Unaccomplished Angler

As we reach a certain point (age) in our lives, I think many of us begin to look back over the decades with a heightened sense of nostalgia. Through the years we tend to recall fond memories of days gone by. It’s not the same as living in the past, but moreover enjoying quick recollections of momentous occasions and good times. For me, personally, as I neared the age of 60 I found myself reflecting more often on my youth, which I suppose is normal when we get to that point in our lives when we suddenly realize that we have less time ahead of us than in the rear view mirror. To that point, my most recent obsession fascination has been focused on an era from 45 years ago, give or take a year.

Back in the mid-to-late 1970’s my brother took a keen interest in photography, and as I was prone to do, I followed in his footsteps. Being the younger brother I often idolized my one older sibling (he’s laughing now as he reads this). I suppose idolize is a strong word, but lets just say he pursued some interests that ended up appealing to me as well. One of those interests was photography–film photography, to be sure (there was no other form at the time, nor would there be for a few more decades).

My brother, Hal, led the charge with his first camera, a Canon QL17 GIII 35mm rangefinder (which he still has!). Within a couple of years (maybe less?) he moved up to a Canon AE-1, which was a SLR (Single Lens Reflex). About this same this time I was able to get my first camera, a Konica Autoreflex TC.

We both carried our cameras on the many backpacking trips with our Boy Scout Troop, shooting mostly Kodachrome and Ektachrome color slide film. I’m grateful for that because I still have carousels of slides to commemorate those great times in the outdoors. We would shoot rolls of film and then our mom would drive us to the local Pay’n’Save where we dropped the film off at the counter to be developed. A week or so later the call would come in that the slides were ready to be picked up. There was always a sense of eager anticipation to discover what the images held in store for us, but I don’t recall being impatient as we waited for the film to be developed. After all, life moved a bit slower back then. Eventually we began buying black and white Kodak Tri-X film in bulk, loading our own film canisters and developing the negatives at home, where we also had a makeshift darkroom in the basement. Our parents were very supportive of our hobby, which I think they hoped would keep us out of trouble (which it did, mostly). There were photography classes taken in high school which further fanned the flames of photographic passion. I even got to be a TA (that’s “Teacher’s Assistant”) for my photography teacher one year, which was essentially an easy A (which I desperately needed to offset my dismal grades in math.

Following high school, the photography “bug” waned a bit, at least for me. I did take one photography class in college but, as a hobby, photography took a back seat to other interests. That said, while I didn’t carry my SLR camera around with me, I often had a “point and shoot” camera at my disposal. Thankfully I have a good trail of photos that chronicled my journey into young adulthood. Whether serious about photography or not, having a camera was just something that was part of me.

In the mid 2000’s digital photography was really taking hold in the world and I made the change from fumbling with film to pushing pixels. Gone were the days of buying film, shooting 24 or 36 exposures, sending the film off for processing, and waiting for the results. Now, instantly, I knew if the shot was good or not simply by scrolling through the playback window on the camera. It was magical! Soon my last 35mm film camera became a forgotten relic and was eventually sold off to some antiquated caveman, or traded in on the next digital camera. Sadly I don’t even remember what became of my last film camera.

Fast forward to today, I have—since the onset of digital world—always had a digital camera, or several. I’ve definitely maintained a fondness for photography, but as nothing more than a very low-level hobby. Most of my digital cameras have had automatic settings for the exposure and autofocus lenses, and I have become accordingly complacent. And it’s easy to understand how that could happen as it’s hard to screw up a shot with the technology available. Because of that I think my skills as a photographer—looking for that one interesting shot and determining the right exposure settings—have suffered due to convenience. And that’s been fine, until recently.

I think, in the back of my mind, I’ve always pondered film photography over the years but never felt compelled to go back. Then a few months ago I began reading the occasional article or blog post about a resurgence in the popularity of film photography. I didn’t have to descend too far into the rabbit hole to realize that film is still readily available (though not cheap), there are many outfits what still process film (both local-ish and via the World Wide Web), and there are countless places to purchase vintage film cameras and accessories. And this is when I got into trouble.

