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Jackasses and Humpies

September 14, 2011 / Kirk Werner / 4 Comments

If I’m going to get up at 4:30 AM to go fishing, it had better be to either catch something, or go steelhead fishing (those two are mutually exclusive). On this day it was to harvest some Humpback salmon, or as they are more commonly called, Humpies. There were an estimated 6 million of these fish returning to Puget Sound rivers this year, and I aimed to catch several, and bring home a couple for the smoker. I was in fact so confident that I bragged to Mrs. UA that I’d be bringing home some fish. She always delights in this novel concept, given that 99% of the time I release all the fish I catch (and a good portion of those are released at a long distance).

Honestly, the wiser I get the less appeal rising at 4:30 has, no matter what I’m doing. But when a youthful, enthusiastic friend continually ~~hounds~~ invites you to join him for a morning of catching Humpies, the ~~best way to get him to stop bugging you~~ only sensible thing to do is to oblige. And so it was that I rolled into the parking lot at 5:30, did my best to cheerfully greet Evahn (not his real name) and gear up. Under the cloak of darkness we marched down the trail, over some fallen trees, and after a relatively short hike ended up on the banks of the Snohomish River near the Donkey Hole (more on that later).

This section of the river is close enough to Puget Sound to be influenced by tidal activity, although the water does not taste of salt. Being only a few miles from the sound, there’s good reason why people come here to catch Humpies: they’re still bright and fresh. Allowing them to migrate further upstream means the fish become more tightlipped and darkly colored as they prepare to spawn.

A dime bright Humpy

Humpies run every other year in these parts (actually there are fish in the rivers each fall, but there’s only a large enough run to warrant a legal season every other year). I fished last for them in October of 2009, many miles further upstream from the Donkey Hole. As one would expect, the fish I caught were not dime bright, though they did not appear overly uncooperative either, given that I caught several.

A not dime bright Humpy

The origin of the name, Donkey Hole, revealed itself shortly after we began fishing at 6 AM. I should state that it had nothing to do with the other gentleman who joined us later in the morning–a friend of Evahn’s who bears more than a passing resemblance to Warren Haynes of Gov’t Mule (a mule is the hybrid offspring of a horse and a donkey in case you were wondering where I was going with this).

Not Gov't Donkey

But I digress. The quiet tranquility of the morning was shattered by a sound that was more haunting than the blood-curdling call of a heron in flight. It might best be described as a shrill nasal whistle followed by a great exhalation sounding remotely like a raspy foghorn, albeit somewhat higher in pitch. If you’ve ever heard a jackass braying then you know this sound. “Guess you know why it’s called the Donkey Hole, eh?” said Evahn. The jackasses on the farm across the river kept at their racket in short bursts throughout the morning. I actually rather enjoyed the braying–it interrupted the jubilant celebrations of the many gear anglers in boats who were regularly hooking up with fish.

I had one fish on within the first hour, but it came unbuttoned. No worries, I told myself. There were dozens upon dozens of fish jumping and rolling on the mirror-like surface of the water and the day was young. It was far too early to count my unaccomplishments just yet. Evahn admitted that it was much slower than it had been just a couple of days earlier when he’d hooked and landed over 20 fish (allegedly). The day wasn’t going perhaps as well as either of us had expected, but in many ways it was going better for me than for Evahn. At least I’d remembered my wallet, all my flies and all sections of my rods. But that’s where my good fortune stopped, and Evahn’s began.

I had two more nibbles but no takes. I did get close enough to touch fish, however, as Evahn landed a few fish throughout the morning. One of his fish waited until we’d both crouched closely with our cameras before flopping violently on the beach and splattering our faces with wet sand.

Evahn with a Humpy

Humpies, also known as Pink salmon, are the smallest of the salmon species, and the pink designation refers not to their coloration because unlike Red (Sockeye) Salmon, which are red, Pink (Humpback) Salmon are not pink. I guess it refers to the fact that they eat pink stuff and it’s widely accepted that any pink fly will entice a strike. That’s always worked for me, but on this day nothing I tried seemed to work.

Examples of three pink flies that did not work.

Evahn found the secret weapon late in the morning and it was neither pink, nor a fly (per se). I will not divulge what that secret weapon was for two reasons: First, I dare not give away the secret; secondly, I wish not to bring shame upon Evahn. Like me, he is a puritan fly angler who would never nymph for steelhead or use a pink Dick Nite to catch Humpies. Suffice it to say, once he had it dialed in, Evahn was on fire and landed probably 5 fish in the last half hour. Well done, sir–here’s mud in your eye.

Evahn, the Accomplished Angler

We called it quits at around noon and hiked back to the parking lot. As we did so, one of us had his tail between his legs and later felt like a jackass when he got home and had to tell his wife that he had failed to bring home one of 6 million fish or supper. By the way, Evahn works for Allen Fly Fishing. They design some nice rods and reels, all field-tested by an accomplished angler.

A different September 11

September 10, 2011 / Kirk Werner / 12 Comments

We all know the significance of 9-11. How could we forget that horrific Tuesday ten years ago that forever changed the world? We won’t forget. We shouldn’t forget, ever.

