- Wow! Those really nice barstock aluminum Orvis Battenkill reels are HALF OFF all weekend. I'm getting one: http://t.co/ocDdiqQ9fb ->
- Sex in space may be dangerous, study says (thus endeth my support the US space program): http://t.co/ZUB1LVbC1E ->
- Animated GIFs of Calvin & Hobbes (the best kid cartoons ever): http://t.co/D1CJXH9lwc ->
- RT @kqedscience: Sierra snowpack falls short http://t.co/U6GZEtv83P – @FresnoBee ->
- Half the length of U.S. streams and rivers in poor condition (LA times): http://t.co/XafMDuimCD ->
- Here's your chance to get paid to fish! California town paying $.25/pound bounty for carp in city lake: http://t.co/l5g3sNiTpu ->
- A short, but interesting interview with CalTrout's Central Region Manager Jacob Katz (hint: floodplains): http://t.co/JjT2NVMnMh ->
Weekly Shortcasts for 2013-03-28
Weekly Shortcasts for 2013-03-21
- Here here! Orvis commits $1+ million to conservation causes in 2013: http://t.co/DIh9MKktk4 ->
- Ok, why aren't we eating more squirrel? Chicken of the trees: http://t.co/IPB4EWaCGV ->
- California fly fishing legend Ralph Cutter supposed to (finally!) be on Internet radio Wednesday, 3/20: http://t.co/F0oOfblJy6 ->
- RT @matt_weiser: RT @UCDavisWater: Contaminated Westlands farmland transforms into #solar farm. Learn more http://t.co/EdwFl3k4cA ->
- A young reporter bails on the journalism profession, offers well-written explanation why: Why I left news: http://t.co/Mhi3jNM7X2 ->
- RT @markgrossi: Snowpack graph: Deep breath. Now check it out, especially folks in southern areas #cawater http://t.co/gUinUndEdy ->
Spring Brings Thoughts Of Small Stream Fly Fishing — And A Really, Really Good TV Commercial
It’s the Vernal Equinox (the first day of spring) and despite the fact it’s cold and rainy outside, it’s still spring, with all the promise that implies.
And I’m realizing if I want to get those weekend small stream trips in, I’d better get them on the calendar in advance.
Which made me think of Singlebarbed, who I need to lure up here to babysit while I fish for a repeat of our small stream adventure of a few years ago (though this time sans the hyper-aggressive mosquitoes).
That led me to count the days until the general trout opener (April 27), which somehow led me to this — the kind of honest TV commercial the outdoor products world desperately needs, but simply doesn’t get. Sadly, it seems likely my genius will remain unrecognized:
EXT. DAY -- SMALL ALPINE MEADOW STREAM
Quiet, pastoral alpine meadow stream setting. The stream bubbles along happily, the birds sing. A deer grazes peacefully at forest’s edge. It’s beautiful.
Suddenly, a tall, lanky man (FRED) wearing too-large waders enters frame, running crazily left to right, arms flailing wildly in the air. There’s a hint of a dark cloud around him.
SFX
Muffled screams, panicked whining noises.
FRED exits right hand edge of frame. Camera loses him, then jerks right just in time to pick him up -- still flailing -- as he topples into the stream.
SFX
Strangled “urghh” and splash.
NARRATOR
Today FRED had his first encounter with vicious alpine mosquitoes.
Camera holds steady. FRED does not surface.
NARRATOR
FRED did not bring Singlebarbed mosquito repellent. He will not make that mistake again.
Camera moves toward stream, slowly pans down. We see FRED on his back just under the surface of the water, his palms out as if he’s using them to hold himself under the surface of the water.
SFX
Mosquito “dental drill whine” sound starts, slowly builds.
Camera continues to close in. We see FRED’S increasingly frantic face, bubbles escaping from his mouth.
NARRATOR
FRED is learning how to hold his breath. It turns out he can’t do it very long.
SFX
Mosquito whine continues to build, climaxes.
Picture dissolves to beauty shot (white seamless) of bottle of Singlebarbed Brand Mosquito Repellent.
NARRATOR
Singlebarbed Brand Mosquito Repellant. When repelling mosquitoes is more important than the integrity of your DNA.
Single animated mosquito buzzes into frame, lands on bottle of Singlebarbed, then falls off, dead.
