This Penthouse Forum-worthy backpack review was left on the SteepandCheap.com site (found via the rather brilliant Goat blog), and the Underground – who bravely confronts the questions the rest of the fly fishing media are afraid to ask – wants to know why fly fishing gear reviews are never this interesting:
Excuse me. I need to be alone for a minute.
See you in the woods, Tom Chandler.
In an earlier post, I confessed my appreciation for the US military’s Boonie hat – the fly fisherman’s ideal warm-weather hat (at least for anyone willing to endure the icy glare of Fly Fishing’s Fashionistas).
I suggested more military surplus gear might find its way to the Budget Underground’s pages.
And why not?
Military “surplus” gear lacks panache (and any semblance of style), but it’s generally rugged and often attractively priced.
And if one thing’s become clear, it’s that the Undergrounders are a bunch of cheap bastards thrifty fly fishermen, and when our readers cry out for relief from pressing economic conditions, the Underground answers [strike heroic post].
Included in the descriptions below are links to a couple Cheap Gear Sources. Bear this in mind: I’m not suggesting these are the only places to get this stuff, and I’m also not benefiting in any way from the sale.
I’m just a giver, that’s all. A giver.
The Tube-Style Headwrap (The Buff)
You’ll find a lot of anglers wearing Buff headgear these days – especially those in sun-drenched saltwater environments.
They’re basically tubes of breathable fabric – a lightweight version of the venerable neck gaiter.
I was skeptical of the things – until I ran into a cloud of truly aggressive mosquitoes, and found only an empty bottle of repellent.
In desperation, I wore the Buff over my face and neck (my hat went on top), and while it was a little warm and fogged my glasses (eyeglass wearers know exactly what I mean), it was a hell of a lot better than a few dozen mosquito bites.
Speaking as someone who happily avoids the sun whenever possible, I’ve also pressed my tube headwear into a solar-avoidance role, and it worked – without wholly cooking me in the process.
Problem is, I lost my Buff.
And it turns out, they’re expensive ($20+). If you’re interested in one of their colorful patterns or anti-microbial/UV blocking tubes, then by all means buy the Buff.
If you can live with Olive Drab or Desert Tan, you can find a military-issue headwrap (Buff-style) product here – for $8.
They’re lightweight and basically disappear into the back pocket of a vest or chest pack, so you’ll do yourself the favor of always having one on hand when you really need it.
Like the affordable Boonie hat, I can’t see a reason you wouldn’t have a couple of these stashed in your gear.
They’ve become a staple on my small stream trips; they’ll protect you from sunburn (or more importantly, from more sunburn), keep you warm on cool days, and turn an irritating cloud of mosquitoes into background noise.
I risk ridicule, but not mosquito bites.
For $8.
At that “such a deal” price, buy a couple and squirrel them away (buy now, thank us later).
Identify Yourself
Ever leave a vest, bag, duffel or other piece of gear behind – without any ID attached?
(No, of course I haven’t – my mind is sharp as a #20 dry fly hook.)
However, it could conceivably happen to one of you, and when it does, you’ll be glad you’re a regular Underground reader.
We give you the US military dog tag.
They’re cheap, they’re durable, they’re custom – and with the included chains, they attach easily to a pack, vest, duffel, briefcase or other bag that can get left behind by aging, forgetful fly fishermen.
In simple terms, they offer a good Samaritan a chance to find the real owner.
And yes, if you’re struck by lightning or rendered unconscious by your own faulty backcast, wearing a dog tag might help folks find out who you are and how they can reach your family – especially if you’re like me and you often don’t carry your wallet into the wilderness.
Custom dog tags (complete with chain and rubber “silencers”) cost only $6/pair at The Command Post site, so for $12, you get four personalized tags – one to wear on a chain and three to scatter among your easily misplaced gear.
You may begin thanking me at any time.
Wader Aid
Small stream fishermen spend a lot of time hiding behind low-to-the-ground things, which means you either develop Lance Armstrong-level quads and squat, or you chew the crap out of your knees (and pinhole your expensive waders).
If you lean towards the latter, then you’ve no doubt ‘enjoyed’ that special moment when you find yourself hopping around on one knee while trying to dislodge the pointed rock from your kneecap.
It hurts, it’s not pretty, and there’s always the chance someone with a video camera will tape the event, landing you squarely on YouTube at one of your least photogenic moments.
The solution?
Silly, but effective (no pinholes)
I bought a pair of these last year – when it became clear I was spending a lot of time fishing from my knees, and they weren’t happy about it.
