Today my Son... You are an expert...

It's official.

Today I am an expert.

I have the e-mail right here to prove it, although I soon intend to frame it and post it on the wall right next to my "Printer of The Year" plaque.(Which I paid good money to receive!)

The e mail is from Associated editor #3, and if anyone knows experts--it is #3. For those of you who are unfamiliar with #3, he is the heir apparent to #2. AND we all know what kind of career #2 has had and how well respected he or she is!!

Evidently, it doesn't take much to become an expert these days. I should know because I have never been an expert at anything before.

I have been fishing for almost thirty-five years and no one has called me an expert. I have been in the printing industry for twenty-five years, and I still can't tell you exactly how the miracle of putting ink on paper works. Heck, I have been breathing for fourty-seven years, and one day without the completion of that task, and I am pretty sure I will be relegated back to novice level and possibly be even considered a failure.

It's not that I am not appreciative, and honored by this lofty title I have achieved, it's just that writing and having one article published on a website hardly seems worthy of any titles or honors.

Nonetheless, Associated editor #3-- obviously an expert of some sort himself-- has cut through the long and arduous red tape and winding road that most of us have to take to become an expert, and seen my true potential. Why wait for a lifetime of effort and gathering of knowledge when I can use that expert title right now!!

Thank You #3.

Someday, I even hope to meet you in person, but looking at your twin on my keyboard may be the closest I ever come realizing that dream!!

This is posing somewhat of a dilemna.

Now that I am an expert, the pressure mounts, and I am completely vulnerable to the criticisms
of everyday common folk, who will be waiting for the daily gleaning of my obviously superior brain power and advice on... ahhhh.... you know what? I forgot to ask what I am an expert in??!!
Is it fishing? Fishing Alaska? Writing? Submitting e-zine articles?

My God, I am now going to have to take up some serious binge drinking as I contemplate the self doubts I will have that I am living my life as a sham. I don't even know what I am an expert in! People will be coming up to me and asking things like: "Hey AJ, I am going to Mongolia to fish for Taiman-- what kind of fly pattern should I use?"
"Why a triple ott Prairie Dog --and be sure to fish it dry!!"
Then they will bound off to the Mongolian highlands or lowlands, or in-between lands and start hurling Prairie Dog imatations into rivers and expect to catch large Salmonids.

Am I going to be introduced as "EXPERT" at cocktail parties? Am I going to have to go to cocktail parties? This is all so new. What about my business cards, my letterhead? Do I have to put special letters after my name, like CPA or FDIC,Phd,ROTC??

Ahhhhhhh!

Well, I suppose it is to late to turn back now. So I will just try to become comfortable in my new found skin and lend you my expert opinion when the situation deems necessary.

But if anyone sees fly fishermen hucking Prairie Dogs in any Wyoming trout streams...it wasn't me...I swear!

The Importance of Hugging & Dancing

The male species has never been accused of being overly affectionate.

In fact, women are always criticizing us for not hugging them or taking them dancing. We are especially shy in public, and any show of affection in a public place will get you dangerously close to having to turn in your "guy card".

As for women, they claim that a smelly guy is the biggest turnoff, and a sure way to get them out of the mood. Furthermore, lest we come home from a tough day of wallowing in our work, and get a little soiled or stenchy... women are sure to direct us to the nearest bar of soap and running water, before they will even pay us the time of day. Even when we sensitive guys need a hug, it's "pewwww you stink, go take a shower then I will give you a hug."

Well, our crack squad of investigators here at -fish this- have been out scouring the internet this morning, and I am here to tell you that we have uncovered some startling evidence.

In the following photos you will see both the male and female species in various acts of affection. that will dispell these "myths"-- that have driven a wedge between our genders.

Please view for yourself and then draw your own conclusions.




In exhibit one we see a man openly hugging his Wahoo.
Yes, his Wahoo.
He seems neither ashamed nor embarrassed of this open act of affection.
If you are this mans female companion, please take note, you need only wear something silvery and slimy and your man will instantly be turned into the young smiling stallion he once was.
It probably isn't hurting that some sort of "lap dance" is going on here also.

In exhibit two, again we see a smiling member of the male species not only hugging, but ahem...

apparently groping or trying to sneak a feel of his date. To get a date or gain the attention of this strapping fella, I suggest that a female counterpart douse herself in one of the readily available "attractants" that are on the market and soon you will also be held closely and rather proudly next to this mans heart. If you are a world record catch of some sort, that won't hurt either.

