“I don’t have any illusions of permanence… It’s just that I can live with any number of things going straight to hell as long as these streams continue to hold up. If this amounts to living in a Fool’s Paradise, don’t waste your time trying to explain that to the fool.”

– John Gierach, Fool’s Paradise

With sixteen fly fishing books to his credit - all of which have been continuously in print since their release - John Gierach might just be fly fishing’s most-read writer.

Twenty years has passed since the publication of Gierach’s eponymous Trout Bum — a book that remains the favorite of many Gierach fans — and while Gierach’s perspective has evolved, his style remains recognizably (and comfortably) his own.

In his newest book — Fool’s Paradise — Gierach’s facility for one-liners and wry observation from outside the mainstream remain undiminished, and he combines the two frequently:

“I’m still waiting for Americans to realize that being in constant communication is not an advantage, but a short leash. Cell phones have changed us from a nation of self-reliant pioneer types into a bunch of men standing alone in supermarkets saying ‘Okay, I’m in the the tampon aisle, but I don’t see it.’”

Later — at the start of one of my favorite chapters in the book (”Creeks”) — Gierach does it again with:

“While killing time in a Starbucks in Portland, Oregon, not long ago, I was idly eavesdropping on two businessmen when one — invoking the tired cliche — said that their problems might be solved if they could start thinking outside the box. The other, younger man replied, ‘Dude, there’s no box.’”

Some fans might be shocked to hear that Gierach spent time in a Starbucks, or that he’s softening his stance on bamboo rods to the point that he fished a graphite rod all week long on another road trip:

“So one afternoon I was happily casting a foam stonefly pattern on a graphite rod when our guide said, ‘You know, if this gets out, you could lose your charter membership in the Old Farts’ Club.’”

Of course, revealing snapshots of your life to strangers comes at a cost; our view of Gierach is partially one of a writer who existed 20 years ago, and in the meantime, Gierach has moved along in his life, and frankly, that’s part of the allure of reading his newer books.

I mean, exactly what is happening with AK, Mike Clark, Ed Engle and the rest of the gang?

I’m tempted to suggest the “theme” of Fool’s Paradise revolves around the concept of change, and I could back it up with a lot of carefully selected passages, but in truth, that’s the kind of thing a critic says out loud while an author scratches his head and wonders what book the guy was reading.

Still, Gierach’s recent books (Fool’s Paradise is his first in three years) recognize the fact he’s not 30 any more, and in places, he does what you’d expect anyone approaching 60 might do; he looks back on his life.

To Gierach’s credit, he does so with a sense of wonder:

“This is how time occasionally works. One minute you’re a thirteen-year-old drowning worms for bluegills because muskies are among the countless things that are out of your league; the next minute you’re a decently preserved fifty-eight and finally landing a muskie. Surely all kinds of things have happened in between, but at the moment, you can’t remember any of them.”

On a fishing trip to the Fryingpan River with Jim Babb, Gierach cops to the changes that have occurred since he became a trout bum, though he also recognizes the dangers of relying on his own memory:

“One afternoon between hatches, I even started in on how the fish used to be bigger here but lost steam after I saw Jim’s skeptical glance. It does seem true, but then over the years we’ve drifted away from the shoulder-to-shoulder hog holes up under the dam (the most famous one is known as the ‘the Toilet Bowl’) into lesser, but also less crowded, water downstream that we’ve since come to know and love. And when I go back over old photos and see that the Fryingpan fish don’t seem as big as I remember, it’s not entirely reasonable to assume that all the snapshots of the really big trout must have gotten lost.

“Jim listened to all this politely, understanding that the old-timer’s litany we all grew up hearing becomes irresistible once you realize that the list of things that just aren’t the same anymore will soon include you — if it doesn’t already.”

One thing that hasn’t changed is Gierach’s wholly readable style. I’ve often said he’s a deceptive writer; he folds keen observation and surprising insight into essays so readable that you arrive at the “a-ha!” moment without realizing he’s been herding you that way the last four pages.

Fool’s Paradise will no doubt be snapped up by Gierach’s faithful.

Those looking for fly fishing instruction will be disappointed, though anyone looking for insight into the fly fishing life — without the trappings of ego that cloud the writings of so many others — will find this is a typically enjoyable (and re-readable) collection of essays.

[Note: You can find the dates & locations of Gierach’s book tour here]

Technorati Tags: john gierach,gierach,fools paradise,trout bum,book review

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AEG’s first two DVDs generated truckloads of buzz, they market hard, they’ve fired up a film tour, and they’ve even persuaded a few fly fishing manufacturers to break open their marketing piggy banks — and this in an industry where "free gear" is the normal currency.

Still, those who rush out to buy AEG’s Fish Bums 1: Mongolia will find themselves viewing a very different kind of movie.

Gone are the slashing surface takes and hold-your-breath sequences of big trout eyeballing a dry fly.

In their place, substitute a handful of less-visual streamer hookups — but bigger, meaner fish, and more miles under the wheels.

Also gone are a few the last edition’s more irritating moments (I didn’t hear "sleeping in the dirt" this time).

The overall effect is one of fewer fish, bigger adventure, and a more mature take on the whole enterprise.

Fewer, Bigger Fish

This time the AEG crew are combing Mongolia in search of Taimen; a big, aggressive member of the salmon family (though they don’t run to the ocean) sometimes called the River Wolf.

Like most apex predators, there aren’t a lot of Taimen to begin with, their numbers are dwindling, and they’re somewhat reclusive.

This brings us to the most most startling aspect of Fish Bums 1: Mongolia: the number of fishless days suffered by the crew at the start of the DVD.

At first, I wondered if this wound wasn’t largely self-inflicted; did they do their homework, or not?

