From the press release:

Inspired by the mountaineering crampon but adapted for the river, the River Crampon (MSRP $199) is the fishing industry’s most innovative traction device for wading. The performance is derived from soft, malleable aluminum bars which are riveted to a burley, stainless steel adjustable frame with highly corrosion resistant brass rivets. The soft aluminum cuts through weeds and moss on the slickest of river bottoms and grips rock like no other traction device. The crampon can be used with most wading boots on the market.

The Rock Grip Aluminum Bar Boot (MSRP $239) utilizes similar technology but is a full featured wading boot with permanently affixed aluminum bars on the outsole of the boot to provide superior support and traction in extreme wading conditions. Other features include a compression-molded EVA midsole and polypropylene insole for rigidity and support and a highly abrasion-resistant toe bumper with a reinforced toe box for protection. Additionally, testing shows that the aluminum bars are much easier on boat interiors than traditional cleats.

Moldy Chum carries the whole press release for the crampons (which function similar to mountain crampons) and wading boots, which certainly do transcend normal wading boot soles.

Years ago, steelhead fishermen sometimes wore galosh-style aluminum cleats over their wading boots, and while the grip was reportedly good (aluminum galls easily), I’m interested in seeing how comfort is affected — and if the aluminum scarring of streamside rocks is an issue.

See you standing upright, Tom Chandler.

Felt-soled wading boots for fly fishermen may be the sport’s latest endangered species; bans on felt soles seem to be picking up steam. What will fly fishermen be wearing five years from now?

The latest ban has appeared in Alaska’s southeast region – a ban that could easily be extended to cover the entire state (from the Juneau Empire):

A new ban on felt-soled wading shoes is set to take place next year as Juneau fishermen take to freshwater streams with fly rods in hand.

The ban is meant to keep nasty fish diseases from creeping into waters on the waders of traveling fishermen.

A proposal to expand the ban from the Southeast region statewide will be considered by the state Board of Fisheries at its March meeting in Anchorage.

…

Whirling disease is just one communicable fish disease of concern. Didymo, an algae also called rock snot, mud snails and zebra mussels are others that can kill all the fish in a stream.

“The waters where fly fishermen tend to fish and wade have become a map of the spread of these problems,” Vinsel said.

Ouch. Fly fishermen seem to bearing the brunt of the criticism over the spread of invasives – as are felt soles.

The extent of the blame that can be laid on felt soles isn’t really all that clear, and one of the cruel ironies of a felt sole ban is that fly fishermen – thinking their rubber-soled wading boots and waders were now “safe” – might actually become less vigilant about cleaning.

These bans are aimed traveling fly fishermen, which only makes sense; the stuff already in the river isn’t the problem.

The stuff from someone else’s river is.

You’ll Be Practicing Safe Wading Sooner Rather Than Later

Regardless of the science for or against, felt soles probably will be banned in many locations, which is one of the reasons I fired up last year’s rubber-soled wading boot test (the biggest reason was my own desire for long-lived soles, which makes me cheap as well as green).

I’m generally happy with the grip provided by rubber soles, but a lot of commentors on the Underground weren’t – and several wrote to say they were sticking with felt.

Your choice, and it’s possible you’ll enjoy the felt option for years to come. And it’s also possible you won’t.

Anglers who are fly fishing in Alaska – a popular destination – may find themselves scrambling for a felt replacement sooner than they think.

Fortunately, I’m only a pair of fishing trips away from wrapping up wading boot test, though few surprises seem to loom.

I really like the sticky rubber Patagonia Riverwalkers on small streams – and even on the Upper Sacramento River (where others have been less than enthralled).

Overall, the Simms, Korker and Patagonia rubber soles offer advantages, but seem unsuited from anything tougher than the Rouge or Upper Sac – and they’re real deathtraps on the McCloud or Pit.

My unanswered questions remain around the rubber soles with studs screwed in, which represent the unfinished part of the test.

I screwed a dozen studs into one sole of the Simms Headwater wading boots, and yes – it gripped better than the plain sole.

Better enough? More testing is needed.

Plus, Orvis has hinted at the arrival of a fabulous new pair of studded rubber soles, and we’ll take a look at those as soon as we see them.

For now, those who tend toward indecision might want to consider a pair of the Korkers Guide Boots, which offer interchangeable soles in everything from studded felt to studded rubber, and plain varieties too.

They might be just the ticket for the traveling fly fisherman – who’s in a restricted area on day, a drift boat the next, and hiking into the backcountry the next.

Baby needs a new pair of boots, Tom Chandler

While the new rubber soles seemingly offer evolutionary potential – studded rubber soles could ultimately replace felt/studded felt, largely for economic reasons – the standard sticky rubber probably won’t replace anything anytime soon.

My recent October Caddis trip found me wearing Simms’ new StreamTread (Vibram rubber soled) Headwater boots, while Older Bro wore one Korkers Guide Boot with a plain “Kling-On” sticky rubber sole, and one with a studded rubber “Kling-On” sole.

Korkers were made for testing

I quickly discovered the plain, un-studded Simms soles worked… OK.

Well, not really.

I didn’t fall.