I first began looking for the model that was my first SLR camera, and then my second. I was surprised to see that I could pick one of those up for much less than $100! The problem with those cameras is that they were not high-end models to begin with, and while the lenses were good, the cameras themselves did not stand up particularly well to the passage of time (that happens to many of us). Thus I began looking at other cameras from that era of the mid-to-late 1970’s, and there it was. The camera that invoked awe when I was a teenager. The camera that only professionals possessed: the Nikon F2. It was a big, beautiful beast of a thing then, and now. I don’t believe many casual hobbyist photographers carried this camera for a couple of reasons. First, it was professional-grade piece of equipment capable of much more than most consumer photographers needed or wanted. Secondly, it was made of all metal and was big and heavy. Third, it carried a price tag as heavy as the camera itself. In 1977, which was late in the life cycle of the Nikon F2 series, the F2AS model was about $750 with a 50mm f/1.4 prime lens. That equates to almost $4000 today! As a comparison, my entry-level Konica Autoreflex TC camera went for about $150 in 1976 (about $830 today).

Some quick reading was all I needed to know that the Nikon F2AS was what I wanted. With the DP-12 viewfinder it was the most advanced of the F2 models, and is widely regarded as the best. My next task was to find one. I’m particular about the condition of my personal belongings and so finding a 47 year-old camera in near-new condition was paramount. I learned through reading to be careful of buying from the Asia-Pacific region because of the potential for fungus on the lenses and viewfinders. OK, so no purchases from EBay sellers in Japan. Unfortunately that seriously limited things as that’s where the greatest selection seems to be found. Fortunately, I found just what I was looking for at KEH Camera. It was a black-bodied beauty graded in EXC+ condition and available to me for less than what it would have cost new in 1977. Into my shopping cart it went, along with a couple of Nikon lenses that were also in EXC+ condition. A week later the package arrived and I was as giddy as a little kid on Christmas morning. Despite the F2AS appearing to be in mint condition, I needed to be sure that everything was functional. I tested the light meter against a light meter app on my phone, and everything seemed to check out. The shutter worked as it should, as did the aperture rings on the lenses. With that, I first loaded a roll of Kodak Tri-X 400 (black and white) and powered through 24 exposures. Next up was a roll of Kodak Gold 200 (color). After I completed the second roll, off went the film to Blue Moon Camera and Machine in Portland Oregon, for processing. To say that the week and a half of waiting (and checking the daily progress of my order online) was a painful exercise in patience is true. This was a little different than snapping a pic on the iPhone and then immediately looking at it before sending it to someone or uploading to the Instant Grams. But the waiting was good for me, as a reminder of simpler times. Slowing down–that’s what this whole film endeavor was all about, after all, right?

While I was waiting for my film order to be completed, of course I had to pick up a couple more lenses. I now have a good selection of fine Nikkor glass to pair with my F2AS body: 135mm f/2 AIS (mid-telephoto), 105mm f/2.8 AIS (short telephoto), 24mm f/2.8 AIS (wide angle) and of course the “standard” lens, 50mm/F1.8 AIS . These lenses should cover all the focal lengths I need, for now 😉

I will say that it has been a lot of fun going back in time. Loading film and setting the ASA (desperately trying not to forget to do this!). Adjusting aperture and shutter speeds until the exposure is correct, then focusing carefully with eyes that aren’t what they used to be. Depressing the shutter button and hearing the heavy clank of the titanium shutter curtains slamming shut before advancing the film using the right thumb…it’s all coming back to me, and I love it. At this time I’ve shot a couple more rolls of black and white film which I recently sent off for processing. And again, I wait.

One thing is for sure–lugging around a heavy camera and multiple lenses is not an endeavor that one embarks upon casually. When I’m going out to shoot with this gear, that is what I am doing, and nothing else. I quickly discovered that walking an energetic dog while trying to be intentional about shooting photos is not a good combination. So what about possibly having a smaller, lighter camera for daily-carry to capture a shot when the opportunity randomly presents itself? More on that in another post.

For now, here are just a few shots from my first two test rolls. I’m looking forward to retraining my eye to look for good subjects and gaining familiarity with the camera to ensure that I get the results I intended.

