As much as I enjoyed the three weeks of sunshine and 50-degree days, I know how hard drought is on our finny friends (especially with predators like Westlands circling our water like sharks).

Blue skies, white trees, happy fish...

So while I don’t like moving the stuff on what amounts to a professional basis, I’m still happy to see it falling from the sky.

And yeah, snow makes everything look pristine, and as the snow eddies and circles outside the windows at night like a school of fish, I’ll admit to a certain unearned smugness, fired by the cozy, wood-fired (and heat-pump assisted) warmth inside the house.

(Once the power goes out, the hubris disappears in a hurry.)

Still, despite the 18″ of snow – a lot of which is melting – Upper Sac flows continue to fall, and it’s just possible that Wayne Eng and I will – next week, if all goes well – try to chase down that rumor of BWOs on the river.

Following rumors during warm weather is a low-risk endeavor; even if it proves to be a bust, the fishing is usually good enough to offer up a trout or two via all the usual tactics.

In the winter, the word “bust” takes on a whole new level of meaning, suggesting you never saw a bug, never saw a rising fish, never got bit, fell into the river, and froze the whole interval between the walk back and the time the truck heater finally got going.

Who wants to come along?

Going For Launch

The next week should prove to be a manic one, with another new client website launching and a large-scale project only a couple weeks away from going golden.

Naturally, the big, fast Desktop PC Of Doom I ordered to speed this whole process has never performed even a byte of real work, having been delayed, finally arrived, then sent back to the factory for some warranty work.

Having arrived for the second time, it’s still suffering some demons.

It’s irritating enough that I wish I was out fly fishing, and not just because I’d rather be fly fishing than doing almost anything work related.

Fly fishermen can be incredible snots about their gear, with “normal” people channeling Felix Unger when it comes to the quality of the cork on their fly rod, but even the worst of us know the stuff works pretty much as advertised right out of the box.

Anyone want to trade a computer for a fly rod?

See you in the snow, Tom Chandler.

Snow is NIMBY (Not In My Back Yard).

In fact, while the intellectual side of me understands the need for snowpack as a storage medium to feed the state’s water needs, my emotional side is beginning to think the snowpack would be a hell of a lot happier a little farther up the hill (maybe concentrated in the lot of that guy with the huge tractor).

Snow is pretty, but creates blisters. Now it's your turn, Undergrounders.

Driving this cutting-edge thinking is this: I’m keenly aware I’m up here sweating like Patrick Ewing over next year’s trout water while my Southern California readers sip wine spritzers handed to them by live-in servants, leaning back in their Italian leather lounge chairs, and saying things like “I say, Muffy, I do so love the sound of the rain pelting the roof of our palatial home, especially since I don’t have to move it with a snowblower.”

Rain, as you know, requires little maintenance, and barring a mudslide, it basically runs right out into the gutter.

Snow, on the other hand, is the stuff that makes life in the rest of California possible, but requires a tremendous amount of human labor to move.

This, I believe, is manifestly unfair.

After all, not only do the Central & Southern California Undergrounders catch trout (and stripers, and salmon, and whatever) in water I personally shoveled during the winter, they also use it to water their imported orchid collections (or whatever).

Which is why the following Groundbreaking Underground Program makes so much sense, I’m actually clearing a space on my mantel for the inevitable Nobel Prize:

The Trout Underground/Man Cave Snow Transferal Work Program.

Essentially, my no-good, slacker readers California fans – who benefit mightily from my snow-throwing labor the whole fishing season – will be required (by law) to drive north just prior to the next big snowstorm.

Once here, they will remove the snow from my driveway while I sip at drinks decorated with paper umbrellas.

Naturally, this isn’t something I do to make my own life easier.

Nope. The Underground’s doing all this for you.

It’s a well-known fact that we appreciate the things we work for far more than the things that are handed to us.

And while it will just kill me to recline in comfort and get my temples massaged while the Undergrounders toil away in my 200′ long driveway, I’m willing to make that sacrifice so my readers will better appreciate next season’s trout fishing.

See? It’s a classic Underground “I suffer so my readers can win” situation (sorta like win/win, but with way more blisters.)

