Did you know that is a presidential election year?!?
Since I think the “rule” to avoid talking about money, religion, and politics is stupid, I talk about politics today on the podcast. But I think you’d agree that it is more philosophical than partisan. And it has to do with fly fishing. I promise.
And just so you feel like you’re getting your money’s worth, I also add in a quick gear tip in the beginning.
Listen to the episode below, or on your favorite podcast app.
There is a very good chance that the first four or five fishing books you’ll name fall into one of the main literary sub-genres: memoirs, novels, techniques, or guides. And although there are enough quality entries in those categories to keep you going for quite a while, perhaps you’re looking to switch things up.
How about a massive tome of artifacts?
What about a fly shop owner’s stream side meditations?
Have you ever read a fishing horror story?
The tried and true types are worth reading and rereading. But there is something to be said for seeking out a different kind of fly fishing book every once in a while.
Here are three book suggestions that aren’t your normal fly fishing reading fare:
The afternoon started in abject failure. Trees blocked the river in both directions. We were covered in cobwebs, decaying bark, and more sweat than is befitting a mid-October day. There would be no ducks or trout in this spot.
My oldest son and I were on a two-fold mission: locate a new waterfowl hole while also identifying some late-season fishing opportunities.
The next three locations were even less successful. Long and winding drives essentially led to dead ends. No access, no water, or NO TRESSPASSING wasn’t what the maps indicated. But that was the reality we faced.
Then, on a last second jerk-the-steering-wheel-because-that-looks-like-water maneuver, we were presented with what looked better than everything we had planned on looking at. Within ten minutes there were two birds in the boat and we were surrounded by evening swirls as fish pursued their evening meals. Not bad for a last resort.
I shouldn’t be surprised. At least once a season for as long as I can remember I’ve stumbled upon something excitingly surprising for hunting or fishing. There isn’t a formula for serendipity. But here are four ways to think about and undertake thorough scouting:
I do miss things from time to time. And on this episode I come clean about missing two important things. You’ve probably survived, but I need to make it right.
On another feedback-based episode, I answer questions about the following:
Check out those segments, along with a really excellent weekly recommendation, on this week’s podcast.
Listen to the episode below, or on your favorite podcast app.
October Caddis.
Say it with me. There is something about the syllabic rhythm; something in the way the vowels and consonants cycle about your mouth. It sounds perfect. It is a joy to say and a pleasure to hear. This two-word phrase may be in the running for fly fishing’s “cellar door.”
Now, euphony won’t catch you any fish. But imitations of the genus Dicosmoecus will. It is that insect coupled with the time of year it is most prevalent that adds the real harmony to the common name October Caddis.
The October Caddis combines some of the best parts of fly fishing. It is a big, bushy dry that floats high and is easy to see. Trout voraciously chase them, even as the weather gets colder as the hatch goes on. This dance occurs as the trees’ colors change and the crisp air of fall comes on in earnest. These flies flitting about fill anglers with favorable feelings.
Nostalgia and aesthetics aren’t the only reason you should buy fly fishing gear. But those two aspects do count for something. And in the history-rich, artistically inclined world of fly fishing nostalgia and aesthetics are often embraced willingly. Bamboo rods and waxed cotton packs are still made and used because they work. They are examples of equipment that tethers today to yesterday.
For anyone aware of fly fishing in the late 80s and the 90s, Costa Del Mar‘s reintroduced Grand Catalina sunglasses will immediately reel you back to yesterday. Their marketing is unashamedly capitalizing on that. And it works.
As a teenager hungry for all things fly fishing in the mid-90s, I tuned in with countless others across the nation to ESPN on Saturday mornings. Trout-centered shows were opportunities to take notes and improve on something the next time out. Bass tournaments scratched both competitive and infomercial itches. But Walker’s Cay Chronicles stood alone among programs. Flip Pallot’s exploration of Florida’s coastline was about as adventurous to a suburban teenager as summiting Everest. For thirty minutes, with commercial breaks, I was able to ride the ragged edge where the fish were big and wild.
With the passing of a great author, something much more significant is lost than a new title every few years. First and foremost a man is gone. Beyond that, the fly fishing world has lost a voice.
Today I reflect a bit on Gierach’s impact on the fly fishing world. From adding popular phrases to spurring on countless imitators, he moved generations of anglers in many ways.
At the heart of it all is the fact that he was a consistent voice for anglers across five decades. Consistency, especially today, matters.
Listen to the episode below, or on your favorite podcast app.
Today is opening day for waterfowl in New Hampshire. Opening days aren’t something I’m used to, since I’ve generally fished special regulation water that is open year-round. So for the last handful of years I’ve enjoyed the anticipation and gentle pomp of getting out early for the first day of ducks.
Although a payoff is sweet, there are many more “firsts” that come with the date in October circled on my calendar.
read more
I never met the man either. But from those interviews of him that I’ve read or heard, I’m confident that he’d have a few sardonic quips about some of the superlatives I’m about to assign to him.
I’ve never reviewed a John Gierach book because they’re the best.
His books are the best in the premiere subgenre of fly fishing books. The quantity of paperbacks comprised of personal anecdotes and reflections is innumerable. They are the natural overflow of the contemplative angler’s experience. And while many do it, most don’t do it well. For run of the mill authors, chapters have the tendency to be tired variations on themes. For those who break through, a second book is still a rarity. But Gierach had over twenty follow-up books on fly fishing anecdotes and reflections. That is a telling statistic.
Any used book store bears witness to his position among angling memoirs. Each random assortment of volumes features some of the popular and some of the obscure. But Standing in a River Waving a Stick and Even Brook Trout Get the Blues will inevitably be there. In fact if a secondhand bookseller’s shelf doesn’t have a Gierach book or two, it is safe to assume there is another fly fishing section somewhere.
A more poignant testimony to the man is his ubiquity. Fly fishers who don’t read have read John Gierach books. His bibliography has the same footprint among anglers as the Gideons do in hotels.
This episode is an overflow of this week. On the website I’ve focused on the region that has been most impacted by Hurricane Helene, and I’m going to continue to do so on the podcast.
Even though southern Appalachia is remote and wild, it is incredibly close to so the vast majority of those who live along the eastern seaboard. That happens to be a large number of this country’s people. This is why the mountains and hollows are accessible and loved by so many. This is also why the relative silence about their present plight is confusing.
This podcast isn’t going to change anything. But people can.
Listen to the episode below, or on your favorite podcast app.