But I did skid. And slide. And skate.

The same soles that performed surprisingly well on the fairly flat-bottomed-but-snotty Rogue River failed miserably on the Upper Sac’s angular streambed.

Step on a rock that angled downward, and my boots were sure to follow.

If the Vibram-soled Simms wading boots are destined for wide market acceptance, then they’ll do so on the back of one of two things:

• Massive growth of fly fishermen accessing easy-wading rivers (like the Rogue or Bitterroot)
• The liberal application of Simms Wading boot studs

The Korkers Story

The Korkers Guide Boots were seemingly tailor-made for this kind of testing; the soles are interchangeable, so it was easy to stick a studded rubber sole in the left boot, leaving the plain “sticky” rubber sole in the right.

The results were (by now) predictable.

The lack of grip offered by the plain rubber sole made the right boot immensely unpopular with novice wader Older Bro, and in truth, you could actually see the difference when he waded.

His right boot didn’t stick, and his left boot did.

OK.

This was sorta expected.

Wading Boots, So Far

I’m slowly but surely working my way towards one conclusion: For general, all-around use on freestone rivers, most anglers will want to add studs to their “sticky” rubber soled boots.

Straight sticky rubber might work fine on easier rivers, and if I fished the Bitterroot exclusively, plain rubber would be enough.

And yes, for small stream work, you’ll have to pry my Patagonia Riverwalkers – the only truly “sticky” rubber soles of the lot – from my cold, dead feet.

I’ve gotten along OK on the Upper Sacramento with my plain rubber Patagonia boots, but on steeper freestone rivers like the McCloud (hard wading), and the Pit River (got insurance?), plain rubber could earn you an eventual trip to the ER.

What’s Next?

The Underground’s fulltime Wading Boot Engineer stayed up all night and added studs to the Simms boots, and the Korkers will soon be sporting one felt sole alongside the studded rubber.

As I said before, studded rubber might prove a worthwhile replacement for studded felt purely on longevity and economic grounds, but first it has to deliver near-studded felt grip.

That may not be all that difficult; my old Weinbrenner studded rubber boots worked well enough to become my everyday boots, and the new rubber soles should (hopefully) deliver better grip than those.

In other words, more to come. Stay tuned.

You’re looking at a pair of Korkers Guide boots with a studded rubber sole on one foot, and the plain rubber on the other.

Studded rubber on one side, plain "sticky" rubber on the other (courtesy my cell phone camera)

This, I think, should prove interesting.

Next I plan to do the same with the Simms wading boots, and yes – the Korkers will eventually permit me to compare studded rubber to studded felt (these thing were made for testing).

With any luck, I’ll return (sans dunking) with pictures of big trout and a review of the real difference between studded and un-studded rubber – and some idea as to whether the Korkers studded rubber soles will cut it on the Upper Sacramento.

Naturally, all this is subjective (well, not the big trout part), but if it’s one thing fly fishermen manufacture in abundance, it’s opinions.

See you on the river (finally!!), Tom Chandler.

Will Patagonia Riverwalker "Sticky Rubber" wading boots stick when you need them?

The old ways tend to die hard in most fly fishermen, and while I’d love to hold myself aloft as a golden exception to the rule, I simply can’t.

Like most of you, I wore felt-soled wading boots for the majority of my fly fishing career (both with and without studs). I learned to live with the rapid wear, clogging, and irritating tendency to skate on smooth, angled rocks, justifying the hassles with the knowledge that felt soles were the only thing that worked.

Finally – tired of wearing out felt soles in less than a season (courtesy the sharp rocks lining the railroad beds running alongside the Upper Sac) – I switched to Weinbrenner’s studded rubber soles, which were OK.

Well, sometimes they were a lot less than OK, though they wore well and had (I’m guessing) 70%-80% of the grip of felt soles under good conditions.

I got by.

But with the Weinbrenners no longer available, and a new pair of wading boots needed right away to soothe my aching feet, I plumped for a pair of Patagonia Riverwalker “sticky rubber” soled wading boots.

The soles were rubber and they lacked studs and frankly – because I “knew” rubber was a poor substitute for felt – my expectations were pretty low. Like any resourceful outdoorsman, I figured a fix was no farther away than the nearest hardware store (sheet metal screws).

The good news? I haven’t been to the hardware store yet.

Sticky Rubber That Really Is

Dashing my expectations, Patagonia’s “sticky rubber” soles worked very, very well. In many environments, they actually exceeded the performance of studded felt and studded rubber soles.

At times, they were a better alternative to felt and studded felt for some applications – and perhaps a better choice overall (everybody’s mileage may vary on this one).

In other areas – especially situations involving slime layers on cannonball rocks – the sticky rubber soles faltered a bit, though in the midst of winter, there isn’t a lot of rock snot to go around.

Those who wade on snotty stuff all the time can bolster their grip with the addition of a few sheet metal screws, though I haven’t bothered.

You see, I’m liking life without studs. You can walk places you never could wearing studded soles (like inside a friend’s house or into the Burger Barn for a post-fishing snack).