Even from this great distance, I can already feel the upwelling of gratitude from my readers, who were apparently too lazy to take advantage of my earlier 50% off deal on the Fly Fishermen’s Core Strengthening Program.

Now – at absolutely no cost (unless you count the inevitable visit to the chiropractor) – you can build the foundation for the enjoyment of the whole rest of your fly fishing season.

Imagine the contentment you’ll feel after the season opens, and you’re fishing the Lower Sacramento – secure in the knowledge that you helped make those life-giving flows possible.

See you during the next snowstorm, Tom Chandler.

Two days ago it was a springy 60 degrees, yesterday it rained steadily, and this morning, we’ve got:

From spring back to winter in a day

See you back here soon, Tom Chandler.

Sadly, the new system’s not operational, the old one’s crippled and wheezing fitfully, there are holes in every corner of the house (some leading to the frozen great outdoors), and yes, the contractor’s pipe guys were called out of town on an emergency job (I think they’re gambling in Vegas or something), so things might stay this way for a while.

Even the mighty Wonderdog seemed happy when his morning walk ended in a nice warm(ish), doggie bed.

Wally the Icicledog? It lacks the resonance of “Wonderdog”

The Underground clearly needs to work on that timing thing.

After all, the snow that found its way into my truck at the end of my last trip into town (the same day I fished with Wayne in the snow) is still there.

Much of the country is experiencing similar cold, and the Underground is going to boldly predict a wave of fly tying posts among fly fishing’s blogosphere (who knew this punditry stuff was so easy)?

Any good “frozen north” stories among the Undergrounders? What do the Undergrounders do when the weather outside is frightful?

More to come soon, Undergrounders – provided I can find those fingerless fleece gloves so I can type again – I won’t need them for fishing for at least a couple days, and the old digits still work best when warm.

See you all wrapped up in fleece, Tom Chandler.

fly tying, wally the wonderdog, snow, jesus its cold

There’s not a lot of it, but it’s still fallling here at the Trout
Underground/Man Cave World Headquarters (located on the flank of Mount
Shasta).

First, if you’re headed this way to fish, don’t assume shirtsleeve weather. In fact, better bring the fleece, though the snow will be gone by midday and temps over the weekend will be more… temperate.

See you in the snow, Tom Chandler.

fly fishing, fishing, snow, fall fishing

Powered by ScribeFire.

Still, at Trout Underground/Man Cave World Headquarters, we’re making headway in the ongoing War on Snow (millions in federal dollars needed).

Yesterday, rodbuilder and mechanical genius Chris Raine drove up and helped transform the evil, backbreaking Satan’s Snowblower from a sniveling, underachieving snow-weakling into a Powerful, Snow-Flinging Beast.

For a brief moment, I was the King of the Snow World. I was moving snow. I was clearing driveway. I was, in fact, kicking white fluffy butt.

And then I wasn’t. I wasn’t steering a snow-moving marvel. I wasn’t King of the World.

Once again, I was standing behind Satan’s Snowblower.

Satan’s Snowblower in its natural state (getting worked on): a more evil device never existed.

Sadly, Satan’s tenure as Beast was short-lived (about 30 minutes), and today I’m off to the hardware store to locate those tiny bits of metal that might resurrect what has become the snowblowing equivalent to the economy — a sputtering, slow-moving, under-performing monster.

More economic reports later (and maybe a fishing report if I can sneak out tomorrow).

Why Fly Fishing’s Better Than Skiing

Sure, fly fishers look dorky in our baggy rubber pants, but at least we’re not stomping around expensive ski lodges in oversized goggles and alien-looking plastic boots.

That’s one reason to fly fish in the winter instead of skiing. Here’s 45 seconds of another:

Click here to view the embedded video.

The Underground officially says “OUCH.” And wants you to know the potential organ donor in the picture will in fact recover fully.

That little fall you took last time you fished? Doesn’t look so terrifying now, does it?

This little life lesson brought to your courtesy the folks who really care about you.

The Trout Underground.

See you in the ER, Tom Chandler.

Technorati Tags: fly fishing,snow,snowblower,skiing