SFX
Bzzzzzz....erp.
NARRATOR
(low voice)
May induce side effects including coughing, skin rash, oily anal discharge, loss of feeling just below your right elbow, sloughing off of genitals, paranoia, an affinity for speed metal, and death.
See you planning to fish someplace beautiful, Tom Chandler.
Weekly Shortcasts for 2013-03-14
- Best response ever (so far this week) to Yahoo's new rule ending work-from-home arrangements for employees: http://t.co/nYXiLd1RWw ->
- Nice pics of Yosemite's rare firefall (only happens once a year, some years): http://t.co/ovZk2U03h7 ->
- New Post: The Fly Tying Celebrities I Know (or, Dave Roberts Named Oregon Fly Tyer Of The Year) http://t.co/a3lARu2IIM ->
- Has CalTrout found a way to help revive California's Central Valley salmon runs in an ag-friendly way? http://t.co/pauY4Xk5sS ->
- Senate voting to cut funds for steelhead & salmon recovery in CA. Call, email Senator Feinstein, tell her to vote NO: http://t.co/Iw9MkC31bg ->
The Fly Tying Celebrities I Know (or, Dave Roberts Named Oregon Fly Tyer Of The Year)
We interrupt this deafening silence for an Important News Announcement Of Breaking Fly Tying News(ish) That’s Important.
In what has to considered a milestone on the Road To The Fly Tying Apocalypse, the Underground has learned that Southern Oregon fly tyer and fly fishing guide (also the Trout Underground’s Best Man) Dave Roberts has been awarded the following:
Oregon Fly Tyer Of The Year
Because the call came while I was trying to put a decidedly cranky M2 to bed, the details remain unclear. In fact, in the interest of full journalistic transparency, I’m including an exact transcript of the call:
Roberts: I was just given the honor of being named Oregon Fly Tyer Of The Year!
Underground: Hey, congratulations! For what year? 1932?
Roberts: Whaa? This year.
Underground: Even better. Have these people ever met you? I mean, in person?
Roberts: Why do you ask?
Underground: No reason. M2′s crying, gotta run. Congratulations again!
Despite the fact we once voted Dave Roberts The Guide Most Likely To Kill His Clients And Successfully Hide Their Bodies After They Question The Casting Characteristics Of Bamboo Fly Rods (he has special forces training after all), we frankly couldn’t be happier.
Dave Roberts, Oregon Fly Tyer of the Year
Roberts is a fly tyer of the old-school variety; he began tying as a youngster under his grandfather’s direction, where he was made to tie tails on a hook over and over until he got it right — before he was allowed to move onto tying dry fly bodies.
I suspect he would tie flies even if the sport of fly fishing didn’t exist; one of those tyers with that artistically goofy perception of the art who — every time you talk to him — has something new cooking at the vise. He also teaches/leads a lot of fly tying classes and tying groups, and at gatherings, he’s the guy sitting at the desk tying flies while the rest of us try out new lies on each other.
It’s one of the great crimes of the century that Dave and I have not fished together recently, but the schedules simply haven’t meshed.
Now that he’s famous (and likely overwhelmed by the fly tying groupies and product endorsement offers), I suspect he’ll be even harder to reach (“Have your machine call my machine”).
Congratulations Dave Roberts!
See you at the vise, Tom Chandler.
Excuse Me While I Douse These Fires…
True to form, I walked off the plane and right into a client website nightmare (I’m calling them Sitemares from now on).
Accordingly, I could use a little calm. Which we’ll get courtesy Mike from the Tamanawis site, a U.K. blog which doesn’t see much traffic or many posts, but remains a real favorite of mine.
Consider this peaceful, obliquely fly fishing-related video a slice of Monday morning bliss, absent fishporn, driving guitars or posing (Mike even wrote and performed the music).
As someone who has been a little disconnected from my old life, the concept of Reconnect is a happy one:
Reconnect from Mike Tamanawis on Vimeo.
See you on the other side of the sitemare, Tom Chandler.
