Ask any fly fisherman what he truly wants – what he or she dreams about when it’s dark and the house is quiet and they’ve been drinking – and they’ll say the following:

A weeklong bonefish trip in the Bahamas with the cast of the last Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue who has just lost their luggage The ability to cook fish in their dishwasher:

Will It Dishwasher? – Orange County Restaurants and Dining – Stick a Fork In It

Dishwasher catfish came into existence after I’d been fishing in the mighty Mississippi in the muddy island flats near where Minnesota, Wisconsin and Iowa meet. I’d caught a couple of small catfish (not the monster “grandma” catfish that can gnaw your arm off) and when I got home I discovered the stove was broken. Couldn’t get it to work. I was hungry, and there’s not a lot of options for food purchase after 9 p.m. in rural Iowa. I debated going begging for food at the neighbor’s house, but then my eyes lit on the dishwasher and the roll of foil I’d just bought at Fareway. Maybe… just maybe.

The author goes on to offer recommendations on what cooks and what doesn’t (catfish & Brussels Sprouts = yes, potatoes = no), and frankly, we’re staggered by the implications.

OK, really we’re not.

After all, fly fishing’s landscape isn’t littered with dishwashers (well, maybe in parts of the rural South), and while cooking fish in a dishwasher offers some serious stunt potential, it’s hard to imagine the result would be better than cooking fish on a grill, in a cast iron pan, or – yes – on an automobile engine (which frankly excites the hell out of us).

Pop a couple burgers under the hood, drive to that small stream meadow apparently only you know about, voila – instant picnic.

Sure, we could offer you useful, fish-catching advice like the Ten Best Techniques for Crimping Split Shot, but damnit, we prefer to feed your soul and your stomach.

See you in the kitchen, Tom Chandler.

Technorati Tags: cooking fish, cooking fish in a dishwasher, engine cooking

It’s at this point in the winter – fresh out of patience, the snow is still falling, and others are seeing their spring hatches already – that alternate forms of fly fishing seem more reasonable.

As in very alternate. As in squirrel fishing. (Found via Taunted by Waters, who probably knows from nuts, being as he largely is one)

What do the Undergrounders think? Acorn No-Hackle? Oak Emerger? Or simply a Royal Peanut attractor?

Technorati Tags: fly fishing for squirrels, winter fly fishing

Can fly fisherman really survive for long in a the “regular” world – an unnatural habitat where fashion still exists and people sometimes dress in other than rubber pants and vented shirts?

Tomorrow morning, our little family leaves for a weekend at a secret location: a place where it’s warm, there are no trout (save those found in plastic wrap), and yes – there is a dress code.

A “resort casual” dress code.

Uh, is this Resort Casual? Because really, I'm lost here.

Sure, I’m an award-winning copywriter, a top fly fishing blogger and the investigative genius behind this Pulitzer-winning* expose of fly fishing’s effect on the fashion industry, yet despite my humble nature, I truly have no idea what “resort casual” looks like.

After all, I’m the guy who decided to take the guesswork out of getting dressed every morning by ordering a dozen army surplus t-shirts in (Coyote Tan & Olive Drab) and four pairs of Dickies work jeans, and simply wearing those every day.

Einstein figured wearing the same suit every day removed one more distraction from his brain, and given the generally low wattage powering me these days, one less decision sounds pretty good.

If it’s good enough for one of mankind’s greatest minds, then it’s good enough for me.

But I hadn’t counted on those cursed words: “Resort Casual.”

Compounding the problem is this: not since tweed jackets and wicker creels were the norm have fly fishermen been accused of being natty dressers. In fact, a careful analysis of fly fishing’s photo stream forces a rather different conclusion.

Unless pastel or earth-tone vented shirts – fully equipped with floatant stains and the oily remnants of lunch – are now considered haute couture, fly fishermen look to be largely slobs.

I won’t pretend I’m better than the rest of fly fishing (in this one instance), though I don’t often wear vented shirts differentiating myself from the rest of the herd and increasing my profile among the hordes of groupies crowding the rivers and fly shops.

In truth, I’d come to believe that living in the shadow of Mt. Shasta – a mountain big enough to house an entire race of aliens (the lemurians) – protected me from the dangerous trend rays which contaminate less-shielded urban folks.

