Another take on November steelhead

Jonny made this film several months ago, then hid it away when Todd made his. But they're both good, so I've taken the liberty of putting this one up.
 
New York, November 2013 from English Jonny on Vimeo.

Purest Genius

1. Do not go fishing when the river is blown out at over 2000 CFS. 
2. Do not go fishing on a busy river on the busiest weekend of the year. 
3. Prepare yourself for dense crowds of anglers, miserable and restless at scant prospects.
4. This will be the year of your first Pulaski fist fight, probably with a woman, all caught on video.
5. Tell yourself, tell your friends, and tell yourself again, that a cigar will be the best thing that happens over four whole days.  

Make your second cast. 

1. Discard your logic, everything you know. 
2. Henceforth, everything you touch, everywhere you look, there will be large, fresh steelhead. 
3. Peace and solitude will be yours for the duration.
4. On returning home your inner magic will deliver yet more. Your wife will encourage you to return to Pulaski forthwith to retrieve her most expensive towel that you left in Cabin No.5, Fox Hollow Lodge (the very biggest of all the cabins, in which you earlier snagged the only bedroom). 
5. Roger confirms that he will gladly hold the item and will look forward to seeing you at Christmas time.  

You smile at the purity of your genius. 

 

 

 

A video with nice music will be available shortly.

Thank you for your patience while we have been mastering steelhead fishing.

EJ


Photo & baked ziti credit: Todd Kuhrt/flyaddict.com 

I Love Thee Like A Carp

Not to be outdone by the tender words of the lovely Erin Block, we note that Zakur and Quill have been waxing their lyrics these past few days. Bravo! Well, be damned, if our very own TJ Brayshaw hasn't sent me his poetry this fine evening. Inspired readers are encouraged to submit poems of their own, and we'll select a winner based on our own criteria of what the best shit is.

Fuck Steelhead

It matters not the fly I have chosen

Since the rivers are blown out or are all frozen

And so I admit

Once I've finished my fit:

With large steehead I'll not be posin'

I Love Thee Like a Carp

With these carp I feel a connection

Those lips give me cause for reflection

I can't get enough

Of that scaly stuff

Is it wrong that I have an erection?

Not Fishing on Sunday

My double haul's perfect, my mending inspired

The backing is fresh, the guide has been hired

I work late on Friday, lest I get fired

In housework the next day, I'm totally mired

Now Sunday is here... but I'm too fucking tired.

The Novice

Your passion is real, your commitment sincere

You've learned how to tie, you've got all the gear

But please don't forget

That your ears are still wet

Since you've fly fished for what? Just one fucking year!

Old English, up a tree again.

The Guy We All Know

The jacket is "Simms", it fits like a tux

Your Charlton reel costs twelve-hundred bucks

Yet despite all that money

(It's really quite funny)

You don't even realize: your casting still sucks

English Jonny

There once was a fellow from Guilford
Who fished from Rhode Island to Milford
At night he would go
Where the Culvert doth flow
This time from his family, he pilfered.







[Two of these limericks were published in slightly different forms in the Fall 2013 issue of "The Drake" magazine.  Thanks to Tom Bie and "The Drake" for putting it out there.]

The strange case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

Next Monday I can drive a 12 hour round trip to stand in 22 degree snow-filled air for a waffer thin chance that I might hook and lose a single steelhead. This pittance we'll call a good day, and for a while, perhaps enough time to carry me half-way home, the drug will keep me "up". The iced guides and sweaty neoprenes will just have to be. I'll have hand and feet warmers provided I remember to add them to the long list of shit my life will depend on in frozen hell. Bring on the combat with other anglers for the right to chuck'n’ duck - rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat, ex creta, ex creta, ad infinitum - through the precious few holes where a steelhead might lie this time of year on the upper reaches of the Salmon River, Pulaski. If I take a single pee break during the only five minutes the fish are biting, I will certainly hook nothing and I just don’t know how to work this out. Highway burgers and the feeling of less than good, wholesome, fly-fishing fun. Gas. More gas. Expenses. Physical fatigue for the following two weeks will compete with a persuasive clinical low for my selection of medication. I'll recall the first few months of my first born child (in lucid moments I can do this voluntarily) and the painful memories that I know, with certain fear, will be magically obscured as my genetics compel me to do this again and again. Rinse, repeat.

Hell, on a mild day.