I recently learned about the passing of Bernadine Johnson. Anyone who has read this blog over the years likely won’t recognize the name. However, “The Cat Lady of the Ho Hum” undoubtedly rings familiar. A reader of this blog recently took the time to leave a comment on a post from 2022, Ode to the Cat Lady of the Ho Hum, informing me that Bernadine had died earlier this summer. While this is sad news, at the age of 103 she had certainly lived a very long life.

We last stayed at the Ho Hum in 2023. That year the Firehole Rangers expanded their enrollment to include a Junior Ranger contingent. This included a son, a son-in-law, a future son-in-law, a potential future son-in-law and the friend of a potential future son-in-law. These young bucks who joined us had heard the lore of the Ho Hum and they would not disappointed. Fortunately or unfortunately, the legendary aroma of the Ho Hum front office was not what it had been over the years. While a faint aroma of cats lingered—and may have seemed significant to the unindoctrinated—the Junior Rangers did not get the full, olfactory effect that had been promised.

Bernadine was still running the show that year, and while she continued to have her trademark sharp wit about her, she was getting around very slowly with the use of a walker. That said, she was 102 at the time so she was doing amazingly well.

Bernadine was quite the character and our conversations with her were always one of the hi-lights of our annual pilgrimage to the Firehole River. And despite that the questionable air quality in the front office, Bernadine was a breath of fresh air. She will be missed.

Thanks to “Jeff from Phoenix” for taking time to leave a comment and informing me of Bernadine’s passing. For those interested, here is a link to her obituary: https://www.dahlcares.com/obituaries/bernadine-johnson

Cheers to the Cat Lady of the Ho Hum, may she rest in peace.

It’s coming up on 3 years since I posted a blog entry titled, Following the cold trail of the JanSport D series packs. It was a niche-subject musing that I hoped a couple of people might find interesting, if not even somewhat helpful. Since then I’ve been pleasantly surprised as the feedback from readers has far eclipsed my expectations. I still get the occasional visitor leaving a comment, although lately the spam bots seem to have found me, which is annoying as hell.

My personal collection of D series packs has held firm at five for several years: I have three JanSport D3’s and two D5’s. Of the D3 packs, I have one each in blue, tan, and burnt orange. I have a blue and a tan D5, and never intended to expand my collection beyond that. But OCD is a strange thing, and after all 5 packs were hung on the display wall in my garage it became clear that I needed one more pack. I needed a burnt orange D5.

I haven’t actively sought out such a pack, but I have, on occasion, searched the various online marketplaces hoping to find a good candidate. Months would pass between searches and those quests have always come up empty, until just recently when I stumbled upon an eBay auction for a burnt orange JanSport D5. As is the case with nearly all sellers, the beholder of this pack had no idea what model it was. It was just another vintage JanSport external frame backpack but I knew exactly what I was looking at.

The condition sounded favorable and the price would be right if nobody else bid on the pack. The only downside to this particular pack was that it featured the second generation (straight) hip bars instead of the original “D” shaped bars on packs from the early to mid-late 1970’s. All of my other packs have the first generation hip bars and, while I would have preferred those, I decided that it would actually be pretty cool to have one example of the second generation design. So I placed a bid and, surprisingly (or not), nobody else did. A week later the pack showed up and I was not the least bit disappointed.

It appears to have had very little wear from actual use. The zippers all work smoothly and the ample leather patches are all in good condition. The exterior of the pack bag is quite clean overall with just a couple spots of dirt/staining. The waterproof coating on the inside of the bag is not peeling or tacky.

Shoulder straps and hip belt are all sound and supple and the frame has minimal scratches or scuffs. Like my other JanSport D series packs, this one is a fine specimen that has survived the past few decades nearly unscathed.

I put the manufacture date at 1979 or perhaps 1980 (based on the hip bars). But that concludes the history lesson here—I delved deep into approximate production dating and history in my post from December 2020.

I’m just happy to now have 3 of each model, in the same colors. It creates order and strikes a nice balance on the display wall. And my wife is relieved.

Many dogs are bred for a purpose, whether it’s to perform a job such as herding or guard duty or to sniff out and retrieve game. And even if dogs don’t actually perform the tasks they were originally bred to do, many have the instinct for it. Our labs, Kate and Eddie, were that way: they absolutely loved to retrieve, whether it was ducks in the marsh or sticks in the woods or tennis balls in the back yard. They were wonderful pets, but just under their surface lie the need to fetch things—to perform a specific task—and they weren’t fully content unless they had performed this job each day. Happy, wasn’t that way. She didn’t swim, fetch or do much of anything productive, really. Sure, she liked to chase squirrels and cats (though on at least one occasion the cat chased her). But she didn’t wake up each day with a job that she was bred to do.