Decades ago, I carried a pair of sizable “drywall” knee pads on fishing trips in an effort to avoid all those wader pinhole leaks that irritated the hell out of me.
Those worked (to a point), but didn’t stay up while walking and took up a fair amount of space in a daypack.
When I lost them, I didn’t bother to replace them.
Still, I recently went looking for a replacement, and discovered that a lot of US Special Forces troops wear knee protection in the form of “tactical” knee pads.
The newer, slimmer “tactical” knee pads stay on your knees better than the old geezers, and while they’re not exactly comfortable (you won’t wear them when you don’t need them), they’re good enough to carry along in the car.
For example, on my last small stream trip, I didn’t wear the things on the freestone part of the trip, but unlimbered them for the meadow portion, where you pretty much have to fish from your knees if you’d like to accomplish more than spooking trout.
Several different brands are available, but these are pretty cheap ($15), seem to work well, and are even available in camo colors.
It’s hard to imagine whipping these out on the Upper Sacramento River, but easy to see the benefits on a smaller venue, especially if you’re wet wading, and your knees are wholly unprotected.
Your knees will thank us…
See you at the surplus store, Tom Chandler.
Fly fishing in the winter isn’t the Big Secret it once was, and frankly – given the quality of today’s winter gear – it’s also not the sufferfest it was as little as a decade ago.
Fly fishing when ice is as common as the water offers its own challenges...
(Whether that’s good or bad depends entirely on your feelings about impressing other fly fishermen with Jack London fishing stories)
In the “old” days (like upwards of four years ago), cold weather meant a couple base layers, at least one fleece layer (perhaps two), and a wading jacket.
It kept you warm, but was bulky, and god forbid the sun came out or you decided to hike thirty minutes to another spot.
Fleece is wonderful stuff, but it doesn’t compress at all, and most wading jackets don’t exactly crush down to fist-sized wads.
In other words, those layers are hell to stuff into the back of a vest.
Fly fishing in the winter: You're dealing with a lot of variables.
“Warm” when you’re standing stock still in a river waving a stick at a BWO hatch is different from “warm” when you’re briskly skiing or hiking to the river.
And while layering is a useful concept, it doesn’t always adapt well to circumstances where you can peel away a layer, but lack a place to put it once you do.
Like when you’re fly fishing.
A truism about being outdoors in the winter is that “way too warm” is almost always worse than “a teensy bit cold.”
That’s because overheating leads to sweat, which leads to hypothermia, which is why – two winters ago – I expressed my love for Patagonia’s Insulator soft shell jacket.
It was a brilliant piece of engineering – one I found desirable for its adaptability and serviceability across a very wide range of temperatures.
To refresh, Patagonia’s Insulator soft shell isn’t bulky, insulates nicely, repels water and wind, yet moves moisture like the California Aqueduct – so hiking/skiing fly fishermen don’t become sweat-soaked hiking/skiing fly fishermen.
My Insulator soft shell sheds water, but stays warm even when it gets wet.
It’s become my all-around cold-weather fishing jacket – one I wear even when I’m not fly fishing (chicks dig me in it).
On this winter’s pair of ski/fish trips, I never really needed anything besides my Insulator soft shell – a startling confession given the difference between standing in 38 degree water and xc-skiing for 50 minutes up a steep hill.
Still, despite my love of the soft shell, they do run run second best when temperatures fall below freezing – especially if you’re not hiking, skiing or generating any heat of your own.
When it’s real cold and you’re simply standing in a river – or in the front of a drift boat – something warmer would make for a happier fly fisherman.
Soft shells don’t react well to a lot of base layers, so you can’t simply throw a few long-sleeve underlayers on when it gets cold.
In other words, when it’s truly cold, it’s not your best choice.
Welcome to Nano and Micro territory.
A while after I sprung for the Patagonia Insulator, I also bought Patagnoia’s Micro Puff jacket – a piece of clothing recommend by every mountain guide I spoke to (and mountain guides know from cold).
And yes, I discovered it’s everything they said it was – unbelievably light, windproof, water resistant, extremely compressible, warm when wet, and… very warm.
Really warm.
In fact, it’s often a little too warm for an active fly fisherman in this part of the country.
I wore it – and loved it when I needed it – but kept bumping against an unfortunate reality; the Micro Puff overheated me within minutes of starting a hike or if the sun came out.
Which is often how my fly fishing goes.
My army-drab Micro Puff jacket: Great when you need it, too warm when you don't.