When driving, I don’t suffer that Moment of Abject Terror when the studs just won’t let go of the gas pedal. In other words, it’s almost as if you can ambulate just like a normal human being (albeit one wearing dorky rubber pants). “Which is great and all” you say “But how do they work in the water?”

The Undergrounders ask, we answer:

Dry Streamside Rocks

Smooth, dry, angled rocks were always something of a problem area for felt and studded soles. More often than I care to remember, I’d apply a little angular pressure, and find myself “skating” fast down a rock surface. It’s an unpleasant sensation, and a dangerous one too.

After all, fall in three feet of water and you’re going to get wet. Fall in three inches, and you could get hurt. On dry rocks, the sticky rubber soles grab like they’re glued. A huge win over felt and studded boots.

Wet/Shallow Rocks

Wet streamside rocks – whether from rain or spray – are another big wading hazard, yet the sticky rubber sole handled them nicely (much to my surprise). They’re not magic, but they are effective – and very secure. Shallow or exposed wet rocks probably account for more of my “awkward wading moments” than any other situation, yet I experienced none of them with the Riverwalker (that’s not to say you won’t).

Surprisingly, it’s another win for sticky rubber – especially if you’re a small-stream fisherman.

Cobbled River (The Usual)

This is where the rubber (ahem) really meets the streambed. On last Saturday’s Upper Sacramento River trip, I was surprised to find myself pushing my way up a waist-deep run without a hint of slippage on the rocks.

I have fished this stretch a lot over the years, and my studded-rubber Weinbrenners always came across a little dicey. By contrast, the sticky rubber soles treated the river bottom like it was dry sidewalk – the only hint of slippage came when trying to clamber over a pair of dark-colored boulders, which are warmer, and support more algae.

How will I fare on this same stretch later in the summer – when algae grows thick and the rocks aren’t being polished by high flows?

Unfortunately, I can’t say for sure, though I suspect I’ll be OK.

On the Slippery Green Stuff

It’s when you’re wading over green-painted “snot rocks” that the sticky rubber fails a bit (which is to be expected). Felt soles work by cutting through the algae and clinging to the rock; studded soles take a similar course.

The “Star Tread” tread pattern on the sticky rubber soles will cut through a little slime, but obviously, it’s not capable of penetrating through algae to rock like carbide-tipped studs.

Naturally, you can add studs (in the form of metal screws), though congratulations – you’ve just negated a lot of the positives I mentioned above.

While the Riverwalkers performed nicely at Ney Springs and also near the infamous Dunsmuir “Sewer Ponds” stretch, I must reserve judgement until after a little more algae’s grown. Given the performance so far, I’m ready to be pleasantly surprised.

The Riverwalker has passed the test on those smooth-as-glass exposed bedrock environments, where studs act more like ice skates than safety devices. In those situations, studs were always more hindrance than help.

The Underground’s Take

Finally, fly fishermen have an alternative to felt or studded boots that actually outperforms the traditional options in several environments, though I won’t pretend Patagonia’s Riverwalker “grips like felt” in every situation.

The sticky rubber Riverwalker just might be the perfect wading boot for people who hike to fish small streams, where its dry-land performance and effectiveness on wet-but-clean rocks would truly shine.

In fact, add the sole’s performance to the boot’s surprisingly light weight (and pleasing flexibility), and you’ve got the (so far) the perfect blueliner’s boot.

It’s less surefooted in snotty, algae-rich areas, and I haven’t yet tested it in the McCloud or Pit Rivers. Still, those who aren’t sure will be comforted know you can add studs if you think they’re necessary, though I suggest testing them stud-free. You might find the benefits of a rubber sole outweigh the costs.

Bonus Goodies

I already mentioned the flexible, featherweight nature of the Riverwalker, but I haven’t mentioned the sheer joy I experience putting the silly things on. Stuffing my feet in my Weinbrenners was a chainsaw-death-match-ish wrestling match, yet my feet just slide into the Riverwalker.

I demonstrated the easy-on aspect to Wayne Eng, whose eyes widened momentarily (when you struggle with wading boots as often as guides do, boots that slip on like loafers grab your attention).

Frankly, the gestalt of the Riverwalker is astonishing: Patagonia’s done a superb job of crafting a wading boot that’s light, comfortable, easy to hike in, and surprisingly protective (even in tough freestone environments).

Still, the rubber sole remains the focus of this review, and while I’m not 100% clear that rubber soles alone will prevent the transmission of invasives from one river to another (there are a lot of nooks and crannies in a wading boot), I do believe that buying fewer wading boots is better than buying more, and – on the Upper Sacramento’s hard-edge railroad tracks – felt soles simply cost more per fishing trip.

In fact, I liked Patagonia’s rubber soles so much I contacted Simms; a pair of wading boots with their much-hyped Vibram rubber sole are on the way for testing (Disclosure: I paid for the Patagonia boots), and we’ll see how the two brands compare.

Still, rather than turn this into a brand war, I’ll suggest the following: It’s good that fly fishermen finally have a durable, high-performance, longer-lasting option to felt and studded felt soles – especially those who hike a lot and fish small streams, where the Patagonia Rivewalker is simply superb.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.