Question:

[snipped] Great story.  I can feel the slime and smell the penetrating odor from here

Response:

……On Saturday at a Back Yard Burger I saw four young Elvises (Elvii) getting out of a powder blue 1962 Buick convertible.

The dude DOES get around.  He spends his days picking up trash at Children’s Hospital of Wisconsin, here in Milwaukee. Wolfgang i guess the king of rock-n-roll biz ain’t what it used to was.

Response:

Great story.  I can feel the slime and smell the penetrating odor from here

TAKE A SHOWER ALREADY! mEMPHIS jIM No, I haven’t seen Elvis this week.

Response:

says… Great story.  I can feel the slime and smell the penetrating odor from here TAKE A SHOWER ALREADY! mEMPHIS jIM No, I haven’t seen Elvis this week.

thanks.  I was wondering what I stepped in… — Rob (but have you gone by Graceland…)

Response:

Actually that’s not true.  On Saturday at a Back Yard Burger I saw four young Elvises (Elvii) getting out of a powder blue 1962 Buick convertible. Memphis Jim – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – No, I haven’t seen Elvis this week. thanks.  I was wondering what I stepped in… — Rob (but have you gone by Graceland…)

Response:

Boulder, ponds near Munson’s ? You mean 75th and Valmont ? Not the Sawhill’s ? How in the world is there trout in any pond near there ? The water must be 85 degrees ? Good bass’n out there, and big carp. But you say there’s some nice trout, eh ? Could you please be more specific about where these ponds are ? TIA. Bone.

BTW, TBone, I forgot to mention the graylings… hehe

Response:

Is that you, Frank?

No sir. Not Frank. Ben. -bh

Response:

Boulder, ponds near Munson’s ? You mean 75th and Valmont ? Not the Sawhill’s ? How in the world is there trout in any pond near there ? The water must be 85 degrees ? Good bass’n out there, and big carp. But you say there’s some nice trout, eh ? Could you please be more specific about where these ponds are ? TIA. Bone.

Response:

Is that you, Frank? No sir. Not Frank. Ben.

It tis nice to see others with a single minded devotion to the fish.  Hey, so what if you get a bit messy, you got a fish and these guys are just dreaming of getting some. — Frank Reid Reverse email to reply.

Response:

Boulder, ponds near Munson’s ? You mean 75th and Valmont ? Not the Sawhill’s ? How in the world is there trout in any pond near there ? The water must be 85 degrees ? Good bass’n out there, and big carp. But you say there’s some nice trout, eh ? Could you please be more specific about where these ponds are ? TIA. Bone.

You clearly know the place, what I’ve been tiold by the F&G guys that patrol the area is that the ponds are and have for some time been dumping grounds for stock. Big bass, yes. I’ve lifted an 18 inch large mouth out of the back pond on a #10 krystal bugger tied to 6X tippet and a 4wt rod. I’ve also taken more than a number of catfish ON THE SURFACE using smallish, bright white upwing something or others (I forget exactly) from the first pond. Sunfish, bluegills, small mouths, big mouths. The place is like a proving ground for fly tackle. Specifically on the trout issue: Walk back from the parking lot, past the pond with the dock. The next pond on the north side of that path is huge and damned near dry. Stand there on the south side near the aspen stand, open your eyes and prick your ears. Those big dark shadowy bug sucking monsters are trout. If we don’t get some rain soon, they will soon be trout jerky. Let me know and I’ll meet you there. -bh Boulder, CO

Response:

I spent the day fishing one of the back ponds out near Munson’s east of Boulder, CO. The current drought and a bit of local water politics has reduced many of these usually healthy potholes to small bowls of muddy, stringy soup. The hole I chose to visit today caught my eye via my ear when I heard loud slurping sounds coming from the ooze. I sat down on a clump of rye grass and watched some of the biggest lunker trout I’ve ever seen sucking bugs off of the surface, their backs complelety exposed to the air as they lay cradled in the thick weeds. I sat and I watched and I evaluated. Two big problems — 1.) the sea weed was very thick and left only small (maybe 4-5 ft. across) targets of clear (kind of) water in which to land a fly and 2.) the CO Fish and Game had encouraged aspens all along this particular bank leaving only a 10 by 10 ft "window" for me to shoot a line through. Normally I’d feel ok about a tight cast like that, but I was also standing 10-12 feet above the surface of the water which put my backcast up high and my front cast down sharply. So I sat some more and evaluated and while I did I tied on a #8 Dave’s hopper variant that I picked up in a general store in Ten Sleep, WY this summer. This version has gads of jangly rubber legs and makes all kind of ruckus on the surface when you twitch ‘em. I had no clue what they were sipping so I figured something juicy and big might bust them away from whatever hatch they were enjoying at the moment. So I sat some more and evaluated and while I did I began to realise that there was not a single sunfish or gilly or anything small at or near the water’s edge. it occurred to me that this pond had been shrinking for months and that anything small had been consumed by the elders in the water. This explained their size. Off in the distance, maybe 100 yds or so from my clump of grass were two blue herons standing in less than a foot of water. They were no doubt waiting patiently for one of these giants to glide by. I tried to imagine what that fight would look like. The scene in front of me was like an entire wildlife documentory but without the narrative. Truly unreal. So I decided it was time. I screeched off 20 or 30 feet of line from my little Princess and flicked the tippet end out toward the water. Two or three false casts swished through the air and — and this is god’s truth — I popped that little hopper right smack in the center of a clear spot in the water. I watched. I waited. I stripped in the slack and I waited some more. The water was so dark and so thick with growth that it was hard to see anything beneath the surface. I waited a minute or so and finally I gave her a twitch. My little bug pushed a bow-wave straight toward me and floated high on the water. Another ten seconds and I gave it another twitch. This time something thick and black and large rolled over and devoured my fly. I popped my wrist back and hooked up nicely. That fish — my fish — ran a slalom course through the weeds and tangled my leader 5 ways from Sunday. I stood up, fell and slid like a knothead down the bank and landed on my knees in the muck. But I still had a fish on! I stripped the slack that had formed from my fall and felt the leader knot hit the tip of my rod. I knew I was less than 9 feet from this fish and I wasn’t going to let a little slime stop me from landing him. What I didn’t plan on was the "lack of firmness" on the bottom of the pond. I stepped into the water — just a foot or so — and immediately felt the coolness of the mud slide deliciously up to my knees. I tried to step out and I felt one of my Teva’s come off my foot. Damn! I lost balance and fell back, gently and with great style, right on my ass. Here I am, all of my bits and pieces in the water and my legs being swallowed by quick sand. I worked to get my feet out of the suck, all the while trying to hang on to my rod. Eventually I got to my feet and started scanning the weeds for my fishy friend. I bent my rod gently and in doing so pulled my leader into a semi-straight line. I coould feel the fish still and I could see the hissy fit he was throwing in the growth. Laying down my rod I wrapped the leader around my hand and gently pulled him in. The trout was wrapped in so much plant material that he looked twice his actual size. I kept him in the water and slipped a wet hand under his belly. The weeds kept him still as I unhooked him and pointed him, nose first toward the center of the pond. I gathered my dignity and shlepped back to my car, my legs and shorts frosted in foul smelling green/brown goop. Well, there are no facilities at this place and I had nothing more than what I was wearing with me so I slipped out of my shorts and tshirt, put my shirt over the driver’s seat of my car and drove home wearing nothing but my Jockeys and a big smile. Upon my arrival, my wife didn’t inquire as to my condition or how it came to be. She gave me a totally unaffected look and asked me if I had had a good time. I told her that I had.

