Michael Gracie

 A fishing buddy had been trying to figure out carp for about a week - he bought a faster action 6-weight mid-last week, and a big net just yesterday.  He’s been buried in research, and inquiring at every fly shop he could.

Today, my phone started ringing off the hook around 8am.  I was on the other line and couldn’t answer, but knew Jon had the morning off.  Then this picture hit my Blackberry…

He doesn’t have a Flickr account or a blog, so I’m doing the congratulations.  Quite the pig I must say.

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Impossible to beat, even if it’s the first day of the month

Pete McDonald, on the fact that the Buster Wants To Fish blog is not only wrapped in bacon, it now has a theme song too:

The first recognized blog theme song in recorded history goes to a fly fishing blog. Suck it Kos.

Heh.

Probably not a big deal, but this is the first Snake River Cutthroat I’ve seen up close and personal (i.e. recently on the end of my fly line).

Didn’t take much time setting up this photo (which is a good thing if you’re a fish)

Up close and personal - note the bright yellow body and distinctive orange fins

Beautiful, and headed home

No comment on the rest of the weekend’s fishing, which should tell you something.

You can be gratuitous too

I’ve had a pretty darn good September so far. For some odd reason more than a few folks have been abnormally kind to me - I hardly deserve it, but I’ve had a chance to do some much needed gear upgrading … engage in more frivolous purchases … contribute back what I can to the local fly fishing economy as a result. And in not-so-grand fashion, I’m now getting rid of a few things.

UPDATE: My excess gear is gone, so I’ve removed the portions of this post dealing with it (particularly since the pictures were such fine examples of my piss poor photography skills). Onward…

Second to last but still not least, Tom Chandler is cleaning out his closet too. From the sounds of it, he has enough gear to outfit every commenter on his blog for a solid decade, but the George Maurer Bamboo he’s seeking a good home for deserves attention that the average brownliner simply can’t provide.

And lastly (there is no “least” in fly fishing - the joke’s on you), Jason Puris of The Fin fishing social network nabbed a cap in my little Drift trivia contest. But instead of taking the goods and heading for the hills, Jason decided to return the favor - I received a fine t-shirt in the mail today that reminds all fly fishing folk to…

Thanks Jason!

Email me (or comment) with any questions - my contact information is here.

Adieu.

I whipped this rod around for ten hours straight, just like I said I would. I’m anxious to describe how I feel about its performance, but I think a little primer is due first…

Roughly ten years ago, one of my fanatical fly fishing friends booked a trip to the Bahamas and stuck me with half the bill - so I went, if only to make sure he didn’t bullshit about all the bonefish he caught. We were out on the skiff day one, and he won the flip for first on deck. A few cruisers were spotted, but my buddy couldn’t reach them. Then I stepped up to the plate, and my bat was a rod (sorry - different brand) I had picked up in Miami just a month before during a secret Biscayne Bay practice session. It was a rocket launcher - nearly impossible to load without half the spool in flight, but when she did the bend right it was sayonara Crazy Charlie. Anyway, my buddy sits next to the guide watching, in awe that quickly turned to disgust - finally he gives, and we spent the rest of the day using one rod. When we returned to the dock, I picked up the gear and he sprinted back to the hotel - when I arrived he was on the phone with outfitters on the mainland, looking for that stick. He finally found one, in California, and had the shop do a FedEx Priority (yes, to the Bahamas).

The Orvis Zero G 906-4 Tip-Flex 10.5 may well find itself in a similar predicament. All I have to do is wind up on someone else’s big trout trip - I’ll demand we fish streamers, and then I’ll pull this puppy out. We’ll make sure there’s a company FedEx account handy.
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There are several people in the world who were tired of my incessant research on a new streamer rod. I’d been searching for months, read reviews until my eyes were sore, and cast at least a half-dozen different models. Sure, I already had a decent rod for streamers (the Sage 690-3 SP), and my short casting stroke and obsessive use of sinking lines and 6-inch pieces of dumbell-ed rabbit strip was pushing it - nonetheless I was pretty satisfied with its performance. I’d been lucky too - no multi-ounce flies had yet knocked a tip off - but I was in need of a backup quarterback just in case. Instead I wound up with what may be a starter - the Orvis Zero G 906-4 Tip-Flex 10.5.

Like my last ostentatious and frivolous purchase rod review I’ll being doing this one in two parts: paint and trim, and track acceleration (reels do the braking). I purchased this beauty from (where else?) Orvis - specifically from the Cherry Creek location. I’d hinted to the folks there that I was in want of a rocket launcher, and a few days ago Kerry Caragher said I had to cast this one. Fast forward to this afternoon - I was back in the shop, BYORL (bring your own reel and line) and out on the grass for a test drive. I’ll have more to report in regards to performance later, but I can say I was false casting 30+ feet of 5 inch/second sinker with barely a twitch of my elbow and some short tugs on the line - you guessed it…I was sold.

Following is the first half of the review, and some pics, of the latest addition to the quiver…
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Joan Wulff, female fly-caster extraordinaire:

“If you do it right the fly shoots by your head like a bullet.”

And if you have a lot of luck with conehead muddler minnows, might I suggest making use of your sidearm cast just in case.

(h/t Fishing Jones)

Marshall says:

The browns and the fall spawing rainbows are staging in the inlet for their run up the middle fork of the South Platte. In a week or so areas like Badger Basin and Tomahawk will be hot with big browns spawning.

Best you leave them be so we can have tons of wee little baby brown trout next year.

