I got mine a while back and I've been practicing to get to the general standard you see around these days. It finally feels like something is starting to click! Big thanks to all Culvert readers for your words of encouragement throughout the process.
Please enjoy this film short of spring time in New England.
Go Pro! from English Jonny on Vimeo.
English Jonny's wife and children are currently away.
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Rough (fish) hewn
After a fairly productive April of smallmouth fishing, my
success with carp in May has been less than impressive, for the most part. The smallmouth fishing slowed dramatically as
well. We’re low on rain and my stream is
now running at 17 CFS. Up until this
week (more on this shortly) my carp fishing produced more things that were not
carp than that were. But some of them
were real pretty.
 |
| Striped Shiner |
 |
| Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious |
I’ll admit I enhanced the colors a bit on the striped
shiner. With an ugly face like that, it
only seemed fair that he gets to show off what he’s got.
I spent one morning on my local pond, hoping to hook into
Big Mona, but I had no such luck. I
raised a lot of small bass, then put on a bigger fly hoping to select for
larger bass, and instead got bluegills.
Several trips targeting carp and carp only only produced a
fish or two, so I decided to change things up a bit. The problem is, I changed too many things at
once. It worked, but of course my
experiment now lacks proper controls, so I have no way of knowing which variable is responsible for my
success. First, I tried a new spot. It was full of carp. In fact, it’s possible to see their tracks in
the sand at the shallow edges of the bars.
As they move along feeding, they suck the fine silt off of the gravel,
leaving long meandering trails like that pictured below.
 |
| Carp tracks |
This stretch of stream was carpy as hell, but not easy to
fish.
I also changed flies, switching from my (formerly) trusty
rust-colored bug to a darker and heavier olive thing. I started wearing light pants instead of
waders, mainly for Gary. Lastly, I got a
new hat. I’m fairly certain the hat was
responsible for the change of fortune.
For on this outing, I hooked six carp and landed five of them, all in
the course of just a couple hours’ fishing.
 |
| It's the hat. |
Sunday, November 27, 2011
How does it feel like?
I'd say it felt very good, but I'm not completely sure.
It's been a long time since I hooked much. This fall I made twelve trips to RI for two bass and a shad. Twelve. No shit. That's not terribly good, is it? So by the time I got to Pulaski my mind - and any last vestige of dignity - had long departed. You'll see what I mean when you watch this short film. I'm quite the prima donna, as it happens.
I caught some real nice fish, but unlike last year I lost many, many, many steelhead. Everyone lost quite a lot of fish: Fish losing was the name of the game this year. But not for Bill, who insisted on landing more than his fair share.
I will say that the fishing was, once again, quite fantastic. Dozens of large, fresh, insane steel were hooked, and some beauties were landed; the weather was divine; we saw few other anglers over our 4 days; and even mine host kept schtum for the most part. More, it's a plain fact that, however great the fishing, the memorable bit was being on a beautiful river for four solid days with a bunch of fine chaps. I appreciated their company a fuck of a lot, and not just because they can catch steelhead between their legs, either.
At some point one of them mentioned a misspent youth and acid bleeps, hence the Chemicals. What can you do.
Jonny
Particular thanks to Todd and Bill for sharing some of their photos, video, and toilet paper.
It's been a long time since I hooked much. This fall I made twelve trips to RI for two bass and a shad. Twelve. No shit. That's not terribly good, is it? So by the time I got to Pulaski my mind - and any last vestige of dignity - had long departed. You'll see what I mean when you watch this short film. I'm quite the prima donna, as it happens.
I caught some real nice fish, but unlike last year I lost many, many, many steelhead. Everyone lost quite a lot of fish: Fish losing was the name of the game this year. But not for Bill, who insisted on landing more than his fair share.
I will say that the fishing was, once again, quite fantastic. Dozens of large, fresh, insane steel were hooked, and some beauties were landed; the weather was divine; we saw few other anglers over our 4 days; and even mine host kept schtum for the most part. More, it's a plain fact that, however great the fishing, the memorable bit was being on a beautiful river for four solid days with a bunch of fine chaps. I appreciated their company a fuck of a lot, and not just because they can catch steelhead between their legs, either.
At some point one of them mentioned a misspent youth and acid bleeps, hence the Chemicals. What can you do.
Jonny
Particular thanks to Todd and Bill for sharing some of their photos, video, and toilet paper.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Chagrin
According to the dictionary, "chagrin" is "a keen feeling of mental unease, as of annoyance or embarrassment, caused by failure, disappointment, or a disconcerting event." I should have gotten back in the car right then.
In dire need of some decompression, and, I'll admit, jealous of the hourly texts from Jonny reporting yet another fresh steelhead cartwheeling across the river*, I decided to do a little steelheading of my own. Armed with a box of flies that had worked well in the past, I headed north on Monday evening to the home of an old friend. There, I learned that you really can tell the difference between 80 and 101 proof Wild Turkey.
