Jonny is Doing Striper Recon

I love trout streams, but the sea is a sweet whore that I covet more with time.

It's like emerging from one of those space pods where I've been asleep for a very long time. Not that I'm stirring unaware of the 10,000 years now passed. I mean where you've lived them all. Alive under permafrost. The end of days. 

To the river today for the early season striper slaughter. Some 20, 30, 50 fish I'd catch on a watchamacallit line and a Bead-chain-Clouser-Flatwing-Deceiver-Fagend - these fish aren't discerning creatures, and they're hungry, and thanks to my new iPhone (copyright pending) I now realize that most fish don't give a flying shit; they just eat stuff. Not entirely unlike humans in this respect. You might want to power down your PC and think about that for a day or two.  

Welcome back. So I met Steve (The Fisherman) and Bob (Flyrodder) at The Place with 2 or so hours of outgoing tide left. I've put their real names in parentheses so you know who I'm on about. It was blowing 20-30 MPH from the north-west, so right in our coupons (Scots - noun; meaning "face"). Casting was towards shore for us righties, then throw it up-current a bit and hope I don't snag the next fella in the cue. But today the line was only 4 or 5 others and, to those of you who know, this can mean only one thing: the fishing hasn't happened yet. We all agreed - almost as if we had the faintest scooby doo (Scots, cartoon character, immortalized in Glasgow;  slang, meaning "clue") about anything at all - that it hasn't happened yet. It's late, you see. Because of the harsh winter. The Forsythia hasn't quite ripened. Please: today's spartan tally had nothing at all to do with the inescapable fact that we caught sweet Fanny Adam (nothing) while the other 4 anglers did quite nicely (on fly). Clearly they were fishing flies with eyes. Or something else Heathen.

Anyway, these photos are for my land-locked friend who misses the salt. I can confirm that, despite nae fish, today was deeply pleasurable. A million miles from the trout/steelhead paraphernalia, today I threw 4 things in the boot (trunk) and went about my fishing. Any day now I'm going to have me a bag full of cocks. And when I do, my friends, then, and only then, will it be spring.

It's the hand break, but I was pleased to be fishing.

Windy. I don't want to do this again, but today was exceptional. I'll be there Tuesday.

I was terribly bored. This is my IKEA footstool stripping basket (copyright pending). The rod is Orvis or whatever.

 Jonny

Conversations overheard

A recent technological innovation promises to change the way we fly fish forever by finally taking the mystery out of fly selection. The "ichthyo-phone" is a recording and translating device that allows anglers to not only record, but to also understand, what wild fish, underwater, are saying. The "iPhone", as the inventors are calling it (seems to be some trademark issues not yet worked out, so we can't say for sure what the device will be called once commercially available), is still a work in progress as there are still some bugs to be worked out (for example, it can translate the languages of all of the anadromous Pacific salmon as well as steelhead, but not that of the residential life-history form of the rainbow trout...which does make you wonder, don't it?). But we at The Culvert had a chance to test out a prototype recently during a steelhead outing. Using a splitter and dual microphones, we were able to capture, simultaneously, the above-water conversation of two fly anglers and a conversation between two steelhead in the run they were fishing.
Angler 1: "What are you going to use? I'm thinking of trying this purple egg-sucking leech. You see, the steelhead see this leech eating one of their eggs, and they get mad, and strike the fly out of anger. Even makes 'em fight harder."

Angler 2: "Yeah, I know that. Everybody knows that. But I think I'm going to try this orange egg pattern. Check it out."

Angler 1: "What's with the stringy stuff around it?"

Angler 2: "That's the yolk leaking out, dumbass. You see, the steelhead see this egg coming down the run and they notice the yolk oozing out. This way, they know the egg's already been punctured and won't survive, so they might as well eat it."

Angler 1: "Oh. Yeah. That makes sense. Well, how's about you try that fly and I'll try my leech, and we'll see what works."

Meanwhile, under the water...
Steelhead 1: "You hungry?"

Steelhead 2: "I dunno. I guess. Hey, you see that thing coming down the run? That purple thing?"

Steelhead 1: "Yeah. What is it?"

Steelhead 2: "No idea. Should I eat it?"

Steelhead 1: "I guess. What's the worst that could happen?"

Steelhead 2: "Don't you remember what happened last time you ate one of them things?"

Steelhead 1: "No. What happened?"

Steelhead 2: "You know, I can't remember either. That was two days ago. Don't matter though; the thing's gone now."

Steelhead 1: "Hey, here comes something else. Orange thing. What is it?"

Steelhead 2: "I dunno. You gonna eat it?"

Steelhead 1: "I guess."

And back on dry ground...

Angler 2: "Whoa!!! Fish on !!!!"

Angler 1: "Damn! What'd he take?"

Angler 2: "Orange yolk-leaking egg, size 10. Better put one on now, Dude!"

Angler 1: "Well, I've got an orange egg pattern, but it doesn't have the leaking yolk."

Angler 2: "Shit, man. I think you're screwed. Hey!! Fish on !!!!!!"

[This piece was published in a slightly different form in the Fall 2013 issue of "The Drake" magazine.  Thanks to Tom Bie and "The Drake" for putting it out there.]

Trout Opening Day

Opening day 2010, Salmon River, Colchester, Connecticut.

Grand Old Time

Brayshaw pointlessly considers fly choice on Ohio's Grand River

I worked hard Wednesday to get work out of the way and ready for Friday, for Thursday I was going steelheading again. A full day later, 320 miles on the car, and bloodshot eyes, and what have I got to show for it? Nothing. I got skunked.

In fact, this is the first time I have gone steelheading and not caught multiple fish.

Bright Chrome

The Angler’s Culvert Fly Fishing Photography section features artists who draw subtle connections between fly fishers, water, and light, and who've perfectly captured a sense of place.


Of this entry, this week's featured photographer writes "Sorry for the quality of the pic, but I was by myself."



Of course, we know our readers feel as we do when we say "No apology necessary!"

(And..."I look forward to your first article!")