Response:

– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -I spent the day fishing one of the back ponds out near Munson’s east of Boulder, CO. The current drought and a bit of local water politics has reduced many of these usually healthy potholes to small bowls of muddy, stringy soup. The hole I chose to visit today caught my eye via my ear when I heard loud slurping sounds coming from the ooze. I sat down on a clump of rye grass and watched some of the biggest lunker trout I’ve ever seen sucking bugs off of the surface, their backs complelety exposed to the air as they lay cradled in the thick weeds. I sat and I watched and I evaluated. Two big problems — 1.) the sea weed was very thick and left only small (maybe 4-5 ft. across) targets of clear (kind of) water in which to land a fly and 2.) the CO Fish and Game had encouraged aspens all along this particular bank leaving only a 10 by 10 ft "window" for me to shoot a line through. Normally I’d feel ok about a tight cast like that, but I was also standing 10-12 feet above the surface of the water which put my backcast up high and my front cast down sharply. So I sat some more and evaluated and while I did I tied on a #8 Dave’s hopper variant that I picked up in a general store in Ten Sleep, WY this summer. This version has gads of jangly rubber legs and makes all kind of ruckus on the surface when you twitch ‘em. I had no clue what they were sipping so I figured something juicy and big might bust them away from whatever hatch they were enjoying at the moment. So I sat some more and evaluated and while I did I began to realise that there was not a single sunfish or gilly or anything small at or near the water’s edge. it occurred to me that this pond had been shrinking for months and that anything small had been consumed by the elders in the water. This explained their size. Off in the distance, maybe 100 yds or so from my clump of grass were two blue herons standing in less than a foot of water. They were no doubt waiting patiently for one of these giants to glide by. I tried to imagine what that fight would look like. The scene in front of me was like an entire wildlife documentory but without the narrative. Truly unreal. So I decided it was time. I screeched off 20 or 30 feet of line from my little Princess and flicked the tippet end out toward the water. Two or three false casts swished through the air and — and this is god’s truth — I popped that little hopper right smack in the center of a clear spot in the water. I watched. I waited. I stripped in the slack and I waited some more. The water was so dark and so thick with growth that it was hard to see anything beneath the surface. I waited a minute or so and finally I gave her a twitch. My little bug pushed a bow-wave straight toward me and floated high on the water. Another ten seconds and I gave it another twitch. This time something thick and black and large rolled over and devoured my fly. I popped my wrist back and hooked up nicely. That fish — my fish — ran a slalom course through the weeds and tangled my leader 5 ways from Sunday. I stood up, fell and slid like a knothead down the bank and landed on my knees in the muck. But I still had a fish on! I stripped the slack that had formed from my fall and felt the leader knot hit the tip of my rod. I knew I was less than 9 feet from this fish and I wasn’t going to let a little slime stop me from landing him. What I didn’t plan on was the "lack of firmness" on the bottom of the pond. I stepped into the water — just a foot or so — and immediately felt the coolness of the mud slide deliciously up to my knees. I tried to step out and I felt one of my Teva’s come off my foot. Damn! I lost balance and fell back, gently and with great style, right on my ass. Here I am, all of my bits and pieces in the water and my legs being swallowed by quick sand. I worked to get my feet out of the suck, all the while trying to hang on to my rod. Eventually I got to my feet and started scanning the weeds for my fishy friend. I bent my rod gently and in doing so pulled my leader into a semi-straight line. I coould feel the fish still and I could see the hissy fit he was throwing in the growth. Laying down my rod I wrapped the leader around my hand and gently pulled him in. The trout was wrapped in so much plant material that he looked twice his actual size. I kept him in the water and slipped a wet hand under his belly. The weeds kept him still as I unhooked him and pointed him, nose first toward the center of the pond. I gathered my dignity and shlepped back to my car, my legs and shorts frosted in foul smelling green/brown goop. Well, there are no facilities at this place and I had nothing more than what I was wearing with me so I slipped out of my shorts and tshirt, put my shirt over the driver’s seat of my car and drove home wearing nothing but my Jockeys and a big smile. Upon my arrival, my wife didn’t inquire as to my condition or how it came to be. She gave me a totally unaffected look and asked me if I had had a good time. I told her that I had.

Is that you, Frank?

Response:

Question:

George Gehrke: shithead. …seems a bit ungentlemanly…

Get it straight, George. I’m the fucking putz. — visit my web site: http://home.earthlink.net/~royalwulff/

Response:

…i hope to have a good granite chisel soon… i think it might be useful with some of my "signature" fly ties as well. jeff (chiseling out more mutants for the masses)

Somehow it seemed so difficult, all attempts just fizzled, this was mainly due it seems, to the fact that they were chiselled, he swore, he cursed, he begged and cried, at last he exclaimed "Dammnit!", how can you get proportions right, in such little bits of granite?". He sweated, learned, and tried again, until he knew some tricks, but no matter what he tried to do, his dry-flies sank like bricks, he tied flies for trout, and bass and pike, and even some for bream, and though he did his level best, results remained a dream.. Years went by, and then at last, enlightenment slowly dawned, frustrating hours and days of work, a new idea then spawned, he tied a whole new series up, and then he went a swapping, all now agreed his perfect flies, were beautiful, simply topping. Time came then at last for him, to pass on the gentle art, this time comes at last you see, to every poor old fart, his pupils marvelled at his skill, his flies even caught bones, how he managed this you ask?  He stuck to chiselling stones! TL MC

Response:

George Gehrke: shithead.

…seems a bit ungentlemanly… jeff

Response:

George Gehrke: shithead. …seems a bit ungentlemanly…

Yeah, but it would make a good epitaph for him just as written. <g — Charlie…

Response:

…i hope to have a good granite chisel soon… i think it might be useful with some of my "signature" fly ties as well. jeff (chiseling out more mutants for the masses) – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – George Gehrke: shithead. …seems a bit ungentlemanly… Yeah, but it would make a good epitaph for him just as written. <g — Charlie…

Response:

I happen to think of another answer to your concerns David.  You’re just going to have to take me the way I am.  Someday, you’re going to miss me baby and all this originality and talent!  You’ll be laughing all the way to the river of no return. George Roff & Company "the gang’s all here!" (why fix something when it isn’t broke?) – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – George, I say this with true concern – no hate or disgust:  Get some professional help, not with your writing, but with your head. Dave

Response:

David,  trust me.  There is nothing wrong with my head, just too much on my plate.  I have enough E-mail proving how incorrect  your concern is, but I know you to be sincere. Stay loose and don’t sweat the details David.  Roff has too many editors and not enough good writers.  Can you help by contributing something? George – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – George, I say this with true concern – no hate or disgust:  Get some professional help, not with your writing, but with your head. Dave

Response:

George, I say this with true concern – no hate or disgust:  Get some professional help, not with your writing, but with your head. Dave

Response:

Mike, I’ll keep this short and sweet.  You are a serious waste of my valuable time. No one in ROFF needs your kind of  criticisms.  You can’t take criticism yourself and you don’t know how to give advice in a constructive manner.   It must be your ethnic nature and educational back ground?  Therefore: there are no other reasons for me to have a civil conversation with you now or in the near future. By the way, I write just as well as you or anyone else,  given the time.  These seems to elude you entirely because there are many sportsmen (world wide) who disagree with your views and what you stand for.  You’re a competent fly tier. Why don’t you stick with what you do best?  (because you are politically inept, you lack social abilities and graces, besides being a total failure in "people skills")  Take night courses in these subjects then give it another go in  four years.  I cannot offer you better advice Mike. Take care.  End of conversation. George Gehrke "who isn’t interested in those who make personal attacks in public places"

Response:

Nobody gets paid for anything on ROFF. You are not Hemingway, and a number of people would be more than happy if you kept your gratuitous, barely comprehensible, and over-long ramblings, to yourself. Bullshit is bullshit, free or not.  In this case it is not free, it costs money to send tens of kilobytes of rubbish through the ether, some more some less, but it costs everybody money. I can accept that some things must be very bitter for you, this shines through in every post you make, like dim streetlamps glinting reluctantly from the oily whorls on  pools of sewage,  but that

Question:

That’s a pretty little fish from a lovely looking stream!   Ian Scott http://www.about-flyfishing.com/ – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – For anyone that’s interested take a look at my first fish of the year. Here is the baby that started that inspired the post. www.thefigs.net

Response:

For anyone that’s interested take a look at my first fish of the year. Here is the baby that started that inspired the post. www.thefigs.net

Response:

…..Valley Creek…….flows through Valley Forge National Park…….a perfect breeding ground for the Brownies, and they thrived, even in the shadow of the Philadelphia metropolis……

Damn!  I looked at that creek one time, about six or seven years ago. My sister’s back yard borders the park.  When I went to visit her I looked at the stream rather closely and thought that it might be an adequate habitat but…..nah, WAY too urban.  Damn! Wolfgang who hadn’t bothered to bring any fishing gear      :(

Response:

Carlos!! First fish on a fly, on Valley Creek!!  Quite an accomplishment! My first trout came on an Olive Caddis Pupa (didn’t have a clue what it was then) on the Tulpehocken in Reading.  I was fortunate enough to be on that creek, which is quite wide, so I didn’t have to worry as much about catching the trees.  I did my share of churning up the water behind me, but would suggest the same approach to any new flyfisherman (just make sure to give yourself plenty of room between yourself and the trainee). As for Valley Creek, although I caught my first trout on the Tulpehocken, Valley Creek was my training ground (before and after).  For those of you who don’t know this creek,  The bottom section (the most productive) flows through Valley Forge National Park.  It’s a catch and release section of water due to PCB pollution from a train spill.  Although this event was unfortunate, it did force the DER to take this stream off of the stocking list.  Because of it’s limestone character, Valley Creek turned out to be a perfect breeding ground for the Brownies, and they thrived, even in the shadow of the Philadelphia metropolis.  These fish are quite "smart" though, because of the regs, and significant fishing pressure, they have been caught & released several, if not numerous, times.  The stream is not too wide (guessing an AVERAGE of 7-8 feet, but my comrade may correct me) and usually quite clear, so the approach can be quite tough.  There is a good population of midges on this creek, and the most prolific mayfly hatch is the Sulphur in May/June. Valley Forge Park itself is a nice place to take the family to learn about history, and to just take in the sites.  It is a very large park for it’s location close to the city, and there is a large contingent of deer in the park that can easily be seen in the morning and evenings (of course they are protected).  There’s plenty of room to spread out the picnic blanket, a paved recreation/walking trail flows throughout the park, but you can wander wherever you choose.  There’s also a nice bike trail along the Schuylkill River (Valley Creek empties into this river in the Park) that can lead you right into Center City Philadelphia if you have the energy (it’s 15-20 miles to Center City).   There is also a nice population of Smallmouth (in the River only) but it’s tough to fish ‘em unless you have a boat or float tube (guessing 200+ feet wide and cannot be crossed by foot). Although the average fish in this creek is probably 10-14 inches at best,  I’ve caught 20+ inch Browns in this creek, and have seen a few 25+, at the right time of year.  If you plan on visiting the Park make sure to pack the fly gear. A basic pair of hippers should get you by, remember to keep in the shadows, and tread softly, The Finn

– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – I got my brand new fly fishing gear as a gift from my wife for Christmas in the way of an Orvis gift certificate. Eager to get out on the water, not haveing fly fished before, I took my gear to the local pond to practice my casting. Went well, nice open space after several cast seemed to have the hang of it. A couple of weeks later went to fish at Valley Creek here in PA. This stream is a class A Wild Trout stream that is very difficult to fish. Spent the afternoon untageling my line from trees and loosing several nymph flies. But today, 2 days after the first snow storm in the Philadelphia area, I had the urge to get out and try my rod again. Went back to the same stream because I know at this time of year this was my best shot to catch something. Within minutes of getting to the stream I found a "honey hole" 4 feet deep and filled with trout, after an hour of casting a hares ear nymph, I guessed that I had spooked all the fish because of my line slapping the water, or getting caught in fallen leaves, or snaging rocks, so I decided to move upstream and hope to find another hole like this one. 3 hours later, after a mile of walking upstream and not seeing a single fish, I decided it was time to call it a day. With my tail between my legs I walked back towards the honey hole where my car was parked. I decided before I go in I would just make a couple more casts hopeing the fish came back. As I lifted my line a felt a tug, prepared to lose another fly, I lifted my rod tip a lo and behold "FISH ON". A beutiful 10 inch brown, not a big fish, but a fish that will stay in my mind forever. The first fish of the year, and on a fly, it just doesn’t get much better than that. I thought maybe this story would inspire a thread of stories about everyones first fish caught on a fly. I’m sure there are many stories out there that stick in peoples memories.

Response:

Yes, this is all true. The creek from what I was told is extremly hard to fish. I felt very lucky to catch one on my second visit there. I am actually moving in the summer about 15 min. from Tuplehocken, I have not fished there yet but have heard some great things about it. Valley Creek and French Creek are currently my home waters until June. Are there any tips about Tuplehocken that I can use, especially since it will be my new home waters.

– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Carlos!! First fish on a fly, on Valley Creek!!  Quite an accomplishment! My first trout came on an Olive Caddis Pupa (didn’t have a clue what it was then) on the Tulpehocken in Reading.  I was fortunate enough to be on that creek, which is quite wide, so I didn’t have to worry as much about catching the trees.  I did my share of churning up the water behind me, but would suggest the same approach to any new flyfisherman (just make sure to give yourself plenty of room between yourself and the trainee). As for Valley Creek, although I caught my first trout on the Tulpehocken, Valley Creek was my training ground (before and after).  For those of you who don’t know this creek,  The bottom section (the most productive) flows through Valley Forge National Park.  It’s a catch and release section of water due to PCB pollution from a train spill.  Although this event was unfortunate, it did force the DER to take this stream off of the stocking list.  Because of it’s limestone character, Valley Creek turned out to be a perfect breeding ground for the Brownies, and they thrived, even in the shadow of the Philadelphia metropolis.  These fish are quite "smart" though, because of the regs, and significant fishing pressure, they have been caught & released several, if not numerous, times.  The stream is not too wide (guessing an AVERAGE of 7-8 feet, but my comrade may correct me) and usually quite clear, so the approach can be quite tough.  There is a good population of midges on this creek, and the most prolific mayfly hatch is the Sulphur in May/June. Valley Forge Park itself is a nice place to take the family to learn about history, and to just take in the sites.  It is a very large park for it’s location close to the city, and there is a large contingent of deer in the park that can easily be seen in the morning and evenings (of course they are protected).  There’s plenty of room to spread out the picnic blanket, a paved recreation/walking trail flows throughout the park, but you can wander wherever you choose.  There’s also a nice bike trail along the Schuylkill River (Valley Creek empties into this river in the Park) that can lead you right into Center City Philadelphia if you have the energy (it’s 15-20 miles to Center City).   There is also a nice population of Smallmouth (in the River only) but it’s tough to fish ‘em unless you have a boat or float tube (guessing 200+ feet wide and cannot be crossed by foot). Although the average fish in this creek is probably 10-14 inches at best,  I’ve caught 20+ inch Browns in this creek, and have seen a few 25+, at the right time of year.  If you plan on visiting the Park make sure to pack the fly gear. A basic pair of hippers should get you by, remember to keep in the shadows, and tread softly, The Finn I got my brand new fly fishing gear as a gift from my wife for Christmas in the way of an Orvis gift certificate. Eager to get out on the water, not haveing fly fished before, I took my gear to the local pond to practice my casting. Went well, nice open space after several cast seemed to have the hang of it. A couple of weeks later went to fish at Valley Creek here in PA. This stream is a class A Wild Trout stream that is very difficult to fish. Spent the afternoon untageling my line from trees and loosing several nymph flies. But today, 2 days after the first snow storm in the Philadelphia area, I had the urge to get out and try my rod again. Went back to the same stream because I know at this time of year this was my best shot to catch something. Within minutes of getting to the stream I found a "honey hole" 4 feet deep and filled with trout, after an hour of casting a hares ear nymph, I guessed that I had spooked all the fish because of my line slapping the water, or getting caught in fallen leaves, or snaging rocks, so I decided to move upstream and hope to find another hole like this one. 3 hours later, after a mile of walking upstream and not seeing a single fish, I decided it was time to call it a day. With my tail between my legs I walked back towards the honey hole where my car was parked. I decided before I go in I would just make a couple more casts hopeing the fish came back. As I lifted my line a felt a tug, prepared to lose another fly, I lifted my rod tip a lo and behold "FISH ON". A beutiful 10 inch brown, not a big fish, but a fish that will stay in my mind forever. The first fish of the year, and on a fly, it just doesn’t get much better than that. I thought maybe this story would inspire a thread of stories about everyones first fish caught on a fly. I’m sure there are many stories out there that stick in peoples memories.

