Page 22 of 45

I’m having a pity party. Join me, won’t you?

August 16, 2012 / Kirk Werner / 17 Comments

Many months ago—actually as far back as a year—when I started penciling in events for late summer 2012, this was looking to be a rather exciting period of a few weeks. Let’s examine how the calendar would have looked:

August 16-18, IFTD. That’s right, the International Fly Tackle Dealer show, in Reno for 2012. I’ve wanted to go for the past few years, and decided that this year I would finally make it happen, funds be damned. I didn’t want to go just for giggles, but to meet a lot of people in the fly fishing industry with whom I’ve corresponded. To meet and make friends. Rub elbows. Maybe put some deals together. After all, I have products to promote: Olive books, fly box by Montana Fly Company, and my very-soon-to-be-released iPad apps: Olive the Woolly Bugger and Chuckin’ Bugs. I should be there. I’m not.

Next year, for sure.

August 24-26, Casting 4 A Cure. I was there last year with my buddy Marck. We represented Team Olive for a great cause. Met a lot of amazing people. Had an absolutely great time. Planned on going back this year. Well, that wasn’t in the cards. Marck is going, and he’s being joined by the Firehole Rookie Ranger. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad they could go. Just really bummed that I couldn’t.

Next year, without a doubt.

August 30-September 1, River X. I was invited to partake of a very special opportunity not only to fish with a bunch of great folks who I’ve wanted to meet in person for a long time, but to witness the filming of a new film that looks to be incredible: A Deliberate Life, produced by Matt Smythe of the Fishing Poet blog. As recently as three weeks ago I spoke with Matt and expressed how badly I was jonesin’ to meet up with he and the others. In that time, life got very chaotic, and I am sick with remorse that I won’t be able to make the trip.

There won’t be another opportunity quite like this.

I suck.

So yes, I would like some cheese with my whine, thanks.

The Fishing Gods

August 12, 2012 / Kirk Werner / 0 Comments

As a favor to the good folks who publish the online magazine, Kype, I’m posting here a bit of news that you all can help with, if so inclined. Kickstarter is a great tool for raising $$$ for worthy projects. I was able to raise money to help in the production of the Olive the Woolly Bugger and Chuckin’ Bugs apps, so I know the level of appreciation that comes with a successful Kickstarter campaign.

Check out what George Douglas of Kype is striving to achieve here, then consider contributing. In the meantime, check out the current issue of Kype, provided for you free-of-charge in the right sidebar of this blog. Scroll down a ways, it’s right there. The latest issue has The Beard (aka Marc “Rowdy” Crapo of Flywallets.com) featured on the cover. Do NOT click the photo below. That won’t get you anywhere. Click the image in the sidebar—that’s what you’re looking for.

I told you not to click this.

THE FISHING GODS

Author and Publisher, George Douglas has just completed his latest fly fishing project ! Five hundred years of experience compiled in one amazing book—the stories, techniques, and flies of the top American & Canadian Fly Fishing Guides. We’d like to refer to them as the “Sweet Sixteen”…April Vokey, Loren Williams, Scott Howell, Lori-Ann Murphy, & Scott O’Donell just to name a few. The foreword is written by Dec Hogan — and all the step by step fly patterns were recreated and photographed by Dec Hogan and Marty Howard. This book is sure to be a classic in the fishing industry for years to come…Be a part of this project and pre-order your copy at:

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/469002171/the-fishing-gods

PS- for some reason, I am not included in this book.

Troutus interruptus

August 7, 2012 / Kirk Werner / 17 Comments

Imagine that you’re out wetting a line, fishing dries for genteel trouts, when the peaceful serenity of the occasion is rudely interrupted by an ill-tempered fish. Some trout fishermen have witnessed it firsthand. Others have seen videos of it. Certainly those who fit neither of the afore-mentioned categories have at least heard of it happening: a monsterous bull trout ambushing a more civilized trout while the trout is hooked and being played at the end of the line. I fit into the middle and latter categories: seen videos, heard of it happening. Never witnessed it firsthand.

Until recently. Well, almost. On a tributary of the Skykomish River about an hour from my home, I came this close to actually witnessing it happen.

