Michael Gracie

And when I say backcountry, I don’t mean anywhere near the Rocky Mountains…

Adiós muchachos y muchachas.

Editor’s note: the bright yellow box is full of…uh…sunscreen.

It was permit I tell ya’ – permit everywhere!

I stood on the casting deck and took four practice swings. Smacked the short target three times and the middle one once. Confident, I put my fly in my hand and told the guide to get us moving. He said he’d start the moment I did.

I lifted the rod, tucked my elbow, took a quick pull of the line…and all I saw after that was permit. Permit everywhere. Little black fins bobbing and weaving, in three distinct groups at 25, 35 and about 50 feet. In the back of my mind all I could hear was 12 o’clock…cast cast cast! And then pick up…cast! Pick up…cast! And that’s what I did. The wind seemed to howl simultaneously from all sides, while some imaginary guy on the poling platform screamed bloody murder. I think I hit two targets, and am pretty sure I threw one pathetic distance cast about 60 feet.

I still don’t have a permit on the fly, and I didn’t qualify for the competition either.

James Snyder and I skipped out after that, walking 100 yards and then gorging on pancake breakfasts. Found our trucks and set forth west, hitting some nice pocket water in the otherwise raging Gore Creek. We got into a few fish on green and brown Rubber Buggers. On the way home we stopped by Ten Mile and picked up a few more, this time on small stuff. We laughed and carried on as usual, and we had a great time. Trout fishing with a friend – a fitting end to a competitive day. Full of permit.

What did I learn from this experience?

There were a lot of spectacular fly casters at the meet, and I think some of them had a great time. I left before the applause, but I’m clapping now – they deserve it. Still, others took themselves way too seriously and probably didn’t have much fun. I showed up for the pre-show in drag, and while a few photographers (as well as a small handful of competitors) were delighted, it was pretty easy to tell a lot of folks there weren’t amused. For them I feel nothing but sorrow, regardless of their performance.

I know I’ll never be a decent competitive fly caster because my casting stroke is nothing to write home about. I only catch fish because I’m lucky, and sometimes I’m just very lucky. Further, I just can’t seem to take this whole fly fishing thing much more seriously than popping the top on a Coors Light and playing stuffed animal tug-of-war with my dog (which is precisely what I’m doing in between typing the words you see before you).

Or at least I’m now certain I won’t anymore.

UPDATE: Almost forgot – special thanks goes out to John Darbeloff of RailRiders, Jeremy Cameron of Flies & Fins, and James Snyder of Primal Fly for the clothes on my back, as well as Tim Emery of FishExplorer for securing accommodations and Tim Marek for sneaking me into private parties.

UPDATE 2: Official qualifying results are in pdf form here. And a correction – I hit one target, and a 59 footer. Damn I sucked.

Hooking a fish with a very long, flimsy bamboo fiberglass graphite pole, using a piece of animal hair for bait, and then cranking it in with a reel that has no gear ratio? Fly fishing is very serious business, and competition only makes it more so. But fly fishing is still a sport of sharing – sharing the great outdoors with all of Mother Earth’s creatures, as well as exchanging flies, techniques, and if all goes well, some good stories too.

In the spirit of sharing, I’ve decided to disclose how I’m gearing up for this weekend’s Teva Mountain Games 2-Fly Xtreme competition – in other words, how I’m going to hand all the competition their hats…

1 ) Fly selection – big flies make for big fish (and I’ll bet no trout in Colorado has ever seen a 4/0 hook either).

2 ) G. Loomis GLX 12-weight – faster that Speed Racer, and more accurate that Superman’s x-ray eyes in a pasties-required strip club.

3 ) Hawaiian print knock-off, weight forward edition – good for blending in to the surroundings (and the large belly aids in distance casting).

4 ) Lucchese 1883 Mad Dogs – soft and supple goat skin keeps wader booties from tearing (and lack of cleats keeps ‘fly fishing ambassadors’ from crying over scratched rocks).

5 ) Black cape – you cannot even hope to get into the party without a cape and a mask (budget constraints forced leaving out the mask).

6 ) Tibor Gulfstream – very large arbor makes up for the lack of gear ratios in high-priced fly reels (as if there was anything but).

