Though our previous post heaped truckloads of snark had bit of fun at the fly fishing industry trade group’s expense (AFFTA), it’s clear AFFTA’s serious about going it alone with a new, independent trade show for retailers, manufacturers and other fly fishing industry insiders (pretty much everyone except for the folks who actually buy the stuff).

From their press release:

(Louisville, CO. December 18, 2009) After evaluating every available option and in response to input received from fly fishing industry retailers, manufacturers, sales reps and media, the AFFTA board of directors unanimously voted Tuesday December 15, 2009 to endorse the formation of a new independent fly fishing trade show. The International Fly Tackle Dealer (IFTD) show will debut at the Colorado Convention Center in Denver, Colorado during the 3rd quarter of 2010.

AFFTA Chairman Alan Gnann stated, “Throughout our careful and deliberate evaluation it became abundantly clear that a general fishing tackle show (ICAST) or a general outdoor show (Outdoor Retailer) would not serve the best interests of the of the fly fishing trade. It was also very apparent that the new found interest in fly fishing by these organizations was not aligned with AFFTA’s mission, making the decision very clear.” Gnann continues, “The entire AFFTA board is incredibly energized and motivated to make this the best show the industry has ever seen. The support of key exhibitors and retailers for AFFTA to sponsor an independent fly fishing industry trade show has been nothing short of overwhelming. We look forward to hosting the most dynamic and exciting trade show in years; and importantly – the only show focused exclusively on the sport of fly fishing.”

You can power your way through the entire release here (a cup of coffee might help).

AFFTA’s claiming the support of the fly fishing industry insiders and heavy hitters on this one (Scott Fly Rods, Sage, Redington, Rio, Orvis, Umpqua, Ross Reels USA/Ross Worldwide, Scientific Anglers, R.L. Winston, Solitude Flies, Cloudveil, Lamson/Waterworks, REC, Nautilus Reels, Smith Optics, Yellow Dog Fly Fishing, Frontiers International, Fly Fishing in Saltwaters magazine, The Drake magazine, and Fly Fisherman), though the Underground’s Crack Investigative Reporting Team (whose advanced techniques include calling and asking) knows at least two of the names mentioned are supporting the show more from a sense of duty than any real hope of a return on investment.

Regardless, unenthusiastic support is still support, and on the surface, it appears AFFTA has stolen a march on Outdoor Retailer, Furimsky’s planned Florida show, ICAST and a everyone else with a spare room.

To make sure it happens, AFFTA’s hired fly fishing industry insider (as if they’d hire anyone else) Randi Swisher, who was involved in running ISE’s trade shows.

Kirk Deeter at Angling Trade magazine suggests AFFTA’s wagering the future of the organization on getting this one right, and there’s a grain of truth to that, though given the tiny budget and occasional need for capital infusion to keep the operation running, the risks aren’t exactly titanic in nature.

Sadly, AFFTA’s prior attempts to turn their own fly fishing show crashed and burned, and to a certain extent, we wonder why AFFTA – who is clearly hungry for a revenue stream – doesn’t combine a two-day dealer show with a three-day consumer show. That gets them in the consumer show industry, yet keeps them out of everyone else’s hair.

It makes a certain sense, yet one industry veteran simply made clucking noises (that phone thing again) and suggested the industry’s insiders would never endanger their “exclusive little three-day industry party” by allowing the public entry.

Ouch.

What’s true about the fly fishing industry is that it’s tiny compared to most others, and while AFFTA’s releases suggest a duck serenely gliding over the water, we remind you that the real action takes place under the water, where our outwardly serene duck is paddling like mad.

(This kind of stuff is why the industry loves the Underground.)

See you anywhere but at a trade show, Tom Chandler.

Would all sports – including fly fishing – attain a new sense of urgency if the price for failure was death?

Incentive to improve your fly fishing game?

Frankly, the Underground’s band of dropouts, slackers and drug users Editorial Board says yes. That’s why we’re at the forefront of a bold new initiative offering new life to the fly fishing industry (through the practice of visiting death sentences on those who fail).

We came upon this seemingly obvious idea via the factually based Onion News site, which wondered if pro sports wouldn’t be more entertaining if the losers were put to death (as was the practice only a few hundreds of years ago):

Sports Becomes Increasingly Boring As Death No Longer Punishment For Losing | The Onion – America’s Finest News Source

According to prominent sports historians, the modern-day practice of allowing a losing team or athlete to live has significantly lessened the intensity of sports as a whole in the centuries since the execution of defeated competitors has fallen out of vogue.