Living on the West Coast, the news came early. My kids were 7 and 9. They weren’t awake yet. I was just getting ready to head out the door to work when the phone rang. The Caller ID indicated it was my in-laws. “Strange,” I thought, “Why would they be calling this early?” I picked up the phone and on the other end was my father-in-law. He never called. It was always the mother of Mrs. UA who did the calling. There was no warm greeting as I would have expected, and the tone in my father-in-law’s voice had a ring of distress to it:

“Are you watching the news?” he asked.

My answer was no.

“Turn on the television,” he said. Then he hung up.

I was late to work that day. When I arrived, not much work got done. Before the day was done, the skies were empty of air traffic. It caused an eery silence that I can still hear today.

For my dad, it was a lousy way to celebrate his 70th birthday. We had planned a big party for him a few days later, and while the plans were not canceled, the dark cloud of 9-11-2001 loomed over the festivities. Every year since then, my dad’s birthday is shrouded by the anniversary of the date that war was waged on American soil by an enemy without a country.

Without taking anything away from the fallen heros who gave their lives on that infamous day and to those who have died every day since then as the battle has continued, I want to note that there is another September 11…a day that had special significance long before 9-11. A day that, even with the unfortunate association, is a day worth celebrating.

Happy 80th, Dad. And God bless America.

The honorable William Dewey (damn him anyway)

Good Will Fishing, Day One

September 6, 2011 / Kirk Werner / 8 Comments

The honorable William Dewey (damn him anyway)

We pick up where we left off last week…

As we bounced along the lengthy dirt road to our launch point we were mildly reminded of the festivities the night before, which is to say that I was glad we didn’t stay up any later than we did. Day One of the “friendly competition” had Team Olive fishing the canyon section known as #3: Cottonwood to Byington. And with guide Will Dewey of Worldcast Anglers responsible for the oars and for keeping an honest record of the fish we caught, we had our work cut out for us. To clarify, I do not mean to suggest that Will was incapable of doing his job, which was to navigate the river safely and put us on fish—he proved worthy of that. But he also proved to be a man of integrity, and we were incapable of buying a little “leeway” when sizing our fish and totaling the overall catch. Turns out he ~~was~~ is an Eagle Scout, as ~~was~~ am I, but he’s much younger and the oath we each took as Scouts remains a lot fresher in his mind than in mine.

We had about 12 river miles to cover on this first day, and though we were on the water by around 9 AM, we were not alone. As one might imagine with 22 teams spread out over 4 sections of river, there would be company (albeit good company) and it would be difficult to fish untouched water. I was glad to be stationed in the back of the boat where there’s no pressure to perform, whereas Marck occupied the cat bird seat up front where he would earn his keep (and redeem himself from the ass-kicking he took on the Bitterroot two days earlier). I started out the day with a hopper and a dropper while Marck worked the surface with two dries: something big and something small.

Marck scores one for Team Olive

Throughout the day we would hear lots of grasshoppers in the grass, but hopper patterns didn’t rise any fish. Most surface takes were on PMD patterns, and we saw a few of the creme-colored mayflies coming off at times throughout the day, but nothing that would amount to a hatch. The South Fork has a very good number of both trout and Whitefish per mile, and when you’re nymphing you’re going to catch big trout and lots of Whitefish. Or at least the latter, in my experience. In my defense, these were all fair hooked: in the mouth. And they were some of the biggest Whities I’ve ever caught…photo-worthy Whities, they were. We didn’t get a lot of photos of fish (trout or otherwise) on the first day, which might partially be due to the fact that we didn’t catch many photo-worthy trout (since when is a 16 inch trout not worth a photo?!). Will is obviously accustomed to much larger trout, and an auto focus cameras proved too slow to capture a photo before most were tossed back.

Hey, that was a "Yakima 18"—I wanted a photo!

Late in the afternoon we were working a small back eddy when Marck’s rod bent like the front bumper of the Fish Taco hitting a deer. There were no ensuing head shakes or spunky little attempts to slip the hook. This fish just put its head down and stayed put. And then it tangled itself up on some sunken branches. And the broken end of Marck’s 5X tippet returned to the boat. It would have been nice to have gotten a look at whatever leviathan had just stolen more of Will’s flies. My bet was that it was a huge brown, although we’ll forever be left to wonder. Either upset by the loss of yet more flies or the fact that this fish might have won the tournament for Team Olive (and therefore secured a place in the Casting 4 A Cure Guide Hall of Fame for Will), our guide was clearly upset. He may have shed a tear, or he may in fact have had something in his eye, as he alleged.

Will has something in his eye, and a gesture for Marck.

We fished out the remainder of the day without any remarkable fish to note, although I’d like to reiterate that a 16 inch trout is gangbusters from where Team Olive hails. And 16 inch trout are what we posted as our 4 biggest fish of the day: 3 cutts and one rainbow. We caught a total of 21 trout, which wasn’t too shabby considering we weren’t really there just to catch fish.