Response:

nice’un matt… my first was discovered in lost cove creek.  i continue to this day to be the recipient of the meager crumbs offered by ol pj, who for some misguided reason carted my ass along on one of his wayno-less forays into lost cove creek in 1979 or 1980. on our way through morganton, i bought a fenwick fiberglass rod and a martin reel.  back then you could drive the goat trail to the creek…if you didn’t care about the underbody.  as i recall, jim showed me a knot, gave me 2 yellow humpies, and said – "there’s the stream, the fish are in it, good luck"… leaving me to flog about in lonely but uncriticized desperation, he then went way upstream to the sassafrass area.  i waded, slid into the water with my rubber-sole hip boots (yeah, he thought that was funny too – jim’s got a dangerous sense of funny – i soon discovered the humor, painfully so).  but, i caught a trout in a riffle right in front of me.    don’t have any idea what it was, but it hooked me and i’ve been wigglin happy on the hook ever since. to this day, i consider pj’s gift of the stream second only to the grace of marriage to my wife rachel. jeff (who’s formal education in trout streams didn’t begin until i matriculated with wally and some of this crowd) – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text –     Although, not my first fish on a fly, there is one trout that sticks out in my mind as a defining moment in my fishing career. My freshman year at Appalachian State found me far from friends and family, "trapped" in the mountains of N.C., with no drivers license and only my mountain bike to get around. The state of PA had decided that it would be safer for my fellow citizens if I went without a license for a few years, so I pedaled my ass everywhere. This sounds pretty healthy, until you’re faced with a two mile ride home after last call. Anyway, I had studied up on Boone for a few years while living in Chapel Hill and had a long list of streams scoped out well before I was able to move there. I had dog eared guide books, a pile of coffee stained topos and a long overdue North Carolina coffee table book (sorry Chapel Hill Public Library) that would ultimately lead me to some North Carolina Brookies.     I arrived in time for the spring semester and waited out the winter for my first Carolina Mountain spring. It did arrive eventually, but by that time I was hellbent on catching some trout. Over the winter I had made ‘friends’ with a neighbor of mine whose dad had exiled him to the mountains for an out of control cocaine and hooker habit, which he financed with his dad’s Visa. True story, nice guy, but a little "troubled". The gist of  the story is that the guy’s grandfather had given him a few cane rods. First time I laid eyes on that Abercrombie and Fitch ( he wouldn’t part with the Orvis, even after months of badgering) a deal was struck. I was out one Yamaha receiver and the proud owner of my first bamboo rod. This was a really big deal at the time and could only mean good things in my quest for Brookies.      By the blue lines on my topo, the nearest stream to my hole-in-the-wall basement apt. was Winklers Creek. In the heat of the summer, this stream plays host to naked hippy chicks who sun themselves on the rocks. My first trip there was far too chilly for that type of thing but later in the year I had quite a few pleasant days out. Hippy chicks are not shy about their love of the sun, and rarely turn down a cold beer. Oh yeah, so on a sunny April afternoon, I strapped the rod to the bike, made a quick stop at Peabody’s to grab a few pints for the event, and hit the stream. I put in at the "swimming pool" where I cast the A&F on water for the first time. She was heavy, but had a nice feel, and I soon had the rhythm down enough to get moving and catch some fish. Not twenty feet upstream from the "swimming pool" was a smaller pool, banked by huge boulders on all sides and covered by a canopy of spring greenery. I had sense enough at the time to sneak up on my quarry and managed to find a spot hidden from the pool where I could sit with a pint and relax while I scanned for risers. I barely had a gulp of beer down before I saw my first sign of life. A trout rose in a flash from the bottom, swirled, and engulfed a small sulfur. It was the type of rise that says, "throw me your sloppiest, splashiest cast and I’ll still eat the fly". I sat there for maybe a minute or two, slammed half my beer and then slinked down the the tail of the pool. I took position where could peer over a boulder and pick my victim. The fish were rising sporadically but persistently and before too long I let loose with my cast. The 9 foot cane rod was huge for this stream but handled the line beautifully. My cast dropped perfectly on the water. Of course, like in any good fishing story, the fish rose from the bottom gnashed down on the fly and headed for deeper water. I heaved back, set the hook, and proceeded to land my first North Carolina Brookie. I have since felt similiar emotions, but only rarely, and only when something happens that makes me think "it could *never*  get any better than this". McCray It took me a while to remember the first one, even tho it was less than 3 years ago.  I had to refer back to old messages & posts to finally pin it down.  The first one for me also represented another milestone, of sorts: it was without any ambiguity the smallest striped bass I have ever seen, somewhere around 9 inches or so.  It took a 10 and a half foot 9 weight to tame him  :-) I thought maybe this story would inspire a thread of stories about everyones first fish caught on a fly. I’m sure there are many stories out there that stick in peoples memories.

Response:

    Although, not my first fish on a fly, there is one trout that sticks out in my mind

Good story Matt. Willi

Response:

That must have been an epic battle on that 7 weight. Touch and go the whole time, eh?

BTW, Jeff, sometimes to add excitement to the fish-landing activity I’ll loosen my reel seat just enough while fishing so that hooking a fish causes the reel to fall off into the water. Makes an otherwise average fish seem like a *monster*. Just another of those tricks I learned from a fellow ROFFian. ‘Course seeing as you are the one who *taught* me that trick I guess you already know it. –Steve

Response:

Yeah – I ’bout died of exhaustion. Must have had to fight the monster for 30 seconds, but time went by so slow it seemed like a whole minute or two. — Bob Patton

– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Welcome to this perfidious hobby! Your family and friends have my sympathy. My first ever fish on a fly was a rainbow caught on an orange cow dung fly beside the picnic area at Snowbird creek almost seventeen years ago. I had a $60 Daiwa 7-weight fly rod and some kind of Cortland reel. That must have been an epic battle on that 7 weight.  Touch and go the whole time, eh?

Response:

That must have been an epic battle on that 7 weight. Touch and go the whole time, eh? BTW, Jeff, sometimes to add excitement to the fish-landing activity I’ll loosen my reel seat just enough while fishing so that hooking a fish causes the reel to fall off into the water. Makes an otherwise average fish seem like a

*monster*. alright, alright….

Response:

Congratulations! My first fish on a fly was a chub.  I hated chub.  This stupid chub, which was sitting in a pool with a few brook trout, took my wooley bugger that I was told would catch me lots of brook trout.  The chub dang near devoured the whole fly.   I really dislike fish that make squeaking noises when you’re trying to dislodge a hook from it’s mouth.  I can never get over that. Spooks me too much to hear this ugly looking thing make noises while I’ve got the forceps in its mouth.  Gives me the shivers. I almost gave up on fly fishing after that.  I was about 15 years old, and had the impression that the only fish I could catch on a fly were beautiful trout.   Thankfully, I’ve discovered that’s not true.  I still can’t deal with the freakin squeeks of a chub though. Ian Scott http://www.about-flyfishing.com/

Response:

nice story matt…… i crossed winkler’s yesterday on a trip into boone. the ice has melted and i thought about the times when we used to fish that lil ole feeder stream that flows into winklers….. mebbe i’ll go back there this year. we’re getting rain today…. unbelievable, maybe 6 inches of snow this season total. i’m gonna head out somewhere today if the rains let up…. thinkin’ about high up on the watauga. see ya in pa, –walt – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text –     Although, not my first fish on a fly, there is one trout that sticks out in my mind as a defining moment in my fishing career. My freshman year at Appalachian State found me far from friends and family, "trapped" in the mountains of N.C., with no drivers license and only my mountain bike to get around. The state of PA had decided that it would be safer for my fellow citizens if I went without a license for a few years, so I pedaled my ass everywhere. This sounds pretty healthy, until you’re faced with a two mile ride home after last call. Anyway, I had studied up on Boone for a few years while living in Chapel Hill and had a long list of streams scoped out well before I was able to move there. I had dog eared guide books, a pile of coffee stained topos and a long overdue North Carolina coffee table book (sorry Chapel Hill Public Library) that would ultimately lead me to some North Carolina Brookies.     I arrived in time for the spring semester and waited out the winter for my first Carolina Mountain spring. It did arrive eventually, but by that time I was hellbent on catching some trout. Over the winter I had made ‘friends’ with a neighbor of mine whose dad had exiled him to the mountains for an out of control cocaine and hooker habit, which he financed with his dad’s Visa. True story, nice guy, but a little "troubled". The gist of  the story is that the guy’s grandfather had given him a few cane rods. First time I laid eyes on that Abercrombie and Fitch ( he wouldn’t part with the Orvis, even after months of badgering) a deal was struck. I was out one Yamaha receiver and the proud owner of my first bamboo rod. This was a really big deal at the time and could only mean good things in my quest for Brookies.      By the blue lines on my topo, the nearest stream to my hole-in-the-wall basement apt. was Winklers Creek. In the heat of the summer, this stream plays host to naked hippy chicks who sun themselves on the rocks. My first trip there was far too chilly for that type of thing but later in the year I had quite a few pleasant days out. Hippy chicks are not shy about their love of the sun, and rarely turn down a cold beer. Oh yeah, so on a sunny April afternoon, I strapped the rod to the bike, made a quick stop at Peabody’s to grab a few pints for the event, and hit the stream. I put in at the "swimming pool" where I cast the A&F on water for the first time. She was heavy, but had a nice feel, and I soon had the rhythm down enough to get moving and catch some fish. Not twenty feet upstream from the "swimming pool" was a smaller pool, banked by huge boulders on all sides and covered by a canopy of spring greenery. I had sense enough at the time to sneak up on my quarry and managed to find a spot hidden from the pool where I could sit with a pint and relax while I scanned for risers. I barely had a gulp of beer down before I saw my first sign of life. A trout rose in a flash from the bottom, swirled, and engulfed a small sulfur. It was the type of rise that says, "throw me your sloppiest, splashiest cast and I’ll still eat the fly". I sat there for maybe a minute or two, slammed half my beer and then slinked down the the tail of the pool. I took position where could peer over a boulder and pick my victim. The fish were rising sporadically but persistently and before too long I let loose with my cast. The 9 foot cane rod was huge for this stream but handled the line beautifully. My cast dropped perfectly on the water. Of course, like in any good fishing story, the fish rose from the bottom gnashed down on the fly and headed for deeper water. I heaved back, set the hook, and proceeded to land my first North Carolina Brookie. I have since felt similiar emotions, but only rarely, and only when something happens that makes me think "it could *never*  get any better than this". McCray It took me a while to remember the first one, even tho it was less than 3 years ago.  I had to refer back to old messages & posts to finally pin it down.  The first one for me also represented another milestone, of sorts: it was without any ambiguity the smallest striped bass I have ever seen, somewhere around 9 inches or so.  It took a 10 and a half foot 9 weight to tame him  :-) I thought maybe this story would inspire a thread of stories about everyones first fish caught on a fly. I’m sure there are many stories out there that stick in peoples memories.

