Sorry for the recent lack of activity. My computer joined the waders, camera, watch, two rods, the car's starter and all the other crap that died this year. But, now I am up and running again. If any readers want to contribute topics to be explored, leave them in the comments section of this post.
Cheers, Erik Helm
With a faster computer and a slimmer wallet.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
The most important thing to possess on the river
The most important thing to possess on the river
Fly rod? Reel? New shooting line? That new gadget?
No.
Just simple curiosity.
Curiosity is a major driving force behind our journey as anglers. The angler that is not curious will stop prying under rocks and exploring. He or she is at a dead-end.
The curious angler, whatever his or her skill level, will continue to enjoy the little experiences of discovery and learning that make time on the water so absorbing and rewarding.
What is around the next corner? What if I bend down one wing on this fly? How can I get a clean drift into that back-eddy? How large or small a fly do I have to use? Will lake-run brown trout rise to a wet fly fished on a floating line? What is in this book?
Curiosity is what makes us open all the doors of life that hold the little gems of discovery.
It is why many of us took up fly-fishing in the first place. It is what drove us as children to explore creeks and ponds with a cane pole and bobber, and pry into gopher holes with a stick.
Let’s cross the river and fish from the other side…
Fly rod? Reel? New shooting line? That new gadget?
No.
Just simple curiosity.
Curiosity is a major driving force behind our journey as anglers. The angler that is not curious will stop prying under rocks and exploring. He or she is at a dead-end.
The curious angler, whatever his or her skill level, will continue to enjoy the little experiences of discovery and learning that make time on the water so absorbing and rewarding.
What is around the next corner? What if I bend down one wing on this fly? How can I get a clean drift into that back-eddy? How large or small a fly do I have to use? Will lake-run brown trout rise to a wet fly fished on a floating line? What is in this book?
Curiosity is what makes us open all the doors of life that hold the little gems of discovery.
It is why many of us took up fly-fishing in the first place. It is what drove us as children to explore creeks and ponds with a cane pole and bobber, and pry into gopher holes with a stick.
Let’s cross the river and fish from the other side…
Friday, November 6, 2009
Doing it the hard way
Doing it the hard way:
No short cuts except for the rich and famous.
In reflecting on the process we all go through as we become better anglers, I have come to the conclusion that the journey itself, with all of its successes, defeats, and frustrations makes the angler what he or she is. It is hard work. We all can think back and recall with shudders all of the myriad errors we made. We waded over fish, blew strikes, struck the wrong way, botched the landing, tied bad knots, chose the wrong fly or incorrect hook, tied dry flies that sank and wet flies that floated. We fell in the river, cast to the wrong water, misread the water, used improper or bad tackle, dunked our camera, broke a few rods, tumbled down a canyon, got buzzed by rattlesnakes, and even caught a few fish if we were paying so little attention that when the fish struck we were distracted enough not to botch it.
These memories are precious, and the process in which we realized we had goofed up and then learned and grew is the food that drives our journey. It should not be cut short.
Not all learning has to occur through mistakes. There are a plethora of good books and videos explaining the how-to’s. Classes can be taken, lectures attended, or friends advise sought. In the end though, it is we alone with our own thoughts and with our own two feet that make the journey. Thinking and learning…
However, if you happen to be rich or famous, then it gets a lot easier.
If you happen to be rich, famous, or in some cases, just a good-looking young woman in the sport of fly-fishing, you can buy or be offered short cuts. We all know the rich angler who without the proper skill-set, buys himself a trip to the Dean River, and pays a guide to get him into the fish of a lifetime. The guide has to work hard at it too, since the guy can’t cast his top of the line rod and reel more than 30 feet. That guide is given gear by tackle companies for next to nothing, and gets his or her face on the cover of magazines that take advertising from the very lodges and outfitters they work for. Pictures on their blog abound with lobster dinners, piles of the most expensive tackle, and porn-shots of fish and locations most of us can only dream about. Some of these famous industry guides and tackle reps get free admittance to closed waters in storied locations because it helps to sell more bookings. The fish become a commodity. The price of fame.
The rich man buys the fish.