My buddy Derek Young (Emerging Rivers Guide Services) called me up to see if I could join he and Patrick Konoske (Fishing for Words blog) and Patrick’s brother Mark, for a half day of wet-wading on a river which I’d not previously fished. Pat was in town to visit his brother and family and I’d hoped to have a chance to meet up with him. We had met a couple of years previously but didn’t have an opportunity to fish together at that time.

This particular river is neither very far away from my home, nor is it terribly hard to get to. And yet it’s very remote in many ways: difficult to reach by road from one direction; nearly impossible to reach by road from another. Why I hadn’t fished it before can be chalked up to laziness on my part (shame on me). And quite frankly, like many other west side rivers, one can expect trout that are quite small. While enjoyable, rivers with tiny trouts are not always high on the priority list. Nothing wrong with small fish, mind you, because an 8-10″ wild rainbow from any of these rivers is full of piss and vinegar, and plenty fun on a light rod. And I’m certainly no hawg-hunter, but my lightest rod is a 4 weight; slightly overkill for this game. With a day that held no pressing work deadlines, an opportunity to get out with a couple of good guys (and Derek) sounded like a reasonable thing to do.

We met for breakfast at the Sultan Bakery (for way more food than I needed) before heading up the Highway 2 corridor toward our destination. It was a typically cool, mostly cloudy day; typical for August in the Pacific NW. At least typical for August the past couple of years during which summer has evaded the region. Under intermittently cloudy skies we hiked in past a road that had been swallowed several years previously by an angry winter river that changed its course without getting approval from the Snohomish County Dept of Transportation.

Once upon a time there was a road…

…and now a river runs through it.

It’s amazing how nature reclaims itself. Had we wanted to we could have enjoyed exceptional fishing from the double yellow center line. But we pushed farther upstream where we encountered a river flowing over a more natural streambed.

That’s more like it.

As Derek and the brothers Konoske headed upstream, I commenced angling in a deep pool that was filled with water as clear as, well, very clear water. With a tinge of green. I tied on a bushy dry fly that would float high in the swirling current, and proceeded to hook a couple of quaint little 6-8 inch rainbows (more than likely they were actually steelhead parr). Typical. No surprise here.

Overachieving steelhead parr

And so began pretty much a day I had expected: small, cookie-cutter trouts eating most any dry fly that was reasonably well-presented and many that were not. And repeat. Or so I thought. On my 3rd or 4th cast I hooked yet another trout toddler. As the game little fighter lept and thrashed, from the depths of the pool I saw a large, dark form rush with blinding speed toward the hooked troutlet. “Holy Angling Ambush, Batman!” I shrieked, like a schoolgirl. Thankfully nobody was within earshot. I instantly lifted the tiny trout from the water to save its life and keep from losing my fly to the dark invader. It would have been quite an experience to have the meat eater snatch the trout at the end of my line, but who would have believed me as I retold the story? I had another idea in mind: I would unhook the trout, cut the dry fly from the end of my 5x, and affix a large streamer. I would do what I could to entice the meat eater to engage me–to pick on someone more his size. The culprit was either a bull trout or a Dolly Varden, depending on who you ask. I’m no less confused as to the actual designation now than I was when I wrote about it a few years ago, HERE. Whatever it was that had just attempted to eat my trout, I was going after it (without much hope of success, mind you).

So I tied on a sculpin-esque pattern that had treated me well a week earlier on an Idaho Panhandle cutthroat stream. It’s not huge by streamer standards, but at 3 inches long I figured it may get the attention of the dark form that had just interrupted my peaceful morning of trout fishing.