Shortly after we adopted her (a little over 8 years ago) I wrote about her backstory HERE. At the time she was still new to us, and we to her. Given all that she had been through it took a few weeks before she truly came out of her shell, and when she did there was no looking back. She started each day with a frantic tail-wagging session, greeting us as if she hadn’t seen us in days, despite having slept in the same room with us all night long. She would race down the stairs to the laundry room where she took her meals. After breakfast she would do her business outside in the yard and after that she was content to take a morning nap until something exciting happened. Some days, depending on the weather, nothing happened. But often that excitement consisted of a walk around the neighborhood, or to accompany me out to the mountain bike trails where we hiked in and did trail work. On days that she was really living the dream she’d ride in my truck and go to the local hardware store in Duvall where, within a short time, the folks came to know Happy by name. And she knew exactly what fun awaited when I asked, “Wanna go to the Treat Store?” (where treats were always dispensed at the checkout counter). Happy also loved walking up and down the isles of the store. As I looked for things I needed, she looked for and cleaned up pieces of dropped popcorn (they used to have a popcorn machine doling out free bags of salty goodness, prior to Covid). Suffice it to say, it was her favorite place to go.

She was a Boxer-Lab mix, at least according to her adoption listing. When we picked her up from the rescue I didn’t see any Labrador Retriever. Maybe a little Boxer, at least due to general body shape and muscularity. I was pretty sure I knew what I saw, but I wanted confirmation so I submitted a DNA test early on. The Wisdom Panel results confirmed my hunch: she was a pit bull, through and through. Her genetic makeup consisted of American Staffordshire Terrier + Mixed Breed on one parent’s side, and on her other side was Staffordshire Bull Terrier + Mixed Breed. The “Mixed Breed” portions were so diluted by more than 3 generations that they could not, with any type of certainty, indicate what those breeds might be. She was officially declared to be an “American Staffordshire Terrier, Staffordshire Bull Terrier Mix”. We knew that the “Boxer-Lab mix” was used in her adoption listing to avoid the negative (and all-too-often incorrect) connotation associated with pit bull breeds. Mrs. UA admits that she never would have agreed to adopting a pit bull, but the little Boxer-Lab was deemed a safe chance. And so we now had ourselves a pit bull.

Having spent her first year and a half in the desert near Bakersfield, hot and dry was also in her DNA, and sunny days were her favorite. I don’t think she ever really accepted that life in the Pacific Northwest was anything but hot and dry, except for a few short weeks each summer. Her decorative fur offered zero insulating qualities and it wasn’t long before she had her own rain coat and sweater, thanks to the insistence of Mrs. UA.

She always loved the sun, the hotter the better. When it wasn’t warm enough to be outside, she sought the sun as it shone in the windows of her house. She knew exactly where the sun would be at certain times of the day, and it was only at those times that she wasn’t right by my side. We lovingly called her a “cat-dog” for her fondness of basking in the sun.

When she was outside Happy preferred to lay on the concrete or hot gravel as opposed to the cool, soft grass. She craved the heat absorbed by the hard surfaces, but I think she also just embraced discomfort as a natural part of her life since she had suffered quite a lot in her first year and a half.

But she wasn’t all about hard surface suffering, mind you. She really embraced the couch potato life and in fact had her own couch in the man cave (she wasn’t allowed on furniture elsewhere). It doesn’t take much of a stretch to realize which room was her favorite. She was a world-class cuddler. And she snored.

While she was a low energy dog, Happy also loved to go on hikes with her Mama (Mrs UA) and me, and on our monthly hikes with our gang of friends. She joined us on countless trails in all types of weather. Drenching rain wasn’t her favorite (nor mine), but as long as she was with us she was happy. Her lean, muscular body was very efficient when it came to hiking and she could, when she was in her prime, cover the miles with little effort, and little water. We always joked that she was a camel because of her ability to go without much water, despite our efforts to get her to drink. Her kidneys never failed her, however, and if she was thirsty she would take a sip. But she never hovered over her water dish until it was gone, like our previous dogs.