The guide pimps it.
The tackle manufacturers collect the cash.
Meanwhile, most of us will never be flown to Atlantic Salmon rivers by film production companies. We won’t stay in expensive lodges, nor be guided directly to the fish. Instead, we will sleep at rest-stops, eat convenience-store chili-dogs, scrape another year out of leaky waders, and have to make all our memories the hard way through long hours on the water. I think it is better that way.
Not all guides, wealthy individuals or famous anglers do this. Fact is, it is the minority in search of fame or fortune that often stand out through self-promotion.
However, if you do happen to become a famous guide, please don’t put your logo on underwear and sell it.
No short cuts except for the rich and famous.
In reflecting on the process we all go through as we become better anglers, I have come to the conclusion that the journey itself, with all of its successes, defeats, and frustrations makes the angler what he or she is. It is hard work. We all can think back and recall with shudders all of the myriad errors we made. We waded over fish, blew strikes, struck the wrong way, botched the landing, tied bad knots, chose the wrong fly or incorrect hook, tied dry flies that sank and wet flies that floated. We fell in the river, cast to the wrong water, misread the water, used improper or bad tackle, dunked our camera, broke a few rods, tumbled down a canyon, got buzzed by rattlesnakes, and even caught a few fish if we were paying so little attention that when the fish struck we were distracted enough not to botch it.
These memories are precious, and the process in which we realized we had goofed up and then learned and grew is the food that drives our journey. It should not be cut short.
Not all learning has to occur through mistakes. There are a plethora of good books and videos explaining the how-to’s. Classes can be taken, lectures attended, or friends advise sought. In the end though, it is we alone with our own thoughts and with our own two feet that make the journey. Thinking and learning…
However, if you happen to be rich or famous, then it gets a lot easier.
If you happen to be rich, famous, or in some cases, just a good-looking young woman in the sport of fly-fishing, you can buy or be offered short cuts. We all know the rich angler who without the proper skill-set, buys himself a trip to the Dean River, and pays a guide to get him into the fish of a lifetime. The guide has to work hard at it too, since the guy can’t cast his top of the line rod and reel more than 30 feet. That guide is given gear by tackle companies for next to nothing, and gets his or her face on the cover of magazines that take advertising from the very lodges and outfitters they work for. Pictures on their blog abound with lobster dinners, piles of the most expensive tackle, and porn-shots of fish and locations most of us can only dream about. Some of these famous industry guides and tackle reps get free admittance to closed waters in storied locations because it helps to sell more bookings. The fish become a commodity. The price of fame.
The rich man buys the fish.
The guide pimps it.
The tackle manufacturers collect the cash.
Meanwhile, most of us will never be flown to Atlantic Salmon rivers by film production companies. We won’t stay in expensive lodges, nor be guided directly to the fish. Instead, we will sleep at rest-stops, eat convenience-store chili-dogs, scrape another year out of leaky waders, and have to make all our memories the hard way through long hours on the water. I think it is better that way.
Not all guides, wealthy individuals or famous anglers do this. Fact is, it is the minority in search of fame or fortune that often stand out through self-promotion.
However, if you do happen to become a famous guide, please don’t put your logo on underwear and sell it.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Some new and old flies.
Here are some of the flies I have been using with the floating line in the Midwest when conditions allow.
Clockwise from top.
Lord Byron:
This fly originated due to the desire to create a fly that had flash and calling power without being too bright or gaudy. After I tied it I recalled a line from George Gordon - Lord Byron’s She walks in beauty
“And all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes…”
This has become a go-to fly in low clear water
Dressing:
Hook: AJ size 3
Rear 2/3 of body is gold mylar ribbed with small oval gold tinsel. Gold tag at butt.
Front quarter is peacock SLF.
Hackle is dyed red gold pheasant, and the wing is black bear.
Orange Racer:
This fly originated in 2003. It headlined a TV segment I did on steelhead flies. I put it away for a few years, and would take it out once or twice to look at. Then this spring I actually fished it. It swam and tracked well in the water, and pulsed with life. Its extreme taper towards the front gave it its name. Credit must be given to John Shewey, as the fly was inspired by his golden greed.