The streamer was not heavily weighted and the fast current swept it downstream before it had much of a chance to sink. I slapped the fly down on the water a few times, hoping it would become water-logged and descend a few inches deeper. It finally caught a swirling seam and dipped about a foot under the surface. After letting it swing toward the overhanging rock just downstream of my perch I began stripping in short tugs: 1…2…BAM! The same dark form, that had just moments ago atempted to ambush my trout, slammed the streamer with all the subtly of a 17-inch freight train. Angry head thrashing ensued and I was fairly certain the 5x would yield to the outrage. It held. In my limited experience catching bull trout/Dolly Varden, they hit with ferocity but aren’t known for prolonged fights. That proved to be the case this time, but the relatively large fish was quite a thrill, and quite a surprise for an unaccomplished angler armed for typically small trout. It was no monster by monster standards, but it was 10 inches bigger than anything I expected to find here. If you play the relativity game, it was huge. To put it into perspective, let’s say you’re fishing for trout that are 15 inches long (~twice the size of the trout I caught) and you encounter a bull char that’s more than twice the length of the trout. That puts the bull char at over 30 inches. That’s pretty big. See where I’m going with this line of reasoning?

Hello Dolly bull char.

Bull Varden?

After removing the streamer from the char’s maw, and wiping the sweat from my brow, I resumed my dry fly ways and caught a few more typically small trout as I worked my way upstream toward Derek and the brothers Konoske. Along the way I enticed a nice, 13″ resident rainbow to take a purple Chubby Chernobyl. It was a trophy for these types of waters that typically don’t give up anything other than 8-10 inch trout. And the occasional bull Varden char.

A relative trophy trout.

Thanks, Derek, Pat and Mark, for letting me tag along on a day that turned out to be anything but typical.

Derek and the brothers Konoske.

Sunscreen, bug spray, and trail dust

August 1, 2012 / Kirk Werner / 8 Comments

The combination of those 3 things make for a protective coating of slime, not unlike that of a trout. While it felt wrong to wash it away, it also felt pretty good to have a shower when I got home. However, I’d have stayed for another week without complaint—it was that much fun.

Marck and The Rookie left Wednesday afternoon and drove into the night toward St. Regis, Montana, from which point they doubled back into Idaho on a forest service road. No, they didn’t make a wrong turn; it’s just one of the ways to get where they were going: the fastest way. Jimmy and I, on the other hand, left early Thursday morning and opted for another, more direct (but slower) route. Had it not been for a wrong turn in Fairfield (population 612) we’d never have known about the towns of Latah and Tekoa, (populations 185 and 787 respectively). Latah boasts a sign that reads, “Latah, 1892-1992”. I wasn’t sure how to interpret that: was the town declared dead in 1992? There was sign of some life, but not much. Tekoa by comparison looked to be a thriving metropolis. As I said, we’d have never seen these towns or this beautiful, remote section of Washington had it not been for a wrong turn. There’s not much out there but wheat fields, and while the roads may take you places like Pullman, WA, it’s still a long way from anywhere.

A long way from anywhere.

We got back and on track without having lost much time and made our way toward the Idaho Fly Fishing Company in Avery to pick up a few flies. We also got more ice to pack in the cooler and topped off the tank with overpriced gas at Scheffy’s General Store. From there we headed upriver, where we hoped Marck and The Rookie Ranger would have the tent trailer parked at the campsite we had hoped would have a vacancy. All was right in the world when we pulled in at the end of the road and saw this:

A welcome site.

From this point forward it was pretty much fishy business, with some great meals and a wee bit of adult beverage consumption mixed in. The trip is best left to photos, which spares you having to listen to me ramble on and on. I’ll post said photos in the forthcoming days as soon as Jimmy and Marck figure out how to get the photos from their cameras to their computers (a constant struggle for those two).

Note to self: Next time you go on a summer fishing trip where wet-wading is the name of the game, do NOT leave your comfortable wading socks at home. Bring them with you. Otherwise you may have to borrow Jimmy’s extra pair, which are not comfortable and require an extra layer of white cotton socks underneath. White cotton socks do not make for the best inner layer, but you do what you have to do when you’re me.

Next time, bring these…

…or you’ll look like this.

More to come.

50 shades of summer gloom

July 30, 2012 / Kirk Werner / 3 Comments

Returning to the daily grind is always hard after a fishing trip. It’s even harder when the fishing trip was incredibly excellent, and our recent trip to Idaho was excellent in every regard. The weather was exceptional: 80 degrees, clear blue skies. The river was in prime shape, the trouts plentiful, and we hardly saw another fly angling person on the river. As we returned home on Sunday to western Washington, we paid dearly for our good fortunes as two things welcomed us: traffic and gray skies.

