Archive for the 'Real Heroes of Fly Fishing' Category
Matt gets his first steelhead. Matt is rather a bit pleased.
Epic photo by Buster’s pal Robin Hill at Brookside Hillbilly
Epic MAT! by Matt
He was a balding glob with a patchwork sunburn and his accent suggested Tuscaloosa or Biloxi or maybe Shreveport.
The fish were prowling up and down the beach in front of his house. I assumed it was his house because he was standing on the balcony in his grippers and leaning on the rail and scratching his balls while pointing out what we already knew.
“They’re chasin MINNERS. Can’t y’all see them clouds a bait?”
We’d flubbed the first couple of shots but the tide was still cranking and the fish were still moving in and out of the bait swarm.
“Try a little ole silver spoon, or sumpthin. They won’t eat that damn HAIR.”
There was a bust at our twelve o’clock and a big shower of anchovies.
“Here comes a nuthern…BIG BASTARD…see that big white hole in the middle of that bait…he’s smack-dab in it!”
The fly landed and the fish elevated and nosed it and turned away. The fat man laughed and swigged his beer.
We stopped to change flies and he watched us from the balcony for a bit and then he hitched up his drawers and waddled inside.
When he came back out he was gashing on a sandwich the size of a coon and we were hair-tight to one of his goddamn tarpon.
Three new scalawags have joined the ranks, you might spot them before we get around to introducing them. This is because we’re lazy and forgetful, and fishing season is warming up and we’re sorta distracted. Enjoy.
There are times when it seems like all I ever see in the news is the negative. I can be a fairly pessimistic person, so perhaps my natural bent leans towards finding what’s tore up in the world. It was pretty damn nice to see a post on The Headhunter about a couple of guys making it happen for Project Healing Waters. If you don’t know, Project Healing Waters is about helping vets with the physical and emotional rehab process through fly fishing. Helping out vets who need it is most worthy in my book, so when Adipose Boatworks figured out a way to overcome some of the difficulties with putting a wheelchair in a drifter, shot, my eyes got all damn misty. I’m looking at the bow platform they fabricated and one I’m struck by how professional it looks, and how you know they spent some money to get it right. That is money you know they aren’t going to recoup by selling those commercially but they did it anyway so a young kid can fish without being limited by his wheelchair.Nice work by all involved.
More friggin’ Dog-honest soul than a dozen yuppie fly boutiques put together:
Be the first to name the shop and get a couple Buster stickers.
Fly Tying Uber Geek Alert!!!
Our West Seattle neighbor P. Diddy pushes the envelope to the near genius level…
Piscatorial Predator/Kanektok Spiritual Leader/Sod Layer THE Elaminator sluts out in the latest FFJ* ad in trade for more brown liquor and an extra set of night vision goggles.
Prolly your sister’s never been to third base. Yet, ’cause Elam rocks the dirty, dirty night prowl, that scamp, and he plays himself some wicked hardball. He’ll make a fine brother-in-law.
*We wholeheartedly endorse the FFJ’s awesomenality in trade for more whisky. thanks guys. anything else you need us to say? damn, this blog thing’s really working out.
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
Just in time to fever pitch the summer steelhead season stoke and right before you start asking yourself why in the hell you’re not headed to BC this fall, Action Man with the Action Plan Lani Waller graces PDX Friday and Bend on Sunday to cram a heapin’ pile of steelhead skater soul food down your hungry cakehole. Should be pretty bomber to hear the man speak again and all joking aside, this is one dirty old hippie steelheader who’ll mainline you some heavy mojo. He’s one of the greats an awesome young punk like you might even learn a couple billion things from.
A badass dry fly steelheader of more than 45 years and counting, Mr. Waller will be reading from his new book A Steelheader’s Way and then getting deep on some heavy-vibe Lani philosophicalizations about life and all-things-steelhead, which for a lot of us, sorta go hand in hand. Above all, it’s a hella good example that, despite age differences and flyfishing styles and whether or not you say Dude or Mister or what sort of pants you wear, real steelheaders do speak a common language called Soul.