7 ) Bottle of Dos Gusano – quite possibly the finest tequila on Earth (for making your fellow competitors sick for days)

8 ) Wide brim hat – for Xtreme glare protection (doubles as fly patch and automotive wax applicator)

9 ) Impact resistant glasses in hi-vis shooter yellow – because you never know who or what you might run into while fly fishing with a bottle of tequila in your front pocket.

MG signing off (to fall down in a bar in Vail)

Editor’s note: The colossal and amazing diagram you see above is also available in a larger than life (and larger than screen saver) 2304 X 3072 pixel version, absolutely free! Don’t miss this amazing offer – download it right now here.

The place is Vail, and the dates are June 4th through the 7th. There’ll be competitions in running, cycling, kayaking, rafting, paragliding and more. Even dogs get to compete, and that’s why I’m so enthused about the Teva Mountain Games.

See…there’s a fly fishing competition going on which includes timed accuracy and distance casting. If you kick it the first round you go to another, and if you’re in the top eight at the end of the day, you get to spend four hours floating down the Eagle River for the finals beginning the following morning. It’s a two pattern, six total flies in the box deal. Official rules and regs can be found here (pdf), but the gist is the most fish wins.

If none of this appeals to you, but you’d like to see the world’s only two-legged canine get his rear end handed to him by a bunch of folks who actually can fly fish, then you might just want to show up June 6th. Reason: I’ll be competing, and you’ll get a few laughs out of it!

MG signing off (to find some hoola hoops for practice time)

UPDATE: Pete McDonald has kindly stepped in as training and business manager. Excellent, as I need all the help I can get.

Unbeknownst to even the nosiest of fly fishing blogger folk, some of the Colorado cadre have been hooking time with the Cali crew. This intrepid reporter caught a glimpse via his email inbox this morning…

Primal Fly and The Urban Fly Flickr should have more details for the hungry masses in the next few days – meanwhile I doubt anyone will look at that Bob-dude the same way again.

Editor’s note: the image above does not reflect this blog owner’s view of the state of the fly fishing nation, but those passing by who may be offended by such depictions are welcome to pick up a fly rod and decide for themselves.

Everyone has their superstitions, and fly fishers are no exception. For some it’s bananas – no bananas consumed while fishing, and certainly none in the lunch bag, particularly while on a boat. For others, it’s as simple as getting prepared just a certain way – put the rod together now, or wait until after the waders are on (regardless of the temps). I love fruit, but rarely take it fishing, and I have a certain system getting ready – it’s not bowing to the gods but plain ol’ habit. No…for me the big thing is socks.

A particularly pair of socks. I’ve had these certain socks for some time (sparing you the details, and sparing me the bad jokes). They are my lucky wading socks. They kept my toes warm on bitter days. I hand wash them and air dry them after each use – respect for many [insert time measure here] of loyal service. Now I’m getting ready for a short but much needed trip, and one sock out of the pair is missing. This is a huge fricken problem.

If you find this sock’s brother, please ping me ASAP. The sock was last seen in the vicinity of a gray mid-sized Japanese-built SUV parked near the Blue River below Green Mountain Reservoir.

I must have this sock.

MG signing off (to check and recheck and re-re-check the sock drawer)

Editor’s note: your superstitious tales may be welcome relief, but the other sock in my mail box by Thursday eve would be even better.

Beginning today (with breaking news coming in every moment)

• Matt Dunn is an outdoorsman. But, the doctor has spoken, and Matt’s now on a heart-healthy kick. In addition, he had a fly rod stolen a few weeks back, and since he hasn’t finished up his Ph.D. just yet his budget for replacement is nill. He still has his camera and television, however, and is now going to spend a bit more time doing nature photography (and watching basketball game archives). See the new and improved journal of his endeavors here.
• Tom Chandler is ever the innovator. And since recession and global warming climate change have hit, we are all running low on cash for flies and gas and the dwindling snowpack guarantees the flows will be too low for anything but tadpole breeding anyway. The man is now going to save you the time and expense of getting skunked, and this intrepid reporter suspects the Trout Underground Writer’s Network will soon be hosting blogs where you can display your fishing prowess too. View the real future of fly fishing here.

And finally…

• The hunt for the perfect fly never ends, and that’s why everyone who fly fishes is broke and everyone who makes fly tying materials is now producing fish porn from their island nations. But what if the perfect fly was actually invented long ago, and the secret kept away from the rest of us via blood oath and lock n’ key? MidCurrent believes they’ve uncovered just such a conspiracy – it’s a story that could turn the fly fishing world upside down. Drop your socks and grab your….mouse; then click here.