Summer is so brief in the Pacific northwest that nearly everyone who lives on the west side of the Cascade mountains heads for parts east in search of reliable summer weather. We know the Sunday traffic gets bad as nearly everyone heads back home. We should have known better. We should have come home a day earlier, or a day later. Actually coming home a day earlier was never a consideration. The latter sounds like a better plan to me next time.

Heading west near the town of Cle Elum, the skies were blue, but in the distance we saw clouds stacked up in the mountains. We also saw cars stacked up on the interstate.

Note the ample blue sky.

After crawling along for 20 miles, we are within a few miles of Snoqualmie Pass. The clouds could be seen intensifying. The traffic seemed to be holding steady.

The blue sky is giving way to clouds.

Eventually we would break out of the traffic as the interstate widens from 2 lanes to 4. Did I mention summers are short here? Some shorter than others, and this year seems to be no exception. Today it’s 64 degrees and the sky contains no fewer than 50 shades of gray.

50 shades of gray

Sorry, that was a shameless attempt to pick up a few thousand hits thanks to the popularity of the books I keep hearing about but have no intentions of reading. I’ll write about our Idaho fly fishing trip later this week. IN the meantime: 50 shades of gray, 50 shades of gray, fifty shades of gray.

Brother, can you spare a brook trout?

July 25, 2012 / Kirk Werner / 13 Comments

When a friend asks an angler to take their 23 year-old nephew from out of town fishing, an angler feels ~~obligated~~ honored to do so. Immediately after committing to said act of selfless generosity, the angler begins to wonder just what they may have gotten themselves into. The angler’s imagination runs rampant, fueled by speculation, curiosity and anxiety. What will said nephew of this friend be like? About all the angler is told is that the nephew is fairly new to fly fishing and would really like to get out and wet a line. The angler ponders what, in this case, “fairly new” means. I can mean one of several things:

Said nephew has fly fished a few times
Said nephew has gripped a fly rod once
Said nephew has watched A River Runs Through It, and wants to do ‘that’

More significant than the experience level is the type of person said nephew turns out to be. The angler wonders at the nearly countless possibilities, and speculation is vast:

Said nephew is painfully quiet and socially awkward, making conversation difficult
Said nephew is an ill-mannered punk, representative of the worst that the generation of entitlement has to offer
Said nephew is horribly offended by the occasional colorful expletive
Said nephew doesn’t drink beer

While en route to the rendezvous point to meet said nephew, the angler is deep in wonder; thoughts dominated by one: What the hell did I get myself into?

If appearances alone are any indication, my anxiety was immediately reduced. Said nephew, whose name shall be “Dan” from here on out, appeared to be quite normal looking. No piercings or visible crazy tattoos. No that there’s anything wrong with tattoos–I mean, heck, all the kids are doing it, right? His social skills were above normal without coming on too strong. A good firm handshake and eye contact. Someone had raised this young man properly.

We loaded his gear into the back of the Fish Taco and made our way east on I-90 toward our destination. We didn’t have a long drive so awkward silences wouldn’t be intolerable. However, the conversation came easily. It also came with some very interesting discoveries. Turns out we shared a common bond: we ~~were~~ are both Eagle Scouts. I’ve met only a small handful of Eagle Scouts over the years; not surprising given that the achievement takes a lot of hard work and dedication (not many teenagers are interested in that). I’ve never met an Eagle Scout I didn’t like (not sure that they’ve been able to say the same about me).

The conversation moved naturally from one topic to another and as it did so it revealed that Dan and I also brothers. Not in the familial sense, but fraternally. He attended Oklahoma State University recently while I attended Washington State University not so recently. During our years at respective state universities, we were both members of the same fraternity: Sigma Nu. From that point forward we were like old college buddies. Sort of. A generation gap did divide our college experiences, but we had a bond.

Auntie Em–we’re not in Oklahoma anymore.