– Tight Lines, –Walt Fly Fishing NC & more… http://www.ezflyfish.com http://www.wilsoncreekoutfitters.com

Response:

Welcome to this perfidious hobby! Your family and friends have my sympathy. My first ever fish on a fly was a rainbow caught on an orange cow dung fly beside the picnic area at Snowbird creek almost seventeen years ago. I had a $60 Daiwa 7-weight fly rod and some kind of Cortland reel. The really neat thing was that I caught it on a dry fly and got to see the fish rise and take the fly. I don’t know why I picked Snowbird instead of a more convenient stream, but that was it. — Bob Patton

– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – I got my brand new fly fishing gear as a gift from my wife for Christmas in the way of an Orvis gift certificate. Eager to get out on the water, not haveing fly fished before, I took my gear to the local pond to practice my casting. Went well, nice open space after several cast seemed to have the hang of it. A couple of weeks later went to fish at Valley Creek here in PA. This stream is a class A Wild Trout stream that is very difficult to fish. Spent the afternoon untageling my line from trees and loosing several nymph flies. But today, 2 days after the first snow storm in the Philadelphia area, I had the urge to get out and try my rod again. Went back to the same stream because I know at this time of year this was my best shot to catch something. Within minutes of getting to the stream I found a "honey hole" 4 feet deep and filled with trout, after an hour of casting a hares ear nymph, I guessed that I had spooked all the fish because of my line slapping the water, or getting caught in fallen leaves, or snaging rocks, so I decided to move upstream and hope to find another hole like this one. 3 hours later, after a mile of walking upstream and not seeing a single fish, I decided it was time to call it a day. With my tail between my legs I walked back towards the honey hole where my car was parked. I decided before I go in I would just make a couple more casts hopeing the fish came back. As I lifted my line a felt a tug, prepared to lose another fly, I lifted my rod tip a lo and behold "FISH ON". A beutiful 10 inch brown, not a big fish, but a fish that will stay in my mind forever. The first fish of the year, and on a fly, it just doesn’t get much better than that. I thought maybe this story would inspire a thread of stories about everyones first fish caught on a fly. I’m sure there are many stories out there that stick in peoples memories.

Response:

I thought maybe this story would inspire a thread of stories about everyones first fish caught on a fly. I’m sure there are many stories out there that stick in peoples memories.

I was bullied into trying a fly rod by my fishing partner one day about 12 years ago and my first fish as a brightly spotted brookie about 4" long, caught on what I think was a little bloody butcher. All of which sounds fine, until you realize I was using a 10′ 7wt rod and fishing for steelhead (lake run rainbows?) at the time…… Things have improved a little since. It was a pretty fish though, and it remains the only brookie I have ever caught on a fly. Vaughan

Response:

I started fly-fishing with a two-handed European-style salmon rod. (Most of the guys in our unofficial fishing club prefer salmon fishing nowadays.) The first catch was a 4" salmon parr from river Gaula in Norway. — Jarmo Hurri address or apply rot13 to header email address.

Response:

Welcome to this perfidious hobby! Your family and friends have my sympathy. My first ever fish on a fly was a rainbow caught on an orange cow dung fly beside the picnic area at Snowbird creek almost seventeen years ago. I had a $60 Daiwa 7-weight fly rod and some kind of Cortland reel.

That must have been an epic battle on that 7 weight.  Touch and go the whole time, eh?

Response:

I thought maybe this story would inspire a thread of stories about everyones first fish caught on a fly. I’m sure there are many stories out there that stick in peoples memories. I was bullied into trying a fly rod by my fishing partner one day about 12 years ago and my first fish as a brightly spotted brookie about 4" long, caught on what I think was a little bloody butcher. All of which sounds fine, until you realize I was using a 10′ 7wt rod…

Well that puts RWP’s fish battle to shame, doesn’t it?

Response:

Lissen here – that was an epic battle. Me and my stick versus the cunning slimy carnivorous predator! — Bob Patton

– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – I thought maybe this story would inspire a thread of stories about everyones first fish caught on a fly. I’m sure there are many stories out there that stick in peoples memories. I was bullied into trying a fly rod by my fishing partner one day about 12 years ago and my first fish as a brightly spotted brookie about 4" long, caught on what I think was a little bloody butcher. All of which sounds fine, until you realize I was using a 10′ 7wt rod… Well that puts RWP’s fish battle to shame, doesn’t it?

Response:

    Although, not my first fish on a fly, there is one trout that sticks out in my mind as a defining moment in my fishing career. My freshman year at Appalachian State found me far from friends and family, "trapped" in the mountains of N.C., with no drivers license and only my mountain bike to get around. The state of PA had decided that it would be safer for my fellow citizens if I went without a license for a few years, so I pedaled my ass everywhere. This sounds pretty healthy, until you’re faced with a two mile ride home after last call. Anyway, I had studied up on Boone for a few years while living in Chapel Hill and had a long list of streams scoped out well before I was able to move there. I had dog eared guide books, a pile of coffee stained topos and a long overdue North Carolina coffee table book (sorry Chapel Hill Public Library) that would ultimately lead me to some North Carolina Brookies.     I arrived in time for the spring semester and waited out the winter for my first Carolina Mountain spring. It did arrive eventually, but by that time I was hellbent on catching some trout. Over the winter I had made ‘friends’ with a neighbor of mine whose dad had exiled him to the mountains for an out of control cocaine and hooker habit, which he financed with his dad’s Visa. True story, nice guy, but a little "troubled". The gist of  the story is that the guy’s grandfather had given him a few cane rods. First time I laid eyes on that Abercrombie and Fitch ( he wouldn’t part with the Orvis, even after months of badgering) a deal was struck. I was out one Yamaha receiver and the proud owner of my first bamboo rod. This was a really big deal at the time and could only mean good things in my quest for Brookies.      By the blue lines on my topo, the nearest stream to my hole-in-the-wall basement apt. was Winklers Creek. In the heat of the summer, this stream plays host to naked hippy chicks who sun themselves on the rocks. My first trip there was far too chilly for that type of thing but later in the year I had quite a few pleasant days out. Hippy chicks are not shy about their love of the sun, and rarely turn down a cold beer. Oh yeah, so on a sunny April afternoon, I strapped the rod to the bike, made a quick stop at Peabody’s to grab a few pints for the event, and hit the stream. I put in at the "swimming pool" where I cast the A&F on water for the first time. She was heavy, but had a nice feel, and I soon had the rhythm down enough to get moving and catch some fish. Not twenty feet upstream from the "swimming pool" was a smaller pool, banked by huge boulders on all sides and covered by a canopy of spring greenery. I had sense enough at the time to sneak up on my quarry and managed to find a spot hidden from the pool where I could sit with a pint and relax while I scanned for risers. I barely had a gulp of beer down before I saw my first sign of life. A trout rose in a flash from the bottom, swirled, and engulfed a small sulfur. It was the type of rise that says, "throw me your sloppiest, splashiest cast and I’ll still eat the fly". I sat there for maybe a minute or two, slammed half my beer and then slinked down the the tail of the pool. I took position where could peer over a boulder and pick my victim. The fish were rising sporadically but persistently and before too long I let loose with my cast. The 9 foot cane rod was huge for this stream but handled the line beautifully. My cast dropped perfectly on the water. Of course, like in any good fishing story, the fish rose from the bottom gnashed down on the fly and headed for deeper water. I heaved back, set the hook, and proceeded to land my first North Carolina Brookie. I have since felt similiar emotions, but only rarely, and only when something happens that makes me think "it could *never*  get any better than this". McCray

– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – It took me a while to remember the first one, even tho it was less than 3 years ago.  I had to refer back to old messages & posts to finally pin it down.  The first one for me also represented another milestone, of sorts: it was without any ambiguity the smallest striped bass I have ever seen, somewhere around 9 inches or so.  It took a 10 and a half foot 9 weight to tame him  :-) I thought maybe this story would inspire a thread of stories about everyones first fish caught on a fly. I’m sure there are many stories out there that stick in peoples memories.