“A shared awareness that the loser would be put to death raised the stakes and increased crowd involvement, to say nothing of its effect on the entertainment value of the match itself,” said Joachim Albrechtssen, professor of competitive outcome studies at Louisiana State University. “Sports today just can’t compete with that. If a Roman Colosseum audience saw Kobe Bryant miss a last-second shot, they would be unable to comprehend why he would not be stabbed to death, drawn and quartered, or burned alive, not to mention torn to shreds by the winning teams’ womenfolk.”

Frankly, I love the idea, and think we should translate it to fly fishing immediately. That would put a stop to all this “just nice to be out on the water” crap we hear from so many losers anglers.

And it would help the ailing fly fishing industry – currently mired in the slump that inevitably follows too much navel gazing and acronym marketing – drive sales of lucrative bead-head nymphs, bobicators, boring how-to books, and high-modulus, broomstick-stiff fly rods.

How would this next step in the evolution of fly fishing be put into practice?

Simple.

If you don’t catch fish, then you don’t eat for 48 hours (and neither does your family).

For a lot of anglers I see on the river, that punishment will eventually amount to certain death.

And because the Underground is truly a hotbed of bold thinkers (eat our dust, Greek philosophers), we have a suggestion: Why not institute this plan up and down fly fishing’s food chain?

Fly fishing guides would enjoy an immediate surge in bookings, though any guide that didn’t produce for their clients would be summarily stoned to death (imagine the surprise on the face of that rude, overbearing, Simms-wearing bastard when he’s standing there expecting a tip, and you “hand” him a rock going 37 mph instead…).

Fly shop owners who ran out of stonefly dries at the height of the best hatch in years would be dragged up and down the street in front of their shop, and their severed heads placed on poles at the upcoming AFFTA trade show to serve as a warning to others.

Fly fishing writers who culled information from message boards and then reported it as gospel truth – without any actual personal knowledge of the technique or information – would be stabbed repeatedly with a sharpened fountain pen.

And those who confidently reviewed fly fishing gear without using it for an extended period would find themselves forced to wear the summer-ripened, never-washed waders of slobbish Montana guides over their heads – a death sentence if ever we’ve heard one.

Naturally, manufacturers wouldn’t be spared.

Anyone who dumped a poorly engineered, $425 fly reel on the market (or a poorly engineered pair of wading boots, or a poorly designed $500+ fly rod) would one night find a dark stranger mysteriously knocking on their front door.

And magazine editors who ran the exact same cover photo over and over – using their bully pulpits to justify general industry woosiness – would be buried under several metric tons of their own back issues.

And finally, all fly fishing bloggers would be put to death immediately (just because, that’s why).

Naturally, as the architect of this Bold Plan For Adding Badly Needed Urgency to the Sport of Fly Fishing, I’d be exempt from the new rules.

That’s because – as someone who is clearly more intellectually advanced than the rest of the industry (I’d have to be to craft something this damned brilliant) – I alone am allowed to fill the ecological niche of effete, bamboo-waving, dry fly fishing blogger.

Frankly, my continued existence is a small price to pay for the revitalization of fly fishing – the sport where Catch & Release only applies to the fish, not the fishermen.

Of course, the Undergrounders are expected to contribute ideas to this burgeoning brain trust of brilliance.

Who should get it, and how?

See you at the guillotine, Tom Chandler.

Reports of terror activities aimed directly at fish are pouring into the Underground, and – despite the obvious risk to ourselves – we’re forging ahead and reporting them.

This chilling account (via Alert Underground Reader and Insurgency Expert Sully) offers a firsthand report from a Yellowfin Tuna on the well-known Onion news site.

Just these few small excerpts should dispel any doubts you might have about a pervasive, all-encompassing terror war on fish:

What Kind Of Sick Fuck Would Put A Hook In A Juicy Squid Where A Fish Could Easily Eat It? | The Onion – America’s Finest News Source

I’ve been swimming for quite some time now, and I gotta tell you, I’ve seen a lot of shit in my day. I’ve seen orcas eat defenseless cod, jellyfish prey on plankton, and powerless krill get devoured by whales 20,000 times their size. Sometimes it seems like an unfair world, but in the end, it makes sense. There’s a natural order to things. There’s balance. So you can imagine how shocked and disturbed I was last week when I bit into what I thought was a nice, succulent squid only to have half my mouth ripped off by a giant fucking metal hook.