Morning found me overlooking the aptly named Chagrin river. I pondered this odd river, which, at my first spot, was 70 feet wide, 4 inches deep, and much, much clearer than my head. From my vantage point, high above the river on a bridge, I could see every square inch of water for 50 yards in either direction, and not only were no fish visible, it wasn't at all clear where a fish would hide. I hiked and eventually found a likely-looking pool...already occupied by two fishermen.
Several more stops yielding mostly more keen feelings of mental unease, until finally I found a stretch of river that actually looked like it had not been built by the Army Corps of Engineers out of polished marble counter tops. I spied a likely looking pool, rounded the corner to position myself, and saw another angler working his way towards the head. I was closer, so I felt it would be appropriate that I would have first crack at the spot. So, I quickly hooked the tree behind me, leaving my entire leader on a high branch, well out of reach. Having now left a subtle but uniquely-Brayshaw-esque landmark in the tree, I was sure I'd be able to find this pool on my next trip. This gave me the confidence to re-tie my entire rig, which gave the other fisherman plenty of time to work his way into the pool. I hiked further upstream to fish the water he'd already worked over.
Six casts, and just as many leader replacements later, found me in the greatest of spirits as I eyed a deep chute across the river. A second drift through this water stopped the fly line suddenly, and I lifted the rod to find it buckling against the headshakes of a heavy steelhead. In four tenths of a second the fish was off, and I added to my keen feeling of unease some annoyance, and embarrassement, caused by failure, disappointment, and a series of disconcerting events. Chagrin River, indeed.
Shortly thereafter, I met a couple fishing and the male half asked me if I'd have any luck. "No", I replied, to which he responded "Well, how can you complain on a beautiful day like this!! It's just great to be out here!!" I thought about this as I crushed his trachea under my wading boot, his wife all the while begging me not to kill him. Was this the right thing to do? Probably. But that's not really the point. The point is that I have very limited time to go steelheading, and the drive is very long. When I get there, I want to hook and land large numbers of fast, strong fish. And this is all. I don't care if it is sunny and 72. I thought that we - the steelhead and I - had an agreement, and that this agreement went something like this: I drive a long fucking way and fish hard, and you get caught. I hardly think I am being unreasonable here. And so, needless to say, I am disappointed in steelhead. I know what's going to happen, though. The sting will subside, I'll forget this disastrous trip, and will soon be planning another. In this way, steel heading is much like childbirth, but worse.
Well, this time I am prepared. I made this little video, which I intend to watch every time I start to think that maybe a steelhead trip isn't such a bad idea. Feel free to watch it yourself, if you, too, are thinking of steelhead fishing.
Morning found me overlooking the aptly named Chagrin river. I pondered this odd river, which, at my first spot, was 70 feet wide, 4 inches deep, and much, much clearer than my head. From my vantage point, high above the river on a bridge, I could see every square inch of water for 50 yards in either direction, and not only were no fish visible, it wasn't at all clear where a fish would hide. I hiked and eventually found a likely-looking pool...already occupied by two fishermen.
Several more stops yielding mostly more keen feelings of mental unease, until finally I found a stretch of river that actually looked like it had not been built by the Army Corps of Engineers out of polished marble counter tops. I spied a likely looking pool, rounded the corner to position myself, and saw another angler working his way towards the head. I was closer, so I felt it would be appropriate that I would have first crack at the spot. So, I quickly hooked the tree behind me, leaving my entire leader on a high branch, well out of reach. Having now left a subtle but uniquely-Brayshaw-esque landmark in the tree, I was sure I'd be able to find this pool on my next trip. This gave me the confidence to re-tie my entire rig, which gave the other fisherman plenty of time to work his way into the pool. I hiked further upstream to fish the water he'd already worked over.
Six casts, and just as many leader replacements later, found me in the greatest of spirits as I eyed a deep chute across the river. A second drift through this water stopped the fly line suddenly, and I lifted the rod to find it buckling against the headshakes of a heavy steelhead. In four tenths of a second the fish was off, and I added to my keen feeling of unease some annoyance, and embarrassement, caused by failure, disappointment, and a series of disconcerting events. Chagrin River, indeed.
Shortly thereafter, I met a couple fishing and the male half asked me if I'd have any luck. "No", I replied, to which he responded "Well, how can you complain on a beautiful day like this!! It's just great to be out here!!" I thought about this as I crushed his trachea under my wading boot, his wife all the while begging me not to kill him. Was this the right thing to do? Probably. But that's not really the point. The point is that I have very limited time to go steelheading, and the drive is very long. When I get there, I want to hook and land large numbers of fast, strong fish. And this is all. I don't care if it is sunny and 72. I thought that we - the steelhead and I - had an agreement, and that this agreement went something like this: I drive a long fucking way and fish hard, and you get caught. I hardly think I am being unreasonable here. And so, needless to say, I am disappointed in steelhead. I know what's going to happen, though. The sting will subside, I'll forget this disastrous trip, and will soon be planning another. In this way, steel heading is much like childbirth, but worse.
Well, this time I am prepared. I made this little video, which I intend to watch every time I start to think that maybe a steelhead trip isn't such a bad idea. Feel free to watch it yourself, if you, too, are thinking of steelhead fishing.
[* Stay tuned...]