Response:

Hippy chicks are not shy about their love of the sun, and rarely turn down a cold beer. Oh yeah, so on a sunny April afternoon, I strapped the rod to the bike…

Yeah, I hear dat….

Response:

   Although, not my first fish on a fly, there is one trout that sticks out in my mind as a defining moment in my fishing career.

        boys, i have fished for thirty years in the blue ridge, and i have seen exactly three folks who can do it as well as this guy. thanks for pulling back the veil on your first time, mccrayfish.         the down side is, it will get much tougher the older you get. the blue ridge is not a gentle partner. your friend in the old north state wayno

Response:

I got my brand new fly fishing gear as a gift from my wife for Christmas in the way of an Orvis gift certificate. Eager to get out on the water, not haveing fly fished before, I took my gear to the local pond to practice my casting. Went well, nice open space after several cast seemed to have the hang of it. A couple of weeks later went to fish at Valley Creek here in PA. This stream is a class A Wild Trout stream that is very difficult to fish. Spent the afternoon untageling my line from trees and loosing several nymph flies. But today, 2 days after the first snow storm in the Philadelphia area, I had the urge to get out and try my rod again. Went back to the same stream because I know at this time of year this was my best shot to catch something. Within minutes of getting to the stream I found a "honey hole" 4 feet deep and filled with trout, after an hour of casting a hares ear nymph, I guessed that I had spooked all the fish because of my line slapping the water, or getting caught in fallen leaves, or snaging rocks, so I decided to move upstream and hope to find another hole like this one. 3 hours later, after a mile of walking upstream and not seeing a single fish, I decided it was time to call it a day. With my tail between my legs I walked back towards the honey hole where my car was parked. I decided before I go in I would just make a couple more casts hopeing the fish came back. As I lifted my line a felt a tug, prepared to lose another fly, I lifted my rod tip a lo and behold "FISH ON". A beutiful 10 inch brown, not a big fish, but a fish that will stay in my mind forever. The first fish of the year, and on a fly, it just doesn’t get much better than that. I thought maybe this story would inspire a thread of stories about everyones first fish caught on a fly. I’m sure there are many stories out there that stick in peoples memories.

Response:

 With my tail between my legs I walked back towards the honey hole where my car was parked. I decided before I go in I would just make a couple more casts hopeing the fish came back. As I lifted my line a felt a tug, prepared to lose another fly, I lifted my rod tip a lo and behold "FISH ON". A beutiful 10 inch brown, not a big fish, but a fish that will stay in my mind forever. The first fish of the year, and on a fly, it just doesn’t get much better than that. I thought maybe this story would inspire a thread of stories about everyones first fish caught on a fly. I’m sure there are many stories out there that stick in peoples memories.

        well, with deepest regret i must admit that your story is far more heroic than mine.         i signed up to work for a law firm in greensboro, nc, in the fall of 1969.  one of the partners was a guy who is still one of my best friends, a yankee from uptstate new york, around the roscoe area. i had fished with a fly rod since i was 9 or 10, but only for warm water fish.  he suggested a trip to the catskills, and there we were: the beaverkill, the willowemoc, harry darby, walt dette, all that yankee folklore…and it was really neat.  but the first fish i caught was a 6 inch brown, hauled in on the end of a muddler minnow, on the east branch of the delaware, a long way from the crystal waters that would become my home, just a year or so from then.  but that’s another story, with another friend. wayno – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text –

Response:

"Carlos Figueroa" wrote… I thought maybe this story would inspire a thread of stories about everyones first fish caught on a fly. I’m sure there are many stories out there that stick in peoples memories.

Your story is better than mine.  The first fish I caught on a fly was a 3" Bluegill 23 years ago.  But I can safely say it’s been all up hill from there. Joel Axelrad **DFD**

Response:

    My first was a ten inch brook trout on a size 8 hopper. I was lucky enough to spend my younger years in a town with many good trout streams within biking distance, and caught this one on a little spring creek that ran behind the IGA.     It was great growing up with 3 trout streams within 15min bike ride of my house, and once I got the hang of the fly rod, there were some dandy Bull trout to be had. With the ban on bulls in Alberta, I’d bet some of my old fishin’ grounds have some dandy bulls (Although I once found a dead 34" bull under the bridge, so even then there were some hogs).     Robbie

Response:

Question:

Bill, Make sure your rod and line weight are matched.  Make sure you have enough line pulled off the reel when you cast.  Fly casting is different than bait casting in that the line does not play off the reel, it has to be already off.  There are numerous line dressings available through your local FF shop or via catalog.   I highly recommend this book, Flyfishing; First Cast to First Fish by Joseph F. Petralia.  It is outstanding. Keep at it and keep asking questions, it’s the greatest pastime (obsession) in the world! — Rhio H. Barnhart                                                       Head, Music Department Library Systems Manager for Music University of California, Davis

Response:

I’m glad I’m not the only one who uses their lunch hour to practice casting.  I bet you’ve heard a lot of the same comments I have.  "I think that hole is fished out."  "What cha fishin’ for?"  "Any bites?" My standard reply is "I’m ‘dry’ fly fishing.  Don’t see much point in it so far."  or "I’m trying to catch that little red pickup over there, but it doesn’t like any of my flys." Dave T. * Sent from RemarQ http://www.remarq.com The Internet’s Discussion Network * The fastest and easiest way to search and participate in Usenet – Free!

Response:

Question:

Look around Red River Gorge area also.  It is south of Morehead an hour or so. Some of the streams are stocked around that area.  As the previous message said, check with F & W.  The local biologist would be the one to talk to. Kenny

Response:

Any places in the eastern part of the state (near Lexington/Fayette County) that contain trout? — Nicholas J. Slodki

Response:

Any places in the eastern part of the state (near Lexington/Fayette County) that contain trout? — Nicholas J. Slodki

I live in Tn but I know there’s a tailwater on Herrington Lake, also Cumberland river down south. Then there’s a few trout streams around Morehead on higway 64. Try Kentucky Dept of Wildlife or equivalent, Try on Alta vista or Yahoo. That should give you the adress. Hans

Response:

Question:

Yesterday my 8 year old daughter(future stasher),lover of XS asked me, while looking at my stash "Mom, When you die, what are you going to leave me?"LOL Laura

Response:

Yesterday my 8 year old daughter(future stasher),lover of XS asked me, while looking at my stash "Mom, When you die, what are you going to leave me?"LOL

My 5-year-old daughter has been using that line, but not so tactfully, lately: "can I have that cup when you’re dead?"  "I can sit in your stitching chair when you’re dead," etc.  I realize this is all an entirely normal developmental stage (separation, beginnings of realization of death, yadda, yadda), but it sure makes a mom’s heart twinge. Joy in PA current projects — "Angel with Lambs" Stoney Creek, "Summer Afternoon" Betsy Stinner, "Flamin’ Chili Peppers Heart" Sweetheart Tree, Bibs for an abuse shelter (e-mail me for more info on how to help)

Response:

I’m LOL too, Laura.  Seriously, I think it is marvelous that she has the potential to be such a world class stashaholic.  One of my daughters loves to stitch, the other just loves to get stitched presents.  I do think we need to infect them at a young age. Congrats, Brynn – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Yesterday my 8 year old daughter(future stasher),lover of XS asked me, while looking at my stash "Mom, When you die, what are you going to leave me?"LOL Laura