Tickets are $25, with every single nickel of the proceeds going to the Native Fish Society, who will in turn use that cash to fund critical habitat projects, science-based studies on which to create more-informed fish policy and advocate for the recovery of wild, native fish in a political climate where most everyone else just wants a bunch of swimming hot dog hatchery puke and to stuff their head in the dirt. Flattered to have Mr. Waller as a supporter.
July 31st, 6:30 pm
Ecotrust Building, 721 NW 9th
August 2nd, 6;30 pm
McMenamin’s St. Francis, 700 NW Bond
Call the Native Fish Society office (503-829-6202) now to reserve your place.
SWEET: Beer and wine available for purchase.
Wherein the loud Americans get all wooty. Here’s your host, the Hideous Jabbering Head of Izaak Walton with a nakkin on!
This is all the confidence that I can put on, concerning the merit of what is here offered to their consideration and censure; and if the last prove too severe, as I have a liberty, so I am resolved to use it, and neglect all sour censures. So eat chain, haters! Let’s blow some shit up!
“The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more. You will think me transported with Enthusiasm but I am not. I am well aware of the Toil and Blood and Treasure, that it will cost Us to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these States. Yet through all the Gloom I can see the Rays of ravishing Light and Glory. I can see that the End is more than worth all the Means. And that Posterity will tryumph in that Days Transaction, even altho We should rue it, which I trust in God We shall not.” -(The Book of Abigail and John: Selected Letters of the Adams Family, 1762-1784,Harvard University Press, 1975, 142).
“Whoever dares to look upon them as an irregular mob, will find himself much mistaken. They have men amongst them who know very well what they are about” -Brigadier Lord Hugh Percy after returning from Lexington Green, April 19th, 1775.
Brother Glista tied this special yesterday just for us. But since we just can’t have nice things, he’s gonna give it away. It’s Buster’s Fourthe of Julye Name That Flye Contest! Name that fly in the comments, Glista will pick his favorite and send you the fly. Best get on it, because he’s probably been drinking and who knows how or when he’ll decide.
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.
One of the only reasons this Eastsider could be coaxed into stepping foot on the Westside of Stumptown, we’ve been waiting a long, long while to see this film. In particular, I wanna know more about the badass that was Bill Schaadt. Out here, the guy is the stuff of legend and even critterier than my friend the Cap’n, who’s even super secretive about where he changes his kids diapers these days. Schaadt = Uber badass.
Plus, the Native Fish Society earns some scratch outta the deal to further their honest, selfless work of protecting our native fish, so get your cologne on and consider your Wednesday date night planned, handsome: A badass movie about a badass fisherman that benefits a badass organization. Can’t ask for much better than that.
The deal: Sponsored by the Native Fish Society and the Catlin Gable School, in conjunction with the Wild Salmon Center, tickets are 10 bucks at the door.
Where: Cabell Theater – Catlin Gabel School, 8825 SW Barnes Road, Portland, OR
When: Wednesday, May 13th. Doors at 6 p.m., the show begins exploding awesome all up on your wanton, greasy retinas at 7 p.m.
“Victory belongs to the most persevering.” – Napoleon Bonaparte
Thank Dog that years of suffering, being humiliated and beatdown in pursuit of a noble beast still count for something in this crazy mixed-up world.
Join us in congratulating Nikki on her first and most glorious Chrome:
Her life will never be the same.
To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the sizzling of their bacon!
Just in time for Easter it’s Mjolnir, the hammer of Thor! The bacon, which represents awesome, is bound to the world-burger with the blood of the giant Hymir, here provided in a handy squeeze bottle.
Thor once went fishing with Hymir the giant, who refused to provide Thor with bait, so Thor struck the head off Hymir’s largest ox to use as such, even though he was planning on fishing flies anyway, because Hymir was an annoying dick. Thor’s offering was eaten by Jörmungandr the Midgard Serpent, whom Thor pulled from the water, whereupon the two faced off, Jörmungandr spewing blood and poison. Hymir went pale with fear, and as Thor reached for his hammer to kill the beast, Hymir cut the line, letting the serpent sink beneath the waves. Because Hymir was also a pussy.
The texts are unclear, but one presumes that Thor then beat the living snot out of Hymir to give him something to cry about. The lesson I guess is that bacon is awesome, and you shouldn’t fish with giant whiny annoying pussies.