NOW OPEN: the Buster Wants To Fish store at Zazzle.com! W00T! Let the world know what you want, or failing that, at least let em wonder.

Ever since we built this monkey house we’ve wanted to offer Buster shirts, but the conversation always seemed to wander off into the bushes. Doing it ourselves was a cool thought, but there’s a cash outlay to consider and then handling, etc, all of which gets in the way of fishing, dammit. So what the hell, we’re going to try Zazzle and see how it goes. Cafepress was a bit cheaper, but one of the things I gathered while reading a BAZILLION GODDAM OPINIONS JEEBUS KILL ME NOW about these on-demand services was that Cafepress had some quality control issues, so we’re going with a slightly higher cost for a service with a rep for better quality.

*Aside: there’s a freaky subculture of t-shirt geeks out there, writing impassioned reviews and carrying on at great lengths about printing processes. After a while I glazed over like when the bamboo nuts get to testifying about tapers, and then I gave up. Just google t-shirt reviews, I dare you.

Here’s the thing: assuming of course that you’re willing to drop 20-some clams on a (admittedly sweet ass) shirt, we’re depending on you, our faithful and beloved guinea piglets, to tell us if the print or garment quality disappoints. Design changes are quick and easy, so feel free to suggest them too, but if Zazzle is the wrong choice then we want to know it, and fast. If they step up, we’ve got more design ideas to roll out (probably the coolest thing about these services is the ability to quickly offer new designs). We’ll announce new designs here when they happen. Maybe we’ll also occasionally retire some designs too, so you could end up with some sort of collector’s item of dubious value, which should not sound at all strange to fly fisherfolk. Cool, ja?

Yeah we know, the shirts are a bit pricey after tax and shipping.  Sorry, that’s just how it is. Buster’s not getting rich on this (or anything else, for that matter). I ordered my black tee today, so I’m drinking cheaper beer for a week or two.

We’re starting simple. Right now there’s just a couple of designs, and one color per shirt style. The only reason they aren’t all black is because the ladies’ styles aren’t currently available in black. Which is wrong. Anyway, we can make more colors available if you want, just holler. Also, there’s a sweet bumper sticker.

No, the graffiti design doesn’t have the Buster URL on it, because we think it says all it needs to say. Let em google it if they’re so inclined.

The hoodie is STUPID expensive, but it looks great from here. We wants it, precious.

CUIDADO, CHIQUITAS! The ladies’ shirts run small, according to Zazzle, and should be ordered two sizes up. No, we don’t get it either.

Also also, we want to see photos of you in your Buster gear (well, no guys in spaghetti straps, por favor). Preferably in some interesting locale, maybe also reading Gaper’s book. Because we know that Buster has the best looking and most intelligent readers in Blogtopia. It’s true.

By now, most of you have heard about the proposed Pebble Mine in Bristol Bay. I won’t insult your intelligence by rehashing the gory details (as provided by The Pebble Partnership) of the preliminary project report, but I would like to take this opportunity to make a few points.

- In addition to the proposed Pebble project, there are roughly 3.6 million acres of BLM land slated to become the Bristol Bay Hard-Rock Mining District. 1 million of these acres were opened to claims in 2008, the rest is closed but “pending designation”.

- According to the EPA, the hard-rock mining industry is the single largest source of toxic releases in the US.

- As of 2008, 93% of large-footprint mines similar to the proposed Pebble Project had violated their environmental standards.

- Bristol bay produces 70% of Alaska’s sockeye, worth $130 million in ex-vessel prices alone last year.

- Entering its 126th year, the commercial fishing industry and its support infrastructure in Bristol Bay represents roughly 75% of local employment.

- Alaska is still the only MSC-certified sustainable sockeye salmon fishery in the world.

- No fewer than 30 major gold handlers have spoken out against the proposed Pebble Mine, vowing to never buy gold sourced from Bristol Bay.

This isn’t just Alaska’s problem. With the BLM maneuvering to open the Bristol Bay Hard-Rock Mining District, it is now OUR problem. Instead of just wringing our hands, shouting at the television, or giving up in resignation, may I suggest a few alternative strategies?

For starters, go to the Save Bristol Bay website and sign the petition for the continued closure of BLM lands to mining interests. Shoren and company were thoughtful enough to have 2 separate petitions, one for Alaskans and one for the rest of y’all.

You can also write your state representatives to express your displeasure with the situation, and let them know that the proposed Pebble project and the opening of BLM lands to Hard-Rock Mining represent dangerous precedents in a world of rapidly diminishing wilderness acreage and critical wildlife habitat.

Support a conservation organization directly involved in the fight. The Renewable Resources Coalition, Save Bristol Bay, and the Sportsman’s Alliance for Alaska come to mind. If your the type of fella that might want a little somethin’-somethin’ to show for your monetary contributions, there are some options here…

You can get a bitchin’ T-shirt or Hoodie with the “Over Our Dead Salmon” Troll brothers print from Sportsman’s Alliance. Hoodies are $35, T-shirts are $25…be sure to indicate your size and preference in the comments box.