That evening back at the Teton Lodge we talked shop with the other anglers. Interestingly everyone seemed to gather near the scoreboard where we they casually glanced, pretending not to care, as totals for the day were entered into the columns. Neither Marck nor I hardly noticed as the results of Day One were totaled up and one of the teams posted unbelievable numbers: 57 total trout caught?! Riiiight, I’m just so sure, Team Sage/Rio 😉

Not every guide was an Eagle Scout, apparently.

We feasted on a an exceptional Mexican buffet for dinner, followed by a few more cold beers from The Cooler That Was Never Empty before turning in at the shamefully early hour of 10PM. Some of the ~~heartier~~ younger folks stayed up into the wee hours, but Team Olive needed to make sure we brought our A Game in the morning. There were bigger fish to catch than just 16 inch fingerlings.

Jump straight to Day Two by clicking here.

The Road to Victor

September 1, 2011 / Kirk Werner / 14 Comments

Note to self: next time when driving from Hamilton (MT) to Victor (ID), choose an alternate route rather than taking Hwy 93 all the way south through Salmon, Leodore and Mud Lake, ID. With all due respect to the town of Salmon, this neck of the woods may be a notch better than say, eastern Nevada, but there’s nothing much to see south of Salmon. Next time we’ll take 43 east to Wisdom, MT and then 278 to Interstate 15 instead of staying on Hwy 93. It may be a little longer but I’m sure it’s worth the extra mileage. Our route took us through barren, high desert and then endless miles of ag land until we began to see the Tetons in the distance around Rexburg.

Nowhere, Idaho

As we approached Driggs the mountains came into full view. Given that I’d never seen the Tetons before, I was gawking like a common tourist instead of a glancing casually at them like a swaggering, confident angler who had just kicked Marck’s ass on the Bitterroot the day before. I figured we’d be staring at the Tetons all weekend, but luckily I shot one marginal photo as we drove past Driggs. As it turns out, that was the last time we’d see the range all weekend—Victor is to the South and tucked behind some foothills which obstructed our view. Not to worry, the scenery around Victor is still exceptional so I’m not complaining. After all, we weren’t there to sight-see.

Near Driggs, Idaho

After a 5.5 hour drive we pulled into Victor right around 4:30. The first order of business was to stop at World Cast Anglers where we picked up our Idaho licenses and a few other items. We had a coupon for a nice discount thanks to the shop’s partnership with Casting 4 A Cure. While at the shop I also picked up a sticker for the back of the Fish Taco. This news greatly pleased Mrs. UA when I sent her a text to let her know we’d arrived safely before darkness brought out the many roadside large game animals in Idaho.

Yes, Dear, I got another sticker

The Teton Springs Lodge is a far cry from the Ho Mum Motel in West Yellowstone, and therefore Marck and I were somewhat uncomfortable in the lavish surroundings. We met Jim Copeland with Casting 4 A Cure, checked-in and received a very nice offering of assorted schwag from sponsors Patagonia, Sage, Scott, Fishpond, Fly Fishing Film Tour, Howling Brothers, Loon Outdoors, Rio, Big Agnes and others. Jim pointed to a cooler brimming with ice cold PBR and Coors Light, and we felt right at home.

Casting 4 A Cure

We were, after all, parched from the long drive so we may have partaken of more than one beer as we acclimated ourselves and inspected the scoreboard that would tally the angling accomplishments over the next two days. The board was obviously wide open as fishing had not yet commenced. Anything could happen. There were some impressive anglers in town for the event, and while we may have been out of our league we weren’t intimidated. At least Marck wasn’t. He’s a rock, albeit a rock that had his arse handed to him the day before (did I mention that already?).

Team Olive is on the board!

Auntie Em! We're not at the Ho Hum anymore!

After depositing our bags and gear in our entirely-too-fancy-for-the-likes-of-us suite, we enjoyed mingling with the other guests and feasting on a fantastic dinner of grilled ribeye steaks. A welcome from director Bill Farnum left nary a dry eye in the room as we listened to his experiences raising his daughter Ella, who has Rett Syndrome. Special guest Ed Kammerer also told the group about his daughter who has Rett Syndrome, and like I said–there wasn’t a dry eye to be found. Bryan Huskey of Fishbite Media showed an inspirational film he produced titled, Doc of The Drakes, about a gentleman fighting and fishing his battle against Parkinson’s. While the evening was heart-wrenching for sure, I didn’t leave feeling depressed, but rather filled with hope and the realization that a cure for Rett Syndrome is in sight and could lead to progress in curing other, related neurological disorders. It was a good reminder why we were in Victor.

More cold beer was enjoyed from The Cooler That Was Never Empty and we spent the remainder of the evening telling half truths around the fire pit. We probably stayed up later than we should have, but we were still in bed by 1 AM. That may not be very impressive if you’re 25, but we’re well past the age where howling at the moon can be balanced with an early morning alarm.