It’s a fine line; adventure is clearly part of the plan, and while you could catch big, carnivorous fish from any number of places closer than Mongolia, traveling halfway around the world — right into the maw of uncertainty — is clearly as much the goal as big fish.

This time, AEG experiences life from 4wd vans, horseback, and even resort to a pair of oversized Russian military uber-vehicles. Interestingly, the farther from "civilization" they go, the less attitude we see.

Finally — after even the viewer begins to despair — AEG finds Taimen enough for everyone in the group, though not before experiencing stuck vehicles, frozen rivers, missing vehicle shuttles, and some pissed-off camels.

To get Taimen to bite, they construct monster streamers from yak fur trimmings, and not only are the flies huge and ugly, they’re also (thankfully for AEG) effective.

A Very Different Feel

The prior AEG videos had the feel of an extended road trip, but the Mongolia version strikes off in a slightly different direction; the sense of removal from what we laughingly call "civilization" is an almost palpable part of the experience.

One online critic derided the Mongolia DVD as the equivalent of a National Geographic special. I’d suggest it has some elements of a travel documentary, but that those moments could be the real strength of the video.

Fish porn only goes so far — especially when you’re talking about fish caught beneath the surface on huge streamers.

After all, footage of fishermen struggling against bent rods doesn’t fire the imagination the way a 10 pound brown eating a mouse pattern might, and you’d be a fool to treat an adventure to Mongolia the same way you’d treat a trip to the local big fish fleshpot.

The Complaint Department

Overall, I liked it, but every reviewer has nits to pick. For example, at times Fish Bum 1 feels a little superficial, as if we’re skimming along the surface, not allowed to see the less-pretty stuff underneath.

At one point, the crew floats up to their takeout point, and their trucks aren’t waiting for them. They build a fire to stay warm, and… and… we’re left hanging just a little bit.

And did the team experience personal conflict, or were we supposed to believe they were a happy crew all the time?

After all, it’s not a glossy travel film with celebrities and scrubbed, smiling hosts. Instead - as the closing credits roll - you want to feel like you’ve been along for the ride (only without the smell).

And at a little over an hour in length, it feels a little rushed. Longer would have been better, though — like most DVDs — some of the best footage can be found in the outtakes.

Last Cast

Fish Bum 1: Mongolia is well worth watching. Production values are predictably good, and the documentary style is straightforward and non-intrusive.

AEG fans will almost certainly buy Fish Bum 1: Mongolia, though I suspect a lot of them would say AEG’s earlier videos offer a better fish porn experience.

So be it. We’ve all caught fish, but hardly any of us have driven across Mongolia after fish, and ultimately, that’s the bit that interests me.

Rather than pure fish porn, I’d tend to cast Fish Bum 1: Mongolia as a hybrid between a Michael Palin travel video and AEG’s earlier efforts (only without Michael Palin, sadly).

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Sadly, I just caught Madison River episode, and it fell far short.

The trailer is cool, but the episode is disappointingly stiff and slow moving.

While host Smethhurst (of Running Down the Man fame) will almost certainly get better as the series progresses, I’ve got to ask why the producers are still subjecting viewers to hoary, staged scenes that are feigning spontaneity?

In several instances, we’re supposed to believe Smethhurst is meeting someone for the first time, yet the camera’s already there to record the moment.

With fly fishing video shifting to an engaging documentary style (witness the rise of AEG, Felt Soul Media, and others), you have to wonder why On The Rise is playing out the stilted cliches of years past.

Transitions are slow, the scenes plodding, the narration ponderous, and we only catch glimpses of Smethhurst’s fly fishing talent.

A glance at the credits enlightens us; Barrett Productions is the company behind On The Rise (the folks who subjected the fly fishing world to all those glossy, quarter-inch-deep celebrity fly fishing videos and the painful-to-watch Fly Fishing Masters series).

On The Rise is a great concept (Smethhurst traveling the country in his trout-painted trailer) that fails to captivate.

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His latest book — Kerplunk!– is more of the same, and McManus fans will no doubt be pleased by that.

His earlier essays chronicled his adventures as a young man, and while they were clearly fiction, they contained enough real world stuff that you knew he was writing from an autobiographical perspective.

McManus’ best humor is based on his mastery of the “unintended consequence” — where a simple, slightly skewed idea spirals out of control.

Disaster is the inevitable result, but this being humorous fiction, nobody gets hurt (too badly).

Some of his essays stay with me to this day; I remember reading his “The Deer on the Bicycle” story (about deer hunting as a kid, using a bicycle as transportation) and not being able to contain my laughter (in science class… yikes).

While his latest book — Kerplunk!– might not be his sharpest work, there is still plenty to smile about.

“Uh-Oh!” (and other things guides shouldn’t say) not only made me laugh, but made me think of the chilling phrases I’ve heard from guides along the way (”Uh, you seen the anchor?”).

Kerplunk delves into McManus’ modern-day exploits in the Pacific Northwest (mostly as an adult), focusing mainly on fishing and hunting trips that — trust me — you won’t want to duplicate.

Those who have never read his largely self-effacing outdoor humor essays might also want to read his earlier books, but Kerplunk!is a solid addition to his bibliography.

See you in the bookshelves, Tom Chandler.

Click to buy a copy of Kerplunk!

Technorati Tags: kerplunk,patrick mcmanus,book review,humor,outdoor humor

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While I remain a little skeptical of the practical advantages of large arbor reels, I bought one a few years ago — after Chris Raine and I started catching big, fast-moving fish on tiny dries and tippets. We figured the hatch would last forever, and if it did, I wanted to be ready (it didn’t; don’t even ask; and we’re not telling).

