Tag: Primal Fly

Sea trout, the other brown meat

Low and behold, I’m spending my winter/spring transition in the salt. Captain James “Grand Poobah” Snyder (a.k.a. Commander-In-Chief, Primal Fly South), is my host. Before we begin I’ll note for the record that the ambiance down here is first-class through and through (or maybe GP and his sidekick Sissy “The Brains AND the Beauty” Sessanna are just happy I do my own dishes). Either way, it’s nothing but a steaming pile of tasty Sunshine State goodness. And the weather ain’t too shabby either.

The first week was filled with nothing but work, and despite a holiday shortened week Friday was welcomed with open arms. Then this morning we embarked on a critical first mission: find out if all the fish in Tampa Bay were killed by last month’s cold snap. We are now happy to report they were not. While we didn’t spot any “spots” all day, we did have a couple hour period around the tide change where we chalked up some serious sea trout counts. Adding to the fun – the boats around us weren’t even snagging debris, and at least one of our crew (cough cough) was throwing flies to boot.

Yes, the previously mentioned devout fly tosser is yours truly. Even sadder than it seems, Captain Snyder (a.a.k.a. Trout Lichtenstein) has gone from slaying the freshwater derivative of Salmo trutta morpha trutta with a fine 4-weight and size 20 Jujubaetis to slinging jig-headed plastic with something called a “spinning rod.” I watched this wretched device in action with my own two eyes – while it can be used to catch fish I find the methodology uncivilized…actually borderline criminal. The fish I caught were generally smaller, and I did mar up Captain “Should I Stop For Some Live Shrimp Before We Hit The Ramp” Snyder’s boat deck with my dry-rotted wading booties. Nevertheless, my heart remains pure.

Tune in next week, where we debate whether the stuff Captain James “My Boat Is Pink…How Bout That Bitches” Snyder coats on his plastics before each and every cast is called Lunker Lotion, Bottled Bait Breath, or just plain ol’ cheating.

MG signing off (to keep casting flies, like a good boy should)

Luck of the draw for Carp Slam

Carp Slam 2009I could pontificate about countdown, but the Carp Slam is less that 12 hours away. I’m presently sitting at Primal Fly headquarters, shooting the bull with the lovely Erin Sessanna and relishing in my luck, again.

I don’t have full details of the pairings, but I do know this: I’m fishing with the one, the only, Barry Reynolds. Barry is da’ man (even when I’m around), having literally written the book on carp on the fly. I couldn’t be happier with this draw. We have tough beats above 104th Street in the morning (which means small fish) but pulled Oxford Avenue for the afternoon, which is home to a pile of 30+ pounders.

In other news, Primal Fly thugs James Snyder and Tom Teasdale are fishing together. And they also drew Florida Avenue for the afternoon – it’s their home stomping ground. There has been some backoffice debate as to what sexual favors flies were traded for this.

It’s going to be an exciting day. Now, if we could only get the grill started.

PS: A number of anglers are in rare form as we speak, declaring victory and asking that the rest of us to simply not show up. I’m quietly typing.

If you can’t win a fly fishing competition, you might as well look good trying

Plenty of people know I’ve entered the Teva Mountain Games Costa Del Mar 2 Fly X-treme fly fishing competition. Only one person knows I don’t stand a chance of making it past the first round. This is a good thing. From now until the games commence I can continue photoshopping fly gear and fish into various pictures of myself, slap those onto background layers depicting some idyllic nature setting, and folks will keep on thinking I can actually use a fly rod for something other than just picking my nose. And…they’ll send me stuff I can use at the Games. Cool!


John d′Arbeloff sent me a pair of his Extreme Adventure Pants and a Hydro-T. They were kindly offered, but I was a little skeptical at the start. RailRiders clothing is billed as ‘The Toughest Clothes On The Planet’, which usually means the most uncomfortable on the planet as well. But nothing could be further from the truth.

The first thing I noticed about the pants was the design – simple, but with some well thought out features. Side pockets have zippers tucked neatly beneath a double layer of stitched material, and the ankles have both elastic and velcro strapping so you can fit them nicely over wading (or hiking) boots. The best parts are the belt loops, which are traditional narrow material on the sides but a solid loop across roughly eight inches of the rear and front (no worries about tearing belt loops off here), and the front of the pants from the knees down to the ankles where heavier material is used for durability (kind of like premium waders). They fit perfectly, and were very comfortable right out of the box.