Waiting to begin our morning commute

At 7 o’clock the next morning the guests assembled, ~~bright-eyed,~~ eager to go fishing as an army of trucks with drift boats arrived at the lodge. Each team met their guides from World Cast Anglers and learned which section of the South Fork we would be fishing. The guide for Team Olive was a young man by the name of Will Dewey, originally from Pennsylvania. Marck and I piled into Will’s rig and ate a light breakfast on our way to the river. We would be floating section 3, in the canyon, and had about an hour’s drive to our launch point. The fun was about to begin. Well, that’s not entirely true because we’d already had a great time. But it was about to get even better.

Bittersweet Montana

August 30, 2011 / Kirk Werner / 20 Comments

Montana Night Driving

Marck and I departed his home in North Bend, WA at just after 3pm and headed east on I-90 toward our destination of Hamilton, MT. Along the way we stopped in Kellogg, ID for a massive hamburger and fries, which seemed like a good idea at the time. Within 15 minutes it became apparent that perhaps a green salad may have been a better choice and thus we did drive into the night, windows down. Montana welcomed us with 40 miles of road construction which slowed our progress a bit. That progress would be further delayed about 20 miles west of Missoula at 10:30 PM. Anyone who has driven through Montana knows that there are game animals aplenty on either side of the road, and often in between either side of the road. It’s here that they show themselves mainly at night.

Seconds before impact the deer wore a certain expression, and so did I. Fortunately we weren’t going the posted speed limit and it wasn’t a large deer. The damage to the front passenger corner of the Fish Taco, which we examined after pulling over to the safety of the center meridian, wasn’t horrendous: we lost a turn signal and rearranged the bumper and some sheet metal, but the headlights were in tact and the tire was still round. Fortunately we were able to use a cargo strap to secure a piece of flapping plastic and Marck was able to put his 250 lbs to good use and bend the bumper just enough that we could continue our journey. The unmistakable smell of deer feces hung in the warm air of the evening as we limped down the road toward Missoula, a fair amount of tying material stuck to the front end of the truck. If only we’d hit a decorative chicken instead–the damage would have been less, and grizzly hackle is worth more than deer hair.

Any significant bump in the road resulted in cringe-worthy scraping of metal on tire, and it just so happened that there was about 20 miles of ~~major~~ massive road construction between Stevensville and Hamilton, the results of which were countless significant bumps in the road. Amazingly we arrived without having to change a flat tire at 12:30 A.M. The next morning we stopped by Wimp’s Body Works where a helpful gentleman with a slide hammer was able to increase the clearance between the tire and a certain bolt that threatened to make our trip less enjoyable.

Bitterroot River Fly Fishing

After seeing to it that that the Fish Taco could once again drive in more than a straight line without scraping metal on rubber, we headed down the road to the River Otter Fly Shop in Florence where we met our guide, Jay Dixon. Jay lives off the grid (literally) high in the hills above the Bitterroot Valley in a solar-powered home that he shares with his wife and two young boys. Owner of Dixon Adventures, Jay is passionate about getting kids out on the water and that’s how we met initially: I had contacted Jay about adding his outfitter business to the Kid Friendly Guides page on Take Kids Fly Fishing. From there we struck up a conversation and I knew right away that I needed to fish with Jay, so Marck and I decided to book a Bitterroot float on our way to Idaho to participate in the Casting 4 A Cure event in Victor on August 26th and 27th. And so it was that we came to be fishing the Bitterroot on August 24th.

We put in near Florence and proceeded downstream toward our take out near Lolo. The day was headed well above 90 degrees and after record high flows earlier in the season, the Bitterroot was running about 700 cfs (about normal for this time of year). Other western Montana Rivers were still running higher than normal, but the Bitterroot Valley is heavily populated (relatively speaking), and irrigation demands are high for the alfalfa and hay that grow in the surrounding fields. There was concern, on Jay’s part, that the fishing would be slow as the water temperature pushed just past 70 degrees. The lower river doesn’t have much gradient and with long stretches of flat water it’s easy to see how the water temps can get too warm for fishing to be good for either the fish or the fishermen. Our bodies retained every ounce of fluid that we pumped into them all day long. Well, nearly every ounce.

When Lewis and Clark passed through the Bitterroot Valley in 1805 they wrote of a certain plant that would eventually become the state flower of Montana. The roots of this plant, when consumed without cooking, left a bitter taste in their mouths and thus the plant was named accordingly. Marck may have had a similar taste in his mouth after the Unaccomplished Angler struck first and pulled to a 3-0 lead over the superior fisherman.

Jay Dixon with an Unaccomplished Bitterroot rainbow

Unaccomplished Bitterroot 19" Cutt-Bow

Unaccomplished Bitterroot Cutt

If the taste in Marck’s mouth was bitter, at least it was not the taste of skunk–I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, particularly someone with whom I would be spending the next several days. He pulled out of his funk with a nice cutthroat, and ended up with 4 good fish on the day: 3 cutts and a rainbow. I finished out the day with a cutt-bow, a brown, a cutthroat, and 3 rainbows. That’s 6 fish for the Unaccomplished Angler and 4 fish for Marck, although it was not a competition and nobody was counting. Despite concerns over the water temps, the fish were all very healthy, fought hard and were in great shape when released.