Response:

I solved my 8 year olds problem, by starting up her own stash. She now has a stamped XS (one of my UFO’s) of a bear and last night I took her to A.C.Moore to buy her her own Counted XS of Elmo. She sat on the couch last night & told DH that "she was not going to bed,she had XS to do!" And then went on explaining that she could do hers faster than he could do his. They are both beginners. I’m going to stitch myself my own little padded room for when I get done teaching these 2 hardheads how to stitch.:) Amanda (8 yr old) has a birthday at the end of August. I would like to get her small xs’s in round frames and can’t find them anywhere unless I purchase Christmas any help would be appreciated with this. Laura

Response:

i sent my girls (7-year-old twins) to stitching class at the lns (the counting bee).  since the class was at the end of june, the design was a 4th of july fire cracker designed and taught by debbie from holly house designs. they used perle cotton on 6-count.  they *loved* it. since that class we have been looking for small kits/designs that don’t have many color changes. my son found some kits at the local drug store — the girls need to go with me to pick.  these kits are designed specifically for children  – they are really cute and small, some are stamped and some are counted, each comes with a little round frame for when the piece is completed.  the counted pieces were a dog, smiley face, yin yang(sp?) and a couple more that i can’t remember.  stamped pieces were a globe (the earth), a whale and some others.  i will be at the store this week and will be picking up a couple — if anyone wants the company name email and i’ll let you know! btw, my son decided the fire cracker was pretty cool and we bought a kit of the project for him.  he finished his is two days, molly finished hers the next day…the third is mia.  then, we bought some xs books for magnets and small stuff, some 11 count aida and they are really enjoying it! this is the first time that my children have been in a traditional school. at our old house the school was year round, having 2 1/2 months off is really, really long.  i’m signing them up for every class i can get them to take — next week my son will be learning how to fly fish and tie the flies.  then comes knitting class. jan

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This weekend my 5-1/2 yr old DSD came in and asked me to help her get started on a needlepoint project, so we picked colors from my stash and I cut some canvas for her and told her to go to it.   She started to do a heart because she says "hearts make me smile on rainy days", and the two of us proceeded to work on our projects and watch My Fair Lady – (it was slightly over her head but not unacceptable for her to watch – no bad language no sex etc.) We talked about how much we enjoy spending time like this together and she told me mommy doesn’t ever spend time alone with her (OK this is tricky)  I tried to explain to her that it must be very hard for her taking care of three children by herself to have time for each one.  She said "no, Mommy just talks on the phone to her friends all the time"  Chris confirmed that when they were married she never had any time for him either that her personality is such that she has to constantly be in a social situation – can’t spend "downtime" (which contributed to why they’re divorced) Anyway, her heart is almost finished then she’s going to do the sky, grass and moon.  She asked me if she could keep the colors she’s using – she’s already working on her stash… Bonnie (Bon-Bon)

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We talked about how much we enjoy spending time like this together

I have always said mother, father, sister, brother, son, and daughter were functions not genetics.  You have given her a lifetime gift not only of needlework.

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Question:

So you’re enjoying resting a good pool and have been doing so for half an hour.  Suddenly another angler pops up at the end of the run and begins to fish in a proximity much closer than you feel is, shall I say, polite.  What do you do?

First let out an insane, demented yell/laugh and let some drool fall out of your mouth. Then, as you stare at the bastard, drop your waders and begin masturbating, grunting like a retarded pig with every stroke. You will have the pool (indeed, perhaps even the river) to yourself for some time following. This and other true life angling tips will be covered in my upcoming book, "Balls Deep In America’s Rivers". I’m hoping Lyons And Burford will publish; if not, I’ve got a standing offer (sic) from Larry Flyntt. Spinolio

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- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – So you’re enjoying resting a good pool and have been doing so for half an hour.  Suddenly another angler pops up at the end of the run and begins to fish in a proximity much closer than you feel is, shall I say, polite.  What do you do? I would try, "Excuse me, but I’ve been sitting here awhile resting this pool and plan on fishing it in a minutes. Would you mind moving on? If that doesn’t work, I find a blast of bear repellant in the eyes to always be effective. Regards, Wes

And then, if he says something that suggests an anatomical impossibility, I pull out a pistol and take some target practice with his fly as a target.  Spooks the pool, but is worth it for the fun.

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Response:

So you’re enjoying resting a good pool and have been doing so for half an hour.  Suddenly another angler pops up at the end of the run and begins to fish in a proximity much closer than you feel is, shall I say, polite.  What do you do?

  Move to another pool. To make sure the moron doesn’t follow you there, carry the following materials in your vehicle:  1) A really cheap little bicycle tire pump.  2) A fifty cent valve core removing tool.  3) A pre-printed 3"x5" card that says:  Fellow angler: Thank you for spoiling my day. Since you passed  endless miles of open water to find me, I have taken certain  precautions to ensure you don’t follow me around all day. Use this  small tool to reinstall the valve cores in your tires, then start pumping. The small pump I’ve thoughtfully provided will  take approximately one and a half hours per tire. Have a nice day.  Unless you are sure the rube didn’t see where you parked, consider  driving the wife’s car on future fishing trips in the same area.

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So you’re enjoying resting a good pool and have been doing so for half an hour.  Suddenly another angler pops up at the end of the run and begins to fish in a proximity much closer than you feel is, shall I say, polite.  What do you do?

I carry a gun just for this reason. Oh, yeah, for peoples in canoes and kayaks, and those float tubing crowds. Ok, I usually move away, often grunting. Now, let’s consider the opposite situation: you walk to a good pool and there is another angler in there. What do you do ? Usually, if I can get into the water and fish farther than 200 ft away from the other angler, I just go ahead and fish, otherwise I ask permission to enter the pool. -Vittorio

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So you’re enjoying resting a good pool and have been doing so for half an hour.  Suddenly another angler pops up at the end of the run and begins to fish in a proximity much closer than you feel is, shall I say, polite.  What do you do?

I have had this happen to me on several occasions.  This is usually the mark of an angler whose day of fishing has been *frustrating*, and feels the need to frusrtate others. You can do one of two things: 1) Politely tell him that you have been resting the pool for several    minutes and to respect your distance,                 OR 2) Take a size 2/0 salt-fly (that you kept in your box for such an    occasion) and skillfully cast the fly at his waders, set the hook, and    give em’ a bath! (This was taught to me by a seasoned older fisherman    while fishing Penn’s Creek several years ago)  I haven’t  had the    courage to do this, but maybe it’ll work for you! John W. Kramer @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ @@@@   "See Dick fly-fish.    See Dick catch fish.    See Dick kill fish."           DON’T BE A DICK!  PRACTICE AND TEACH CATCH AND RELEASE @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ @@@@

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Or…you can take a rock the size of a grapefruit and "stone the pool".

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So you’re enjoying resting a good pool and have been doing so for half an hour.  Suddenly another angler pops up at the end of the run and begins to fish in a proximity much closer than you feel is, shall I say, polite.  What do you do?

You fish through after him.   Right behind him.   And you nail a 7 pounder. — TimW Halfordian Golfer

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So you’re enjoying resting a good pool and have been doing so for half an hour.  Suddenly another angler pops up at the end of the run and begins to fish in a proximity much closer than you feel is, shall I say, polite.  What do you do?

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So you’re enjoying resting a good pool and have been doing so for half an hour.  Suddenly another angler pops up at the end of the run and begins to fish in a proximity much closer than you feel is, shall I say, polite.  What do you do?

I would try, "Excuse me, but I’ve been sitting here awhile resting this pool and plan on fishing it in a minutes. Would you mind moving on? If that doesn’t work, I find a blast of bear repellant in the eyes to always be effective. Regards, Wes – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text –

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So you’re enjoying resting a good pool and have been doing so for half an hour.  Suddenly another angler pops up at the end of the run and begins to fish in a proximity much closer than you feel is, shall I say, polite.  What do you do?

Move on.  It’s not mine to rest.  I was only borrowing it.  S/he saw I wasn’t using it and (correctly?) assumed s/he could.  I have no recourse. — Tight Threads,         Charley Renn         Corvallis, OR

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So you’re enjoying resting a good pool and have been doing so for half an hour.  Suddenly another angler pops up at the end of the run and begins to fish in a proximity much closer than you feel is, shall I say, polite.  What do you do?