So I went searching for a reel with an extremely smooth drag (even at very light settings) for my “technical” DT4 rig, stumbled across a Lamson Velocity 2 on closeout, bought it, and fell in love with the thing. It’s solid, light, and the drag is absolutely smooth at the lightest settings — an irritatingly weak spot on a lot of very expensive reels (my Galvans are excellent in this respect too).

When I had the chance to sit down with the Lamson/Waterworks folks at FFR, I took it. Their reels were intriguing, and more importantly, their design philosophy was impressive. In simple terms, they’re not machinists making reels — they’re designers looking to strip fly reels down to a tightly engineered minimalism.

Their reels use far fewer parts than your average fly reel, with even spool counterweights and spool latching mechanisms cleverly eliminated.

It’s an approach that appeals to the “simpler is better” part of my brain. It’s also an approach that’s appealing to the market; Lamson/Waterwork’s sales increased a hefty 35% last year.

Their premium reels are interesting, but in addition to liking things simple, I also like them cheap; that’s why Lamson’s new $119-$149 Konic reel immediately flashed on the Trout Underground’s radar.

The Konic; Lamson’s $129 reel with the $400 drag. Tommy likes.

The key to the Konic is Lamson’s sealed conical drag — the exact same sealed unit you’ll find on their $400 reel. If you believe a fly reel is basically a drag mechanism surrounded by something designed to hold the fly line away from the center spindle, then this reel’s appeal far outstrips its somewhat drab finish.

It’s die cast and then machined, and I know some of you are already rolling your eyes, but to the “machined or die” partisans, I simply point to the hordes of die-cast Hardy Lightweights still catching fish.

And besides, these guys do die-casting a little differently:

In order to deliver this expensive drag in a low-priced reel we are die casting the frame and spool. But this is no low-end die casting. This is Pressure Casting with molten ALDC12 aluminum alloy injected at 1,080 kgs pressure to ensure consistent, smooth and strong parts with lower porosity.

Like many, I wondered aloud at the durability of the Waterworks reels when they were introduced in the 90s, but their record over time suggests the problem lay more with my perception of what a reel should look like than with the reels themselves.

The drag mechanism itself is impressive; not only is the sealed-for-life mechanism maintenance free, it’s also wildly smooth. For those who — like me — like to set their drag light, the Konic’s drag micro-adjusts from almost no drag to reasonable settings in discrete, tiny steps.

Hot damn.

The finish of the reel won’t excite those looking for brook trout themed paint jobs; it’s a silvery grey polyurethane finish that’s as tough as your average anvil, and generates about the same amount of sex appeal.

Still, Lamson’s betting some fly fishers actually buy gear because they want to fish the stuff (never a sure bet in this industry), and I find myself hoping they’re right.

How the Konic looks on a bamboo rod is open to interpretation, but those hunting for a more traditional look would probably consider the Radius anyway (the next reel up in the line).

Prior to the show, Alert Underground Contributor and Director of Scrounging Sully urged me to steal borrow one of Lamson/Waterworks’ top-of-the-line reels, and while the opportunity sadly never presented itself, I think their Konic reel’s a steal unto itself.

You can read all of Lamson’s Konic Reel Marketing Propoganada by clicking here.

For sheer usefulness and price – and for focusing on the parts of the reel that really matter — I’m giving Lamson/Waterworks four rollcasts (out of five) for the Konic.

More to come from FFR.

Technorati Tags: fly fishing, fly reel, fly fishing reel, lamson, waterworks, konic drag, fly reel review, reel review

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To recap, I went to studded rubber soles because hiking along the railroad tracks quickly wore the felt off my studded felt boots, leaving behind protruding carbide studs that skated dangerously on smooth rocks. 

Life is dangerous enough without adding hazards along the river, so I tried the studded rubber Weinbrenner boots.

More than a year into their working lives, I’m happy to report they’re doing well, though the rubber sole is wearing towards the stitching at the edge of the sole.

Still, they’ve worked well under a wide variety of conditions (including freestone rivers, small streams, and while mostly sober), so I’m happy.

The footing isn’t quite a secure as it is with studded felts, but it’s probably in the 80%-90% range (it seemed to get a little better as the soles aged).

The good news? Grip on dry, riverside rocks is better than to studded felt, so when I’m rock-hopping on dry land, they’re great.

They’re also a bit stiffer laterally, so my feet are less likely to get torqued and twisted between rocks.

Worst case scenario for studded rubber? Rounded, heavily slimed rock beds. Best? Fishing small streams, where you’re hiking on dry land more than you’re in the water.

On the whole, I’d say any non-trustfunder on all but the most difficult rivers might want to give these things a try, if only in the interests of financial survival.

Of course, if you’re not fishing a lot — or aren’t wearing out your felt soles quickly –then perhaps change is overrated.

Eternity’s Boot

Sadly, when I went to Weinbrenner’s site to see about resoling these babies (they don’t need it yet), I discovered the studded rubber boot wasn’t listed, and neither was the re-soling service.

An e-mail to Weinbrenner’s wading boot e-mail address was bounced back by the server, and my e-mail to the company’s standard email address hasn’t been answered.

Bad omens, and it’s likely that Weinbrenner’s out of the studded rubber sole business. No worries — others sell studded rubber, and in a pinch, you can simply buy the plain rubber soles, screw in sheet metal screws, and viola — you’re there.

At least so I’m told.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

Technorati Tags: fly fishing, wading boots, fishing, gear review

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The fishing was slow, so the Helios photo session took place.

“How can it be lighter than Zero?” you ask? Well, despite consulting Albert Einstein on this one, we’re not sure, but I will testify that the rod is light. In fact, the box arrived, I hefted the tube, thought it was empty, and figured I was the victim of a practical joke played by Hathaway at Orvis.