If you enjoy the occasional beverage, protect your fine furniture from excessive beverage-container humidity with one of these No Pebble logo coasters, thoughtfully milled by the folks at Abel Automatics…yours for the low price of a $15 donation…type “Abel coaster” in the comments box.

If you would like to announce your Uppity Mountain Hippie-ness to the rest of the corporate world, you can snag one of these cool Fish Print Ties from March Brown (scroll down, and include BRISTOLBAY on the checkout screen).  $50, with $25 going directly to the fight against the proposed Pebble Mine…Take your pick from Rainbow Trout, Grayling, King Salmon, Sockeye Salmon, and Pink Salmon. Personally, we like the Sockeye pattern.

In light of recent developments in the world of resource extraction, it’s time to stand up for the last great runs of Sockeye salmon left on earth, and one of the last undeveloped critical riparian habitats in North America.

They aren’t gonna do it for themselves.

(To the tune of “Gin n Juice’, and with apologies to Snoop D-O-double G)

…So much drama in the LBC,
It’s kinda hard bein’ Gee ess em ow el tee
But I some how, some way
Keep fightin’ the mine each and every single day.
Can I show a little movie, for the G’s
And give a little talk as I breeze through…

On the road again, currently in Long Beach CA at the hugeness that is the Fred Hall Tackle Show,
raising awareness for what we all stand to lose if the Proposed Pebble Mine is allowed to be
developed. Thanks to the efforts of TUCA chair Drew Irby, the Long Beach Casting Club has
granted us the use of their fine clubhouse for a showing of Red Gold on Saturday, March 6th,
at 7pm. If you haven’t seen this movie and you live in the area, now is your chance to come
out and see what all the fuss is about. Red Gold is a documentary in the best sense of the word,
as it allows folks a chance to see the importance of Bristol Bay salmon from several different
angles as well as allowing the proponents of Pebble to speak their piece. All in all, a good use
of an hour out of your life, especially to see Peter Andrew tell folks in no uncertain terms that
there will be “no net loss here”, or to listen to the unrepentant smugness of Northern Dynasty’s
Bruce Jenkins.

I’m gonna bet that the club wouldn’t mind if you bring a beer or two, and I can probably rustle up
a bag of chips and some salsa…

Come on out, Fisha.

A long cold hinterland winter here in Freestonia doesn’t mean that the fishing stops entirely, but it does slow down, and that means increased exposure to the noisemakers. You know, the ones that force-feed us the narrative of our lives, that thin clammy broth of postures and judgements and cheap shiny plastic crap that we can’t live without. The noise comes from the tubes, the mailbox and the halls of power in 30-second sound bytes and bumper sticker platitudes, telling us what’s important, what should be dismissed with scorn, conveying our targets for rage and humor. Even the goddam Olympic Games, something that’s supposed to celebrate the hard work of dedicated amateurs, shows up shrinkwrapped in disposable computer-animated bubble packaging that’s obviously been designed and focus-grouped years in advance, complete with instant blowdried celebrity hero toys ready for tomorrow’s water cooler worship. Collect ‘em all, $14.99.

(Haha see, Shaun stowed away on Tuesday’s delivery and stocked all this sk8punk stuff in the dead of night, because he’s a subversive nutty scamp®. What can we do? On sale now.)

The noise is the anthem of the Transnational Lizard People, who purely through the power of cash have erased the importance of place, allegiance to country, recognition of borders, and necessity of breathing, eating, drinking and being of this place where we plant our feet. They recognize no law, no neighbor, no change of season or migration. They experience no hunger or sickness or fear. No disaster matters, except as an opportunity to pad those numbers. Their decisions and actions bear no consequence, aside from possibly being hauled before a Congress of their own creatures for an afternoon show trial, let’s get it over with so we can all go get drinks. With any luck they’ll soon have cash-powered spacecraft so they can all lift off and blast each other with beams of numbers that used to represent something of worth, and be free of the bothersome bounds of the human experience. Man, we’re all such a nuisance.

But here’s the thing: we’re not all where we’re supposed to be, fretting over today’s manufactured outrage on one side of an aisle or another, shaking our heads about who’s fucking whom and oh how could he do such a thing? Sometimes we very deliberately dash out of the pasture and do things that the handlers never counted on. See, there are no blue lines on their demographic maps. They can’t conceive of a shade of green in winter-dormant cedar and water that’s deeper than the one in their veins. Eventually we’ll probably be rounded up and put down for the greater good of the herd, but we likely won’t hear them coming.