I ended up wearing the Micro Puff when I knew I’d be standing in the front of a drift boat, or fishing a single, waist-deep run when it was very cold. And basically loved every second of it.
Lightweight and supple, I hardly knew it was there.
Yet the fly in the ointment is that the Micro Puff was often too warm for this area’s above-arctic temperatures, though on a pair of occasions I was damned glad I had it along. And yes, it almost always came “along” – it compresses into a sack about the size of a small lunch bag.
If I lived farther north – like one of those deluded souls who inhabit northern Montana or Idaho – my Micro Puff would probably never leave my body.
My mountain guide friends use the things endlessly; they ski or climb in their soft shells, but once they stop for any length of time, out comes the Micro Puff, which fits over their soft shell, keeping them warm while their disgustingly fit guide bodies stop burning calories.
As I discovered, that works better at 10,000′ than it does at 2500′.
This year, looking for a kinder, gentler version of the Micro Puff, I tumbled for Patagonia’s Nano Puff pullover (Disclosure: despite being handsome and thrifty and frankly deserving of a lot more free swag than I actually get, I bought my Nano Pullover, though got a “media” discount).
In essence, the Nano is an even lighter variation off the Micro Puff jacket; less insulation wrapped in an even smaller package (it stuffs into its own pocket, which is about the size of a small, thick paperback book).
The Nano Pullover (photo stolen from Patagonia)
Despite its “floats on air” mass, it’s still windproof, still water “resistant” and yes – quite warm.
Just not too warm.
I still wouldn’t wear it while skiing, but it’s so damned small and light that I can bring it along when I do.
Couple it with a baselayer and a rain jacket (for when it really rains), and I’ve got something that will work right down to the temperatures where it’s really too cold to fish.
The Nano I bought was so well received in the Underground’s household that it almost immediately disappeared into the L&T’s cavernous closet.
She found it indispensable for downhill skiing, post-xc-skiing, and just generally wearing around town.
This meant that – when I needed it for fishing – it was usually gone, and while Patagonia still has to answer for almost causing a divorce, I finally broke down and ordered a women’s model for the L&T, reclaiming mine by force when hers arrived.
Who says money can’t buy happiness?
A portrait of the writer being happily warm...
Fly fishing tends to lag other (higher-tech) outdoor sports on the clothing front, and why not?
Despite a lot of videos to the contrary, fly fishing is not an “extreme” sport in the climactic sense, and I think we’re only experiencing the lightweight/minimalist revolution that has shaped mountaineering and backpacking the past ten years.
In essence, it’s no longer considered smart (or fashionable) to carry 65 pound backpacks on weekend trips or lug huge technical daypacks on simple ski trips.
Older Bro Chandler – who once lugged backpacks in the 45 pound range – has embraced backpacking’s lightweight revolution, and now routinely finds himself shouldering three-day packs weighing less than 20 pounds.
Even though wide-angle distortion makes it bigger than it really is, you can tell the Nano Puff packs small.
Materials advances have accounted for some of the weight loss, as has a willingness to cut out the useless crap that was formerly used to conquer the wilderness instead of simply passing through it.
Accounting for most of weight loss is an embrace of minimalism, which means that an ultra lightweight tarp might be prove just as useful as a tent, and that the equipment itself didn’t exactly need to be built to resist nuclear attacks.
A case in point is the Older Bro’s old Dana backpack, which was state of the art a decade ago. Unloaded, it weighed in at a manly 8.5 pounds, and literally would last forever.
Today, his bare Osprey pack weighs just over three pounds.
One difference is the design philosophy – buying goodies made to last four lifetimes is great, except that hardly anybody backpacks more than a dozen times a year, or needs bombproof straps, or needs all those straps to being with.
And five pounds is five pounds.
Invoking the same design philosophy across every category of gear has resulted in people hiking the Pacific Crest Trail with (admittedly extreme) 10 pound packs.
We may be on the verge of seeing the beginnings of that thinking today in fly fishing – wading jackets are getting lighter (and thinner), minimalist chest packs are appearing, and even wading boots seem to be on a diet.
Every time I drag my fly fishing gear to an alpine lake, I couldn’t be happier.
My soft shell remains at the center of my winter fly fishing universe, but I can also stuff my Marmot Precip rain jacket (very light) and a Nano Puff in the back pocket of my chest pack (they both fit), and be ready for everything from a frozen downpour to a hard ski out of the river canyon in brilliant sunshine.