Turns out the joke was on me. There was a rod in the tube — a prototype so new it lacked the Orvis name, the “Helios” label, and even the final cosmetics.

A call to Tom Rosenbauer at Orvis was oddly unproductive; manufacturers are usually keen to babble endlessly (to the point of nausea) about the technology behind their shiny new stuff, but Rosenbauer cagily told me to forget about the technology and just report my impressions.

Hmmm. The Mystery Pitch. Interesting. (more…)

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How the buffalo came to teeter on the brink of extinction is the subject of Last Stand by Michael Punke – a gripping historical account of the eradication of the buffalo and the founding of Yellowstone National Park.

Battle to Save the Buffalo

In Last Stand, Punke details early conservationist George Bird Grinnell’s battle to save both the bison and newly formed Yellowstone Park from hunters and powerful railroad interests.

It opens with a bang; Punke leads with a chilling account of a hunter killing 107 buffalo without leaving his stand, setting the stage for his narrative about the death of the American west.

A better story than most of the fiction I’ve read, Punke’s book focuses on George Bird Grinnell – a man largely responsible for the conservation of much of the American west, but whom remains mostly unknown today.

Opposing him were all the usual suspects: short-sightedness, a belief that the frontier was infinite, a desire to deal with the “Indian problem,” commercial interests, and of course, naked greed.

Wide Ranging Narrative

Punke does a commendable job of weaving together the myriad storylines affecting the west, connecting threads from Lewis & Clark to Custer to Bird’s battle against congressional inaction in the face of a strong railroad lobby.

George Bird – editor of Forest and Stream magazine – was an early convert to the cause of preserving the American west, and the climax of the book details his last-ditch efforts to preserve the handful of remaining buffalo.

With the help of a US Army Captain fighting a wave of poachers in the park, Bird marshaled his few allies in congress, beat back the railroad lobby (who wanted half of Yellowstone for their own use), and finally – with the help of an outraged public – succeeded in legislating protections against poaching in the National Parks.

The rapid decimation of the buffalo herds is a recurring (and distressing) theme in Punke’s book:

“The numbers paint the stark picture at the end. In 1882, the Northern Pacific Railroad alone shipped 200,000 hides to eastern processing facilities, an amount that filled an estimated 700 boxcars. In 1883, the railroad shipped 40,000 hides. In 1884, the total harvest fit in a single boxcar, and according to a Northern Pacific official, ‘it was the last shipment ever made.’”

Punke even details the lamentable efforts by many hunters to be the “last to kill a wild buffalo.”

Hunters acknowledged the damage done in pursuit of what quickly became a marginal commercial enterprise, but shrugged off the buffalo’s impending eradication and decided to get what they could while they could.

Meet the New West; Same as the Old West

It’s impossible to read Last Stand without drawing some parallels to the perils facing today’s parks and wilderness areas – privatization, commercialization, and how to preserve wild game stocks in the face of encroaching domestic stocks.

Today, of course, the Old West is long gone, and the landscape surrounding Yellowstone National Park is populated with cattle, ranches, seasonal towns and hordes of automobile-bound tourists.

It’s all the more reason to read Punke’s interesting and compelling book, and anyone who has ever read an account of the Lewis & Clark expedition will likely find Last Stand an outstanding read.

For making history so compelling, I give it two fins up.

Last Stand: George Bird Grinnell, the Battle to Save the Buffalo, and the Birth of the New West

Hardcover: 304 pages
Product Dimensions: 9.1 x 5.9 x 1.2 inches

p.s. — I updated my “Review” page to include all my media reviews. Give it a visit and see what you’ve missed.

Technorati Tags: last stand, michael punke, buffalo, bison, book review

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Quirky and interesting, it was a documentary-style movie that followed a handful of young fly fishers as they roamed around South America, fishing for big, big trout, some of which may had never seen a fly before.

Let’s face it: Big fish – in real life or on video — never had a problem finding an audience among fly fishers.

Kiwi Camo

Trout Bum Diaries II is the sequel. Titled Kiwi Camo, this movie’s based in New Zealand, where the fish are huge, and the fishing is tough.

Right out of the gate, I’m going to cut to finish: Kiwi Camo is a better produced, higher-quality, slicker DVD than the original Trout Bum diaries.

Watch the DVD’s starting sequence, and you’ll know why. The camera lingers on the logos of the project’s corporate sponsors, who presumably supported this DVD with more than just equipment.

As a result, production values are far better, though I can’t say whether life on the road for the bums was more comfortable.

Better. Prettier. Louder.

Simply put, the quality of the footage is stunning. No doubt aided by New Zealand’s crystal clear waters, the above-water photography in Kiwi Camo is as definitive as anything I’ve seen.

(more…)

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For the terminally numerically inclined, it’s 1.75 inches deep, which translates to 860 pages of words and pictures.

Subtitled “1001 of the World’s Greatest Backcountry Honeyholes, Trout Rivers, Blue Ribbon Waters, Bass Lakes and Saltwater Hot Spots” it’s not a book you’ll read from front to back, and therein lies the rub.

What exactly are you supposed to do with it?

Good Writer. Odd Concept.

The author is an entertaining writer, though several of my sample readings suggest he’s at his pithiest when he has the least to say.

That’s not unusual, and the author has something interesting to write about many of the fishing locations, most of which are well known. When in doubt, they say, go with what you know, so when I received my review copy of the book, I went right to the section on California.

(more…)

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I think concerns about weight are way overblown, so as a result, modern, high-quality (and high-priced) graphite isn’t much in evidence in my rod closet.

So when I had the chance to score a high-end Orvis rod (disclosure: a trade) I went for a rod that played to graphite’s better qualities: a big fish/high winds/sinking line/streamer rod.