And frankly, I was happy with the situation (army surplus t-shirts are only 3 for $15), but have now come face to face with “Resort Casual.”

I’m lost.

And in a fit of public service, I’m going to help the Undergrounders avoid my sorry fate.

First, must I point out this mess is the byproduct of a non-fly fishing related trip?

I didn’t think so.

Which leads us to Important Fly Fishing Rule For Dealing With The Rest of the World Which Doesn’t Fly Fish #7:

#7: Never, ever leave home unless fly rods are involved. (Or the shooting range. Or a trail. Or some other dirt-related activity.)

We’ll go over the rest of the rules when I get back.

See you rummaging through my closet, Tom Chandler.

(*Not a Pulitzer winner)

Technorati Tags: fly fishermen are slobs, fly fishing fashion

Despite the fact I write a moderately successful fly fishing blog, I’m well aware of my place in fly fishing’s predatory food chain. (Hint: not very high.)

That has a lot to do with my tendency to experience the sport on my own terms instead of the trout’s, and normally, I’m fine with that.

A small kid holding a big Brook trout. A vision of my future?

Still, after Alert Underground Reader Ian fired me an email about a 9 year-old who caught a South Carolina state-record Brook trout, things crystallized in my brain.

Namely, my future.

Sure, on the surface, this reads like one of those heartwarming “little kid kicks butt” stories, though the Underground’s Director In Charge of Reading Between the Lines noted right away the insidious nature of the tale.

As in the following: My daughter is going to do exactly the same thing to me some day.

In fact, I can predict – with a high degree of certainty – that the following will occur while teaching Underground Child Star Little Meski to fly fish:

We’ll find ourselves at river’s edge, she’ll be whipping the rod around, expertly crafting leader tangles of gordian dimensions, and at some point I’ll sigh deeply, step in, and patiently begin untangling the day’s umpteenth knot.

Which is when a Great Big Brook Trout (The Official Char of the Trout Underground) will rocket out from under a boulder and grab the shiny bright pink fly as it dangles on the surface – only a couple inches away from the rod tip.

Later, when some outdoor writer is facing a slow news day, he’ll get a call about this small kid who caught a big fish, and – in the search for a humorous news angle on the story – will get her dad to admit he got skunked that day, and that he’s never actually caught a Brook trout anywhere near as big as the one his tiny daughter landed by accident.

And that yes, Brook trout are his favorite trout.

It Goes Virally Wrong

The next thing you know, I’m the comic foil for every outdoor writer facing a slow news day (which is most of them most of the time), and the YouTube video of me soiling myself while my tiny, giggling daughter – using both hands – dead lifts a 15-pound Brook out of the water (on four-pound tippet) will go seriously viral.

While I stand there in stained pants, wondering what the hell just happened, my daughter will deliver the coup de grace by pointing at the flopping trout and saying something adorably ironic like: “daddy ever catch big fish?”

In seconds, the facade of omnipotence I’ve so carefully crafted at the Underground will disappear.

I will be unable to ever show my face on the Internet again.

And I might as well fold up and disappear into the earth.

How do I know this is going to happen? Could this just be my considerable imagination at work?

Not hardly.

We Offer Proof

After all, I’m the Guy Whose Dog Catches Brown Trout Which Fall From The Sky.

If you didn’t read it, that story outlines the unlikely adventure of Wally the Wonderdog, who – unlike me – managed to catch a trout that opening weekend. And this despite going nowhere near a river.

If that’s not proof enough (and given the paranoid conspiratorial mindset of most people these days, it should be), then I offer up the story of the Relative I Taught to Fly Fish in Maine.

It was his first fly fishing experience, and because we were fishing from a boat, I had him tie on a fly that was wholly unlike the bulky streamer that was clearly The Fly, thinking casting instruction would go a lot easier with a small nymph.

Within a dozen casts, he badly tangled his fly line around his rod tip, dropped his backcast in the water to untangle it, and minutes later, lifted the line to cast again – setting the hook on the biggest smallie of the day.

Despite being unable to cast much beyond the oars, he went on to outfish me in handily outlandish fashion.

