The Author here pictured kissing Brigitte Bardot
{If you are new to this site and have no idea what I'm talking about with this Brigitte Bardot stuff go here: The Code Explained}
Got her!
Sing in me oh muse and through me tell the tale of that fisherman,
who long ago plied the streams and rivers of our nation with flyrod,
who rolled ferrules for Scott,
who hand crafted his own graphite 8-weight, with custom eccentric cork handle,
who learned the art of fly casting from his grandfather...
who learned from his grandfather.
who learned from his.
{MFN parenthetic aside # 2,189: My Gramps, Milton Watson, (the one everybody's looking at) in the 1930s posing with comedian George Mann. Mann was the taller half of the Barto and Mann Vaudeville dance team ("the comedy kings of Vaudeville"). I guess the joke here is that all the other guys in the picture are standing up on a ledge in order to look down at Mann who stood 6 foot 6 in his socks. Mann's partner Barto was only 4 foot 11, so one can kind of imagine the nature of their act--which you gotta figure was pretty funny}.
A-hem where was I? Oh right... the muse...
And tell me fair muse of the sad events which led this once proud fly-man to abandon the haughty aesthetics of his clan, and to take up the crude bamboo stick, and the duct tape, and the wire hanger. Those "tools of ignorance" (to quote Muddy Ruel) used in the capture of a slimy, algae-eating, bottom dweller.
"...a slimy, algae-eating, bottom dweller."
And tell me fair muse how it came to pass that such a one as this, came to eschew catch and release, becoming instead, a rank thrower nets, a poker of poles... a harvester of sorrows!
Seriously though. About halfway through yesterday's drift down the Trinity, Mikey turns to me and asks if I'd like to "try the flyrod," (as I had been complaining so vociferously about the 15 foot leader on the end of my bobber). It's funny. Kinda forgot how many thousands of hours I have logged fly fishing in my life. Started out at the age of 12. My grandfather placing a newspaper under the elbow of my casting arm and telling me not to drop it. After five minutes I was back in form. I mean, I'll never be another Lefty Kreh, but still... I can drop the friggin bead-head within three feet of where I want it, 90 percent of the time. And it was nice to remember that I possessed this ability. Like a drunken Jedi, waking up one morning and remembering he was once pretty good with a light sabre.
Drunken Jedi
And then BAM! Mikey put me on the fish and it was like... oh yeah... I remember this. Why exactly did I give it up?
Steelhead Mike D. and Friend. Photo by Fishwife.
Now, sitting here at the MFN HQ, going over this past weekend's photos, I'm looking into that again--why I gave it up. I think the reason I gave up fly fishing was because at some point it became impractical. Here I was living in SF with cool fish species all around me, plotting out my next trip to the Pleasant Valley Creek, or the Carson, wherein I would blow how much money on gas, lodging, food, etc? Meanwhile, pogies were thick in the drains, MF eels everywhere, rockfish, lingcod, herring etc etc etc. Feel me?
But the thing is, there really is no reason a pogie wouldn't take a fly. Redtails and barreds readily do. Flyfishing for striped bass is, obviously, a common enterprise. I wonder about grass rockfish and cabezon in tidepools. I mean why not? Hell, maybe even a monkeyface would take a fly? A kelp fly no doubt. Think of the possibilities here!
Anyway, this past weekend re-ignited the long dormant fires. I felt kinda like Roy Hobbs out there. Now batting after a 15 year hiatus... Lombard of the Intertidal.
Anyway, here's a happy little video. (Scroll down) Don't be shy. Give Mikey a call:
703-946-9567
Not only will he put you on the salmonids (in any river on the West Coast), he'll let you bring your accordion along for the ride... Seriously.
Kirk-out
Having secured her first-ever Birgitte Bardot, the Fishwife serenaded her two favorite fishermen with accordion.
My first movie in a while. Nothing crazy, just a nice day on the water. Oh yeah, the sound track is Marty Robbins doing the old standard. Fishwife on accordion.
Meanwhile, the herring are here. No major spawns yet but they're sitting in the deep channels storing up fat, getting ready to spawn... more on this in a few days.
--Kirk-out
I knew a guy by the handle Ghetto Booty. He took fishing and documenting the process for others to new heights. You, Lombard of the Intertidal are doing an inspirational job of evolving that process into an art form. Lucky Bastard. Keep up the good work.
Posted by: Patrick | 11/29/2011 at 08:29 PM
An experiment that's gone horribly wrong!
Posted by: david k | 11/30/2011 at 04:11 AM
I was kind of surprised to learn that people use flies to fish for not just perch but tuna, white sea bass, and marlin to name a few. I can't imagine why you couldn't use it for Rockfish as well, I think that some of the same flies used for bass would work (in particular flies that resemble fish or squid).
Posted by: Scott P | 11/30/2011 at 08:26 AM
A classic story about flyfishing for herring
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1087240/index.htm
Posted by: mc | 11/30/2011 at 11:00 AM
You're back in the saddle, dude! Props to Camilladilla for her musical & photographic contributions.
My home-boy Juan in Michigan has difficulty with the comment-posting function on yer site (probably has something to do with the poor internet connection he has, living off a dirt road in a National Forest; I dunno), so I will toss in his two-cents-worth as well: he says he enjoyed the creativity of this post.
Looking forward to more spawning herring videos in the days to "cum"!
Posted by: Finesmell | 12/02/2011 at 07:44 AM
Kirk,
Do you still keep in touch with Mark Won? You have linked to his site in the past... Any chance of maybe a surf/oceanic fly-fishing tour/class/seminar? That would be just grand...
Posted by: Scott P | 12/09/2011 at 08:46 AM