I went with a 9′ 6wt in the Orvis “mid flex” (7.5 flex), figuring I’d feel more at home with the taper than with the “tip flex” rods which I don’t much care for.

The wraps are simple, and the deep red blank is handsome.

I’ve fished the rod four times under winter conditions (it’s a special-purpose rod after all–if I waited until I used it a dozen times you’d be reading this a year from now), including a couple brief flings with a streamer, casting a dry, and [sigh] nymphing.

First.

I have some serious doubts about technology being the one true path to fly rod happiness, but I will say Orvis got the cosmetics right.

The Zero Gravity comes in a gorgeous, pebbled finish red tube, and the blank itself is handsome, deep red color. Pretty.

The wraps are clean and neat (what you’d expect from a high-end rod), and the guides appear to be standard

The new Orvis reel seats are shapely (and clearly lightweight) affairs, though they’re overshadowed a bit by the 7″ reverse wells grip, which is (to my preference) too long, though the center swell fills the hand nicely.

Of course, that kind of grip is pretty standard on today’s production rods, and if you’re a total pain in the ass about a grip, you’re probably buying custom rods anyway.

Gorgeous reel seat.

Enough About Pretty. Is it Manly?

You knew we’d get around to this eventually. First, this rod is–as advertised–as light as you’d expect it to be.

I know some fly fishers who obsess over the loss of an eighth of an ounce off their fly rod, a practice any bamboo fly rod guy finds oddly misplaced, but then, Sage, Loomis and others have been selling this kind of technology (with great success) for years, so you can hardly blame Orvis for following suit.

According to Orvis, the Zero Gravity rods use a thermoplastic resin, boron fibers and a unidirectional carbon scrim to produce blanks that are “25% stronger yet 25% thinner than comparable blanks, and 40% lighter.”

Clearly, fly rods are growing lighter, and as I understand it, the challenge nowadays is to retain some semblance of strength in the things, which I understand to be the real reason they went to the thermoplastic resin.

All I can say for sure is the rod didn’t break, and an Orvis dealer I spoke to said he had yet to see a broken one. And sadly, I haven’t yet fought a 28″ steelhead on the thing to truly test it.

If I do, you’ll hear about it soon enough.

So let’s just say the rod is clearly competitive on the technology front, give durability a tentative checkmark, and move on.

How Does it Fish?

Simply put, it casts nicely. Given that all high modulus graphite rods feel stiff to my hand, I found this rod a surprisingly smooth caster.

The tip was light enough to fish well at close range, yet the rod was certainly capable of throwing a lot of line. A lot.

My first tendency with a lot of modern graphite rods is to throw a heavier line on the thing to try and squeeze some semblance of feel out of the thing, and I was happily surprised to discover this Zero G rod didn’t need that.

Wayne Eng cast the rod and also felt it was “true” 6wt, so Orvis clearly got this part of the taper right.

Also surprising was the all-around “troubability” of the thing: modern freshwater 6wts are typically only fished over big trout and small steelhead, so you wouldn’t expect 6x delicacy from the thing, though in fact I did land a feisty 15″ trout on a 6x nymph dropper.

Score one for reasonable tapers.

I also threw a weighted streamer for a while, and the rod was certainly up to the job, though I have yet to find a rod where that kind of activity might be considered fun.

Of course, if high-modulus graphite rods have a sweet spot, it’s centered directly over nymphing, and I can say two things with certainty:

1. This rod nymphs extremely well–it’s strong enough to pitch a couple shot and excels at setting the hook. If I was a nymph fisher, I’d use this rod fulltime.
2. If fly fishing was only about indicator nymphing, I’d take up bowling.

All-Rounder

In truth, I was surprised at how nice the rod was, though I’m not busy listing my 5wt bamboo and glass rods for sale.

It’s at testament to the flexibility of medium tapers that this would probably make a nice all-around rod if you primarily fished freestone rivers or lakes, especially in windy/big fly situations.

If you were buying a rod specifically for flinging streamers the size of squirrels, then I’d do what Ian Rutter suggests and get a 7wt.

Still, if you were into high-tech rods and wanted a powerful-yet-all-around 6wt that fished lakes, stoneflies and freestoners (on windy days no less), then I’d have to give the Zero Gravity a thumbs up.

It would make a great windy-day back up to a 4wt that you could keep fishing after the wind died down (on anything short of a spring creek) and not give much away in terms of fishability or even tippet protection.

For a backwards, low-modulus kind of guy like myself, this is clearly a special-purpose rod, but–unlike some of the steeper, faster taper graphite rods I’ve tried–I could fish this one a large percentage of the time and not feel like I’d died and been sent to fly fishing hell for swearing on the Internet.

It’s a reasonable, fishable 6wt that does some things extremely well, which is about all you can really ask from a fly rod.

Orvis makes a damned pretty rod tube.

Technorati Tags: orvis, fly rod, orvis fly rod, zero gravity, zero gravity fly rod, graphite fly rod

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The Reams 8.5′ 5wt, 3-pc Hollowbuilt (Prototype). Pretty rod. So-so picture.

That might have been true as little as a year ago, but the Internet holds no secrets for long. Simply put, Reams has been discovered, and discovered fast.

He’s been flooded with orders for his elegant hollowbuilt bamboo rods since his Web site “went public” in early 2006, and his name is often spoken on the bamboo-related boards.

Then there’s the ultimate arbiter of fame in the digital age: Google. Type “Jim Reams” and the rod builder’s name pops up atop the list (ahead of a prosecutor and a bluegrass musician).

Interestingly, I’ve very quickly found myself at that point where I can shake my head and say “I knew Jimmy before he was famous” - and sound only slightly moronic doing so.