Friday, October 21, 2011
A Special Reading
Although we here at the Culvert like to have fun now and again, we're not philistines. Please join us for a special installment of "English Jonny Reads the Masters", our multi-part series on the great literature of fly fishing.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Acarpolips Now
This is the last carp video of the season. I sat on this footage awhile, hoping something better would come along that I could add to it. Never did, so here it is.
Monday, August 22, 2011
T.J.'s Tips!
Although we do like to have some fun here at The Culvert, there are some things, like protecting your skin from the sun, that are not to be joked about.
However, some of the things that hip fly fishermen wear are to be joked about - as often as possible.
However, some of the things that hip fly fishermen wear are to be joked about - as often as possible.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Slurp Cast!
Join us for this week's "Slurp Cast!", the video podcast of the Angler's Culvert, hosted by T.J. Brayshaw and English Jonny, and sponsored by "Slurp" magazine, the only magazine dedicated exclusively to fly fishing for carp and the literature that it inspires.
In this week's Slurp Cast, Brayshaw interviews well-known angler Lefty Kreh. Watch and listen to hear some of Lefty's great stories, and learn more about how to catch carp on the fly!!
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
The Desperate Man
Despite the fact that, over my wife's protestations, I refused to soothe, console, comfort or otherwise contact my children during their recent bout with a stomach virus, I still managed to contract it. This falling on the heels of a week-long, carp-free family vacation (what's the point, really?), I was desperate for some slurp. And so despite something less than a full recovery, I ventured out on a recent Sunday morning, and did alright. In fact, I managed to get three carp, one right after another, in the same spot with nary a footstep between slurps. So, Friend, if anybody tells you that once you've gotten one from a spot the others will have bolted or turned hopelessly off the feed, don't you believe it.
My apologies for the video perspective - this stuff ain't easy to do by one's lonesome.
The music is "The Desperate Man" by the Black Keys. I chose this song because it was about the same length as the video, and this seemed easier than yet more editing.
My apologies for the video perspective - this stuff ain't easy to do by one's lonesome.
The music is "The Desperate Man" by the Black Keys. I chose this song because it was about the same length as the video, and this seemed easier than yet more editing.
The Desperate Man (gets his Daily Slurp) from English Jonny on Vimeo.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Another way (not) to catch carp
People often ask me "T.J., is there just one way to lose a carp?", to which I reply "Absolutely not - there are many, many ways to screw things up, and it's the wise fisherman who has a full quiver of options!"
They will also say things like "And isn't it enough just to have hooked a carp? To just be on the water, enjoying nature's bounty?", to which I will reply "That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard."
They will also say things like "And isn't it enough just to have hooked a carp? To just be on the water, enjoying nature's bounty?", to which I will reply "That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard."
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Fishing Covered Bridges
"Come down here Jonny, by the river. There’s plenty of room,” I said to English Jonny on a recent fishing trip.
“Why?” he replied. “I can fish just fine from up here. In fact, from up here I stay out of the sun, but what’s more, I have a much better view of the fish. Why, there’s one right there…got ‘im!!”
“Jonny – that you caught that fish is fairly remarkable, but what I find astonishing is that you can make such long, graceful casts from inside that covered bridge. How do you do that!?” I inquired.
“T.J.,”, he replied, “I have been fishing covered bridges for decades. It’s really quite simple. You see, this bridge is built with windows on both sides, aligned perfectly. I simply stand in the center of the bridge, place my back cast through the window behind me and my forward cast through this window here in front of me.”
“And if there isn’t a window behind you for your back cast?” I asked.
“Oh, then you must use a roll cast.”
“Why?” he replied. “I can fish just fine from up here. In fact, from up here I stay out of the sun, but what’s more, I have a much better view of the fish. Why, there’s one right there…got ‘im!!”
“Jonny – that you caught that fish is fairly remarkable, but what I find astonishing is that you can make such long, graceful casts from inside that covered bridge. How do you do that!?” I inquired.
“T.J.,”, he replied, “I have been fishing covered bridges for decades. It’s really quite simple. You see, this bridge is built with windows on both sides, aligned perfectly. I simply stand in the center of the bridge, place my back cast through the window behind me and my forward cast through this window here in front of me.”
“And if there isn’t a window behind you for your back cast?” I asked.
“Oh, then you must use a roll cast.”
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Watch this film
A pleasure in every sense.
A Steelhead Family - Official HD video 3.1 from Andrew Hardingham on Vimeo.
JA
A Steelhead Family - Official HD video 3.1 from Andrew Hardingham on Vimeo.
JA
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Presentation
There are pioneers in New England and beyond who take the presentation of their baits to an artful level. Alas, it's a rare thing to capture that single moment when real innovation is born, so I'm delighted to receive this astonishing example from Young Pete, himself quite adept with Ohioan Steel, I hear.
Hook: Really big
Thread: String
Body: A Chicken
Tail: No
Wing: A Chicken's
Legs: Chicken
AS
Hook: Really big
Thread: String
Body: A Chicken
Tail: No
Wing: A Chicken's
Legs: Chicken
AS
Monday, January 17, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)