Dressing:
Hook AJ 3/0
Rear half is fine oval gold tinsel wrapped tightly forward. Front half is hot orange angora wool and hot orange SLF blended and twisted into a dubbing loop.
Hackle is orange schlappen. Collar is of long dyed orange teal flank and orange dyed guinea fowl.
Wing is goose. Orange over crimson, reversed and tented.
Head is red.
Gold Demon: Traditional
Note: LOVE this fly.
Black Racer: A takeoff on the orange racer in black. Body is peacock slf and black angora this time.
Gadwall tied in as a loose throat completes the fly.
Unnamed black fly:
A fishable fly with the contours of a racer, but with less labor and materials. Good in low flows as well.
So far I have been lucky that none of these have gotten snagged in the back of a zombie salmon. If they ever do, I guess I will be going for a ride.
Also, please forgive the photography. I got a new camera (Waterproof this time) and am just learning its ins and outs. It also survives being dropped. Wish I could say that about myself!
Fishing, thinking, observing, and the sporting tradition.
Fishing, thinking, observing, and the sporting tradition.
In reviewing some of my fly-fishing writing, I find that much of it has been devoted to observation and thinking; analyzing what we do and our approach to this sport we so love.
I believe that thinking is part of what separates fly anglers from the madding crowds. The river consists of intricate puzzles to be solved, and by intent, we restrict ourselves to tackle which places restraint on our numbers. Observing, analyzing and reflection to me are the greatest part of fly-fishing. Experimenting with a new technique such as nymphing with an un-weighted nymph and no indicator can produce all sorts of discoveries (and frustrations). These discoveries and our ability to solve the puzzles create the foundation blocks of a good angler. The more varied the experiences we tack up, the more we have to weigh when sitting by the river and thinking over a puzzle. It gives us precedent.
Imagine a world in which an angler always fishes the same way in the same place and with the same technique. He or she enjoys some success, but has no other experience to measure or weigh it against. He or she would be incapable of solving puzzles on other waters simply because they have limited their experiences and therefore limited their critical thinking as well. I imagine that most of us would find it boring to do the same thing the same way all of the time, but yet so many of us do just that.
Thinking and problem solving allow a greater access to experiences as well. I would argue that the combination of restraint and thinking has always been countered by new technologies. Bead head flies, shooting heads, sinking lines, etc. are all great innovations, but also allow us to catch fish easier. That ease may in time start to decay our thinking skills as we allow the gear to solve the challenges we face.
A perfect example of this is the BASS circuit. Radar, sonar, water clarity readers which indicate which colors to use, crank-baits with LED lights and rattles… in essence everything humanly or technologically possible to give someone an advantage. Or take the center-pin angler with roe. The person really is taken out of the experience. Once one learns to select bobbers and arrange split-shot, there is just lobbing the rig into the river. It is the essence of simplicity and the antithesis of restraint. Little thinking is required at all any longer.
Our sport is supposed to be the opposite of that. Restraint in tackle and technique also means restraint in numbers. Although fly anglers may classify themselves as non-competitive, we increasingly adapt technologies and techniques to allow us to catch fish where we could not have caught them before. Is this wrong? No, not necessarily, but if we really are non-competitive, why show an increasing lack of restraint?
Fish catching is the measure of our success, and that is tied in with our ego whether we admit it or not. It is just a simple fact. When we begin to think of ourselves as ‘good anglers’, we often equate the maturation process with numbers of fish landed.
Putting away the technological advantages may allow us to get back to that essence of angling: the puzzle and how to solve it. We may have to use our brains instead of that new gadget that is being touted by the guy with the big fish on the magazine cover, but in that return to our essence, and the return of observing, thinking, and problem solving, we may become better anglers in the long run.
However, this is the age of instant gratification, and thinking out a problem and solving it on our own may be as much as an anachronism as a double-taper line. The Internet provided the vehicle through which the rivers could be whored out faster and new improvements in tackle brought to the market quicker. Most people who browse the web have about a thirty second attention span, and I think that may equate with the lack of patience that is required to solve a puzzle on the river with just oneself and a rod and a line. Thus, a lack of thinking results.