Enough. What About the Rod?

A couple weeks ago, the postman (my new best friend) left a package on my front porch, and what I found inside was an 8.5′ 5wt hollowbuilt Reams.

Not one of his listed tapers, it was a 3-pc prototype that could soon find its way into his catalog.

First, the obvious stuff. Jimmy’s cane work is excellent (no flaws found). The rod’s nodes are short and tight, with little evidence of grinding.

The blank itself is straight as an arrow, and the ferrule fit is smooth.

Reams varnishes his blank, then wraps and varnishes the wraps.

And while I can’t see it, I’ve seen other examples of Jimmy’s painstaking hollow building work. Good stuff.

In short, there are no shortcuts evident in this rod.

Never having been one for overthick varnish, I appreciate Jimmy’s smoothly finished blanks and separately varnished wraps.

The blank is a dark caramel color with reddish undertones, the wraps are a lovely dark brown, and the ferrules are darkly blued.

The overall effect is one of an understated elegance and functionality, and that’s no accident.

Reams builds his rods to fish, and one look at the fast-ramping full wells grip (similar to the Powell style) reinforces this belief.

It’s a fisherman’s grip.

The reel seat is an uplocking slide band over a wood spacer. I’m curious to see how this seat holds up over the years, but must say the appearance is striking.

Hollow Built Performance

Ask any accomplished builder why they hollow build, and most will tell you it’s not a weight issue, but one of performance.

Removing the pithy center portion eliminates non-contributing mass, speeding dampening and improving performance.

Simply put, you don’t buy a hollowbuilt with the expectation you’ll find a lightweight in the tube. You do it for the performance.

With this in mind, my Reams hollowbuilt was a revelation; it’s easily the lightest 8.5′ bamboo rod I own, and feels lighter in the hand than my 8′ solid builts.

A quick trip to my cheap digital kitchen scale revealed a rod weighing between 4.20 and 4.25 ounces. That’s light for an 8.5′ bamboo fly rod, but not astoundingly so.

Simple, functional and extremely fishable.

Of course, nobody stands around simply holding a bamboo fly rod. You’d look dorky.

You’ve gotta cast the thing to attract the babes. And this is where Jimmy’s rods shine.

Cast and Cast Again

Some rod builders are talented craftsmen, and some are talented fly fishers. Reams is both, and during the season, you’ll find him fishing some of Northern California’s toughest waters 5-6 evenings a week.

Watch for any length of time and you’ll see he’s a stone cold killer on slow, technical water, and his rods reflect that sensibility.

Reams is a hunter and a damned accurate caster; he sneaks closer to fish than anyone has a right to, and then drops the fly right on their noses.

When I first cast the rod, I discovered it was exactly the rod you’d expect someone like Reams to build.

Smooth and light, the rod fished beautifully at close range, and a smooth stroke found it working comfortably to 50′.

I fished it at ranges greater than 50′ during a Rogue BWO hatch, and while the rod held up fine (Dave Roberts certainly had no trouble casting it farther), I’d suggest its forte was in the sub-60′ distances.

Still, it was when I hooked a fish that I discovered the rod’s most interesting characteristic; I felt the trout’s every move. Wow.

This rod would protect even the lightest tippets superbly - on a par with my 8.5′ 4wt Diamondglass fiberglass (the reigning champion).

Tiny flies? Light tippet? Spooky trout? No problem.

Wind? Ultra-long casts? Fast-moving water and big fish?

This rod would handle it, but I’d suggest a faster, stronger taper for the above conditions.

Every fly rod is an compromise, and this one’s biased towards more technical fishing.

And whaddya know. I love technical fishing. I expect it’ll be a superb pocket water rod too – it casts at close range like it knows where the fish are hiding.

The Final Cast

Outside of galactic casts and gale-force winds, this rod’s is a stunner.

Under less windy (read normal) conditions, the rod rewards a smooth caster with exceptional control and a silky, wholly cultured feel.

Light and resilient in the hand, Reams’ aggressive hollowbuilding techniques and extremely refined tapers play right to the strengths of bamboo as a rod building material.

The Trout Underground gives it two fins up.

Technorati Tags: bamboo fly rod, bamboo rod, jim reams, hollowbuilt, fly rod, cane rod, split cane, split cane fly rod

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Sully - the Underground’s Montana Correspondent and Director of Curmudgeon-Related Activities - mentioned that Many Rivers to Cross was a book worth reading.

So by god, I got it. And read it. And truly liked it.

First published in 1996, it’s a 256-page chronicle of M.R. Montgomery’s quest for some of the West’s rarest, most-endangered species of trout.

While the terrain veers from the Oregon to Lewis & Clark’s route to Custer’s last stand to desert trickles, the book remains true to its original course; the writer searches for the rare untouched places holding rare, untouched trout.

Tight, witty, and awash in keen observation, Montgomery writes about the tiny-but-beautiful (and largely hidden) trout streams that shelter the rarest trout, yet still manages to neatly skewer the “big fish, big river” mentality that drives modern Western fly fishing.

Trophy fish are frozen, sent to a taxidermist, cast in a mold, and recreated in plastic and painted to look more or less like the original fish. Most guides try to discourage the practice, as a large fish that lives in the pool below the big rock (or any other identifiable lair) can be caught over and over again. This is good for their business. The basis for modern catch-and-release fisheries management is elegant science, but the political energy that makes it work comes from market forces at the point of sale, and the guide is on the river and the taxidermist is not.

His contempt for the damage done to a small reclusive streams due to overgrazing is palpable, a fury fed by the knowledge that the rare cutthroat subspecies that are his quarry are often found only in those streams, hanging on by the width of a fin.