What Happy loved most was her people, and her bond with our family was strong. When we adopted her both of our adult children were living at home, though temporarily, and because of that Happy grew very attached to them. After her kids both moved out on their own, she greeted them with boundless love each time she saw them. She loved nothing more than when her people were all together.

She knew no strangers and happily greeted everyone she met. And while she would sometimes tolerate another well-behaved dog, Happy preferred to be the only dog in the world. We would learn that the various scars she carried were also emotional; her lifelong aversion to dogs was a result of fear. While we wished that she could enjoy the company of canines, that was never really meant to be. She didn’t seek trouble with other dogs inasmuch as she just wanted to be without their presence. So we just kept her out of situations where she might fail. She could more or less peacefully share her space with certain dogs with whom she was familiar—mainly my daughter’s chocolate lab, Murphy—but she was never fully relaxed around other dogs. Poor Murphy constantly tried to gain the approval of his “Auntie Bitchface” but never fully succeeded. It wasn’t his fault.

Perhaps the most amazing thing about Happy revealed itself when our grandson, Squirrelly Coop, was born in October 2021. We were told that in her previous life she had lived with small children, but during her time with us Happy was never really around kids of any age. About a week after he was born, Coop came to our house to visit for the first time. Happy was immediately queued in to him and she would position herself as near to him as she could. It was really quite something to behold. On one visit in particular, Coop went down for a nap. A short while later I noticed that Happy was nowhere to be found, which was odd because she was always wherever her people were. I went upstairs to Coop’s room and found Happy sitting next to his crib. She appeared to be on guard duty, watching over her newborn as he slept. Happy’s attachment to Coop would continue as he grew into a toddler. She wanted to be near him at all times and would slip in a kiss if she could get away with it. She also quickly learned that sitting by his high chair resulted in a smattering of food offerings from above. While we were careful with her whenever Coop was around, Happy was always very gentle. It was as if she didn’t trust her people to take proper care of the boy, so she stepped in to do so. She excelled in her new role as a “nanny dog”.

We never knew Happy as a puppy because she was almost two when she came to us. Fortunately her original rescuer sent me photos. She was as adorable as any puppy could have been, with eyes that were kind and gentle from the very beginning. Those eyes always gave off a hint of sorrow, as though she was a bit sad. She would be forever submissive, and over time she knew how to melt your heart using those eyes. It was never any fun to correct or discipline her, and frankly there was seldom any need for that. Yes, she could have a stubborn streak, but she was obedient and forever aimed to please. If she was spoken to in a stern manner Happy would just crumble apologetically. It was as though she was constantly showing us immense gratitude for giving her such a good life after such a rough start.

We didn’t know exactly how old she was but based on what we were told she was likely born in May of 2013. And so May 16 became Happy’s birthday. There was never a reason to doubt the timeline of her life before she came to us but Happy always seemed older than her years. That may haven been due to her calm, gentle nature and low energy level. I think she was simply an old soul.

Happy always had a bit of white on her muzzle, but she began adding to that in 2019. Her ever-whitening eyebrows simply gave her a regal elegance with each passing year. It’s hard to say when she began slowing down because she was never an energetic dog to begin with. However in 2021 she ruptured the ACL in her right leg, and while TPLO surgery to repair that was successful, it took some of the skip out of her step. X-rays taken at the time also revealed that Happy had badly arthritic hips and she was prescribed anti-inflammatory meds for the remainder of her life. She never complained, and though she was enthusiastic to go for walks she was no longer up for long walks. Hiking was out of the question. Her days from that point forward would mostly consist of sun-seeking, exploring the perimeters of our property in search of long, sweet grass to eat, and basically being with me at all times. She loved the life of a free-range dog and would hang out in the driveway as I worked in the yard. She never wandered, because that would mean I was out of sight. She eagerly greeted the parcel delivery drivers because they brought her treats. Her favorite time of the day was when she heard the garage door open around 5:45pm on week nights. I would announce, “Mama’s home!” and Happy would sprint down the hall and greet Mrs. UA as she returned from work. Happy was more than content with her life. She was happy.