To some, that’s simply a hard-luck story. To me – combined with the Wonderdog Event – it’s an omen. A portent.

A Preview of Things to Come

Yesterday, I was playing with Little M, and grew obsessed with kicking a lightweight plastic ball into a little plastic bowl.

After two dozen attempts, I gave up, sat down, and watched Little M accomplish the feat on her first try.

An innocent – and hugely lucky – coincidence?

Only a fool would believe that.

I’m tempted to re-live the outrages I’ve suffered at the hands of fly fishing buddies, who – despite clearly doing things all wrong – have managed to handily outfish me, but that’s a different story.

That’s simply the universe being unfair (or karma deferred).

Kids are a different matter.

They’re all cute and innocent and adorable, but beneath Meski’s shiny, food-smeared exterior lies a ruthless competitor bent on paternal humiliation, and at some primal, reptilian level – despite being unable to tie her shoes or pronounce “dry fly” – she’s got the Mad Embarrassment Skillz to pull it off.

It’s a staple element of science fiction yarns that knowing the future doesn’t necessarily afford us the ability to change it, the agonizing position where I currently find myself.

In the story of the nine year-old landing a state record Brook trout, I have seen the future, and it involves an emotionally crippling roundhouse kick to my ego.

Delivering that kick will be my innocent, wide-eyed, unbearably cute daughter, and – despite my college education and 35+ years experience in fishing – I remain powerless to stop it.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

Technorati Tags: crippling blow to ego, Fly Fishing, state record brook trout

Because we’re deeply concernend about the well being of the slackers who read this blog our valuable readership, we’re posting yet another of our “Sign of the Coming Fishing Apocalypse” series.

In this case, it’s the Missouri Trout Season opener – an event that apparently requires the celebration of a great many fishermen:

Ahh, the solitude. The quiet. The contemplation. The ability to get back to nature.

To our friends in the “Show Me” state; let us know when it’s over.

Today’s Question for the Undergrounders: What percentage of the trout that are caught will be fair hooked?

(Subquestion A: Would you fish if it looked like this every day, or simply sink the hook right into your left temple and get on with life?)

See you anywhere but above, Tom Chandler

(found via The Fin’s twitter feed)

Technorati Tags: missouri trout season opener

Being as it doesn’t typically involve flaming racecars, swan dives from 15,000 feet or an association with politicians, it’s clear that fly fishing’s one of your safer sports – safer, even, than journalism…

Extra points for getting it together to sign off, but only a “B-” on the “That wasn’t a good idea” statement. That was a once-in-a-lifetime, on-camera opportunity to say something really memorable.

Like “Which of the three identical cameras should I be talking to?”

The Undergrounders, of course, will chime in with their own suggestions….

(Tip of the hat to Alert Underground Reader & Blogger Outdooress)

Technorati Tags: Friday viewing, reporter flattened

Today’s word is this: Disease. As in I’ve got all of them.

I’m told I’ll continue my participation in Little M’s Germ Culture Transfer Program for the next ten years or so, though Brian Bennett of Moldy Chum fame pointed out that if I survive the experience, I’ll be a damn biological superman.

Is someone sending medical help?

Simply put, it’s been a week for bugs. Little M’s been sick, I’ve been sick (got better, and then immediately got sick again), and my new Web host has been on its hand and knees (a couple allnighters on the Web host front did not improve the healing powers of my immune system).

I’m what you might call “tired of it all.”

By Monday, I hope to be done driving the porcelain bus, and for that matter, Little M and my Web server had better be running good too.

I’d like to point out – via the fly fishing-related photograph above – that even as I fight for my very life, I take care of the Undergrounders.

See you behind that big pile of kleenex, Tom Chandler.

Technorati Tags: bikini nurse, near-death experience

I’m working late; tonight I’m moving all but a few of my 18 hosted Web sites to a new Web host, which means the Underground’s going to act a little squirrely for a while (the site, not the writer).

Comments added in the next 24 hours could disappear, but you should just consider that a potential feature.

After all, a comment that appears and then disappears into the aether creates serendipity – and a rarity – all its own.