He criss-crosses the west, and while fishing for trout is obstensibly the point, the book isn’t much concerned with the nuts and bolts of fly fishing.

Indeed, the bulk of the book isn’t focused on fly fishing at all.

Instead, the author pieces together historical accounts about the area he’s visiting into an interesting narrative about Indians, whites, explorers (and everyone else) - all reflecting on the disappearance of the “real” American West.

In one passage, he describes fishing a small stream which - at the lower elevation - was predominantly rainbow trout. As he fishes upriver, native cutthroat genes start to assert themselves.

I had angled farther and farther into the past, moving back down the chain of being, watching the genetic code (or the outward expression of it) revert with time and distance. The double helix unwound and recombined and was made original flesh. Rainbow trout genes were kicked off like dirty boots until at last the small trout in the headwaters were native and fine.

It quickly becomes clear that the author isn’t seeking a “quality fishing experience” as most fly fishers would define it. Instead, he’s looking for remnants of the old West, and his search takes him everywhere from Oregon to Arizona, with Montana, Wyoming, Idaho and New Mexico figuring in his search.

He ends up in some highly out of the way places more as a tourist than a fly fisher bent on catching dozens of trout:

A hundred miles away in any direction, other tourists were seeking their West. They were drawn to the huge water-and-wind-cut sandstone spires, sheer cliffs, and deep box canyons, all first shaped when this desert was green and riverine. We were all looking for the same thing, the Old West. Their goal was sculpted rocks of magnitude, free of city grime and graffiti, all glowing against the sky. And I had desired with all my heart these aboriginal fish burning brightly in the midday sun.

Yes, such trout are easily caught. But who, when remembering America’s Zion, ever wept for it, that it was easy to see?

Knowing the sad state and precarious existence of the few remaining native cutthroat sub-species, it would be easy to sink into a funk, but Montgomery avoids this maudlin (and predictable) step. Instead, he finishes his book with grace:

There is time now; I can stop for a while and be confident that somewhere the things I love will still swim and fly and bloom. Someone is watching out for them. There are a few special trout left to look for, and I know where they are and where, I do believe, they always will be. When there is time and gas money and I’m back in California, a state where I was partly raised, I will head over the Sierra toward Reno and find the Paiute trout (O.c. seleniris), that spotless, truly immaculate trout of the moonlight rainbow. If things go well in New Mexico, there is the Gila cutthroat, and some spring when the saguaro cactus is in bloom down on the desert, I will go up in those piney hills and touch one.

Availability

Many Rivers to Cross is available at Amazon.com (I’m an affiliate). New copies are still available at $16 (and worth it), but since I’m bent on rediscovering old titles instead of the glossy new ones, you benefit: they also sell used copies for as little as a buck (perhaps re-sold by those disappointed in the lack of casting tips).

Their loss is your gain (it’s my loss too, since my Amazon affiliates fee on a $1 book is approximately five cents). Being as a dollar will take the average automobile about nine miles, I know which I’d opt for.

Click to buy: Many Rivers to Cross: Of Good Running Water, Native Trout, and the Remains Of Wilderness

And while you’re at Amazon, consider getting a copy of Montgomery’s 1991 essay book:

The Way of the Trout: Anglers, Wild Fish and Running Water

Paperback copies are available for less than a buck, so I’d kill two birds with one stone (I just ordered my copy).

Technorati Tags: fly fishing, books, many rivers to cross, trout, cutthroat trout, review

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I largely avoid fly fishing coffee table books. The problem? Fly fishing picture books typically attain a kind of artificial beauty, and do so at the expense of spontaneity, realism or soul.

Images are carefully arranged, styled and colored - to the point I’m witnessing the product of an advertising shoot instead of a real moment on the water.

I don’t need to see another red-shirted fly fisher, perfect loop unrolling in a strategically placed dark spot. Or another digital image so oversaturated the angler’s skin glows yellow.

Or - god forbid - another grinning fool holding a big trout facing left, the Sage logo “illuminating” most of the image.

Going Upstream

I passed on Thomas McGuane and Charles Lindsay’s Upstream when it was published several years ago, a blunder I only recently corrected.

Want the one-word review? Stunning.

Lindsay’s black and white photographs bypass all the pretty-yet-distant cliches, displaying in their stead strong, reductive images where the elements of nature (water, air, fire, bugs, trout, etc) are dynamic - not fodder for a carefully arranged still life.

Through Lindsay’s lens, water becomes elemental and kinetic, with the surface boundary between air and stream displaying elements of both.

Trout ebb and flow through his photographs like elements of nature instead of targets, defined not by flashy parr marks or marketable colors, but revealed instead by a quiet swirl in the water or a taut piece of monofilament.

McGuane’s text is smart and cutting as ever, his status as keen observer of the natural world seemingly amplified by the B&W photographs.

M. and I were in a canyon that was sixty miles long. At its far side, the hills were scarred with clear-cuts. A local carpenter looking at the wind-blown and knot-infested trees said you couldn’t get a number-two board out of the whole forest. Nevertheless, someone had tried, and ended up putting the entire load on a train in Great Falls looking for a market that would accept it. The carpenter explained that this pretty forest might become fax paper. People could then send each other faxes about the beauty of nature.

Indeed, viewing McGuane’s text and Lindsay’s photographs in the same context exposes one of Upstream’s weaknesses - the images and words aren’t mixed together on the same pages, but are separated.

Many of Lindsay’s images would have piled meaning atop McGuane’s text (and vice versa), but instead, McGuane’s incisive words were left to fend for themselves, including the following passage - which would have soared off the page in the company of the right images:

Hard overhead light helps the hunting birds and sends the fish out of harm’s way under ledges, logs, brush, sargasso weed, ship’s hulls, mangroves, and rocks. Dawn and dusk, crepuscular light, is an open book and fish are emboldened by their own shadowlessness. The angler becomes still, watchful. Something is about to happen.

