Flat tires on remote dirt roads. Terrible fishing trips. Miserable camping trips. Rainstorms. Snowstorms. Bugstorms. Skunkings.

Small trout. Big trout. Broken fly rods. Lost fish. Single. Married. The Meski years.

And no matter what – or where or when – you’ve come through. No matter what I asked of you.

Once, we huddled together for 18 hours in a wet, coffin-sized tent.

You never abandoned me. Never uttered a discouraging word. And willingly surrendered yourself so that I could live.

Sure, on hot days you got a little slippery. A little hard to handle.

Once I had to tear apart the box to free you. (Aahhhh, the box. Simple. Protective. And oy, the seductive photo on the cover…)

I ache for you, my little fly fishing snack...

Unlike so many over the last four decades, you’ve never promised more than you delivered. Never disappeared when things got tough. Never failed me.

Never let me down.

Some decry your petro-chemical origins. Or your unpronounceable list of incomprehensibly chemical ingredients. And years-away expiration date.

Me? In an impermanent world, I crave your longevity – your ability to weather weeks in the cab of a truck and still delight when your forgotten, half-empty box is joyfully discovered.

Let the others have their sad, rectangular fishing snacks.

Their recycled-cardboard Powerbars. Mashed, oozing sandwiches. Flattened, crumbling Fig Newtons.

Even their grimly organic, high-fiber wheatgrass cakes.

Whatever.

In this day and age, some will say my lust is wrong – that this is a forbidden love.

That man and snack food shouldn’t feel the way we feel about each other.

Screw them. You and I, we’ve got something special. We’ve shared things – moments no one can take away from us.

I say this: If enjoying your Rich Tasty Goodness is a crime, then I am a guilty man. And when the fishing begins anew, we’ll find each other in candy aisle.

Again.

See you with chocolate-smeared fingers, Tom Chandler.

Which is why we’re offering an image sure to get the attention of drunken discerning fly fishermen everywhere: A half-gallon “growler” of the Mt. Shasta Brewing Company’s latest stout:

Mt. Shasta Brewery's latest stout (and at 9%, it is)

At 9% alcohol, this bad boy not only tastes great, it will also put you far beyond caring about the day’s skunk – or even that compound fracture you sustained while wading at dusk.

And yes, this is crafted at the same brewery which drew the ire of a Vast Federal Agency for its use of “Try Legal Weed” on its bottlecap – a fight chronicled right here on the Underground (the leading fly fishing blog when it comes to the protection of your first amendment beer drinking rights).

They say money can’t buy happiness, but frankly, this half-gallon of rich tasty goodness suggests otherwise.

Come to me, my little growler of goodness. We’ll talk.

See you face down on the river, Tom Chandler.

Still, when the Underground’s Crack Team of Internet Surfing Slackers Online Food Operatives stumbled on this, we knew we had to post it.

Finally, a worthy appetizer for the Slaw Dog: The French Fry Coated Bacon On a Stick

Imagine: all the grease of bacon & frenchy fry breakfast, but nothing fouling your fly line when lunch is over? Can industry-wide adoption be far behind?

Are you all abandoning your jobs and opening French Fry Coated Bacon on a Stick street carts?

This, my lovely herd of Undergrounders, is no less than yet another Underground-powered breakthrough in fly fishing’s culinary zeitgeist.

See you in the coronary care unit, Tom Chandler.

ps – for something far healthier, visit the Chile Underground’s latest fish post.

Still, what’s been lost is something so rustic-yet-civilized, I can’t help but mourn its passing: The Civilized Shore Lunch.

Fishing in Maine exposed me to the traditional shore lunch — a time-consuming affair where the guides build a big fire, fry up some fish, boil onions and potatoes, sear steaks, and finish off the waistline-expanding meal with homemade pie.

Maine shore lunch in full swing.

At first, I was annoyed by the time spent away from fishing, but later — after it became clear the shore lunch was the point of the fishing trip for most of the participants — it became a highlight of the day.

The food was great, you got to practice the new fishing lies developed during the morning’s fishing, and the guides pooled information for the afternoon’s fishing.

Of course, stuffing yourself with a metric ton of food creates the possibility there won’t be an afternoon’s fishing, but that’s the beauty of a free society; you can take whatever you want from an experience.

New West’s Bill Schneider posts about his shore lunch experiences, and while the menu is different (the potatoes are fried, beans are heated in the can, and the onions aren’t boiled), the point of the exercise is clearly the same.

He even lays out the steps needed to build a big shore lunch (these guys and these guys even provide hints and recipes).

A Recipe for the Shore Lunch Comeback

It’s hard to imagine the shore lunch ever making a big comeback among fly fishers — it’s typically the province of guides in remote Northern latitudes — but I’ve got a plan.

I think fly fishing’s ready for some enterprising guide to offer The Ultimate Meal: The Slaw Dog Shore Lunch.

Face it — the ingredients are cheap, no trout are harmed, preparation is quick, and fly fishers even wear waders, so cleanup would be as easy as hosing off the anglers in the party.