The Frozen River: What do you wear to fish this?
If the forecast was for really cold temps – and I was standing on the front of a drift boat or waist deep in a steelhead run all day long – I’d pop for the Micro Puff and my soft shell, and If I had to wear both together and still wasn’t warm, I’d know I needed to get the hell out of there.
One caveat to all this lightweight love is this: My Nano Puff pullover is nowhere near as durable as my Filson waxed cotton wading jacket.
If I repaired trucks or trimmed trees for a living, I wouldn’t wear a Nano to work.
The Micro and Nano’s whisper light fabric has held up so far, but a guide rowing a boat every day might opt for something more durable (and heavier), and that makes sense.
Still, I think the lightweight revolution is peeking out from around the edges of the fly fishing world.
All the major fly fishing manufacturers now offer soft shell jackets, and Orvis is touting its sonic welded seam wader and wading jacket technology for lightweight, packable waders and jackets.
(A report is coming on the Orvis packable waders as soon as they’ve been put through their paces, though I can say the sonic seam waders may well get a workout whenever I’m away from the Upper Sac’s wild blackberries).
Simms offers what appears to be a lightweight insulated jacket in the same vein as Patagonia’s Micro/Nano jackets (though Simms doesn’t offer weight data), and almost everyone is throwing their hat in the minimalist vest/chest pack/sling bag ring.
In other words, the days of carrying enough gear (and enough overbult gear) to invade Canada – and earning the stooped posture to go with it – may be ending for fly fishermen.
In a day (summer or winter), we can literally cover miles of river and spend hours on our feet – a lot of it spent wading in fast-moving water – and if we bothered to check, I think we’d learn that even a five-pound weight difference would make a big difference at the end of a day (or a couple of them).
Frankly, the less I hurt, the happier I am. (I may not be alone in this.)
(Interesting lightweight side note: My four-day backpack trip up Tennessee’s Hazel Creek saw my pack, tent, gear & food come in at 23 pounds, yet my clunky fly fishing gear – waders, boots, two rods, one reel and flies – sadly added almost 15 pounds to the equation. Anyone still wonder why I’m grateful for lighter weight fly fishing gear?)
I’ll find out for sure during next year’s alpine fishing adventures, but I bet I can shave a good ten pounds off my “let’s hike into an alpine lake and fish it today” pack simply by using lighter, more appropriate gear.
And as Older Bro has pointed out (often), when you’re hiking, ounces equal pounds, and pounds equal pain.
See you on the river (warm but lightweight), Tom Chandler.
OK, I’m stretching it a little. The headline suggests the “Soft Shell Revolution” has already happened – and it has in highly aerobic sports like skiing and mountaineering – but it’s less clear we’ll see the same in fly fishing.
Why? What’s a soft shell jacket? And why would you consider wearing one? You ask, the Underground answers…
What Are Soft Shells?
In simplest terms, soft shell jackets occupy a useful middle ground in the outdoor world. Typically, they’re a highly water resistant knit shell bonded to a light interior layer of fine fleece. They’re not insulated or “puffy” like a down jacket, yet they’re warmer than hard shells (most high-end wading jackets are essentially waterproof, windproof hard shells).
Yet it’s not their construction that makes soft shells so attractive – it’s their in-the-wild performance.
They’re not wholly waterproof or wholly windproof like a hard shell – nor is a soft shell as warm as a down jacket – but they can handle everything short of a really pouring rain, insulate nicely across a wide range of temperatures, and absolutely shine when the wearer is generating heat (and potentially sweat).
That’s critical to skier or mountaineers; working up a good sweat in a cold alpine environment is a one-way ticket to hypothermia – the wilderness athlete’s biggest enemy. That’s why – questions in hand – I found my way to one of the best backcountry skiers on Mount Shasta (and owner of the leading local mountain guide service).
His take? He wears soft shells pretty much all the time, saying his hard shells simply gather dust in the closet.
An unabashed Patagonia partisan, he wears soft shells climbing and skiing the mountain – often in rainy and snowy conditions – though he carries along a lightweight-but-warm Patagonia “Micro-Puff” jacket (a kind of synthetic down jacket that still insulates when wet and packs down to almost nothing) to keep him warm during those periods when he stands around in sub-freezing temperatures (pretty much always the case up there).
It’s the kind of practical insight from a working pro that makes a strong impression on me, and I admit to wondering about the application of soft shells to fly fishing.