Marck's first fish of the day: a beautiful Bitterroot Cutt

Marck's nice Bitterroot rainbow

Actually, Jay may have been counting (he’s one of those freaks who is actually good a math) and he was glad to at least put 10 fish in the catch column. After all, it’s beneficial for a guide to be able to say that his clients had double digits on trout in small water during hot weather. He’s a great guide–perhaps the best I’ve fished with as far as his overall intellect, knowledge of casting and fish fighting (ask him about “corking”), and his Little Johnny jokes. I learned a lot and had an absolutely awesome time, and I think Marck did too, despite the ass kicking he received. According to the measuring tape sticker affixed to Jay’s boat, neither of us were Yanni or even John Denver, but we’ve got a ways to go before we reach Steve McQueen Status.

How Badass Are You?

Luck continued to be on my side after we got off the river, too, because the Sheriff who pulled us over on our way back to Hamilton let me off with a warning. It may have been due to the fact that I have a clean driving record and was very polite, or perhaps because I told him I was simply in a hurry to get back to the hotel before dark because I don’t like driving at night in Montana.

Montana Blue (and red) Light Special

As we prepared to depart Montana for Idaho the next morning, we took with us both good and bad memories. The deer-in-the-headlights encounter, while it could have been avoided had we been going 20 mph, was certainly unfortunate and is going to cost me at least my $500 deductible (which is more than the cost of the great trip we had with Jay). But it could have been much worse (it could have been an elk or moose). And I suppose the fishing could have been better, but any day that I can catch more fish than Marck is a pretty remarkable day.

An Unaccomplished Brown, for the win!

Rugged Eddie Bauer Man

August 23, 2011 / Kirk Werner / 7 Comments

As I pack the last of the things for my trip to Montana and Idaho, hoping that I remember the critical items before getting there, I wanted to leave my 8 loyal followers with one last, worthless post. If for some reason I don’t return, I want to be remembered for having left you all with a blog entry that is so unworthy of your time that it’s not even deserving of a “Weekly Drivel®” designation (and thus is appropriately filed away under the category of “Pointless Wastes of Your Time”). I should probably have deleted this before ever publishing it, but hey–a guy needs traffic for his Google Analytics, right? That, and I like to keep the SPAMMERS employed.

Eddie Bauer, the rugged man

Eddie Bauer wasn’t always just a clothing retailer. Seriously. My first fly rod was made by Eddie Bauer, back in the days when you could actually buy outdoor recreation gear at the one Eddie Bauer store in Seattle. Back in the mid 70’s I had a backpacking tent made by Eddie Bauer, and down jackets and sleeping bags filled with Premium Eddie Bauer Goose Down were the shit–the seriously good stuff (which I never had because I was allergic to down). You see, Eddie Bauer (the man) was an avid outdoorsman, and the company reflected that passion. I won’t go into detail about him here because I don’t know much about him other than what is provided on several websites. Suffice it to say Eddie Bauer was serious about his love of the outdoors: he was an avid hunter and fisherman and it would appear that he was a fly fisherman as well because he sold trout flies and made fly rods. He also sold tennis racquets and badminton shuttlecocks. Hey, he wasn’t perfect – nobody is. At least he didn’t sell golf equipment. While an article int he latest Angling Trade talks about the similarities between golf and fly fishing that provide potential new ventures for the fly fishing industry, I prefer not to recommend hybridization. But I digress.

In the many decades that have passed since Eddie Bauer (the man) sold his company, Eddie Bauer (the company) has wandered farther from its roots and has become synonymous with clothing. While a far cry from the outdoor industry that gave rise to the success of the brand, the company is holding onto the proud, rugged history of Eddie Bauer as evidenced by its ~~summer catalog~~ Summer Resource Book. Gracing the pages inside you’ll find Rugged Eddie Bauer Man. And he is just that: rugged.

Here he can be seen climbing the mast of a sailing vessel, holding on with one hand while he looks down with contempt toward his undisciplined crew. Clearly he is a man of few words, and even less humor.

And why shouldn’t he be? Afterall, there is nothing funny about carrying a large cargo net and a gasoline can, and getting your new shirt covered with grease and grime. It’s serious work. It calls for a serious man. A rugged man.

Here, Rugged Eddie Bauer Man can be seen looking at a thick rope. He appears lost in thought, as if deeply troubled. If he were to speak, one could imagine the few words, “Who the hell tied this knot?”

But lest one should think that Rugged Eddie Bauer Man is all work and no play, we see him here–embarking on a recreational endeavor. His face still wears the stern expresson of a humorless man, but he does seem a bit more relaxed.

But no matter what he’s doing, Rugged Eddie Bauer Man does it with serious conviction. Maybe serious is the only way he can be. And we wouldn’t want it any other way, would we?

We can only assume that like Eddie Bauer, Rugged Eddie Bauer Man is also a fly fisherman. And a seriously good golfer, too.

The rugged Eddie Bauer Man

You have my apologies for this blog entry.

