarbed and I are searching for a new theme for our sites. We might take an approach similar to our current layout, or – to better feature our content to the steady stream of new visitors – might go for something a Little more magazine-ish in style (more article summaries).

You’ll see it when we see it.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler

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