Weekly Shortcasts for 2013-03-07
- Mt. Shasta company offering its highly regarded whitewater guide school in May: http://t.co/z5bT4aJQAR ->
- The Outdoor Gunpocalypse: police dog retrieves stolen handgun, accidentally fires it: http://t.co/fIHhskse4k ->
Getting Hammered By Snow? You Probably Deserve It…
Chris Raine attempted to inject a few clouds into my Hawaiian vacation by sending me a photograph of the 16 inches of snow that fell on Mt. Shasta last night, pointing out I’d have to move it all off my driveway before I even really got home.
Fortunately for me, his power went out shortly after sending the picture, suggesting instant karma and underscoring an essential truth: I may have to deal with the snow eventually, but I’m not doing it now.
Instead, I’m wandering around the beach talking to women in very brief swimsuits (carrying a cute young kid apparently makes conversation with women inevitable, though there is a limit to this stuff; you don’t want to be the guy who missed his daughter’s first real solo swim because you were riveted to the wrong swimsuit). Plus, our power in Hawaii is on, and even if it wasn’t, it’s like 78 degrees here.
Clearly, I own the moral high ground (sorry Chris).
Still, after one of the driest January/February stretches on record, the snow that will make my return home kinda miserable is badly needed; after several big, early storms, California’s snowpack had dwindled to 65% – 75% of normal, which is not a number that excites skiers, water agencies, or fly fishermen.
It looks like the onset of yet another March Miracle — the late storms that have saved California’s snowpack from achieving depressing percentages the last handful of years.
In fact, it’s become the norm; early storms followed by very little snow, followed by late storms clearly designed to make winter last forever, driving us mountain types just a little closer to the edge.
So the snow’s necessary and useful and I don’t mind that the rest of the country is getting pounded while I sip fluffy drinks. It’s payback for all the times you bastards enjoyed spring in February or March while I shoveled snow in a place that hasn’t seen a bikini in more than six months.
See you on the beach, Tom Chandler.
Greetings From Hawaii — Where Chickens Rule The Earth
I forgot about the chickens.
Everywhere you go Kauai, you see feral — but recognizably domestic — chickens. They’re scratching at the red dirt alongside the road. They’re on the beach. You’ll even see them pecking away at palm tree seed pods, which stand a good twelve feet off the ground.
Several of them claim ownership of our rental house, including a pair of roosters competing to see who can crow the loudest (and the earliest) every morning.
Red dirt warriors
Probably a good thing I left the shotgun home.
Their origins aren’t clear; some say they’re the descendants of red junglefowl brought in the 1700s and 1800s. Other say the real chicken explosion didn’t occur until the 1992 hurricane demolished Kauai’s chicken coops alongside its hotels.
Aside from rental cars and the occasional (hungry) local, they suffer no natural predators, so the chickens flourish; more of them dot the countryside (and smear the centerline on the roads) than the last time I was here.
So maybe this is paradise after all; the sun shines a lot, it’s always warm, and free-for-the-taking hackle runs in herds.
Groundhog Day, Virus Style (or, We’re Running Away)
You know those selfless people who would basically throw themselves on a hand grenade to save a stranger?
Apparently, I’m one of the other guys.
After what amounted to a month of throwing myself on the hand grenade of disease and infirmity (the kids are OK now, but I’m sick for the third time in a month), the family seized an opportunity to say “so long, suckers,” running away and leaving the rest of the Undergrounders staring at a live grenade.
Sorry. Sometimes it’s every man for himself.
This morning we loomed up the truck and blew out of the plague town that is Mt. Shasta, descending on the stylish city of San Francisco like the Beverly Hillbillys when they fell on Los Angeles. Tomorrow we’ll board a United Plague Plane headed west for… Hawaii.
Rumor has it not everyone in Hawaii is sick.
In Mount Shasta — where everyone is coughing and hacking — things had gotten to the point the L&T and I appeared to be starring in a virus-ridden version of Groundhog Day, doomed to repeat the same cold over and over until we learned some obscure lesson about washing our hands after handling money.
Assuming we survive the flight (it’s United, where positive passenger outcomes are more a general goal than common outcome), we plan to drag the tax deductions to the beach and do a little laying about, drinking beverages shaded by tiny paper umbrellas.
At some point, we’ll do what digitally capable people generally do when they’re someplace beautiful; post pretty pictures online in an attempt to create envy among their friends and acquaintances.
I know you’ll understand.
See you on the beach (I’ll be the guy coughing and hacking like a lifelong smoker), Tom Chandler.
Runs On
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