Check out the podcast on iTunes

We finally managed to get the podcast feed uploaded to iTunes. Their backlog is clearly longer than it used to be. Anyway, we recorded podcast episode 02 a couple of days ago. Enjoy!

For future podcasts, we've been trying to make contact with a couple of local experts near the Green River, the Provo River, etc. We'll see how that goes.

Let the Podcast begin!

Bill and I recorded our first podcast episode on Thursday night. Not the best podcast ever, but we had some fun and introduced our plans for the epic two-week fly fishing road trip coming up in August.

20-20 Vision

Fishing with a dry fly is a whole lot more fun than with a nymph. Let's face it: seeing the nose of the fish come up out of the water to slurp a floating bug is waaayy more exciting than watching your strike indicator stop moving (which means you've snagged the bottom a lot more often than it means you've got a fish). Plus, casting an unweighted dry fly is much more enjoyable as well. My motto during those tough days on the stream where nothing seems to be working is: "If I'm not catching fish I might as well be casting a dry fly." Yes, there are some times when I'd rather make graceful (well, graceful for me) 40-foot casts with a dry fly and catch no fish than lob a tandem nymph rig loaded down with 5 sinkers and catch half-a-dozen.

But some of the Western tailwaters are so rich in underwater bugs that unless there's a mad hatch going on, using a dry fly is essentially tilting at windmills so nymphs are going to be my reluctant choice. And if I'm going to use a nymph rig I might as well be good at it--and so that's one of my goals for FRAA2008: espouse the nymph. Uh, when it can't be avoided that is.

On second thought, there is one aspect of nymph fishing that seems cool to me. It's the idea of catching a 20-inch fish on a size 20 nymph. I've caught a few 20-inch fish on size 18 nymphs but I'm not sure that I've ever actually logged a 20-20. As an aside, I'm really not sure who the genius was who came up with the sizing system where a size 20 fly would be smaller than a size 16 fly which would be smaller than a size 12, but I'd like to meet that guy and help him do those simple tasks he cannot do by himself like tie his shoes and hold a fork. But I digress.

Tailwaters like the South Platte and the San Juan are famous for large trout that subsist on a steady diet of ridiculously small bugs and since we're going to be fishing both of those streams, I'm determined to gain a modicum of proficiency with tiny nymphs or die trying. And hey, who knows, I might catch enough lunkers that after it's all said and done I'll decide that I love fishing with nymphs after all. Call it 20-20 hindsight.

Grass is Always Greener

In late 1999 or early 2000 (not long after I started fly fishing) I read several articles about guys who are still building hand-made fly rods out of bamboo. I found it absolutely fascinating. I'm a technology geek by nature so the idea that someone would intentionally hold onto a rod-building technique that has long since been surpassed by lighter, sturdier, and less expensive methods seemed totally crazy. But the more I read about it, the more fun it sounded. I don't believe those who claim that "grass" (i.e. bamboo) rods are better than modern graphite rods, but I've already admitted that fly fishing by its very nature imposes arbitrary restrictions on catching fish, so what's wrong with using bamboo instead of fiberglass, graphite, or carbon fibre?

So despite my complete lack of basic woodworking skills, I decided to give it a shot. I had the Internet at my disposal, of course, so I was able to find out how to source all of the zany materials required and then build or buy the various hand tools necessary to split, heat, shape, sand, wrap, and varnish the bamboo. In all, I built about 12 rods and gave all but one of them away to friends and fellow fly fishermen. It was a total blast.

My favorite part about building fly rods was giving them away. The rods I made weren't worth selling, frankly, but it was a lot of fun sharing them with other people. Other than Bill (who broke his bamboo rod in half a few months ago trying to free a snag while I stood by watching), I pretty much lost contact with the other ten guys who ended up with one of the rods. It's been seven or eight years since I built my last rod, and I'll admit to occasionally wondering how those rods held up and how much fishing they've seen. Yesterday I was looking at some digital family photos and came across these pictures I took of a few of the rods I built.

Over the years, I've also enjoyed fishing with the one bamboo rod I decided to keep. A family friend was kind enough to take me to the Green River several years back and I thought it would be a hoot to catch a 20-inch brown trout on a 6'8" 3wt bamboo rod so I brought it with me. After that, I gradually found myself using that rod less and less and eventually stopped fishing with it altogether until about a month ago.

Anyway, most of the water Bill and I are going to fish on this year's road trip is big enough that a nine foot graphie rod has a clear advantage over a dainty seven foot grass rod. That said, I'm hoping at least one of the streams we'll fish (probably on our way from Provo to New Mexico) is small enough that I can fish the bamboo rod.

Baby Got Back-Country

After we fish the Provo River, Bill and I are going to drive from Utah County (about half-an-hour south of Salt Lake City) down to the Navajo Dam in New Mexico where we'll fish the San Juan river. Along the way, we'll pass within spitting distance of several absolutely amazing National Parks. The raw beauty of Southern Utah is truly awe inspiring, at least in my opinion. When I was in college, I dated a girl who grew up near Seattle and as we were driving through one of Utah's desolate canyons she remarked at how ugly it was. The ensuing discussion was a turning point in our relationship. (Translation: I realized I could not spend my life with such a clueless person.)