Several of Lindsay’s stronger images were photographed just under the surface of the water, then darkly and richly printed. The resulting pictures emphasize form over detail, revealing nature’s repeating forms.

In one instance, a cloud is juxtaposed with an image of water that is its twin.

In another, a campfire occupies one page while an equally hyperactive image of water occupies the other.

Nature, of course, isn’t the only subject of this book, and McGuane neatly exposes many of the excesses of modern fly fishing:

The professionalization of sport by Americans is well afield of the values from which sport originally sprung. There are few figures of absurdity to compete with today’s “fly fishing professional,” who arrives as a kind of booby prize in the general festivity of field sport. In some circles, the amateur angler is fully capable of outbursts of vainglory and self-aggrandizement, invidious comparison, blowhard posturing, and odious, self-infatuated crowing. He scarcely needs the help of a “professional.” Still, it is sad when a little spotted fish occasions frenzies of snobbery.

This is a book that has already been placed on my “A” shelf - the collection of volumes which will remain by my desk until I can no longer read.

I’d suggest it belongs on the shelves of others searching for a different view of fly fishing, water and nature, and dithering around until the book passed onto the “out of print” list means it’s available for 2/3 its $40 list price.

Who knew procrastination could be so profitable?

Several used copies are available via Amazon (one-click access via the link: Upstream: Fly-Fishing in the American West)

Of course, the Undergrounders are welcome to contribute their opinions; any raves, raspberries or contrasting reviews for Upstream?

Technorati Tags: upstream, thomas macguane, richard lindsay, fly fishing, trout, nature, book, publishing

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After a few months, I was left with spiked wading boots that skated on smooth surfaces, grated noisily on rounded rocks, and drove me to distraction.

Regular felt was an option, but one that lacked longevity on the sharp railroad bed rocks. I needed another option.

Rubber Sole

Grippy rubber soles have been around for a few years, but my first experience wasn’t stellar. I’d tried a pair of plain rubber Aqua Stealths, but found them sadly wanting on algae-coated cobbles.

Still, early in the year, local guide Steve Bertrand told me his studded rubber soles didn’t grip as well as the felt, but they’d lasted the better part of two seasons.

Aha! Longevity.

After weighing the costs of re-soling, I bought a pair of studded rubber Weinbrenners, figuring they’d make tolerable winter boots even if they weren’t suited for everyday use (hedging your bet is a useful rationalization when buying fishing gear).

The testing began.

Seventy Percenters

After five months of steady use, the soles are still in excellent shape. I’d rate them excellent for longevity (I’ll know more in a couple years).

The constantly evolving Weinbrenner uppers used to be a mixed bag, but they’ve done away with many of the stitching problems I experienced on my earlier Weinbrenners.

The wading itself? It’s a mix. On dry steamside rock they’re outstanding - way better than studded felt.

On in-stream rocks with little or no slime, they were good.

On rounded, slimed covered rocks they were… well, let’s say they had 70% the grip of studded felts.

I haven’t fallen yet, but hitting the “greased cobble” stretches of the river without a wading staff is a non-starter. Still, I’m wearing them every day and not regretting it. So far, so good.

Break-in Period

Bob Grace of the Ted Fay Fly Shop suggested they’d grip better once the edges wore away a bit and sole became more rounded.

I haven’t experienced that, but then, my soles don’t exhibit much wear. Therein lies the charm. These should last a long time - probably as long as a pair of studded felts and one or two re-sole jobs.

That’s attractive because I like to fish good, reliable gear - stuff that’s ready to go without a lot of babying or repair.

Weighing the Pros and Cons

Everything is a compromise. For a cheap bastard like myself, the compromises here seem acceptable. In addition to the everyday longevity, I get a boot that grips very well when dry rock hopping. And the soles are denser, more protective, and more comfortable than felt while hiking.

They also seem to be laterally stiffer than felts, protecting my feet from wedging and torqueing.

Finally, studded rubber doesn’t add several inches of ice to your boots when hiking through the snow - a real downer when fishing felts in the winter.

Buy, or Not?

If I fished the Pit River exclusively, I’d think twice about these boots, probably going with studded felt instead. If I fished small streams, spring creeks or other easy wading rivers, they’d be a no-brainer.

If you hike extensively in wading boots - especially over sharp rocks - you’d have to consider studded rubber soles.

Those who often fish from drift boats will find the studs don’t mar boat surfaces as badly as most studded felts (probably because the studs don’t protrude as far from the sole).

For everyday use on the Upper Sacramento River? I’ve been wearing mine almost exclusively this season, and I have no plans to switch back.

I’m giving up some grip - and that’s not a fun thought - but I’m gaining other tangible benefits (like avoiding re-soling the things every 6-9 months).

For their longevity, dryland performance and passable wet performance, the Underground gives the Weinbrenner studded rubber soled wading boots 3.5 roll casts (out of a possible 5).

Specifics

Weinbrenner’s studded rubber wading boot costs $137. Simms also makes a studded rubber boot, though be prepared to pay the Simms premium price ($160). Others make studded rubber boots, and because it’s footwear, I’d check with my retailer about trying some one.

The Weinbrenner “fit” is very roomy, and most people report no problems adding orthotics or insoles to the boots (a good idea if you have a narrow or low volume foot).

The Simms are also roomy, though with more of a hiking boot fit. For those that care, the Weinbrenners are made in the USA, while the Simms are produced overseas.

Technorati Tags: weinbrenner, wading boot, wading, fly fishing, aqua stealth

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