The Fish Yips

In baseball, a player that suddenly and unexpectedly loses the ability to perform a routine task (making contact with the ball, a catcher throwing back to the pitcher, etc.) is said to have the “yips.” It is a perfectly wonderful part of baseball, a sport filled with bizarre and nostalgic traditions. However, I think that the yips aren’t limited to the diamond, or even sports.

For example, I’ll chalk up a person driving with their blinker on for miles and miles as being subject to the yips. Or, for that matter, a barista that has to line up the hole on the cap with the seam on the cup. That sort of negligence can only be attributed to some supernatural force like the yips. Personally, I’ve been yipped (yippied? yippled?) on setting the hook.

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Steelhead: Same but Different

The Great Lakes tributary system is a pretty remarkable fishery. Sure, the fish aren’t native and they don’t have an opportunity to run to saltwater. But they are big, fight hard, and are discerning. If west coast steelheading is like filet, then the Great Lakes offer up a hearty burger. It isn’t the same thing, but it definitely does the trick. Even if it is a little greasy.

A lot has been said about the Great Lakes / west coast steelhead issue lately. Some have even questioned the validity of calling lake run fish steelhead. I get that. Words mean things. But these big rainbows are something completely different than the 14” stockers you find in ponds and creeks of the Mid-Atlantic. Plus, the majority of the country’s population is within a good day’s drive from the Great Lakes tribs. It all comes together to create a destination fishery that draws in thousands upon thousands of anglers.
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The Ballad of Sheetz

The angler rises early, and has not time to dally

He requires food and fuel from a warm and trusty ally.

Across the Mid Atlantic lay the perfect place for gas and eats

Every fisherman worth his flies knows the Ballad of Sheetz.
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The Fly Fishing Authority

I love fly shops. In fact, the genesis of this website had a lot to do with my love of fly shops. But that story is for another day. The fly shop is the quintessential embodiment of fly fishing culture. Generally they are located near water that is productive enough to warrant a full-time local retail option. The people employed usually are passionate about the sport, and hopefully personable. There is also the stereotypical aesthetic: the huge rod rack, mounted fish from an era when it was appropriate, walls with a dizzying array of tying materials, and probably a dog. It is a form that is recognizable from coast to coast.

The first shop that I fell in love with was a Sports Authority.

Yes, the Sports Authority. In Sterling, Virginia, circa the mid-1990’s. I had just got into fishing with conventional tackle, and this department store supplied me with all the soft plastics, jig heads, and monofilament I needed. I’d hang out in the fishing section every week, looking at crankbaits and handling reels. I got to know the employees that manned the outdoors department.
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My Top Fly Fishing Podcasts

Living in the greater Boston area, most places I have to drive to are relatively close to each other. As the crow flies. Travel time is a different story. The old cow paths and trade routes of the north shore turn a lot of destinations into “you-can’t-get-there-from-here” propositions. Thankfully there are numerous secondary routes to avoid the stop and go routine of the highways.

And although I love music, sports talk, and talking to myself as much as the next guy, I’ve really taken a shine to podcasts. I have a few history podcasts that I love, and also a handful that are work related. Some of the ones that I look forward to the most pertain to fly fishing.

A while ago I Googled “best fly fishing podcasts,” and I didn’t find a single page that gave me the kind of information I was looking for. So, I’m going to share the kind of information I was looking for.
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Putting the ‘Tude in Solitude

There are a lot of tense moments on the stream. Seeing a trout rise, and hoping that it – like most trout – didn’t see you the moment after you saw it. Making a bad cast to a spot you know holds a fish, and gritting your teeth knowing you screwed up. Hearing crunching in the underbrush that sounds very un-squirrel-like behind you in the backcountry. But none of that compares to the utter anxiety that accompanies those moments on the approach to the pull-off for your favorite spot. Will there be a car there? Will there be, heaven forbid, two cars there?

You begin to assume the worst, and then begin to rationalize: Maybe it is a scout troop cleaning the roadside. It could just be some teenagers making out. Hey, I’d be content in skirting some shady drug deal. As long as nobody has fished through my holes.

In fly fishing, there is real community. The fly shop is a social hub. The bar at the lodge is filled with kindred spirits. Message boards are generally pleasant, if not just a bit guarded with the information that you really want. But notice that all of these places are not on the steam. No one can catch my fish whilst leaning on the counter of the local bait and tackle. No one is going to spook my trout by asking questions about chest packs online.
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Dogs & Pipes

brookie

There we were. Two teenagers, in the middle of the woods, well below freezing, early in the morning… surrounded by snarling dogs.

I can’t remember exactly where we were, but I do know that it was a medium-sized stream on the west side of the Shenandoah National Park. Alan and I had been canvassing the better part of the park throughout the fall and winter, fishing and doing some research. We both chose our science fair projects on the basis of how we could parlay our energy and efforts into time on the stream. It was a great lesson in false humility and concealing motives from authority figures.

In exchange for some stream monitoring data, we had an all-access parking pass from the US government. We never tested it out in front of the White House or anything exciting like that, but it did let us leave our car in front of locked park gates and other equally clandestine locations. That blessing, as it turned out, directly led to the curse of the two enormous wolf-dogs prowling around our subcompact.
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Finding Fiberglass

fiberglass fly rod

I’m guilty of judging a book by its cover. Or, more appropriately, a fly rod by its filthy handle and crusty blank.

For nearly ten years, I’ve had a decorative rod holder with a number of rods displayed on it. They’re all hand-me-downs or yard sale, five dollar grabs. After all, as a fly fisherman I had to make my office look appropriately fishy. There are the trout prints, kitschy wet fly and wicker creel knickknacks, and the rod holder. Replete with antique, stream-worn (not be me, mind you) rods, I achieved the illusion of someone who reminisces about the days when pawpaw chased native trout in unmolested streams with the ‘ol pole. That didn’t keep me from using my high-modulus graphite, top-of-the-line rod. Let’s not be silly.

But there is something to be said for fly fishing décor. I’ve stayed in a Vermont B&B where the proprietor must have gone to Orvis, walked to the home section, and said, “I’ll take one of each.” After spending a small fortune on stuffed bear ottomans and trout-etched stone coasters, he made sure that no square foot would give any guest the impression that this room wasn’t all about fly fishing. Of course, I liked it. Of course, my wife was immediately suspicious of why I really brought her on this “vacation.”

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Gear Review: the Vest

fly fishing vest

For years, fly fisherman have been trying to find the perfect piece of gear to carry their various and sundry flies and tackle on their fishing expeditions. For a sport so fascinated with gadgets, gizmos, and Gink, the conscientious angler has had to answer the age old question: Should I be comfortable and risk leaving that one, hot fly at home? – or – Will I carry the whole fly shop with me but fish like a burdened pack mule?

Well, ladies and gents, it appears as if the fly fishing industry has heard your question. The answer is simple: vest.

Admittedly, it wasn’t featured in many catalogs or profiled by bloggers attending ICAST/IFTD. But it is going to take the world by storm. In a world of space-age sling packs and artisanal lanyards, the vest will indubitably carve out a niche in the contemporary fly fishing scene.

Most manufactures are making vests this year, andthe majority of them carry features such as:

  • Lots of pockets

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