We fished an easily-accessed section of the South Fork Snoqualmie River that lies within full view, and earshot, of I-90. While perhaps not quite the back-country fishing experience Dan may have hoped for, it was a delightful afternoon to be doing something other than work, or mowing the lawn. My favorite nearby rivers are still running high due to La Niña’s ferocity this past winter/spring. The high flows are good for the fish, bad for the impatient angler. The South Fork levels were looking pretty favorable. I warned Dan that we would not be stalking trophy trout.

I armed Dan with my Sage Launch 4 weight, and we began with some casting instruction. Dan had done a little stick waving prior to our outing, but not much. I explained the basics of waiting for the rod to load, about presenting the fly, mending to get a drag-free drift, yadda, yadda, yadda. I explained about current seams and what to look for. Fish the foam! After a while of me hovering, the best thing for me to do was leave him alone so he could relax and get the hang of it. He did.

First bend in the rod.

After a few missed opportunities Dan eventually set the hook on a fish: a 5 inch brook trout. I’ve yet to catch a brook trout, and ~~cursed him~~ congratulated him on his accomplishment. A few more missed hooksets followed before he landed a little more respectable fish: an 8 inch brook trout. ~~Sonofabitch~~ Good for him! I hadn’t caught anything yet, but in my defense I wasn’t really trying.

First trout on the fly…a brookie.

On an Adams.

Interstate 90 is just barely visible in the background.

We worked our way upstream, careful not to bump our heads on the I-90 overpass. We fished more trouty-looking water as I intensely went about my quest for my first brook trout. Dan caught another. Finally I hooked up with a fish: an 8 inch rainbow. Damnit. To show my angling prowess, I asked if Dan would like to see a wild rainbow trout. He was impressed (or so he pretended to be).

We wrapped up the day with a beer on the tailgate of the Fish Taco before heading into North Bend for a bite to eat (I “pulled chapter number” on him and made him buy my dinner). In the end we had a rather enjoyable day (at least I did). Dan learned a good bit about fly fishing for (brook) trout, made strides to improve his casting, and showed every indication that he is well on his way toward becoming an accomplished angler. The same cannot be said about me.

Unaccomplished.

I am a Master Bug Chucker

July 18, 2012 / Kirk Werner / 18 Comments

I’m usually pretty humble, out of necessity. After all, one does not title their blog “The Unaccomplished Angler” if they plan to boast of their keen angling prowess, that’s for sure. However, I recently achieved an honor that I must brag blatantly about: I am a Master Bug Chucker.

It’s true, and I have the award, signed by Lefty Crayfish, to show for it:

No, I am not perfect, and there is always room for improvement. But I’m pretty proud of my achievement to date. I vow to not grow complacent in my mastery; I’ll keep at it, chuckin’ bugs in quest of a flawless score and avoiding the skunk.

If you have an iPad, you’ll soon be able to test your skills as well. Stay tuned.

Coming soon to an App Store near you.

Exhibit A (edited with insert to show closeup of fly fishing hat)

Somethin’s fishy in AdPharmville

June 27, 2012 / Kirk Werner / 81 Comments

I was staring blankly at the TV the other night when something caught my attention: a commercial. Specifically, a commercial for Symbicort. Symbicort is a drug. No, not a drug for erectile dysfunction (I had to defuse that before the peanut gallery chimed in). Here, according to Wikipedia, is the definition of the drug:

Budesonide/formoterol is a combination formulation containing budesonide and formoterol used in the management of asthma and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) in the EU. It is marketed by AstraZeneca under the trade name Symbicort.

Now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s look at the ad in question, which is posted on a site called AdPharm.net.

(I’ll pause while you watch the video, HERE)

Now that you’ve seen the commercial, I’m sure you noticed that something’s amiss. Let’s examine more closely, shall we?

Exhibit A (insert added to show closeup of fly fishing hat)

1. (Exhibit A) The main character is clearly a fly fisherman, as evidenced by his vest and lucky fishing hat which is covered with fishing flies. Nothing wrong with that.

Exhibit B

2. (Exhibit B) To further convince the viewer that the main character is clearly a fly fisherman, we even see a couple rods with fly reels mounted. We know without a shadow of doubt that those are fly reels, spooled with yellow fly line. However, something’s not quite right here, but the commercial moved too quickly for me to put my finger on it right away.