 Sucka MC’s,

Check out the $3.76 worth of saltwater/bass fly tying material I purchased from the Christmas clearance rack of my local home-improvement-do-it-yourself-and-get-busy mega store. Tis the season and git to tying.

A new investor analysis to be released this Thursday, October 29th, details the legal, political, financial, engineering and reputational risks that Anglo American plc faces in developing the Pebble Mine Project in the headwaters of Bristol Bay in southwest Alaska.
 
Anglo American is cutting its capital expenditures this year by 50 percent to relieve pressure on its balance sheet. Meanwhile, company officials still face mounting and potentially costly obstacles with the Pebble Project – all of which should give investors pause.  London-based Anglo American has a joint 50-50 venture with British Columbia-based Northern Dynasty Minerals Ltd. – the Pebble Limited Partnership – to pursue the Pebble Mine Project.

More at Moldy Chum

Burning Pram is this weekend and sure, there are plenty of videos out there in the tubeosphere showing burning pram things, but for some reason, this video really captures the outright glorious revelry stupidity of the greatest nite in flyfishing…

Trailer for the new film by Jahtrout about the plight of the salmon migration on the Skeena river in B.C. and the many lives and livelihoods intertwined with it.

To learn more: Where Hope Resides

A supreme evening on the local. And what it’s all about. That is all.

Since it’s some sort of unofficial last hurrah for summer’s mad knees-bent running about behavior, and also because part of the joy of this weird pursuit is in the characters you meet.

“We had just been invited to join an all day golf scramble and drinking bash hosted by a whole medly of fraternal lodge organizations. Elks, Moose, and Eagles strolled about the first tee. Most of the people were meeting for the first time; our identities seemed secure, but since you can’t be too careful we traded our fishing hats for the fezzes of three staggering-drunk Shriners from Anaconda, then filled out our name cards as Methyl, Ethyl, and Nitrate Blitz.

Not all of the Blitz Brothers were strangers to a golf course. One of them had even played in college. Ethyl had the distance, Methyl the hot irons, and Nitrate, to his bemused delight, found that he could putt. Just like lining up the eight ball for a bank shot, he said. The Brothers for as long as they could maintain their momentum atop the bell curve of enhanced perception were like besotted Jedi knights: the force was with them. The tournament was a scramble, a format ideally suited to their condition.

On the holes that ran with the wind the Brothers were absolutely splendid. They birdied the first and third, then Nitrate drained a thirty-foot putt for eagle from the fringe on the par five sixth. First prize was two hundred dollars, and the Blitz Brothers had already decided to spend it all in one place - like maybe Idaho. Then, on the eighth, Methyl was driving the cart in the rough searching for a hooked ball and lighting a cigar when he should have been watching where he was going. All three brothers hiked the tall weeds to the car, then stopped at a drug store, bought a postcard, drew a map to the cart and signed it with a sketch of a scuba diver, then continued fishing toward the Big Hole River, where it was deemed by popular acclaim to be cocktail hour, and time to switch to gin.”

-from True Love and the Woolly Bugger by Dave Ames, 1996

More on the the Freedom to Roam campaign.

“…it was like Twilight Zone, but Nirvana Twilight Zone…”

Dirty Dave Wells with a little dink he picked up on the South Fork of the Snake recently…

Caught Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band at the local watering hole last night. One of the most kick-ass, high-energy shows I’ve seen in a while. Not to mention The Rev’s guitar playing will leave you slack-jawed. They’re on tour right now, and if they’re in your neck of the woods, don’t miss it:

Oh, and if that wasn’t enough, they apparently loves them some bass as much as do.

 Linkage.

from the same gig… awesome….

From the skilled hands of long-time Buster compadre Jay H. comes one of the stylier ways to get to the river we’ve laid eyes on:

The box measures 40″ x 20″ x 10″, all aluminum frame/rack, bed is marine grade ply, sides are mahogany, w/3 coats of varnish, 16″ wheels. According to Jay, the whole rig weighs 24lbs. soaking wet, will carry 40lbs. with ease and parking isn’t much of a problem.

Complete wiff rod tubes, which can hold up to 3 rods each:

Extra points for the Buster sticker on the back. Well done, sir.

Down goes the Yellowstone Club, and the NY Times is there to write a fawning, bizzaro obituary both for the club and its nut case owners. A case of just desserts for the ultra rich? Jealous vengence? A morality play set upon the gates of Yellowstone? A warning to other knuckleheads attempting to do the same thing in other, much less desirable settings (Yes, I’m looking at you, Red’s Fly Shop/Canyon River Ranch)? Whatever you may wish to call it, please do enjoy the wreckage, anglers!

“Some homes had private elevators, wine cellars, movie theaters and spas, and one spec house — called the River Runs Through It home — featured an all-glass passageway to the guest quarters with a heated river flowing beneath it. For a while, the club had $1,000-a-head New Year’s Eve bashes, a sommelier and concierge service.”