It's hell living on the flank of a stratovolcano...

Sure, the photograph kinda sucks, but the clouds — and the sunrise — are stellar. Found this on the camera after shooting it a couple days ago and promptly forgetting it.

See you up early, Tom Chandler.

Now we bring you the latest in high-tech gadgetry for the bamboo snob. The bamboo smartphone:

You can almost smell the varnish, eh?

It’s a shame I’m already equipped with a water-and-shock-resistant Casio smartphone. Because nothing says “effete bamboo fly rod snob” more completely than a bamboo smartphone (though it would be better if it were engraved with something like “Friends that Fish Anything But Paynes Are No Friends At All“).

Once again, it’s left to the Trout Underground to maintain the high standards of snobbishness and elitism this sport needs to succeed over the next several decades.

No need to thank me, though a new ascot would be nice.

See you pretending to be rich, Tom Chandler.

Got a hatchery steelhead or stockie trout? Got Pecans?

Sounds almost good enough to get me out to Lake Siskiyou, where the trout are stocked…

And you thought we didn't do carp at the Underground...

(from the always-entertaining Neversealand blog)

Still, perspective adds a layer of meaning to even mediocre photographs, so I plowed ahead, and this is what I got.

The Year’s Real Story

For us, 2011 revolved around the record snowpack, which topped out at 170% of normal, and was bolstered by a lot of late snow:

Late snows pushed the snowpack to record levels

The winter fly fishing wasn’t stellar, though it seemed to hang on far into spring; temperatures in “spring” were about 15 degrees cooler than normal, so despite all the snow, we never had a giant runoff event. Instead, the water was just… high. For a very long time. In fact, everything was a good month behind “normal.”

The snow -- and cold spring -- were the stories in 2011.

It's high, so instead of catching trout, we got all arty and pretentious...

Still, I found time in the fall to catch a few fish...

The Small Stream Thang

The last couple years have been all about small streams; I often found myself driving past closer, bigger trout in search of a more distant, smaller trout, and in truth I can’t wholly explain the attraction.

Neither am I ready to stop:

Wayne Eng on a high -- but fishable -- small stream.

A new stream for both me and Older Bro -- that was cold and over its banks. I'll be back...

The point of the whole exercise...

Wayne Eng (about to hook a brown trout)

Do I feel like a putz, or what?

To a fly fisherman, this suggests a good day ahead...

The beauty of Humpies is the more they're eaten, the better they get...

Older Bro on one of his favorite Brookie streams

Hey, that's me! (A rare Underground sighting)

The last small stream trout of the year...

Wayne Eng in the spring

Mosquitoes are not our friends...

Wally the Wonderdog on a hot day; he keeps wandering right into my fishable water.

They're so much prettier than they have to be...

A late fall trip to a new (to me) small stream.

The Maine Thang

We made it Maine again in the summer of 2011; the place has a solid, built-to-last permanence about I simply haven’t seen out west, and there are times you can catch a smallmouth bass every cast,

We pulled up on this island, and started catching a bass every cast...

We got over 1.5 inches of rain in just the morning...

The Grand Lake Canoes are still gorgeous.

A West Grand Lake sunset.

Industry People, Places & Gear

The Orvis folks proved they had a sense of humor after I made sport of them in a blog post:

Orvis poked fun at me after I made sport of their blog...

Later, I crafted a revolutionary new IFTD show format that would allow manufacturers to sell their gear via the power of interpretive dance, but the industry — inexplicably — failed to listen. They’re the poorer for it.

Click here to view the embedded video.

It was also The Year Of The Interview: I neatly questioned a couple writers and a photographer, including John Gierach, falconer Rebecca O’Connor, biologist Anders Halverson, and even uber-fly-fishing photographer Val Atkinson.

Falconer Rebecca O'Connor

I interviewed Val Atkinson for CalTrout.

I even revealed a Forbidden Love:

The Ultimate Fly Fishing Snack Food

And also dealt with a bear who tried to peel up my garage door (and was largely successful):

This guy was way too close to the house...

Let’s Hope For More in 2012

I admit to shooting far fewer pictures on my 2011 trips than in prior years — a symptom of someone who wasn’t fishing enough, and didn’t want to give up as much of his fishing time to taking pictures.

Of course, there’s a pretty good reason I didn’t fish as much:

“”

2012 is going to be interesting; we’re making two round trips to Ethiopia, and once M2 (my clever code name for Little M’s little sister) comes home, I suspect fishing time will be hard to come by.

It’s what it is, though I have uncovered some interesting small streams not all that far from home, and there’s still hope for a quick escape to another state.

I think every new year comes with a healthy set of expectations, most of which are just waiting to be dashed by weather, sickness, work and other surprises.

Still, I hope to see you on the river in 2012, Tom Chandler.

The mothership is docking...

From the article:

The mountain has been touted as the site of an energy vortex that allows passage into the metaphysical dimension; the birthplace of a spiritual foundation whose adherents believe they can ascend to the eternal realm; and a hot spot for UFOs that hide in the clouds and enter the mountain’s core through mystery “portals.”

Newer to the repertoire are sightings of Bigfoot (the word serves as both singular and plural, like fish and sheep), believed by some to conceal themselves by passing into a fifth dimension.

“Mt. Shasta has always had a spiritual drawing, but it’s getting more and more popular,” said Karen Anderson, a supervisor in the town’s visitors bureau, who estimated that a fourth of the area’s tourists come for that reason.

To assist seekers from around the globe, the bureau’s website includes a list of energy healers. Shops carry crystals for the “spiritual pilgrim.” Drop-in channeling sessions are held each Sunday at a spiritual center. Guides lead soul-cleansing treks up the mountain in all seasons.

I can’t speak to the UFOs (locals believe the Lemurians’ giant space ships are docking with the mountain when the summit is obscured by lenticular clouds), but the recent Bigfoot frenzy can probably be blamed on… Singlebarbed.

I twice took Singlebarbed fly fishing on the east side of the mountain.

I should have expected someone would make the inevitable mistake. (Not that I’m suggesting he needs a shave or anything.)

See you on the mothership, Tom Chandler.

It’s just possible we’ve learned almost as much about him via other people’s writing as we have his own.

This interview (found via Moldy Chum) was conducted by a Colorado writer, and it’s long and detailed and while the writer occasionally heads a little far afield into gonzo journalism territory, he does a nice job of profiling John Gierach’s conservation work, which we don’t read about much in Gierach’s own essays:

“I have no idea if anything I’ve done will make a difference in the long run, but you have to try. Every generation has to try. Because if you give up, the bastards win.”

There are other engagingly candid moments (he quit working with the New York Times because “they were all assholes”), and frankly, quotes like this make it worth the read:

“I wouldn’t over-analyze it too much,” Gierach said when I asked if his philosophy degree influenced his passion for the sport. “I think it’s trendy to link fly fishing with spirituality these days. There might be something like that involved, but most of it’s crap. In the end, it comes down to this: I like catching fish.”

(This dovetails nicely with one of the Underground’s Absolute Rules Of Fly Fishing Writing: the sport is special and all, but descriptions of fly fishing should not include the word “soul.”)

Keep writing, Tom Chandler.

I’d love to see what he could do with a small pod of Brookies.

(Click here to see more pictures and watch a pretty fascinating video.)

It seemed like the daily Short Casts were starting to clutter up the place a little, and yes, when I see a string of them I’m reminded I haven’t written anything for days.

As it is in the House of Representatives, the victory here will go to those who make the most noise.

If you want to experience my Short Casts in realtime, just subscribe to my Twitter feed.

See you being all geeky and shit, Tom Chandler.