Exhibit C

3. (Exhibit C) A close-up of a fly reel eased my trepidation momentarily. I did wonder why the reel was spinning so fast when the rods weren’t even strung up yet, but I chalked it up to dynamic cinematic effect. I was willing to overlook that creative liberty, but from here on out things began to go awry rather quickly. Look at the grip on the green rod in this screen capture. Where is the telltale foreward grip of the fly rod that you know? But that’s only a problem I noticed with the one rod….

Exhibit D.1

Exhibit D.2

4. (Exhibits D.1 and D.2) Just as I suspected earlier on (Exhibit B), the other rod looked a bit out of place. Like the green rod in Exhibit C, this rod is also missing the telltale, long fore-grip of a fly rod. But check out the lower grip section on this rod: that’s more than a fighting butt on a typical fly fishing rod. Hell, it’s more than the underhand grip on any Spey rod I’ve ever seen! Could it be…perhaps, a saltwater big game rod? I’ve used salmon rods like that. Seems a bit overkill for the skinny stream we see in the background of Exhibit D.2. At this point I’m also noting that the vest he’s wearing is not a fly fishing vest–it’s more like something one would purchase for an overland safari. This isn’t going so well for Symbicort…

Exhibit E

5. (Exhibit E) And what of that first line guide you see there on the rod? Does that look like a standard stripping guide to you? Hardly. In fact, it looks like definitely the bottom guide on a gear rod…and yet there’s evidence of the fly line, so once again I began to doubt myself…

I began to think that maybe it’s some sort of specialized fly rod, the likes of which I’ve simply never seen. After all, I am no expert nor do I claim on any given day to be one. I mean, who is the Unaccomplished Angler to assume a position of authority anyway, right?

But then came the final straw…

Exhibit F.1

Exhibit F.2

6. (Exhibits F.1 and F.2) They’re using bobbers. No, not nymphing with Thingamabobbers, but lobbing actual bobbers as would one lob a bobber with a spin casting setup. Only they’re using fly reels and fly line. And at least one salmon gear rod.

Exhibit G

Thankfully they released the fish, assuming it was a wild trout (Exhibit G). And you have to respect the wholesome background message in commercial: getting out for some quality time with the family, passing down traditions from one generation to the next, and seeing the thrill in a youngster when they catch their first fish. That’s all good and righteous stuff.

I don’t mean to poke fun at the product, which undoubtedly helps many ~~fly~~ fishermen like the one in the commercial enjoy time with their families. But I would like to go on record as suggesting that the agency, who produced the ad, hire a consultant the next time they want to shoot a fly fishing-themed commercial. I am an expert and I’m available for a very reasonable fee. And clearly I have time available.

You may contact me at: unaccomplishedangler (at) gmail (dot) com.

Things change, fast

June 22, 2012 / Kirk Werner / 2 Comments

The Yellowstone Park Foundation recently posted this message on their Facebook page:

It seems like just yesterday the whole park was blanketed in snow, but now fire danger has been labeled HIGH due to warm temps, low humidity, and high winds. Please take all measures to prevent fires!

While perhaps not yesterday, it was less than a month ago that the Firehole Rangers were on our annual pilgrimage to the park, and as you know from a post-trip post, conditions were very different for us than they apparently are now. Let’s hope that things cool off a bit and the fire danger lessens. The park doesn’t need another fire.

Because I’m hundreds of miles away, there’s little I can do to prevent fires in Yellowstone. However, I feel compelled to do what I can, so I am officially sending cold, wet thoughts that way. Maybe these photos, which I have not previously posted, will help cool things off a bit.

Rookie Ranger checks in at the Ho Hum. Gag Reflex? Check.

After a breakfast of champions, we would enter the park.

Recently parolled from Alcatraz, Goosemeister is ready to fish.

Firehole Rangers, ready to ride.

Snowshoes would have come in handy.

The Goose ponders another bad knot.

31 degrees. A lovely Spring morning on the Firehole.

The Goose with a very nice Firehole Brown.

Closeup of Goosemeister’s hawg brown.

