Awaken that Inner Spirit

Time and tide are relentless, and we can only step into the same river once. Death and taxes are inevitable, as we all know or should have heard. It’s easy to preach from my comfortable chair, as I won’t have to shovel any snow today. Instead, I’ll spend the day watching videos about my favorite subject. Those glorious days of our youth, when we would shovel our way to some walking money, are long gone. It’s time to hire someone to do the work. If you have to use the snowblower and take your time, no rush. Missing work? You’ll miss a lot more than work if you have to shovel. Hey, spring will be here soon enough, so relax and enjoy the season. Meanwhile, I sit here under layers of zinc, enjoying a beautiful Florida day. 

The Elegance of Angling

 The sepia-toned photographs of the turn of the century depict anglers dressed casually, reflecting the early 20th century. They wore collared starched white shirts, tweed jackets, or corduroy, paired with riding breeches and hobnailed footwear. This era predates synthetic waders, and wet wading or casting from the banks was the norm. Anglers didn’t rush; they sat on the riverbank, enjoying cucumber sandwiches and sipping hot tea while watching for rising fish. Wet flies were the preferred choice, swung in rhythm through the current. When hatches began, dry flies were tied on, but only after careful examination of the hatch. Bamboo rods, silk lines, and horsehair tippets were the epitome of fly fishing. I believe we’ve lost the art of fly fishing in our pursuit of quantity over quality or the desire for trophies. No catch and release was practiced, as these photographs captured the essence of a successful day on the river. Today, we face a similar challenge: an overabundance of fishermen, overly simplistic techniques, and the fish becoming mere commodities rather than beautiful creatures.

How many anglers dress up for a day on the river? Most of us, with coffee in hand and bleary eyes, crawl behind the wheel and head down the road, heading to our secret spot. We tug on our waders and lace up the boots, but then we turn around after a minute, thinking, “Did we lock up our car?” Racing back in fear that all our goodies have disappeared, we hope it’s not true. We find everything is fine, except we left our fly boxes on the front seat. Panic ensues as we race to that secret spot, hoping no one else is there.

The secret spot, renowned among anglers for its long-standing reputation and popularity, has witnessed a decline in exploration. The honey hole, a cherished fishing destination from spring stocking until the end of the season, has become a short walk away for most anglers. During my recent visit, I stumbled upon a hidden gem that many would overlook. Surprisingly, I caught a few fish there, which was quite satisfying.

We quickly slip into the flow and make a few sloppy casts, either snagging a branch or catching the bottom. Either way, a fly is lost in the first few seconds. Now, panic is in full swing as fish start to steadily rise just out of reach. We pick out a good fly and immediately drop it, watching agape as it sinks out of sight. The rest of the session is as bad. Soon, company arrives. They look calm and refreshed, seemingly knowledgeable that there was no rush. They took the time to clean up, comb what little hair is left, put on some clean clothes, and eat breakfast early, no need to gulp down coffee as they drive. Their arrival was timed to the morning hatch, and they didn’t waste time or unproductive casting. They caught their fill.

I followed the angler back to the cars and watched as he systematically put his gear away. He changed his boots into a pair of brogans and carefully slipped into a sports coat, adjusting the knot of his tie. He commented that he’d be back for the evening hatch after work. I sat on the tailgate of my pickup truck, my hat hair standing as testimony to my lack of preparation. That was me a few years ago, getting in an hour of fishing and spending my day earning a living.

Standing on a Mountain Pass and looking South

High on a mountain pass outside Tucson, the saguaro cacti were thick for miles. How can anyone survive there? I imagined the hundreds of skeletons hidden in the landscape and the thousands of mice living off those bones. It’s crazy!The inhospitable landscape appears lifeless. However, I know better; with some rain, it will come alive. The sight of cactus stretching into Mexico makes many arguments seem trivial and spiteful.

The Sonoran Desert extends further west, the Mojave Desert to the north and west, and the Great Basin to the north, extending into Utah, Nevada, New Mexico, and Colorado. I’ve visited all of them, but I enjoyed the Mojave the most, with the Joshua trees standing out like giant figures. I missed the tarantula mating season on that visit; I imagined tens of thousands of those arachnids running down the park roads. Creepy, but cool.

In the Sonoran Desert, I went looking for rattlesnakes, but they’re reclusive and only found paloverde trees, creosote trees, and wild blooms in bloom from recent rains. 

The Mojave showed me what flash floods mean when water surged down the arroyo formed by dry creek beds outside the airport in Palm Springs. Amongst the green of the fairways pockmarked in the desert landscape, resorts with happy tourist basking in the desert winter splashing in the pools and hitting some golf balls with abandon. 