Summertime and the living is easy. Although this gentleman seems to be a little serious about his relationship, he still is openly embracing his rather buxom lass right there in the open water for all to see. She obviously is quite taken with him also, as she appears to have fainted or swooned over her man. Of course I might be mistaken and this may simply just be a fish "baptism" taking place. Either way, he is obviously smitten in some sort...

You have already seen this guy, and despite the girth and size of his betrothed, he is more than happy to have the biggest moment of their lives captured digitally for all the world to see.
And you women thought we were put off by a few extra pounds!!!

Dancing. What could be more romantic. As these two trip the light fantastic, he gets ready to "dip" his dance partner in one of the most openly romantic moves you can make on the dance floor.

You say he never takes you dancing. Especially slow dancing? Here is evidence that a slow dance does not bother this young man. If you are this lads lil' misses, I suggest simulating the gill plate of a fish. Perhaps something low cut in a bright pink will put the spark back in your relationship. He obviously can't take his hands off this speciman.

Dancing with the stars....watch out!!

Now as for the women:

Exhibit one for the women, shows a big happy embrace for this fish. Replace this fish with a man who has just returned from working on cars all day, or hammering nails and I doubt he gets held as close to her bosom as Mr. Stinky here. Maybe, we need to stop by the Safeway fish section on the way home and slather a little fish packaging all over us, before opening the front door and cuddling into the waiting arms of our loved ones. Or maybe it is just that big dumb happy look on that fishes face... so vulnerable!!

Again, risk of permanent stench has no apparent effect on this woman. She may have to burn the clothes she is wearing, or drop them into a dumpster behind some pet store, yet she appears overjoyed.But let the male specie in her well kept household even get near the living room sofa after a game of Golf and he will be chastised and forced into having every piece of furniture fully cleaned and possibly replaced. He will also be constantly reminded of his crimes against sofa cushions for the better part of what will remain of his married life.

So there you have it.

The evidence is plentiful and is clear as mud for me.

I hope this helps to dispell the myths for both genders and will help to give you some ideas on how to put the "exhuberance" back into your relationships.

As for me, I think I need a hug...

Days Gone By.

Dave was by this morning.

Dave likes to talk fishing. In fact, Dave is a fish blogger extraordinaire.

Dave is old school, so he does most of his blogging the old fashioned way--ORALLY.

A typical conversation with Dave will start out always in the same fashion. "So, done any fishin' lately?"

This is typicaaly just a way for Dave to begin his oral fishing blog. He isn't really interested in your answer, nor does he really listen for it. I have learned to just give some sort of generic answer, like " Yeah, I used to like raisins, but they have a tendency to give me gas."

These words are basically transparent, and soon Dave is off onto his daily diatribe. At this point it is usually good for you to start organizing the rest of your day mentally and throw in an occasional "really" or "you're kidding me"-- because Dave will orally blog you to your knees otherwise. It is not that Dave's rant is off target or not worthy of contemplation, it's just that he likes to go around the block a few times before he gets to the point. So, while you mentally ponder picking up your dry cleaning and getting that oil changed in your car, he will go into the complete history of the wooly worm, before telling you that he caught a really nice trout the other day on a green one. The good thing is, you can jump in at any time and feel relatively sure that you can pick up the conversation and pretty much know it's full content.

Anyway, so after Dave gave his customary "done any fishin' lately?" introduction, and I gave my congenial reply, of " Yeah, I fished the Stillwater in Montana a couple a weeks ago."

Something different happened.

Dave must have listened --at least somewhat-- because he then went off on diatribe directly related to the subject. Maybe it was the mention of Montana that did it, or maybe he was ready to tell me this story anyway, and I just happened to hit upon the exact topic that he had already predetermined as today's subject. I'm not sure which it was, but since he was compelled to talk about an old fishing trip he and his dad had taken when he got back from Vietnam, I was compelled to listen.

The trip was in the sixties and Dave and his dad jumped in the car and decided to fish what is now referred to as the "intermountain west." It used to be called the Rockies, and consisted of New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho and Montana. The story wasn't about the healing process for Dave upon his return from Vietnam--although I am sure this took place-- nor was it about the fish caught or time spent with his dad. Instead, Dave's blog was about how "back then" you could pull into town talk to somebody local and within minutes be fishing in a spot where more than likely you would catch a fish.