Compounding things is the simple fact that I don’t really know what I’m doing – a reality which generates a dramatic tension all its own.

What I wish would disappear is my cold, which got worse over the weekend. Being sick makes me cranky, which wasn’t helped by Dave Robert’s phone call.

Dave broke his ankle a while ago, and just got cut out of his cast late yesterday afternoon, and I thought he showed a lot of restraint by waiting until today to go fishing.

He invited me along, dangling the Rouge’s wholly fishable flows, but I had to say “no” – and in favor of day spent essentially pushing buttons.

Now I’m saying “no” to a reasonable bedtime so I can push even more buttons, a fate I’d only wish on a Nestle employee (well, some Nestle employees).

See you pushing buttons, Tom Chandler.

Technorati Tags: crossing my fingers, site upgrade, trout underground

The Trout Underground today announced the recall of approximately four million of its prior posts, warning that some readers have experienced sticking mouse buttons, the result being readers can’t stop scrolling even after reaching the bottom of the page.

As the beleaguered blog dealt with the massive public relations fallout of its mouse accelerator recall, rumors surfaced of a new investigation into the Underground’s Short Casts, which apparently hamper the braking of drivers attempting to read them from moving vehicles.

“We are very sorry that our posts are causing problems with our esteemed readers” said Underground CEO Tom Chandler, whose media empire had to scrap the launch of a new corporate tagline: “The Trout Underground: Once You Start Reading, You Won’t Be Able To Stop.”

“We are doing everything we can to make the reading experience a safe one.”

Public reaction to the announcement has been largely hostile, and consumer crusader Ralph Nader announced the release of a hastily assembled documentary film: “The Underground – Unsafe at Any Scrolling Speed.”

Company Spokesperson Wally the Wonderdog was unavailable for comment, though when questioned during a recent outing, did wag his tail.

Technorati Tags: toyota recall

Basically, you can’t swing a dead trout over your head without hitting one of the “new breed” of fly fishing videographers, and a yes – a large number of them hope to make a living shooting whatever the hell they want.

Traditionally, that’s a recipe for fiscal ruin for all but a gifted few (ask all the Gierach-wannabes who tried to write their way into trout-bum-hood).

Still, for those willing to soil their artistic sensibilities in the service of commerce, opportunities abound – especially for those who realize the world is not all that interested in watching them fly fish.

Email was the Internet’s first “killer app” (both on a personal and commercial level), but the world continues to spin, and in this case, it’s spinning towards video becoming the “next” killer app.

That’s why I’m not surprised to see commercial videos embedded in Catch Magazine, or even this interesting-looking episodic video sponsored by outdoor gear manufacturer ARC’TERYX and the New Belgian brewery:

You’re looking at episode one of The Season – a series of videos following the lives of five outdoor athletes for one season.

Despite a somewhat ponderous start to the first video, the series appears genuinely interesting; it’s more documentary than music video, and because the videographer isn’t part of the narrative, there’s little incentive to posture or sink into the climbing/kayaking/mountain biking/snowboarding equivalent of fish porn.

In other words, it’s a beautifully shot video about people doing what they love. And perhaps a model for some erstwhile video entrepreneur in fly fishing.

In this economic climate, I’m betting fly fishing’s manufacturers are largely unwilling to fund more epic, chest-beating fish porn adventures in return for a superimposed logo in the opening and closing credits.

Is The Season a look into the future of outdoor video – one that lives at the intersection of art & commerce?

Undergrounders, discuss…

Technorati Tags: arc'teryx, fly fishing video, no more fish porn, outdoor video, the dirtbag diaries, the season

Get past the horseplay right at the start of the most recent Orvis podcast (the player should appear below), and it’s a pretty good listen. Fly fishing in the wind is one of my least favorite activities, and I’ve heard literally  mounds of advice over the years. Some of it, frankly, seemed pretty bad.

Orvis has avoided all that in this podcast, but I’m looking for the Undergrounders to throw down their ideas.

Here, Tom Rosenbaeur and Perk Perkins advise anglers to not push the rod harder and don’t fight the wind, all of which is transparently good advice.