As for the Hydro-T, the material is slightly heavier than what you’d find in a traditional (i.e. cheap) wicking shirt, but quite soft to the touch. This sucker ain’t no cheap – it’s the best I’ve ever seen. The XL also fit nice – loose but not so baggy that I’d have to tuck it in to control excess material. Additionally, RailRiders did something I really love, they went easy on the logos. I’m not a big fan of logos emblazoned on premium outerwear – I just spent good money on your product, and I’m not inclined to do free advertising for you too. RailRiders logos are discrete. Good job fellas!

As previously mentioned, I’ll be using those pants for wet wading this summer, and will report back after I try to bust them up. I’ve been told I can’t, so I’m going to give these garments extra hell. After taking a good close look at the way they are built, I know I have my work cut out for me.

flies-and-fins-logoFlies And Fins

Jeremy Cameron of Flies and Fins hinted that I looked like a real goof in that felt hat I’m always wearing on the river, and suggested something a little more stylish. That would be a kick ass comfy cotton cap, one I’ve been eyeing ever since I realized the Fishing Jones commemorative visor wasn’t going to protect my spit n’ polished dome. Yes, I look better in it than the crushable Bailey, and believe you me I can always use improvement in the fashion department. Of course, Jeremy didn’t realize when he made the hat offer that I’d been pilfering the music from his website and dubbing cowbell into it with GarageBand. He knows that now, but he’s not getting his hat back until I hit the front cover of Fly Fisherman (i.e. never).

Even if you’re inclined to tell nobody but your dog about that favorite fly fishing spot or that secret fly you used to kill ’em, Flies and Fins is still definitely worth logging into. The crew over there has plenty of stories of their own to tell, and much of the really good stuff is behind the free wall. And if you don’t fly fish at all you should still sign up – Jeremy and Company produce some great original music, and tracks are available for download within. My favorite is Rat Race, and I’m taking it upon myself to designate that tune as the official song of my pending decimation at the TMG.

primal-fly-logoPrimal Fly

These folks are my brothers and sisters. Big brothers and big sisters – you know, the kind that only let you hang out with them so they have someone to punch in the face whenever they feel the urge. I still have all my teeth, but I think that’s mostly because I complimented their cooking. Even though I don’t catch as many carp as that bunch, I can validly claim those rejects from the koi pond are just scared of me. See…I wade like a twelve-footed Shrek – the trout can’t hear me coming because the water’s too noisy in the riffles, and I when I hit the salt in a skiff the footwear is non-existent and the guides usually Super Glue my feet to the casting deck. Carp must think they’re two seconds away from getting run over by a freight train when I’m a half mile away. Still, it’s all good.

What did Primal Fly provide? A lousy t-shirt! Those cheap bastards also plastered their logo right across the chest, and the URL for their crummy website down the sleeves. Just because they provided mezzanine financing (read: loan sharking) for the rod and line I’ll be casting and comp-ed me a sweet reel (actually paid for in blood) doesn’t mean they are entitled to skimp on the outerwear. I must look good, because in the grand scheme that’s all that matters (at least for the photo ops). And lest they forget, their graphite and aluminum bribes were handed to me more than a month ago! Dirty rotten scoundrels…I’m going to hack their blog, again.

Love is in the air

Even the folks at the Teva Mountain Games sent me something – their official logo…


Thanks to everyone for their support!

MG signing off (to continue my Tequila-laden practice sessions)

Preview: Cross-Border Urban Exposed

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.

An evening of fly fishing antithesis – fine cuisine and aged grape meets the primordial

If you were wondering whether a pack of ‘turd dodgers’ can actually prepare some decent grub without disinfecting it with nitric acid first, look no further than the stove…

Primal Stove
Chow, before the animals move in

Can they gather like normal human beings without hacking each other’s heads off like the barbarians they’ve been labeled as by the media?

Primal Barbarians
Pleasant company – a sure ruse

But if the crew is now asking a born and bred Florida son to come out of bench retirement, just in case they need a few more of these…

Black Death
A carp won’t eat this shit, will it?

…you just have to wonder what Primal Fly has up their sleeves.

Primal Sleeve
Well…maybe not.


MG signing off (to dig up some 2/0 hooks)

A ‘Try Not To Smile Too Much’ Moment in Brownlining

Dirty Duner

Snyder wannabe
Wipe that hobo-dodging smirk off your face

Taken on a Barr’s Emerger. And lived to tell about it.

The horror.