Dave then went around the block a bit, or in this case the Rockies, as he re- mapped out that obviously meaningful trip. There was that crick in New Mexico, the Animas in Colorado. various other streams near Telluride and Ouray, the Salmon in Idaho and the bug infested waters of Montana.

What Dave remembers was the lack of fences, the eagerness of people to point out Trout rich waters on their own property and the willingness to let you have a go at 'em. Those days are gone now. Nowadays, most people are tight lipped and overly protective of any fishing spot, and in many cases rightly so.

Many fisherman will run roughshod over other people's property, littering and having a general disregard for the property of others. This, and the sheer fact that there are more people fishing has caused this "pay for access" or "pay for information" thought process.

Even outfitter and sporting good stores, really want you to book a trip or hire a guide out of their business, rather than purchase a handful of flies or some relatively inexpensive supplies. Property owners? Well, if they are lucky enough to have river front property, they are now considered a "guest ranch" or "fishing preserve".

Yes, those very same waters that you could drive up to and ask if you could fish for a couple hours, are now posted with warnings and protected like Edward Muench's art. Oh wait, that's not a good example, how about --more like file sharing on the internet!!

I imagine with time it will get even worse as public access dwindles and more people populate the "intermountain west".

As usual, Dave was right on--it just took him a little side journey through time to get there.

Come to think of it----it took me a couple trips around the block to make my point also.

Dave must be a genius...

Magazineaholic.

I have always admitted to being somewhat of a "magazineaholic". More specifically, a fishingmagazine-ad-aholic. I know to most of you these are new terms, and you may have never heard of them, but trust me they exist. By definition, and according to the Izaak Walton-Orvis slightly abridged Dictionary; mag.ah.zeen.ah.haw.lik-- is an uncontrollable urge to constantly read and subscribe to any and all tabloids printed on 80# glossy substrates with vegetable oil based ink.

O.K. I made the vegetable oil ink up-because it could be printed with pure tar from the La Brea tarpits, and you would still be drawn to the glossy, high varnished, carefully plotted out front covers that LURE (pun- intended) us in to the waiting jaws of it's inside contents.

Anyway, from that description you can obviously figure out why I am afflicted with the fishing version of this common yet greatly ignored disease.

The disease--and have no doubt about it- it is a disease, stems from a desire to always be looking for the perfect fishing spot, gear,or technique, to enhance or better the fishing experience. Of course the old adage of "a picture is worth a thousand words" comes into play on the cover. Here we will see either a brightly smiling fisherman holding a beautiful trophy fish, or a single solitary fisherman standing in some remote pristine stream in the middle of Montana.(with the picture taken from outer space at just the right camera angle, as to not show the other six-hundred fisherman just upstream from him.)

The fishing male species urge for either of these experiences is impossible to ignore, and therefore we are drawn in. It might as well be the centerfold of some rather risque magazine or a shiny chrome bright Harley-Davidson catalog, the results are the same for those afflicted with those forms of the disease.

"That could be me." That is what our feeble male brain outputs, so we dive in.

Once inside, trained writing professionals peek our interest with more pictures and titles to articles like "Twenty Pounder River: Unmapped New Zealand River Yields Lunkers"
or-"The Top Sirloin Fly: Catch more fish and never go hungry."

Tell me we are not powerless to these kind of promises!!

My own personal weakness has always been the fishing ad. I am like putty in the hands of those dasterdly clever Madison avenue geniouses. I may really be interested in "Nymphing techniques for Bolivian Rain Forest Piranha", but my attention is quickly drawn to the ad for Angel fishing reels proclaiming: "Angels... beautiful. subtle. inspirational-"

Of course it doesn't hurt that carefully placed next to these words is a lovely young lady, clad in waders with fly rod in hand, looking.... beautiful. subtle. and inspirational!!

Damn the Piranha, I have to have that reel-- it will make me SEXY !

Yes sir, a fish slaughtering, bait stenching, sex magnet to all the chicks.