He and Rosenbauer also offer up a few non-controversial ideas, including:

• Keep casts low to the water (less windy there)
• Use a Belgian cast (a constantly loaded elliptical cast) to keep the line moving (haven’t tried it for wind, but it’s handy when you’re casting heavy flies like streamers)
• Use shorter leaders and smaller flies
• Cast a shorter rod

Interestingly, Perkins suggests he does just as well with a mid-flex rod in the wind as he does with a tip flex – something I did once experience fishing 6wts on a lake. I don’t get it, but it was true for me.

Is that simply because moderate tapers suit my casting style, or is there something else? (Discuss)

The Chainsaw Death Match Part

Finally, we get to the good stuff; Lefty Kreh has famously suggested underlining a fly rod by one line weight on windy days, apparently so you can throw tighter loops and generate faster line speeds.

And yes, I tried that once. The results weren’t pretty.

Apparently, Perkins and Rosenbauer don’t think much of the idea either, and in the interest of fomenting an Industry-Wide Death Match between Big-Name Heavy-Hitters, I’ve gotta ask the Undergrounders: has anyone else actually tried this, and had it work (or not)?

In my case, I’d suggest the lighter line loaded the rod less and offered less mass to “boss” the fly.

Perhaps If I’d been throwing a midge, it wouldn’t have mattered, but I was throwing a #14 parachute during a Callaebatis hatch, and eventually switched back to my original 6wt line (the rated line).

I’ve heard of anglers opting to overline a rod by one line weight on a windy day, so clearly, there’s ample room here for violent disagreement discussion.

Obviously, there’s plenty of room to screw around with all this stuff, but after years of mucking about, I simply fish a 6wt when it’s windy. Sometimes the simple solution is the best.

Where do the Undergrounders land on the subject of wind, fly rods, fly lines, and the prospect of an industry blood bath stuff?

Technorati Tags: fishing in the wind, fly casting, fly casting in the wind, fly fishing in the wind, fly rods, orvis podcast

Another winter storm’s headed the Underground’s way – the same wet, heavy snow that caused the weeklong power outages and overall carnage a couple weeks ago during the last “storm of a lifetime.”

The Pessimist sees this coming and thinks everything’s still poised on the lip of the abyss from last time, so even 16″ of wet snow will likely push us right back into the abyss, leaving us powerless and in the dark, shoveling until our arms fall off.

The Optimist believes the weak trees were all pruned back by the prior storm, so this new storm will have no effect whatsoever.

Right now, the snow is falling hard, though the live radar map suggests we may yet live.

Can't tell if that's really 13" of snow.

In the larger sense, the Upper Sac’s running awfully high, the shooting range is snowed in beyond hope, and even walking around my own yard requires a pair of snowshoes, so it won’t take much to nudge me towards the pessimist camp.

Then again, pessimism drives me to be prepared – the large pots of water, the fully fueled Honda Super Karate Death Blower, the right-at-hand flashlights and candles…

You get the picture.

If the Underground goes dark for a day or two (a possibility), know that I’m likely sitting in the darkness (probably unable to straighten up after dragging firewood upstairs and moving snow the opposite direction) and wondering at the concept of Optimism vs Pessimism.

I mean, if I can alter my perspective to stop seeing all this white stuff as a curse and instead view it as next year’s trout water, maybe my mood will improve.

See you behind the snow blower, Tom Chandler

UPDATE: WE LIVE! The storm has come and gone (it’s over Boise, ID now), and because that group of alarmist weather forecasters apparently can’t read a thermometer, we got rain & slush instead of snow, so I’m NOT spending the day yoked to my New Snowblower Overlord. Commence with the feasting!

Technorati Tags: mt shasta weather, next year's trout water, weather map

Every day I receive an email from a reader suggesting the Trout Underground is the Bestest Fly Fishing Blog Ever.

(Thanks mom.)

Still, it’s gratifying when an independent rating service not related to me in any way says, in essence:

The Trout Underground is the Bestest Fishing Blog Ever

.

Sure, the ranking’s based on what we’ll euphemistically label incomplete data, but I’m willing to overlook that – even as I zoom in on the tasty fact the Underground’s not simply the Bestest Fly Fishing Blog, but in fact tops the list of the 50 Best Fishing Blogs.