Sure, a real Slaw Dog Shore Lunch would mean the guide would have to also carry an emergency angioplasty kit and defibrillator, but that’s a small price to pay for the throngs of clients who will surely come.

Once again, the Trout Underground makes the world a better place for fly fishing guides, free of charge.

[tags]fly fishing, fishing, shore lunch, new west, slaw dog[/tags]

The Kool-Aid soaked pickle.

Truly the mind reels. Some dillhead (get it?) has taken a perfectly good dill pickle, and then soaked it in Kool-Aid. And got someone else to pay for the result.

The Apocalypse is approaching. This is a sign.

[tags]pickle, kool aid[/tags]

Because the technologically challenged Raine refused to install a digital satellite uplink dish on his trailer (or buy the equipment needed to make it all work, including a laptop), we’re going to have to make do with the messages and photos relayed via his son’s cell phone.

First stop was apparently Ketchum, Idaho – home to the Big Wood River (one of my favorites), Silver Creek, and the mega-dollar estates of Sun Valley. With Silver Creek at his front door, and some of the West’s most spectacular (and expensive) real estate looking back through the windshield, what did we get from our adventurer?

OK, so our first installment touches on a familiar subject – food. It’s clear that Raine likes to fish, but – if his spectacular performance at the Great Slaw Dog Cookout was any indication – it’s clear he likes to eat even more. Still, his hastily texted message offers some hope of actual fishing information in the future. To whit:

From Ketchum: Big Wood blown. Silver Creek OK. Windy and cold. No hatch. Try again tomorrow.

No fishing for me last night, but I’m out of here this afternoon. The Upper Sac continues to fall, and I’ve got a couple of midriver spots that are probably just getting wadable. They’re on the radar, I’m on the Internet, but not for long. See you on the edge of your seat, Tom Chandler

Still, my Monday experience on the upper river suggests it’s not all wine and roses out there, and whenever you hear about some of the local sticks hitting fish, you’ve gotta realize those fish are typically the payoff for a lot of time spent on the river. Simply put, those might not be your fish or mine.

The Trout Underground’s Slaw Dog frenzy is apparently spreading like a virus to other fly fishing blogs; Guy at the immensely popular, constantly updated Fly Fishing Yellowstone blog offered his “stupid food” alternative, though not one this weight-loss hopeful is going to try:

Slaw Dogs: our neighborhood stupid eating tradition is simple; grab two of Marie Calendar’s frozen key lime pies and 3-4 pounds of Nutter Butter cookies. Great for a break. No need for silverware, just dip out the pies with the cookies. Wash it down with some good Maderia from V.Sattui. [editor: No silverware? You have to admire the eco-friendliness of it all...]

We leave you today with a couple links. The first isn’t a fly fishing link, but concerns a 15 pound cat treeing a black bear. Don’t miss it, and the next time your fishing buddy starts bragging about facing down a bear at a hot fishing spot, let him know that “hell — even a common housecat could do that…”

Then there’s an informative article about fishing wet flies on MidCurrent, which is always worth a visit. Wet flies are easy to fish, but have been largely forgotten by a sizable portion of the population (I’d like to believe I haven’t forgotten them and carry a box full of soft hackles, but don’t fish ‘em as often as I should). Good reading! See you on the river (soon), Tom Chandler.

Dave Roberts called to let me know he saw very few stoneflies on the Rogue yesterday, but he basically couldn’t keep the trout off the fly. Now there’s a problem for you. (Readers should write to share their sympathies for Dave, and to tell us how you deal with this difficult problem.)

Upper Sac flows have just nudged under 2000. They’ve come down significantly lately, and I know that lower tribs have really settled down, so I’m not expecting miracles when I check the upper reaches of the river. Still, 2,000 beats 3,000, and we’re headed in the right direction.

Monday Underground Entertainment? Some good pictures of a big, brown fish from Carp on the Fly, and some nice trout artwork from Japan via the often-updated Yellowstone Fly Fishing Blog. There’s also another nice report from Urban Fly Fishing the Kelvin (complete with the dreamy landscape pictures he always produces), and finally, another odd entry from our Overseas (and out of his head) Correspondent TeeRex, who completes his search for carp fishing and slaw dogs in the bars and dives of Shanghai. It’s not pretty reading, but damnit, it’s journalism, so here it is:

I completed my investigation of Slee Zee Chen’s; no fish there, not even in the slaw dawgs. Which, by the way, I taught the short-order chef how to make. (He was about 4 ft 9 inches tall, so he is For Sure a short order chef. Get it? Geez, I crack me up.) He had to substitute chicken’s feet and pig’s snout for the toob steak, and shredded daikon radish and bok choy for the slaw, but with enough chili oil and soy sauce it tasted about the same as a slaw dawg. If you’d had enough beer, that is. I’d send a picture, but I didn’t want to completely destroy your readership.

See you on the Upper Sac, Tom Chandler.