We all measure things by degrees. I am a dry-fly fisherman only, I use cane only, I nymph, but NEVER use an indicator, etc. There is no correct way nor any right or wrong in the way we approach the little problem of how to make Mr. Fish take or presentation, but when technology takes the place of thinking, it is a slippery slope to walk. Competition should occur with ourselves and the fish, not other anglers.
Thinking, observing, and the resulting learning are also very joyful processes. Yes, you did read that right, learning can be fun!
I have written that the essence of the sporting tradition lies with restraint. Now I would add that the resulting problem-solving and skills that have to be developed in order for us to bag our game make us the sportsmen and women that we are.
I think, therefore I fish.
Enjoy the whole journey. Miss nothing. Think, savor, and learn.
In reviewing some of my fly-fishing writing, I find that much of it has been devoted to observation and thinking; analyzing what we do and our approach to this sport we so love.
I believe that thinking is part of what separates fly anglers from the madding crowds. The river consists of intricate puzzles to be solved, and by intent, we restrict ourselves to tackle which places restraint on our numbers. Observing, analyzing and reflection to me are the greatest part of fly-fishing. Experimenting with a new technique such as nymphing with an un-weighted nymph and no indicator can produce all sorts of discoveries (and frustrations). These discoveries and our ability to solve the puzzles create the foundation blocks of a good angler. The more varied the experiences we tack up, the more we have to weigh when sitting by the river and thinking over a puzzle. It gives us precedent.
Imagine a world in which an angler always fishes the same way in the same place and with the same technique. He or she enjoys some success, but has no other experience to measure or weigh it against. He or she would be incapable of solving puzzles on other waters simply because they have limited their experiences and therefore limited their critical thinking as well. I imagine that most of us would find it boring to do the same thing the same way all of the time, but yet so many of us do just that.
Thinking and problem solving allow a greater access to experiences as well. I would argue that the combination of restraint and thinking has always been countered by new technologies. Bead head flies, shooting heads, sinking lines, etc. are all great innovations, but also allow us to catch fish easier. That ease may in time start to decay our thinking skills as we allow the gear to solve the challenges we face.
A perfect example of this is the BASS circuit. Radar, sonar, water clarity readers which indicate which colors to use, crank-baits with LED lights and rattles… in essence everything humanly or technologically possible to give someone an advantage. Or take the center-pin angler with roe. The person really is taken out of the experience. Once one learns to select bobbers and arrange split-shot, there is just lobbing the rig into the river. It is the essence of simplicity and the antithesis of restraint. Little thinking is required at all any longer.
Our sport is supposed to be the opposite of that. Restraint in tackle and technique also means restraint in numbers. Although fly anglers may classify themselves as non-competitive, we increasingly adapt technologies and techniques to allow us to catch fish where we could not have caught them before. Is this wrong? No, not necessarily, but if we really are non-competitive, why show an increasing lack of restraint?
Fish catching is the measure of our success, and that is tied in with our ego whether we admit it or not. It is just a simple fact. When we begin to think of ourselves as ‘good anglers’, we often equate the maturation process with numbers of fish landed.
Putting away the technological advantages may allow us to get back to that essence of angling: the puzzle and how to solve it. We may have to use our brains instead of that new gadget that is being touted by the guy with the big fish on the magazine cover, but in that return to our essence, and the return of observing, thinking, and problem solving, we may become better anglers in the long run.
However, this is the age of instant gratification, and thinking out a problem and solving it on our own may be as much as an anachronism as a double-taper line. The Internet provided the vehicle through which the rivers could be whored out faster and new improvements in tackle brought to the market quicker. Most people who browse the web have about a thirty second attention span, and I think that may equate with the lack of patience that is required to solve a puzzle on the river with just oneself and a rod and a line. Thus, a lack of thinking results.
We all measure things by degrees. I am a dry-fly fisherman only, I use cane only, I nymph, but NEVER use an indicator, etc. There is no correct way nor any right or wrong in the way we approach the little problem of how to make Mr. Fish take or presentation, but when technology takes the place of thinking, it is a slippery slope to walk. Competition should occur with ourselves and the fish, not other anglers.