Or, I can tootle merrily along in the style of Ms. Marple (I drive an old Subaru wagon) to a wild brook trout stream and fish the warmer CT woods. Very pretty. Secluded. A good chance I'll bring a fish or three to hand, this day. They will be laughingly small in a very respectful way; and they will be wild and small, so I'll cast myself as the dandy Artisan that I really am. I'll luncheon on home-prepared fare and soda pop - I'm so cozy in my car I'll take humorous picnic pictures for future publication! The cost will be nothing more than the price of a delicious stoagie, the white smoke from which I see now, wafting Prozekly on the silent winter air as I give brief pause to dry my No.12 Dave's Hopper and presently greet the bluebird that has just settled on my left wading boot. It will be lovely and I'll return home, accomplished, in time for tea with my radiant wife and beautiful children.

Heaven

Split-shot: check.
Stanley's ice-off paste: check.
Hand-warmers: check

......I'll see you in Hell.


Jonny

Steelhead Season: Gear Review, No. 7

Like much of the country, we've had an incredibly mild winter so far, so whereas in a normal year the steelhead fishing right now might be nonexistent, this year is different. As such, this is a goodtime for another unbiased product review geared toward the steelhead fisherman. I am qualified to perform this review.

Today, we review the G.Loomis 9 foot, 9 inch 8 weight GL3 fly rod case.

My small children jump on and off of the couch, despite that it angers me. Yesterday, I flipped the couch over. Of the fourteen springs under my couch, only five still remain attached. As a result, when one sits on the couch, that sinking sensation is real: you will be hard-pressed to get up without assistance, no matter how physically fit you are. It seemed that reattaching the springs would not be simple, and with my limited tool kit, essentially impossible.

And so, I cleverly used two nylon tie-down straps to secure the G.Loomis 9 foot, 9 inch 8 weight GL3 fly rod case into place, essentially holding the broken springs against the underside of the couch, where they belong. The fly rod that is normally housed in that G.Loomis 9 foot, 9 inch 8 weight GL3 fly rod case is a two-piece fly rod; hence, this particular rod case is the only one I own that is long enough to accomplish this task.

Despite my optimism upon completing this task, we cannot give the G.Loomis 9 foot, 9 inch 8 weight GL3 fly rod case a perfect review because, despite a clearly noticeable improvement, the couch does not feel "like new".

Also, my five-year-old jumped off of the somewhat springier couch and landed on my G.Loomis 9 foot, 9 inch 8 weight GL3 fly rod, which was no longer in its case, thus snapping the rod cleanly.

Redds, Southern-Style

Until recently, I never gave much thought, either way, to fishing over redds.  A redd (pronounced “reh-du-du”, I guess) is that hollow depression in the river bottom made by a spawning trout or salmon where later the eggs will be laid and subsequently fertilized. Recently, Gary pointed out the irony inherent in Great Lakes steelheaders, i.e. that they violently oppose fishing over steelhead redds, despite that steelhead are not native to the Great Lakes, and in most cases, no natural reproduction occurs anyway.  Well, the truth is that, as far as I can tell, most Lake Erie steelheaders have no such qualms about fishing over redds, or about anything, for that matter.  For example, on my last trip, I watched an angler snag all of these fish from one very small pool. Lacking a stringer, he simply threaded a nylon tie-down strap through their gills, and then placed them in this puddle to keep them alive.

Good eats

And this brings me to today’s recipe, just in time for the holidays. This recipe is courtesy of Ironic Gary, as he is known, and I have to admit, it’s a real winner.  I was skeptical, initially, but this has become a staple in the Brayshaw household.

You can adjust the batter to suit your tastes, but it is absolutely essential that you keep the redds very cold until they’re dipped in the batter.  This helps the batter to stick to the redd. Fortunately, the redds are naturally cold, since steelhead, trout and salmon are cold-water fish. In addition, the recipe’s proportions can be adjusted to accommodate brook trout redds, which are usually much smaller than steelhead redds. (In fact, at home we sometimes simply sauté a batch of brook trout redds in a stove-top skillet, thus obviating the need for a deep fryer altogether.)

•    6 steelhead redds (trout, salmon redds may be substituted)

•    1/2 cup evaporated milk

•    1 tablespoon salt

•    dash pepper

•    1 cup flour

•    1/2 cup yellow cornmeal

•    2 teaspoons paprika

•    Deep fryer, with oil

Clean, wash and dry the redds. It is essential to keep the redds very cold if the batter is going to stick to them. Combine milk, salt and pepper in a bowl. In a pie plate or shallow dish, combine flour, cornmeal and paprika. Dip redds in milk mixture then roll in flour and cornmeal mixture. Fry redds in hot oil for about 4 minutes. Test carefully with a fork or felt-studded wader boot and fry for 4 to 6 minutes longer, or until the redds flake easily with a fork and are browned. Drain on paper towels. Serve with bacon and hush puppies and coleslaw, if desired. Serves 6.

Carefully lower the battered redds into the fryer