Destination Victor, Idaho

August 22, 2011 / Kirk Werner / 11 Comments

I’m about to embark on a trip, the likes of which I’ve never taken before. It’s been a long time in the making, and as the departure date draws near I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t giddy as git-out. Fishing is part of the trip, a big part of it to be sure. But there’s much more to the trip than fishing.

In May of 2010 I was contacted by a gentleman by the name of Bill Farnum, who is the Executive Director of Casting 4 A Cure. He buttered me up by telling me he enjoyed reading my blog, and then invited me to join his organization for one or both of their two annual fundraisers. I questioned his taste in blogs and told him that unfortunately I wouldn’t be able to make it to either event last year. But I gave Bill my word that I would be at one of them next year (this year).

Casting 4 a Cure is an organization that was started as a means to raise awareness and funding for the International Rett Syndrome Foundation. Rett Syndrome is a neurological disorder affecting almost exclusively young girls. It’s a rare, life-shortening affliction that robs them of their verbal and gross motor skills. Bill’s daughter, Ella, was diagnosed with Rett Syndrome in 2007. After the diagnosis, it became Bill and his wife Beth’s mission to help find a cure. By combining Bill’s passions for fly fishing and fund raising, Casting 4 A Cure was founded with the help of Bill’s longtime fishing buddy, Jim Copeland. In the first four years, Casting 4 A Cure has raised over $200,000 for Rett Syndrome research and family support. Funds raised this year will got to 2 different projects: 1) a new clinical trial for a drug that could really help with some of the more excruciating symptoms and 2) funding for a new Rett Syndrome clinic in Denver at Denver Children’s Hospital. This will allow Rocky Mountain families in Colorado, Idaho, Utah etc to access Rett Syndrome specialists for the care and advice they desperately need but is hard to find locally. Casting 4 A Cure holds benefit events each year in Steamboat, CO and Victor, Idaho. The goal is to raise $1M by 2015 and have a cure in hand by 2020. As Bill says, “Lofty goals, but we have the people with the passion to make it happen.”

It’s Victor where I’m headed. The South Fork of the Snake River. Never been there, never done that. I am, to state things mildly, out of my mind with excitement. Yes, the fishing should be good. In fact, there’s a very strong chance that it should be out-of-this-world good because after a summer of raging flows, the river is just dropping into shape. There should be clear water, and big fish including cutthroat, rainbows and browns. Hungry fish. Big, hungry fish. But whether the fishing is good or not, I’m excited to meet Bill and Beth, and Ella. And the many other great folks who are converging on the town of Victor for this great event.

I spent the last year finding creative ways to raise money through auctions, raffles, pledges from friends and family, and from the modest sales of my Olive the Woolly Bugger books, to cover the majority of cost of the entry fee for Team Olive. My team mate and I came up a little short so we scraped together the rest. Had I been smart I’d have sold grizzly hackle to teenage girls and easily been able to sponsor two teams.

There are 24 teams coming to the event, and each team will fish with a guide from World Cast Anglers for two days. I recognize some of the names of the other anglers, and some of them I’ve never heard of. People come from all over the country for this event, and so one thing I am sure of is that they’re a group of accomplished anglers. For obvious reasons I’m going to be out of my league. This is a tournament of sorts and that means competition (albeit of a friendly variety). And that’s exactly why I’ve chosen the team mate I have…someone who is as fishy as they come…a man who can stand trout to trout with the best of them. That’s why the backbone of Team Olive is Marck.

We’re leaving a day early so we can fish the Bitterroot in Montana along the way. The Bitterroot is a river I have long wanted to fish but the opportunity has never presented itself until now. Having passed by Missoula countless times on I-90 with my nose pressed against the car window, staring south into the Bitterroot Valley like a forlorn pup, it’s about time I did something about it. So, this time we’re getting off the interstate and spending a day with guide Jay Dixon, who runs Dixon Adventures. It’ll be a great way to tune up those hook set reflexes and break up the long drive to Victor.

This trip is going to include some great fishing on some beautiful rivers, but the ultimate point isn’t just to catch fish–there’s much more to it than just that. There always is. But this time is special. I encourage you to take a look at the Casting 4 A Cure website–maybe you can be there next year.

Henry David Thoreau said, “Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.” Bill Farnum knows what he’s after, and I feel privileged to join his group for this event, because each cast gets will get us closer to a cure.

Works in progress?

August 20, 2011 / Kirk Werner / 11 Comments

A few weeks ago I posted an entry in which the new Ross ~~Reels~~ logo was discussed. I’m not here to dredge that up again, I promise.

But it’s the time of year when new products are being launched and images rebranded. When I saw the logo for the brand new Sage the One rod I couldn’t help but draw comparisons to the new Ross logo. You don’t have to be a logo designer, though I happen to be one, to note the similarities. See for yourself:

I like Sage, and I like Ross. I have several Sage rods, and several Ross reels. I’m not going to say whether I like or dislike either logo, but I just wanted to point out that they’re each missing something. I’m sure the same designer didn’t do both logos, and I am quite sure the folks at Sage had no idea what the folks at Ross were planning and vice versa, which makes the similarities all the more uncanny.