I’ll of course be observing this precious wildlife on a new hook for a new book.

Editor’s note: Please don’t step on those inviting beds of fine gravel. It’s quite easy to fish from shore in most of these places - if you can’t cast a bugger across a 25 foot wide stretch of water without stepping on our fine finned friends’ beds, I’ll be glad to give you a quick casting lesson. You wouldn’t want someone stepping all over you while you’re getting busy, now would you?

This review was brought to you in no small part by the gentleman and scholar Pete McDonald (aka Fishing Jones), who gave his cherished passes to me so I could scalp them in front of the Denver Fly Fishing Retailers Convention and spend the money on a shot of 18 year-old Scotch and a few streamers attend.

It’s awfully hard to trounce a movie about fly fishing on this blog, primarily because just about anything related to the subject gets me worked up. If you show me big fish being caught on fly, in exotic locales using fine cinematographic skills, and don’t obviously and repeatedly plug your main sponsor, I’m going to give you a thumbs up. So I’ll come right out and say it - Drift (produced by Confluence Films) does it all right, and gets a thumbs up, five stars, or a 10 out of 10 (whichever you prefer). Quite simply, the movie rocked! If you are about to travel/fish and need a primer while sitting on the plane that will assuredly have you bouncing off cabin walls, this movie is it. But I’ll warn you, practice casting in a mid-flight Boeing is against FAA regulations.

I’m making this quick, because the DVD is a must have and I don’t want to be the spoiler…

The movie starts off at the Deschutes with spey casting to steelhead. “Fish beautiful water well” is the takeaway for steelie success. It moves on to Turneffe Flats and Punta Gorda, with exposes on permit and the Garbutt brothers. Winter follows, with a tour of one of my favorites, the Green River A-section, and then on to the Frying Pan and the Bighorn. Weather then subsides with a trip to Andros Island - you’ll hear some of Charlie Smith’s banjo playing, and a few reels singing to the sounds of bonefish. And for the finale, the crew travels to Kashmir, finding fat rainbows, professional ‘netters’ and a whole lotta paperwork.

It should come as no surprise to sports/action film buffs that Drift is a high quality production - the team that created it is top notch. Writer Tom Bie is the publisher and editor of The Drake magazine, one of the finest grassroots publications anywhere for the fly fishing enthusiast. Producer Jim Klug is another veteran of the fly fishing world - and ‘world’ indeed…he’s the founder of Yellow Dog Flyfishing Adventures, which puts fish in the freezer by organizing fly fishing trips from Costa Rica to Kamchatka and beyond. And last but certainly not least, there’s director Chris Patterson - if you find yourself feeling like you are watching the aquatic version of a Warren Miller snow flick, that’s because Chris spent 16 years working as a director/cinematographer for the famed ski movie magnate.

I only have one beef with Drift, and it’s a doosie. The film spends a lot of time in Belize, with much of that showing off awfully beautiful permit struggling to shake loose the flies that the crew tossed at them. That Brian O’Keefe takes great photos, but he sure did irk me - I’ve been fly fishing for a heck of a long time and still don’t have a permit-on-fly to show for it - meanwhile this cat made it look oh so easy. Of course, Thomas McGuane spent a good portion of his life fly fishing (and writing about that journey), and only bagged a permit in the last chapter. I just can’t wait that long.

Nevertheless, I think someone in the crew knew I was there and that I was going to get upset when I saw the permit on screen, so before the film even got started they kept tossing me free stuff. Of course, us fly fishing folks are not so easily satisfied, so I am going to give the gear away and wait around for that invitation to Belize, compliments of the boys at Confluence, that I now feel I so justly deserve for all the pain and suffering I endured last night. Up for grabs are two ball caps, as pictured below:

We’ll do this fair and square - all you have to do is answer a few simple questions in the comment section, and it will be first come first serve (i.e. the first correct answers get a cap, and you can only answer one of the two questions). For the “Drift” cap, tell me what recently went down in the Belize legislature that is good for fly fishing; for the “Sharkskin” cap, tell me what’s going on in Kashmir that might make fly fishing tough there. If you are correct, I’ll email you for your mailing address (which also means you need to provide a valid email with your comment/answer).

Good luck, and get Drift.

If you’re a party goer, you have to hate getting up at 4am so you can drive to the club in hope of getting a seat at the open bar before the other guests arrive. You shouldn’t care if a rave is deemed better than work - you wind up exhausted by 2pm and you’ll inevitably sleep way too late the next day, so make sure you do this on Saturdays. At the party the drink of choice is 158 parts of vodka clear (we don’t drink gin around here and we don’t drink much vodka either, but the phrase “gin clear” is quite tired). It’s mixed at a temperature around 40 degrees (F), while the air temp swirls at much the same.

By the time your feet are wet you realize everyone else wants to party too (i.e. the dance floor is shoulder to shoulder at 6:30am). Everyone is dressed for success but you’re on the wagon - you’ve sworn off subtle charm in favor of cockiness. You “peacock” your way around the venue, showing the audience every color imaginable. But the DJ never turns up. By the time you succumb to peer pressure, the guests have all left but the punch is all gone too.

You inevitably wind up mingling in the corner with with outcasts - seven lonelies, all seven inches or shorter. Your wing-man notes that you shouldn’t feel bad - everyone else went home alone. It’s little consolation - you’ve been talking smack half the summer because you’ve been “picking up” week after week.

It’s now mid-morning Sunday. You are sitting in your bathrobe in front of the computer, wondering whether your “rap” will ever return.

Fly fishing translation follows…

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