In fact, I’m so overcome with joy and validation and happiness and a warm tingly feeling that I’m experiencing the urge to speak Latin.

Quod erat demonstrandum.

(I gloat. I preen. I strut about obnoxiously.)

Smile - We're #1

I’d like to thank my agent, my publicist, my people, Wally the Wonderdog, my answering machine and my family for standing by me while I blogged for free instead of investing the Underground’s tens of thousands of hours in my business, thereby condemning my family to a life of abject poverty followed by a lingering death in an unheated home.

Yes. It’s a day to be proud.

Of course, I can’t forget my readers, who helped make the Underground #1 (not #1 in the sense that we’re human waste, but that we’re at the pinnacle of the food chain).

As megalomania sets in, it’s clear that the Undergrounders, simply put, are as much to blame as anyone.

See you staring lovingly the mirror, Tom Chandler.

Technorati Tags: #1 fishing blog, fishing blog, fly fishing blog, number one fishing blog, top fishing blog, we're number one

I cannot begin to describe the gravity of what you’re about to see, even as I feel a wave of compassion wash over me for the hapless victim, who – after getting his ass wholly and completely kicked by a goose – couldn’t muster up words stronger than “gah” and “darn.”

In public, I’d laugh at this unfortunate angler in a manly manner (using my chiseled jaw and rock-hard pecs to reinforce the manliness of my laugh), but privately, I’d have to admit – in a shamed, trembling, girly man voice – that I too was once the victim of a Random Goose Attack [hangs head].

The memories of that decades-ago, Goose-driven ass kicking still haunts me deeply. So a few years ago – when I stepped too close to an unseen goose nest while fly fishing in Tennessee and heard the Awful Hiss of Doom – I suffered a flashback that would have made a Vietnam Veteran proud.

To my credit, I didn’t drop my fly rod and run screaming along the bank, anticipating the Honk of Certain Death directly behind my right ear.

No indeed.

I held onto my fly rod as I ran screaming, so later – as I walked by that busload of now-amused Japanese tourists – I could hold my head high.

To this day, I still remember the original feathered assault… the outstretched wings beating fiercely… the terrible honking noise… the awful flashing beak delivering its pile-driver like blows to my (ahem) sensitive regions…

I’m getting kinda sweaty just writing about it. So I’m going to stop, and just curl up in the fetal position for a few minutes.

Discuss.

(Found via the Goat)

Technorati Tags: fishing from kayaks, geese gone bad, when geese attack

Fly Rod & Reel magazine once again fires up its Robert Traver fly fishing award – a contest now open to fiction writing and essays relating to fly fishing.

From the Fly Rod & Reel Web site:

The Robert Traver Fly-Fsihing Writing Award is your chance to get your original work read by fly-fishing-writing professionals and possibly published in FR&R. The Robert Traver Fly-Fishing Writing award carries a $2,000 First Prize, from the John D. Voelker Foundation, sponsor of the award; a Second Place award of $750 will be included this year; Third Place is $250.

The details—the winning 2010 Traver Award essay or story must be:

“A distinguished original essay or work of short fiction that embodies an implicit love of fly-fishing, respect for the sport and the natural world in which it takes place, and high literary values.”

Send in a typed, double-space manuscript of no more than 3,500 words to Fly Rod&Reel, Robert Traver Award, PO Box 370, Camden, ME 04843. The winning stories or essays will be published in the Autumn 2010 issue of FR&R and on this Web site.

You may submit your manuscript on a CD or DVD along with a hard copy, and please include an oversize self-addressed stamped envelope if you’d like your materials returned—materials without an SASE will not be returned. No e-mail submissions will be accepted. Please, no phone calls. Enter only once. The deadline is May 15, 2010. Good luck!

Far be it from the Underground to question a writing contest where the announcement features both a typo and more than one incorrect use of a hyphen, but fortunately, the contest has produced some excellent writing in the past.

You’ve got until May to fire up the word processor and let the words leap from your fingertips as if they were tiny thunderbolts. (See what I did there? Am I good or what?)

See you typing, Tom Chandler

Technorati Tags: fly rod and reel, robert traver fly fishing award, writing contest