Even though the Unaccomplished Angler was given a new logo this past year, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe I shouldn’t rethink the design. Maybe the Unaccomplished Angler is missing something, or maybe it’s not and should be?

App Review: Fishing Flies Encyclopedia

August 18, 2011 / Kirk Werner / 7 Comments

One of the many benefits of being a ~~hot shot~~ fly fishing blog keeper is the number of requests to review gear. Unfortunately I’ve never been approached with such numbers of requests, although I do occasionally get an email from someone asking me to review smaller ticket items, such as say, sunscreen. Well, I think I’m making progress in that regard because I recently had an opportunity to review an iPhone app: Fishing Flies Encyclopedia.

The good news is that 6 months ago I crawled out from under my rock, ditched my 6 year old flip phone and got all fancy, which is to say that I do in fact own an iPhone 4 (3G service). However, I am not a power user–I actually put my phone down several times a day and even forget where it is from time to time. Therefore I am not a big app guy (I have a few, but none that I’ve paid for). At $6.99, Fishing Flies Encyclopedia probably isn’t something I’d have gone out on my own and paid for, but I was given a free copy to try out with the understanding that I would post a review. So here goes.

First off, a description of the app says, “Collins Fishing Flies enables the fly-fisher and fly-tyer to select new flies for their local waters, or to select flies when heading off, to far-off rivers, lakes and seas.” I’m not likely to consult this app as a guide for selecting flies I want to use on a specific river, but it is a source of interesting information. Other users may find different ways to benefit from this app.

The first thing I did once I installed the app was jump right to the listing for Woolly Bugger. I’m a stickler for the proper spelling, which includes two “l”s (woolly). If it’s spelled any other way, I tend to lose interest immediately. Fortunately, my interest continued (although I was a bit surprised not to see olive featured as a main color variety).

The title of the app suggests that it is exactly what it is: an encyclopedia of fishing flies. It’s just like what one would expect to find in a set of Encyclopedia Brittanica, if you remember what those were. However, this encyclopedia takes up considerably less room than a full volume of books, and is actually richer in content. According to the description on the website, “there are over 1300 photographed flies, together with tying and fishing notes and an extensive bibliography of fishing flies.” The main menu for the app consists of: Fly Gallery; Fly Encyclopedia; Quiz; The Art of Fly Dressing; Index.

The Fly Gallery contains a list of 41 categories covering every grouping of flies I could imagine (actually more than I could imagine).

The Fly Encyclopedia contains an Introduction to fishing flies, Fly Tying Materials, Parts of a Fly, The Earliest Flies, and 33 categories of flies,

The Quiz is just that. I failed, miserably.

The Art of Fly Dressing is a section that talks about those who tie, why they tie and what they tie.

The Index is a comprehensive, alphabetical listing of of all content, with the ability to search by All, Author, Books, Family and Fly.

The amount of content is impressive. The design and navigation is pleasing and sensible. The work that went into creating this app makes it easy to understand why it’s not free, or 99 cents. I’m not sure if at $6.99 they’ll sell as many copies as they could. It might be better to drop the price and go for volume sales. But for the fly fishing junky who has everything, $6.99 isn’t much to spend on something that you may not need but should probably have just to round out your obsession. After all, nothing about fly fishing is rational. Based on how poorly I did on the Quiz, I should probably spend some time with this app. 2 out of 10 correct–quite an unaccomplishment I’d say.

As for performance of the app, I had no problems. Seems stable. One thing I would like to see added to the app would be the inclusion of the Olive the Woolly Bugger series of books in the Books section of the Index. The Olive books may not be specific to fly tying, but they certainly are a first introduction to fly fishing, and they do contain photographs of actual flies. Maybe the developer will issue a kid version of the app in the future.

Fishing Flies Encyclopedia is available for purchase on iTunes.

Bird’s nests and furled leaders

August 17, 2011 / Kirk Werner / 9 Comments

I’ve bitched plenty about our Pacific Northwest summer weather (or lack thereof) this ~~summer~~ season. No need to beat a dead horse, although one more kick in the ribs won’t hurt. With that said, I’m putting on my steel-toed boots. Let’s begin.

August 11, 2011. It was cloudy and cool with a daytime high headed towards a sweltering 70 degrees in Western WA. Not raining or even drizzly–just not summer weather, thanks to the phenomenon known as the Western Washington Ream Job. To illustrate, I’ve included an action photo sequence. Below, from left to right: I-90 eastbound, 15 miles west of Snoqualmie Pass; I-90 eastbound, 5 miles west of Snoqualmie Pass; I-90 eastbound, 1 mile west of Snoqualmie Pass; I-90 eastbound, 1 mile east of Snoqualmie Pass.

Western Washington Summer Ream Job action sequence

The bottom line is that once we got east of the Cascade crest, it was blue skies and summer weather. ‘We’ consisted of Jimmy and myself. We hadn’t fished together since the annual trip to Yellowstone, and usually we get out at least a couple of times during July. That didn’t happen this Julyuary but finally the time was right. Per usual when fishing the lower canyon, we stopped in at Red’s Fly Shop to arrange for a shuttle and pick up a couple flies (which I didn’t really need, but always buy just to help them pay the bills). Word from behind the counter was that dry fly fishing had been tough recently so we would fish with a hopper and a dropper (Lightning Bug, to be exact).