When I die, I want to go to heaven in… a Fish Coffin
Apparently, shaped coffins are the rage in Ghana. Wanna be buried in a fish? Coca-Cola bottle? Bible? Thanks to the Underground – and Alert Reader Gerry – you know where to go…

Why not? This looks a lot better to me than a square box… (yahoo news photo)

Massively Parallel Bass Fishing
Though I’m a bamboo & fiberglass fishing retro-grouch, I’m always on the lookout for technology that improves our lot in life. That’s why Sun Microsystem’s new game server array has made the news (and why Alert Reader Gerry sent it along); with any luck, you’ll soon be able to fish competitively online against other freakish tech geeks. Sure, Sun’s only talking Bass fishing at the moment, but expect the “A Massively Parallel River Runs Through It” version any day…

Yet More Shocking Slaw Dog News
Ian Rutter sent us this abominable “slaw dog” recipe, where our trusty tube steak treat is horribly mis-treated by modern cuisine. They substitute seared tuna for our beloved hunk of mystery meat, and then compound the crime with vegetables tossed in a “simple Oriental vinaigrette, which, when time is short, can be replaced with bottled citrus ginger dressing.”

Oh the humanity! (There is a letter to Viking in the Underground’s future). Ian somewhat snidely suggests this might be the perfect “California version” of the dog, but a little research reveals the ugly, ugly truth; Viking (the Web site hosting this affront to slaw dog lovers everywhere) is located in… Mississippi. Questions about why so many southern states overindulge in doubled letters aside, I think this illustrates a key talking point in the Underground’s upcoming political campaign: the assault against our gas station food heritage from every corner of the country.

More Carp News…
Finally, from another continent, Correspondent Mitch White reports there is no carp fishing in any bar in Tapei – at least none that he could find. Mitch is a statistician, and says he based this conclusion on “large-number” analysis, so we’re pretty sure he’s got it right. More research, he suggests, is on its way, especially at a place aptly named “Slee Zee Chen’s.” More coming from our courageous Chinese correspondent (assuming he finds his way back to the hotel).

The Upper Sac continues to slowly fall, with flows now entering the 2400 cfs range. That’s not what I’d call “happily fishable” but it is approaching the levels where you can actually accomplish something out there (though rarely gracefully). It’s a weekend for work, but there’s always a chance for a quick fishing expedition. As always, we’ll let you know. See you over the weekend, Tom Chandler.

The Beetle Bug claimed one bite, but nothing else, and I got desperate enough to hang a weighted Hare’s Ear 18” under the dry, which is how I got my next four hookups (and a few misses, if the dry is to be believed).

With the river booming, I spent a frustrating amount of time whacking my cane rod against branches and dead limbs when I was trying to set the hook, leading to a lot of fish who wriggled free as soon as they got some slack (which was pretty quick being as I couldn’t move the rod). At these flows, downriver is probably better.

Was it gorgeous? Spring in the upper canyon always is. Easy? Not on your life. This kind of fishing is best done with a tough rod with a soft tip, so don’t bring the cannon. (Might I suggest the 8.5′ 4wt Diamondback glass rods at Raine’s shop and the Ted Fay Fly shop?)With warmer weather here (and a little rain), the river’s again headed upwards…

One more for the slaw dog…
We received a cryptic piece of investigatory journalism from Alert Reader Matt, who says: “Slaw in Charleston WV. No slaw in Pittsburg. Clearly the Mason-Dixon line.” We don’t know which administration member leaked this vital information to Matt, but we know we’re going to bravely re-print it here despite the repercussions.

As we continue to uncover new information about the slaw dog, the Underground’s Slaw Dog Expert Ian Rutter is throwing in the towel. He writes “This slaw dog thing has become a cross between The Dancing Woo Li Masters and Six Degrees of Separation. I’m going to send you a box of moonpies so you can move on.”

His all-too-obvious attempt to bury this story can mean only one thing: He’s got something to hide. We’re going to find out what. (Still love to get the moonpies tho.)

Even yesterday’s trout are weighing in on the Slaw Dog. Will it ever end?

Three days on the Upper Sac…
Don’t forget about the Upper Sacramento’s River Exchange’s package for three days at CalTrout’s rustic fishing camp located on a great stretch of the river. Tell your friends. You can help raise some money for a great organization, and have some big fun in the process.

Offbeat book…
I just finished a book titled “The Offbeat Angler” – the adventures of a couple of fly fishers who actively chase lesser-pursued fish (carp, shad, etc.), often in urban settings. The two self-described “Brown Water Boys” have written an interesting book, especially given the recent interest in non-trout species. A work of literature destined to become a classic? Maybe not, but it is an extremely entertaining read, especially their adventures with the Land Captain – a Florida guide who specializes in car-based trips to canals and offbeat places.

One of the ‘Offbeat Anglers‘ authors with a Georgetown-caught carp.

You can read an excerpt at the eponymous MidCurrent site. Expect a longer review once I’ve paid some bills. Until then, see you on the offbeat water, Tom Chandler.

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