Creatures large and mostly small living by the sunbaked locals and tourist. Oblivious to each other, one looking for some warm and recreation, while the other is just trying to survive. Everything is in bloom with a recent rainfall and at the resorts, irrigation heads peek out of the ground wasting that most precious of all, water. Golfers on course, the spa is doing box office business for those seeking health and renewal. A yoga class is in full swing folks getting those kinks out in bodies long since stiff and achey. And I taking it all in sitting neck high in a heated pool.  Nature is awe-inspiring.

Loss of Quality

Recent news stories have been flooding my inbox about the decline of flagship outdoor brands. Orvis is closing a significant number of stores, REI is reducing member benefits, LLBean is changing its marketing strategies, Dick’s is closing stores and going bankrupt, and the latest addition to this mess is Eddie Bauer’s bankruptcy.

The decline of these brands is attributed to increased costs due to tariffs and venture capitalists buying and selling assets to maximize profits. Orvis, a family business, admitted that tariffs have severely impacted them. The sad news has affected Simms, which was bought by an investor group and immediately outsourced the manufacture of its waders from the US, resulting in poor quality. Perhaps the decline in the quality of our favorite products is a sign of the decline in our country’s economic status.

However, one brand stands out: Patagonia. Yvon Chouinard is uncompromising and stands for what we all believe in—preservation of public lands, clean air, and free-flowing wild rivers. Patagonia now reinvests in preservation rather than profit for profit’s sake. It’s time for us to stand up for what truly matters.

Let the wild river flow clean and dam free!

Lines to Leader Attachments

Getting the leader onto the end of your fly line involves some intricate procedures. Various tools, techniques, and tried-and-true methods exist. The oldest method is the nail knot, which effectively captures the fly line with a complex maneuver. The leader is wrapped around the fly line, and a tool or common nail is used to leave an opening to finish the knot. Once cinched and finished, it forms a usable attachment. However, this method has its drawbacks. The leader needs to be removed due to wear and tear, and the end of the fly line is cut, revealing the limitations of this approach.

Another method is to weld a permanent loop onto the fly line using a stout piece of leader material, typically 8-12 inches long. The end of the leader is formed into a perfect loop. Since most premade leaders come with a loop on the butt end, a loop-to-loop connection can be made. Flexible loop connectors, resembling Chinese fingers, are used to place over the line. These devices are fed over the line to capture it, and a small piece of heat shrink is used to keep the connector in place. Caution is advised when using an open flame; a hair dryer is a better alternative. As with all types of connectors, regular visual inspections are necessary, and if in doubt, replacement is recommended. 

A few essential knots every angler should know are the nail knot, double surgeon knot, blood knot, Davy knot, improved clinch, and perfection loop. While you don’t need to master every knot, it’s crucial to learn the ones you use daily. Practice until you can tie them even in the dark and blindfolded. Remember, conditions are never perfect, so take your time and don’t rush. After every fish, always test the knot used to attach your fly.

Ice On My Guides

Winter has undoubtedly arrived in all the lower 48 states. Even in Florida, known for its sunshine and stubbornness, the weather has turned cold. One of my neighbors yelled through his hurricane glass window, exclaiming, “You’re crazy! I’m not going out there!” Walking my dogs during bad weather is a mission statement, and someone has to do it! So, I’ve been elected to brave the cold, dark mornings. I don my down parka, wool hat, and Gore-Tex gloves to face the freezing temperatures of the Florida winter. It’s definitely not for the faint of heart.

This brings me back to a time in my silviculture class (not civics) when ninety of us brave souls embarked on a snowshoeing adventure onto a small frozen pond. The ice began to tilt due to the unbalanced weight of our group. We were instructed not to go near the inlet or outlet (I bet you didn’t know ponds had such things) and instead, walk to a safe edge up a small hill to observe some trees growing in a bog. The tips of my ears froze that day, and they still ache now. 

Later that year, after the ice began to recede, I caught some beautiful brook trout. I constantly knocked the ice off my guides, knowing that if I waited for a warmer day, the thrill of standing in the cold and casting to areas of open water teeming with hungry trout would be lost.

In the northern country, the term “ice out” is used to describe the sudden urge to go fishing in the cold early spring days. People could be heard having hushed conversations about which pond was shedding its ice, as if it were a state secret. Knowledge was quietly shared in low voices, but soon the secret was out, and next thing you know, city folk showed up and ruined the party.

One part of the ice out is the spring turnover, a term used to describe the winds that cause the pond, which had been heavily stratified over the winter, to break up. This breaks up the layers, allowing oxygen to be spread evenly throughout the water column. This brings much joy to both the trout and the fishermen.