Thinking, observing, and the resulting learning are also very joyful processes. Yes, you did read that right, learning can be fun!
I have written that the essence of the sporting tradition lies with restraint. Now I would add that the resulting problem-solving and skills that have to be developed in order for us to bag our game make us the sportsmen and women that we are.
I think, therefore I fish.
Enjoy the whole journey. Miss nothing. Think, savor, and learn.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Skagititis redux
Skagititis redux
Somehow I seem to have touched a nerve in the Skagititis humor post, and some guys think I am getting all preachy. Far from the case. The intent of the entire post came from several personal experiences of myself and other anglers switching back and forth from skagit heads to short or medium length spey lines, and resulting comedy of errors that resulted. Under no circumstances should the (I thought rather humorous post) be construed as Erik disrespecting the pioneers of Skagit casting such as Bob Strobel, Harry Lemire, Ed Ward, or others too numerous to name.
Just because I choose, when the conditions allow, to use a dry line does not mean that I disdain any other form of fly fishing, nor does it mean that I believe that I am a better angler. Experimentation and learning is what it is all about. What if I do this? Will this work? How can I present my fly in these conditions? How big/small can I get away with? I am an avid fly-tier of classic flies, so that is what I use, because I think they are pretty and artful, not because I think they are better than what you are using.
As fly anglers we tend to place ourselves into groups. This is a normal process of identity forming. Inherent in human identity is both who you are and who you are not. We all tend to classify ourselves in this manner. I am better than that guy because… or I belong to this group and not that one. As Permaskunk pointed out, it can be quite silly really.
Skagit casting is a very effective method for winter steelhead. Often on our rivers with your back against the wall and overhead branches, it is practically the only way. It allows the delivery of large flies to dour fish, and allows us to fish dirty water as well. Guess what? I use it too.
What does bother me though is that seemingly the entire world of two handers jumped on the Skagit bus and now are unwilling to do anything else. Tackle companies have followed suit and the sale of running lines and short heads dominate everything. RIO discontinued the Grand Spey. It didn’t sell. If you want to find a DT line, good luck… Try the UK. The midspey was discontinued, the XLT dumbed down, etc. etc.
This leads to encounters such as the following from this past fall on a run in the PNW.
Guy from California (GFC): “Say, saw you fishing, you land a steelhead?”
Me: “Nope…no runs, no hits, no errors in that piece of water.”
GFC: “What Skagit head are you using?”
Me: “No skagit head. A Hardy mach 2”
GFC: “Oh. The reason I asked is that I saw you stripping a lot of line.”
Me: “That is because I was throwing the entire line.”
GFC: “Oh… what kind of tips are you running?”
Me: “Mmmmgfff!”
So, in conclusion, chill out. Fish the way you want, have confidence in the swung fly, and enjoy yourselves on the water… whatever line you are using. I don’t care.
Peace!
Somehow I seem to have touched a nerve in the Skagititis humor post, and some guys think I am getting all preachy. Far from the case. The intent of the entire post came from several personal experiences of myself and other anglers switching back and forth from skagit heads to short or medium length spey lines, and resulting comedy of errors that resulted. Under no circumstances should the (I thought rather humorous post) be construed as Erik disrespecting the pioneers of Skagit casting such as Bob Strobel, Harry Lemire, Ed Ward, or others too numerous to name.
Just because I choose, when the conditions allow, to use a dry line does not mean that I disdain any other form of fly fishing, nor does it mean that I believe that I am a better angler. Experimentation and learning is what it is all about. What if I do this? Will this work? How can I present my fly in these conditions? How big/small can I get away with? I am an avid fly-tier of classic flies, so that is what I use, because I think they are pretty and artful, not because I think they are better than what you are using.
As fly anglers we tend to place ourselves into groups. This is a normal process of identity forming. Inherent in human identity is both who you are and who you are not. We all tend to classify ourselves in this manner. I am better than that guy because… or I belong to this group and not that one. As Permaskunk pointed out, it can be quite silly really.