MG signing off (to hock all his gear on eBay before the rush)

UPDATE: This just in…

Brownlining is hot, hot, hot, yet the IGFA chooses to ignore what certainly is part of the nine-foot (+) future – I guess they don’t have any gear to hock. But proving you can’t put a good man or woman down, think tanks have been hard at work, and the culmination of their efforts is the freshly chartered International Brownline Fly Fishing Association. Rumor has it that secretive (at least with photos of his mug) Singlebarbed founder Keith Barton will be chairing the organization, and famed two-hander Jean-Paul Lipton will take the president’s slot.

STILL MORE: This sent in from a source on Long Island who asked that their identity be kept in the strictest of confidence…

Who’d have thought the sport could move so fast?

Withering interest and recession staring it in the face, the fly fishing industry faces extraordinary challenges. If it’s not dealing with the fact that it has drastically overloaded its own product lines and twisted the outgoing message for optimum confusion, there’s always the Madoff family connections. Meanwhile, the crew is rushing to the web, trying to maintain contact with a customer that already has too much gear and too little time to listen. My singular observations have found that communication is sometimes muddled, and often contradictory to what’s being shared behind the scenes. I suspect it’ll get a whole lot worse before it gets better.

None of that seems to matter to Stanley and Stephen Bogdan:

The Bogdans are navigating this recession just as they have every other one over the last seven decades: by staying small and doing things their own way. Every part of a Bogdan reel, save for the springs, is tooled by Stanley or Stephen, S.E. Bogdan Custom Built’s sole employees. In their garage-size shop in New Ipswich, N.H. stands a table littered with dozens of boxes, each containing different parts of a fly-fishing reel: discs of stainless steel, screws, brake shoes, anodized aluminum frames and spools. Armed with a 130-year-old Flather lathe and a 50-year-old Van Norman milling machine, the pair churn out only 100 reels a year and have a three-year backlog. They hold no patents, take no deposits from customers (”That way they can’t bug me, and I have control,” says Stanley), store no files, designs or accounts on a computer (they don’t own one) and do no advertising.

No Madison Avenue, and certainly no social network. They did all this by building a reputation early on, and sticking to ideals of slow growth and maintaining an air of exclusivity.

While Forbes fails to mention much about the reliability and/or warranty on Bogdans (something diehard anglers think a whole lot about), the maker still has its fans in that regard:

Your comments about Bogdans slipping when wet are completely off base. At least in my experience. All they require is to be oiled with light machine oil. Pull the spool and oil the drum once every 2 or 3 years with but a couple drops of plain old oil. I have been fishing mine for almost 10 years now and have ZERO problems with them hydroplaning after being dunked. In fact this trait is one more reason why Bogdan has produced the best hand made reel in the history of fishing. Ages old technology that functions superbly with looks and sounds that kill. For nearly 60 years, Salmo.

As a company in this day and age, you have to love the fact that someone can criticize your product, and a defense will be mounted without you having to personally send hoards of your own folks over to ‘lawyer up.’

There’s a chance somewhere between slim and none that I’ll ever own a Bogdan. I go for utility, and that means being able to tumble down a trail without crying later that my gear was torn up. For much the same reason I don’t cast bamboo – it just isn’t easily repairable – I doubt people who spend thousands on a reel would view them as discard-able either.

And then there’s the auction prices…

I certainly don’t want to see prices of all fly gear reach these levels, and although I wouldn’t be particularly concerned from a personal standpoint if it did (I have way too much gear as it is already) I’d still like to see new entrants to the sport that aren’t stressing about whether they can make their next car payment in the meantime. Further, I’m not particularly opposed to marketers per se – I know and adore my fair share of them. Seth Godin once said, “all marketers are liars” – I think that’s a little harsh, but I do take the practice with a grain of salt and keep moving.

Still, it gets (at least) me thinking…should the industry scale back and return to its roots, instead of trudging ahead with growth plans that could easily be construed as fast closing in on a brick wall? Many a successful turnaround has done just that.

It’s an oldie, but a goodie

San Antonio Express – Fly Fishing from Adam Richard Jones on Vimeo.

“…but it also develops the predatory skills we need later in life.”

This is the point where I’d like to wax poetic about chasing predacious fish with a broomstick and a Stacked Blonde, but you’d read right through that (or mix up the point entirely).