         If I stay, I get PO’d. If I go upstream,  the problem can follow me.The sooner I can’t see him, the sooner I calm down. I usually leave the pool and go back in the direction he came from. At least, that way I’m closer to the truck if the situation gets really hopeless. Its a common scenario and happens to me once or twice a season. The problem is twofold: I don’t own the water and the other guy doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together. I can explain it to him or the nearest rock with the same probability of salvaging my day, or I can leave and cut my losses. I’ll walk.

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Jon, Wes and All, Interesting point to debate. What are the implied rights of "I was here first?" Is the water public or private? What distance is too close? Would it be friendly to share the pool? If I was in a good mode and the pool fishing was poor I’d invite the person to fish the pool. But the normal me would, stand up, grunt like a deranged moose, and politely tell the person "I WAS HERE FIRST!" On the other hand if the intruder politely asked my intent to fish or not and if I would mind their fishing the pool, I would probably let them and I would go fish my "secret spot!" Good fishing, — Dennis C. Aron Independent Representative #13921 Champion Fishing Co., Ltd e-mail for business opportunity – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – So you’re enjoying resting a good pool and have been doing so for half an hour.  Suddenly another angler pops up at the end of the run and begins to fish in a proximity much closer than you feel is, shall I say, polite.  What do you do? I would try, "Excuse me, but I’ve been sitting here awhile resting this pool and plan on fishing it in a minutes. Would you mind moving on? If that doesn’t work, I find a blast of bear repellant in the eyes to always be effective. Regards, Wes

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- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – So you’re enjoying resting a good pool and have been doing so for half an hour.  Suddenly another angler pops up at the end of the run and begins to fish in a proximity much closer than you feel is, shall I say, polite.  What do you do?

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Question:

We traditionally bait or lure cast for speckled trout along the marshy islands at the edge of the Chesapeake Bay.  Fishing is normally in 2-3 feet of water in very grassy areas. Bait and lure casting works — but why wouldn’t fly fishing work just as well(or better)?  I know that in Florida fishing for ’specs is done with ‘float rigs’.  That seems to me to be functionally the same presentation of bait to the fish as with fly fishing techniques. As the spring season approaches, I’d appreciate the benefit from your collective experience so that I can get ready…   Thanks, Herb

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You better believe specks will take a fly.  My buddy Reed Guice and I catch them all the time on fly rods on the flats around the Chandeleur Islands in Louisiana.  The Chesapeake marshes are not that different.   We started out fishing them with nine weights, but over the years we’ve gone lighter and now prefer to use a seven or a six-weight, wind permitting. Use the same technique you probabably already use with casting gear.  Get a drift going over the flats and blind cast from a small boat.  The Mastery bonefish intermediate is a great line for this.  It works the fly just beneath the surface and keeps you feeling connected to the fly as you strip.  Floaters tend to get slack in them when a chop gets up.  A straight section of 6 or 8 lb tippet is all you need.  No bite tippet neccessary.   If I could only use one fly it would be a clouser deep minnow, tied on a #1 hook, lightly dressed, chartreuse bucktail over white.   Another good speck fly is the Cook’s critter, also chatreuse.   Cast in the direction you’re drifting, let it sink a bit and begin to strip.  When you feel a take, set the hook with a strip strike.  Don’t try to set the hook with the rod tip.  If the fish misses, you’ll just pull the fly out of the water.  Strip strike and you’ll have a second or third shot at them. On calm mornings when specks are hitting minnows on the surface, try a pencil popper (or a regular bass popper with rubber legs) fished on a floating line.  Specks will come up and bust poppers  just like bass. They jump too.  But don’t try to horse them, because they’ve got soft mouths. You don’t need a lot of backing for speckled trout.  But a speck of 20 inches or more is plenty of fun on a light flyrod. Good fishing, Skipjack

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We fly fish for specs here on the Texas coast from March through December (depending on the weather) and there are three basic philosophies: 1)  Use a Clouser minnow to get down to trout in water more than two or three feet with a hard bottom. 2)  Use a deer hair like a slider or deceiving bendbackthat sinks slowly but won’t foul on grass 3)  Use a popping bug like a dahlberg diver in water that is shallow but has a grass bottom. I have pictures of a 23" speck, the largest I have taken on a fly rod, but the new Texas record was set about a month ago. It was 33 inches long and weighed more than 13 pounds. sorry to say that I didn’t catch that one. By the way, specs will usually make a short run on you, then pretty much try to burrow into the bottom.

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I also fly-fish for specks as well as redfish in Louisiana.  The best luck I’ve had catching them is in Spring/Summer when the specks move out to the mouths of the bayous (rivers/streams to the rest of you).  You fish on a falling tide and diagonally across the current and let it do the work for you.  Just strip enough to keep contact with the fly.  When they are active, this is more fun that a person is allowed to have! My buddy Reed Guice and I catch them all the time on fly rods on the flats around the Chandeleur Islands in Louisiana.  

I’ve never fly-fished the Chandeleur Is … guess I’ll have to bring the fly rod along on the next trip! David

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Question:

Planning a visit to some friends in the Bolinas/Stinson Beach area early in April.  Thought I’d take my flyrod.  Anybody have any suggestions?  I’d be interested in fishing surf or small streams or anything in between, as long as it was close to Bolinas. Thanks, David

There’s a lake in the Point Reyes National Seashore that allegedly has some trout in it (Bass Lake), although I don’t know anyone who has actually fished it. Lagunitas Lake in the Marin Municipal Water District is stocked and artificial lures, no barbs, only. Some of the other lakes in the same area attract lots of bait fisherman. No stream fishing available in the area that I know of. Surf fishing with a fly rod?  Can’t say I’ve ever seen it done, but can’t say I’ve been looking either. Closest stream fishing (steelhead) would be the Russian River. — There is no such thing as a dumb question, but there IS such a thing as a dumb answer – I’ve given some.

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Try the small gas station / fishing shop on the road between Petaluma and Bodega.  George will tell you about fishing the area -especially Tomales bay.  Look on the map for Walker Ck.- which is a misnomer, but hal local currency.  If he is in the phone book, idt will be on BOdega Hiway, I athink. He is guiding on athe Russian R as well. Regards, Cliff

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suggestions?  I’d be interested in fishing surf or small streams or anything in between, as long as it was close to Bolinas.

Depends on how close is close. . . Most of the coastal rivers/streams are not open to fishing in that area, until you get up to the Russian River to the north.  There is good quality perch fishing at that time.  There are 2 or 3 guys who work at Western Sport Shop in San Rafael who i’ve seen out there each spring.  Their number is 415-456-5454. I’d ask for Gene or Noel.  They’ve got some patterns worked up which produce pretty well.  They’re real good on the whole area, too. re: other post The Bass Lake ponds in Pt. Reyes Natl Sea Shore are fun to walk to, but pretty fishless for about the last 10 years. *                                                     *

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Quoting brande from a message in rec.outdoors.fishing.fly    <Planning a visit to some friends in the Bolinas/Stinson Beach area    <early in April.  Thought I’d take my flyrod.  Anybody have any    <suggestions?  I’d be interested in fishing surf or small streams or    <anything in between, as long as it was close to Bolinas. David – You should may be able to catch surf perch off the beaches up there. Also, Russian River is just to the north.  Not too sure of all the specifics as I haven’t lived in NorCal in quite a few years. Jim Carlisle

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Planning a visit to some friends in the Bolinas/Stinson Beach area early in April.  Thought I’d take my flyrod.  Anybody have any suggestions?  I’d be interested in fishing surf or small streams or anything in between, as long as it was close to Bolinas. Thanks, David

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Question:

Does anyone know about fishing in Western Mass., particularity around Turners Falls/Greenfield and/or in Lake Quabin? I’m interested in knowing about bass, trout and/or what-ever-there-is fishing. I also love flyfishing.                  Thank you in advance!

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Does anyone know about fishing in Western Mass., particularity around Turners Falls/Greenfield and/or in Lake Quabin? I’m interested in knowing about bass, trout and/or what-ever-there-is fishing. I also love flyfishing.                 Thank you in advance!

I fished Quabin resevoir with my dad in the 60’s.  Most folks fished for lake trout.  I liked to cast spoons or spinners from shore and sometimes hooked some nice sized rainbows (19 inches).  I also liked to head up that creek which was full of brook trout at that time.  Since then I have heard that atlantic salmon have been introduced and have produced some excellent fishing.  There was a river called the icy river I think that was popular for trout.  Can’t remember where it was. Andy S.

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