Skagit casting is a very effective method for winter steelhead. Often on our rivers with your back against the wall and overhead branches, it is practically the only way. It allows the delivery of large flies to dour fish, and allows us to fish dirty water as well. Guess what? I use it too.
What does bother me though is that seemingly the entire world of two handers jumped on the Skagit bus and now are unwilling to do anything else. Tackle companies have followed suit and the sale of running lines and short heads dominate everything. RIO discontinued the Grand Spey. It didn’t sell. If you want to find a DT line, good luck… Try the UK. The midspey was discontinued, the XLT dumbed down, etc. etc.
This leads to encounters such as the following from this past fall on a run in the PNW.
Guy from California (GFC): “Say, saw you fishing, you land a steelhead?”
Me: “Nope…no runs, no hits, no errors in that piece of water.”
GFC: “What Skagit head are you using?”
Me: “No skagit head. A Hardy mach 2”
GFC: “Oh. The reason I asked is that I saw you stripping a lot of line.”
Me: “That is because I was throwing the entire line.”
GFC: “Oh… what kind of tips are you running?”
Me: “Mmmmgfff!”
So, in conclusion, chill out. Fish the way you want, have confidence in the swung fly, and enjoy yourselves on the water… whatever line you are using. I don’t care.
Peace!
Old Green Rag
The Old Green Rag:
Lest we forget that fish have tiny little brains, and that despite all our time spent tying the perfect quill Gordon or blue charm, they often will behave quite contrary to predictions, and eat pine needles off the surface, or repeatedly strike the nail knot on your leader but not your fly.
Dan Landeen printed this story in his excellent book Steelhead Fly Fishing the Nez Perce Country (2006 Frank Amato Publications)
It was told to Dan by Dale Knoche, a longtime friend of Jimmy Green
I will paraphrase here. If you want the whole story, buy Dan’s book!
An old man walked down to the water on the Grand Ronde, struggling with each step to get over the cobble. He had an old bamboo rod that had seen a lot of use.
A couple of casts in he hooked a steelhead. He was a bit shaky on his feet, so Dale offered to help him land it. He replied that he could manage. He landed the fish and after a couple more casts hooked another steelhead. This time the man was pooped, and accepted Dale’s offer of assistance.
When the fish was landed, Dale took a look at the fly the old man was using, and asked him what the heck it was. “Old green rag” was the reply. It was a piece of an old green woolen shirt simply wound about the hook. The old man said he had taken hundreds of steelhead on that fly, and that it was all he ever used.
The reason I like this story is that it takes us all down a peg or two. I like to offer pretty and traditional flies to the fish out of respect and art, but they would be just as likely to hit just about anything. Just reinforces the concept that having confidence in the fly is 90% of the battle.
Lest we forget that fish have tiny little brains, and that despite all our time spent tying the perfect quill Gordon or blue charm, they often will behave quite contrary to predictions, and eat pine needles off the surface, or repeatedly strike the nail knot on your leader but not your fly.
Dan Landeen printed this story in his excellent book Steelhead Fly Fishing the Nez Perce Country (2006 Frank Amato Publications)
It was told to Dan by Dale Knoche, a longtime friend of Jimmy Green
I will paraphrase here. If you want the whole story, buy Dan’s book!
An old man walked down to the water on the Grand Ronde, struggling with each step to get over the cobble. He had an old bamboo rod that had seen a lot of use.
A couple of casts in he hooked a steelhead. He was a bit shaky on his feet, so Dale offered to help him land it. He replied that he could manage. He landed the fish and after a couple more casts hooked another steelhead. This time the man was pooped, and accepted Dale’s offer of assistance.
When the fish was landed, Dale took a look at the fly the old man was using, and asked him what the heck it was. “Old green rag” was the reply. It was a piece of an old green woolen shirt simply wound about the hook. The old man said he had taken hundreds of steelhead on that fly, and that it was all he ever used.
The reason I like this story is that it takes us all down a peg or two. I like to offer pretty and traditional flies to the fish out of respect and art, but they would be just as likely to hit just about anything. Just reinforces the concept that having confidence in the fly is 90% of the battle.
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