The ad goes on with it's description: "And able to throw 90 feet of fly line without breaking a sweat."-- My eyes divert back to the young lady... NOW she is borderline GODDESS level!!
I read on in hopes of finding either a personal invitation addressed to me or the phone number of the young lady printed in 20 point Helvetica type( for my aging eyes) splashed across the page.Instead I find the technical aspects of the reel and the descriptive virtues of the craftmanship that goes into every one of these reels. Of course it is too late for me to turn back, for they have sucked me in, and the only number I am calling is the order number to purchase one of their reels. "Angels... Touch One Today."

This is what they finish me off with, and my future estate sale has grown by yet one more item.

Like the dog that gets faked out by the old" fake throwing the tennis ball and hiding it behind your back trick"- I know that they are trying to trick me with the ad--but I still aimlessly run, or in this case look at the next ad in hopes of finding that tennis ball... err... next great product that will improve the fishing experience.

I would like to say I am checked into some rehab program, where they can help me focus and get ahold of my fish lusting instincts, but alas I am miserably spiraling further into the lurid, seedy, world of tri-tapered fishing lines, and frozen 1/8 second speed waterfalls--that show whispy running water and lone fishermen selecting the perfect fly for the perfect place to fish on earth!

It may take an intervention.

If only the postman can LOSE next months issue of Northwest Fly Fishing Magazine, there might be hope for me. I dunno though, I can still find happiness at magazine racks or the library.

Well, I would like to write you more of my plight, but I see in my latest issue of Fly Fisherman, that there is a new driftboat that is being made, and they claim that: "All Drift Boats are Not Created Equal."

I better check it out. After all, my old drift boat is looking pretty ragged these days...

Fear No Fisherman?

The other day I wrote an article on the bold bravado of a middle aged SUV driving slayer of fish.

Fear no fish.

Well, today I picked up our local newspaper and the outdoor article du jour was featuring a local fisherman who while Salmon fishing was struck in the eye by a two ounce lead weight. The story is quite sad and the fisherman has lost the vision in his left eye.

Purely an accident, the event took place while bank fishing on the Rogue River here in Southern Oregon. Another fisherman had a salmon hooked and was embroiled in a mighty battle complete with full tension being exerted by both parties-- that being fish and fisherman. In this case the hook was not set well, and when a mighty tug came from the fisherman the lead came barreling out of the water like a 45 caliber bullet. In "matrix" like fashion the injured fisherman saw the lead hurtling right at him--but unlike the matrix he was unable to react and dodge the lead.

Broken eye socket, blood pouring free, and iris exploded, the man was able to stagger to the parking area where a little while later he was rushed to the hospital and then later airlifted to Portland to try and save his vision.

His story is still in progress and while on the mend- he has yet to regain the vision in his eye.

While most folks don't consider fishing an extreme or dangerous activity, the article goes on to reveal that over 60,000 visits a year to the emergency room are directly related to the activity of fishing.

WOW.

It may be presumptuous for me to assume that all these injuries have come at the hands of other fisherman, but I feel relatively safe in assuming that a minimal number of accidents were caused by the fish. Although, with the newly emerging popularity of "noodling" for Catfish on the rise, I am sure many fishermen will soon be checking into emergency rooms to have the "jaws of life" extract tightly clamped Catfish from miscellaneous appendages.

But that's a different story for a different day.

Perhaps we should be boldly proclaiming "FEAR NO FISHERMAN", from our rear windows and bumpers. This would be a far greater act of bravado than fearing the fish-since fisherman can put a far greater hurt on you than Mr. Trout!!

I have witnessed fist fights over tangled lines and lost fish, hooks impaled in various body parts of fishing partners,and watched men flail like giant Blue Herons before being knocked off boats into frigid waters.Then there are the self induced injuries from slipping on rocks, torn rotator cuffs, and the always popular "line burn" or "fishing line cut".

Not to mention high blood pressure inducing "high water line" property feuds, fish camp related injuries, and occasional drunken fisherman falling into campfires.

Yes "FEAR THE FISHERMAN".

In related news, fish all over Oregon will be "fearing the fishermen"-as this is "free fishing weekend" in our state. This event is akin to opening up the seafood section at Albertson's and letting shoppers grab some free seafood, or Friday night Seafest at the all you can eat buffet.

Watch out.

In reality, the theory behind the event is good, and one I believe in wholeheartedly-getting kids and people interested in the sport of fishing.

Just try not to poke somebody's eye out...