It’s hard to overlook the utility of a jacket featuring the best working qualities of a four-wheel drive pickup truck, but fly fishermen aren’t as active on a river as skiers or climbers. Are soft shells really needed?
The Test (Or the Beginnings of One)
Because I’m willing to make even the big sacrifices for the Undergrounders, I forced myself to go fly fishing on the Upper Sacramento wearing Patagonia’s fly fishing soft shell (the Insulator).
Soft shell exteriors often feature a tight-knit, almost rubbery look, while the interior is a very fine fleece.
I’m only three trips into the test, but results have been good. The most “extreme” trip was my photograph-heavy snowy day on the river with Wayne Eng, where in upper-20s temperatures, I fished through the snow and wind wearing only a lightweight wicking t-shirt, a thin long-sleeve base layer, and the Patagonia soft shell (plus fleece hat, fingerless gloves, and fleece pants under the waders).
While I was always covered with snow, I remained dry inside the jacket. I was never too warm (the walk to the water was short), and I was also never too cold. In short, I was pretty damned happy with the results, though this hardly represents an all-encompassing trial.
The Good, The Bad, and the Waffling
Pluses? The lack of bulk was freeing; casting, retrieving gear, tying knots – all the basics – were easier to accomplish than if I was wearing the usual winter gear, which includes a bulletproof wading jacket over fleece. Patagonia’s Insulator soft shell is nicely streamlined, and includes covered anchor points for zingers, something I doubt I’ll use, though it’s a nice detail to see.
The experience was one of working closer to my skin than with bulkier clothing, a sensation I heartily endorse.
Minuses? None yet, though I don’t how I would have fared if the snow had turned to a pouring rain. Some go so far as to use soft shells as rain jackets, and my own experience (years ago) wearing a soft shell while skate skiing on a drizzly day suggests they’re far more water resistant than I’m giving them credit for. (The second I tell my readers to “heck, wear ‘em in the rain” I’ll be sued by an Undergrounder for emotional (rain-soaked) distress.)
In addition, soft shells typically don’t include a hood, and the Patagonia soft shell’s cuffs didn’t include a provision for cinching them tightly against water infiltration, so in a truly wet, hostile environment, a hooded hard shell might still offer the best protection.
Clearly, more rainy day testing is called for, so I’ll be back on the river soon (at the Underground, the giving simply never stops).
Last year, I skied/snowshoed to the river on several occasions, and expect the soft shell to shine in those high-output environments. I also want to put it through the winter wringer on a couple hikes to remote sections – the hikes that always left me annoyingly sweaty and fogged in my hard shell past.
The Limits of My Testing
The mountains of Northern California aren’t what you’d call a truly arctic environment; temperatures here don’t often fall into the single digits, and those in sub-zero environments might find a soft shell in inadequate to the task – or at best, only one part of the solution. Then again, the realities of icy guides and a frozen fly line means hardly anyone actually fly fishes in single-digit temperatures.
Those who consistently fish in very cold conditions (those zany steelheaders) might want to look at a warmer jacket – something like the above-mentioned Patagonia Micro-Puff, which though it sells in the bazillions to backpackers, climbers and skiers, was invented on a steelhead river by folks who liked fleece’s warmth and wet-insulating capabilities, but couldn’t abide by its bulk.
Caveats
If you’re interested in trying a soft shell jacket, don’t order the first one you see. Soft shells are manufactured in a fairly wide array of sizes and weights, and the thinnish soft shell jacket designed for a monster cross-country skier might not be ideal for fly fisherman who stand in the water.
In addition – and I’ll attempt to put this delicately – the soft shells designed for extreme mountain types often reflect their whippet-esque physiques – not exactly the perfect fit for the slightly more (ahem) pear-shaped fly fishing constituency. For example, Patagonia’s mountain-oriented “Guide” jacket didn’t fit me very well, and while the fishermen-oriented “Insulator” was too big in the middle, it made more sense.
Thus, if you’re not a member of the 5% body fat club, consider buying a soft shell from a fly fishing company. This is hardly an exhaustive survey of jackets, but I know that fishing-oriented soft shells are currently available from Patagonia, Orvis, Simms and Cloudveil, and I’m not about to start recommending one over the other absent testing all of them.
As you can see, there’s more to come on this subject. And yes, I’m starting the conversation here instead of later simply preaching at you guys about what to buy (it’s Power to the People Friday here at TU).
Any thoughts from the Undergrounders about soft shells? Recommendations? Failures? Whines?
See you on the (cold, cold) river, Tom Chandler
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