The high country National Forest areas in the southern half of Utah offer excellent fishing and get relatively little traffic. But there's a reason why they get little traffic and it's not because the fishing is poor. It's because they are in the middle of nowhere. If Bill and I had unlimited vacation time and a four-wheel-drive vehicle we could spend the entire summer in the Dixie National Forest and never fish the same creek or lake twice. The problem is, we'll be in a minivan with a schedule to keep so back-packing into remote water isn't really an option.

We're going to try to fish at least one relatively unknown stream on our way down to New Mexico, but since it's going to have to be within short walking distance of a paved road, our options are going to be somewhat limited. But we'll do our best.

Fishing in a Barrel

Bill and I went fishing a few weeks back. We'd been planning the trip for a several months and we had timed it to coincide with the last stocking of the Delayed Harvest waters in North Carolina. In theory, I'm not a fan of put-and-take fisheries because I prefer the illusion of catching wild trout but sometimes it's fun to plan a trip where you can catch a whole bunch of trout without working too hard. That's when the DH waters like the Tuckaseegee and upper-Nantahala rivers in North Carolina come in handy.

Unfortunately, our trip ended up being about a week too early. The Nantahala river wasn't stocked with its May allotment of fish a few days after we fished it so although we caught fish, we didn't have one of those 50-fish days we were hoping to have. The next day we arrived at the Tuckaseegee to find that the fish had been stocked less than an hour before we got there. Since the fish hadn't even had time to spread out, we found several pools of crystal clear water containing literally hundreds of fish. At first it seemed like it was going to be loads of fun, but after catching a fish on six or seven casts in a row it got boring and pointless. I switched to a 3wt homemade bamboo rod and tried to catch one of the very large fish (22+ inches) that had been dumped in the river, an endeavor that was made substantially harder by the fact that the smaller fish kept getting in the way.

The whole experience reminded me of something I've always known but sometimes forget: fly fishing is by its very nature designed to strike a delicate balance between not catching enough fish and catching too many fish. If catching fish were the only goal, there would be no reason to limit yourself to feather and foam when a live minnow, a worm, or a stick of dynamite would almost always work better. But if catching fish were of no importance whatsoever, there would be no reason to tie a hook into the fly.

I guess what I'm saying is that to me fly fishing is all about trying to overcome a challenge. Some would argue that the challenge of fly fishing is inherently abitrary, but who cares? Modern society has pretty much already overcome the "real" challenges (i.e. survival needs) so humans invent arbitrary challenges to find value in life. Fly fishing just happens to be one I enjoy.

Back on topic... As I mentally review the list of streams we've chosen to fish during this year's Fly Rods Across America road trip, I'm seeing a pattern: most of these streams are largely self-sustaining with a repulation for having selective medium-to-large trout. In other words, we're intentionally trying to present ourselves with a challenge that can be overcome with proper fly selection and technique. Here's hoping we'll strike that balance of catching just the right number of fish.

Urban Legend

I've heard a rumor that the Provo River in Utah was once declared by Ripley's Believe It Or Not to be the most heavily fished river in the United States. I'm not sure how one would go about making that determination but most fly fishermen in Utah would agree that the Provo River is a very heavily fished stream.

There are two reasons the Provo River is crowded: (1) its two tailwater sections are within 45 minutes of half the state's population and (2) it is chock full of fish. Because of this, the fly fishermen in Utah have something of a love-hate relationship with the Provo River. On a Saturday or a weekday afternoon as one drives up Highway 189 alongside the river, it appears as though every pool or run holds a fly fisherman. But there are enough fish (too many fish according to some reports) that skilled anglers can catch fish all year round even when there's a crowd.

If there were such a thing as a blue-collar trout stream, the Provo River would definitely qualify. It's not what you'd call a fly fishing destination (in fact the lower part of the river flows right through the Provo/Orem community near Brigham Young University), but it allows thousands of local fishermen to take off of work an hour early, park right next to the stream, and have a decent chance of catching sizeable fish on a fly at any time of year.

One of the things that intrigues me about the Provo River is that the Lower section of the river is divided into an upper artificial-lure-only section where nearly everyone practices catch-and-release (two fish under fifteen inches long can technically be kept over 98 percent of fish are released) and a lower section (the Lower Lower, as I like to call it) where fishermen can use bait and keep fish according to regular fishing regulations. What has happened over the last couple of decades is that although the population of trout in the Provo has increased, the average size has decreased. Last summer, Bill and I had one of those "legendary" days on the Provo where we probably caught 50 fish between the two of us but I don't think either of us landed one over 18 inches long. (Bill claims to have hooked into a Brown trout that would have measured 21+ but since he was unable to land it, we'll never know). What I do know is that these days, the chances of catching a 20-inch trout on the Provo River are much lower than they used to be--but the tradeoff is that reasonably adept fishermen can often catch a number of fish.

This year, I'm tempted to fish the "Lower" Lower section in hopes that we'll have a better chance of catching some larger fish even though the number of fish per mile will be thinned out somewhat due to harvesting by bait fishermen. We'll have to see what happens.