During late Winter 2023 I took Happy to the vet to have a lump examined on her right thigh. Lab results were not good: Soft tissue sarcoma. Cancer. We wouldn’t know the severity of it until surgery could be performed to remove the tumor and have it sent to a lab to be graded. We knew that surgery would not likely be able to remove all of the tumor, and it would grow back. But we wanted to find out how much time we had with her so surgery was scheduled for April 7, Good Friday. And so we waited. A couple of weeks prior to her surgery date, Happy hopped out of the back seat of my truck—as she had done hundreds of times before—and immediately began favoring her left rear leg. This was not the leg that had suffered the previous ACL rupture, nor the one with the tumor. It was her “good” leg this time. I thought she might have sprained her ankle of perhaps bruised a nail bed, so we waited a few days, anticipating improvement. It never got better. In fact it grew worse to the point where she could bear no weight on it. At times I had to help her get up from her bed and had to carry her up stairs (we live in a house of stairs). She wasn’t excited for “chow time” as she always had been. Clearly she was in pain, so back to the vet we went. This time we learned that she had ruptured her other ACL. She was administered pain meds to help keep her comfortable. The medication made her drowsy and she spent most of her days sleeping. When the meds wore off you could see it in her eyes.

Surgery to repair her ACL was not an option this time–not after what she went through the first time. And with her inability to bear any weight on that leg, we couldn’t fathom the idea of having surgery on the other leg to remove the tumor. We decided that were no good options. On March 27, 2023, on a rare day that the sun made an appearance, we said goodbye to our sweet girl.

Looking back, I now realize that Happy did have a job: her job was to make us happy. It was a responsibility that she took very seriously, and did very well, every day of her life.

R.I.P. Happy girl.

Several months ago I posted a blog titled, Help Me Find This Rod. Given how infrequently I’ve posted on my blog in recent years and how few actually read the Weekly Drivel, doing so was akin to being down by a goal and launching a full court Hail Mary shot at the final bell of US Masters championship round. But it was a last ditch effort and I had nothing to lose. I was fully prepared for disappointment and 5 months passed with no leads (not surprising). During that time I also posted my quest on Fiberglass Fly Rodders, hoping that at least one of the members there might have some valuable insight. Crickets.

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Today marks the official first day of Summer and it was a year ago (nearly to the date) that Marck introduced me to a new beer, Reel Good Summer Ale, produced by 10 Barrel Brewing of Bend, Oregon. Its target consumer is/was clearly the fly angling crowd and the appropriately-branded brew undoubtedly picked up many a new customer thanks to the joint labeling that features the Simms logo and mention of supporting Trout Unlimited on the packaging. Certainly the eye candy aspects of the beer caught my attention, but looks can be deceiving. However, after one taste, I was hooked (sorry, pun intended). Suffice it to say Reel Good became my preferred beer during the summer of 2021, unseating a long-standing, time-tested, mass-produced, once-local favorite.

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Mrs. UA and I recently moved, and in our new home the office of the Unaccomplished Angler is on the first floor, immediately off the entry, on display for all who enter via the front door. Because of this prominent location, I’ve been instructed to keep my workplace clutter to a minimum and refrain from working in my skivvies. The adjustment has been challenging but I’m slowly learning to keep clutter to a minimum.

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(EDIT: since I published this entry I stumbled upon an online auction site (not EBay) that had a very similar rod listed. Instead of a pack rod it was a two piece rod (model 8220), but everything else about it rang very familiar, down to the color of the blank and wraps as well as the style of grip. Unfortunately this auction had ended recently (the rod sold for a paltry $50!). Photos from that auction are posted at the end of this entry for reference.)

Been a while it has since last I scribed an entry. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or so it goes. Or, maybe not. For anyone who still reads this blog, I’d like to request your help in locating a specific fly rod, my first fly rod. It was gifted to me in about 1974 or 1975 by the friend of my dad, who was a gonzo fly fisherman. His wife worked at Eddie Bauer back when Eddie Bauer actually produced outdoor gear such as camping and backpacking equipment as well as fly fishing gear. The rods that he gifted my brother and I were Eddie Bauer branded, though obviously made by another rod manufacturer. Maybe Orvis?

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