The snow took a break, just in time for our lunch break.

After lunch it got downright pleasant.

But then it would rain. Hard.

The next day was even colder, and windy. Goose and Jimmy prepare to “spoon” during a horizontal snow storm.

So–Yellowstone, if you’re listening–let this serve as a reminder of your recent past. Don’t get all hot and bothered so soon. Cool off. Remember what you were like less than a month ago. Chill.

Please.

(P.S.- there’s something wrong with WordPress right now. Photo captions are not displaying correctly so please accept my apology until I am able to remedy the issue)

Costa Double Haul sunglasses: a review

June 21, 2012 / Kirk Werner / 6 Comments

I can hear the voices now, ringing out in contempt:

“What? Another sunglasses review? Didn’t you just do one?”

“Unaccomplished Angler has sold out to the MAN!”

“UA is on the corporate dole. Occupy UA!”

Tough crowd, but let me explain. Yes—I did in fact review a pair of Revo sunglasses not too long ago: HERE. I admit, it’s a little awkward to review another similar product, but the way I see it everyone is a winner: I get a complimentary product in exchange for a review, and my readers get an unbiased review to help them make sound decisions when considering a pair of sunglasses. Translation: I get some sweet sunglasses and you get nothing.

The Costa Double Haul glasses come with the 580 lenses, which Costa describes as “Beyond Polarization”. I’m not sure that you can actually go beyond polarization, but the point is well-taken. These lenses are high-quality, 100% polarized, and provide 100% UV protection. According to the marketing folks at Costa, what sets their product apart is “the clarity found in our lenses, they simply outperform the competition. Put on a pair of Costa 580G (LightWAVE Glass) or 580P (Coated Polycarbonate) lenses and you’re looking through patented technologies and the highest quality materials around that create the clearest sunglass lenses on the planet.” Of course, you can’t trust everything you read so the best thing is to see for yourself.

When shopping for sunglasses in the past, I have always required that I be able to try them on for fit. That wasn’t possible, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. When asked some specific questions by the folks at Costa I replied that I have a regulation sized head, prefer a full-coverage frame, and mainly fish rivers under all light conditions. Based on my answers I was sent the Double Hauls with the 580G lenses in “Copper”. I will say that these lenses are very lightweight, such that I had to tap the lens with my tooth to make sure they were in fact glass. The telltale sound confirmed it.

The Double Hauls are intended with fly fishing in mind, as evidenced by the name. Even if you can’t execute a good double haul, you know what it is, right? I’m ashamed to admit that I have not had the opportunity to go fishing since receiving the Costas, but I have given them the extended comfort test and they have passed with flying colors (for me, comfort is paramount when it comes to sunglasses). There’s rubberized, non-slip padding where one’s nose and ears contact the frames: comfortable without creating pressure points after hours of wear. And due to the light weight of the glasses, I can honestly say that I’ve forgotten I was wearing them. That’s a good thing until you tip your head back to administer some Visine Anti-Allergy drops. It is the allergy season, afterall.

The frames are large and wrap nicely to keep unwanted light and glare out of the eyes. The full coverage will also come in handy when protecting the eyes from poorly cast flies (either your own or your buddy’s). The Copper lens is easy on the eyes during most light conditions. Certainly come dusk they will be a bit dark, but then again nothing but a clear lens is of much use at that time of the evening. Until I get to go fishing in a week, I’ve been wearing them as my daily sunglasses and the lens is excellent for all terrestrial activity. I believe my vision may be better with the Costas simply because my eyes are more relaxed during high glare situations, such as looking at a white garage door in full sun.

With and without the Copper lens

The glasses come with a semi-rigid case but no other accessories. Costa does make “leashes” which you can probably acquire without much trouble. I got mine at the Fly Fishing Film Tour, which Costa sponsors.

The Costa Double Hauls get my nod of approval. The frames are comfortable, the lenses very good and appropriate for my use, even if just for daily wear between fishing opportunities. Costa is a Florida-based company, although the glasses are made in Taiwan. That’s not a deal breaker unless you refuse to buy anything not made in the USA. The quality appears top notch, which you should expect when the glasses come with a $249 price tag.