From our launch site at Big Horn, we had 15.5 river miles to cover with a current running about 4mph. Calculations suggested that if we milked it and delayed whenever possible, back-rowing to slow our pace by one-half, we should be at the Roza take out around 9 pm. This would give us time on the water for the evening caddis hatch as darkness set in. And so off we went under warm, blues skies, a mild breeze and a river devoid of other anglers.

The first surprise of the day came when Jimmy unveiled his newest fishing hat made for him by one of his 4 daughters. It was ~~a beautiful thing~~ something to behold, decorated with nick-knacks from their recent family vacation to Florida.

Florida Fly Fishing Fedora

After the initial shock wore off I eventually forgot that he was wearing the distracting headwear, and I honestly believe Jimmy forgot it was up there too. That is, until a wind-aided cast wrapped his leader around the bird’s nest that resulted in, well, a bird’s nest. After that the hat was replaced with something a bit more practical.

Unparalleled River Fashion

The other (pleasant) surprise of the day came in the form the the furled leader I was using for the first time. My buddy Derek Young, Washington’s only Orvis Endorsed Fly Fishing Guide (and the 2011 Orvis Endorsed Guide of the Year), had raved about the leaders he had recently gotten from Cutthroat Leader Company, and gave me a couple to try. I had, up until Derek’s act of suspicious generosity, resisted the temptation to try furled leaders because I’m cheap. And I had doubts that they would perform significantly better than traditional tapered mono.

While the cost is higher than a standard tapered leader, given the expected life of the furled leaders the price is actually quite attractive, and is about the same as the cost of a 3 pack of traditional trout leaders. But the performance was really impressive with the 76″ Dry Fly furled leader, and even delivered the hopper/dropper combination quite well. Once I removed the dropper later in the day, the furled leader really shone. I’m sold on Cutthroat leaders, thank you very much, Derek. As much as I detest a tandem nymph rig, I am looking forward to trying the Nymphing Leaders the next time the situation calls for it.

It wasn’t long before we got into fish, and throughout the day we had fairly decent action (none of the extended, back-to-back lulls so common to the Yakima River). I fished first while Jimmy rowed, then we switched. This repeated itself throughout the day, and we each caught enough fish to keep it interesting. All the fish were taken on the top fly, so after a couple of hours we ditched the droppers. This also simplified things when tossing flies tight to the bank, which is where all but a couple fish were. With temps in the mid 80’s it was comfortable for us but too warm for much insect activity. A well-placed hopper or golden stone dry would produce strikes, and plenty of strikes came from 10-12 inch fish throughout the day. Jimmy had a couple nice fish slam his fly, but given reflexes akin to a reptile on a January day, he missed a couple hook sets and then lost one very nice fish (most likely a steelhead…). I managed 6-8 smaller fish, but the 15 incher (what I call “A Yakima 18”) was the best fish I’ve pulled from this river in at least 2 years. It felt good, but I know I’m in for another 2 year drought so the accomplishment was bittersweet.

Manly net

Strangely, this was the second time in as many visits to the Yakima that the boat I was in has had fairly steady catch action: a trip from a month ago was just about as productive. I’m sure as hell not suggesting that I’ve developed a case of Yakima Mojo or anything like that. I’m just not quite used to catching fish on the Yakima.

As we swapped positions and emptied the cooler as the day wore on, we watched the position of the sun and by means of dead reckoning that would have made Lewis and Clark proud, we paused where we could to let the sun drop behind the canyon walls, anticipating that the onset of evening would bring out the caddis flies. And the rising trout. It’s that last hour before the sun drops behind the steep canyon walls that the Yakima Canyon is at it’s finest aesthetic glory.

As day gave way to evening, we enjoyed a beautiful purple sunset followed by what was destined to become a full moon, although the moon was slower to rise than the trout. Had the moon been directly overhead we’d have been able to see quite well. As it was, darkness fell quickly upon the river and at 9pm we were still a couple of miles from our take out, floating in nearly complete darkeness. There were bugs in the air, which I knew because they flew into my nose and mouth. Trout did rise, because we could hear them doing so. But each cast was a shot in the dark, and any hooksets, had there been any, would have been instinctual (in other words, missed). I had tied on my last size 16 caddis with the aid of reading glasses, and barely managed that feat. Had I snapped off that last fly, it would have been game over. Lights out. And by 9:30 when we pulled the boat from the water, it was.

We returned home to the cloudy side of the mountains just before midnight. Jimmy dropped me off at the local Safeway parking lot where I had left The Fish Taco that morning. As Jimmy drove off into the night it suddenly dawned on me that the next day was the 22nd anniversary of the wedding between Mrs. UA and myself. Luckily Safeway was still open, so I paid a quick visit for a bouquet of flowers and an anniversary card. As it turns out, Mrs. UA got me the same card. I guess we deserve each other.