Yeah, that’s right. At this time last Thursday, I had a 5-inch barbed hook going directly through my face and pectoral fin. Straight fucking through—no joke. I’m not making this up. This actually happened to me.

So, obviously, that leaves just one question: How batshit insane do you have to be to put a hook inside a squid and then place that squid in an area where there are tons of yellowfin tuna who might try and bite it? I could have been killed, for Christ’s sake! My mouth still feels like it’s on fire, and I’m scared as shit to go after any squid again.

Later in the article, the Yellowfin in question draws some unwelcome conclusions, including:

But here’s the thing that really pisses me off: I think it was all premeditated. Not just some act of stupidity or ignorance. Premeditated. Planned in advance.

I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. The placement of the squid was perfect. It was as if whatever whack job did this somehow understood that yellowfin tuna like swimming in the mid-afternoon and prefer low-lit environments. And by putting the hook above the squid’s siphon and mantle and into its fins, this crazy fuck actually made it look like the squid was swimming freely, unattached to anything at all.

Once again we report the news others are afraid to publish.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

the onion, the terror war on fish, yellowfin tuna, fishing for tuna

In what may be the only non-Tiger Woods related article on the Internet, the Underground can’t help but notice that kids are fly fishing’s hottest properties right now.

That may be because the Underground’s suddenly very familiar with the needs of tiny, diaper-clad tax write-offs, and besides – when you receive an email from Fanny Krieger, you tend to notice.

Fannie’s the wife of the much-loved-and-sadly-departed Mel Krieger, and she’s launching a new DVD project called “Tomorrow’s Fly Fishers.” Because we’re currently suckers for kid stuff (and who doesn’t love Fannie), we’re embedding the video’s trailer.

It includes notables like Fanny herself, Rachel Andras, Tim Rajeff, Lori-Ann Murphy and yes – the Krieger grandchildren (a family gig then).

It’s about as far from today’s “extreme” fish porn videos as you can get, though we leave it to our readers to decide the suitably of showing your own kid graphic footage of children nymphing. Just warning you is all.

Those with an interest can buy the goodies at Fannie’s Web site.

Olive the Wooly Bugger

If you’re on the kid track, don’t forget to take a look at the Olive the Wooly Bugger books, which feature one of the world’s most-beloved streamer patterns romping through adventure after adventure, though we’re distressed that dry flies are portrayed as being shallow and elitest in one of the books – a charge we vehemently deny.

We missed this one some time ago, but wanted to give them a mention.

See you in the diaper aisle, Tom Chandler.

Any Undergrounder who badly wants to be on television might want to commit a major wildlife-related crime in Northern California right now – it seems a reality TV show is being made about Northern California’s game wardens:

Reality TV show will track the adventures of California game wardens – Sacramento News – Local and Breaking Sacramento News | Sacramento Bee

Producers of the hit reality television series “Deadliest Catch” are filming a new show featuring California game wardens and their increasingly difficult struggle to protect the state’s environment. Shot as wardens chase real crimes throughout Northern California, it’s due to air late next year on the National Geographic Channel.

Original Productions, the Burbank company behind “Deadliest Catch” and other gritty reality shows, began filming about two weeks ago. Locations include many areas in the Sacramento region, from the mountains surrounding Lake Tahoe to remote sloughs of the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta.

A film crew was on hand Saturday as wardens descended upon the home of a North Highlands man suspected of having wounded a Sacramento River sea lion with a shotgun blast.

I’m not a huge fan of reality TV (though I would enjoy watching a pair of wardens kick the crap out of the asshole who shot the sea lion), but this is the Underground’s home territory, and it will be interesting to see who’s doing what to which species.

And I want to dispel the rumors suggesting this show will feature Wally the Wonderdog poaching a sizable lamb roast from the kitchen counter. That really happened, but unfortunately, Fish & Game weren’t on hand to legally punsih the now-fattened Sausage Dog.

See you in the hoosegouw, Tom Chandler.

deadliest catch, california game wardens, northern california

The snow’s falling at Trout Underground/Man Cave World Headquarters, and while the fluffy white stuff will bring curses in February, today it makes everything look shiny, clean and new.

Even the Trout Underground/Man Cave’s Hydro Testing Facility loses its greenish, slimy appearance under the influence of the fluffy white stuff:

Needless to say, today would be the perfect day to chase BWO hatches on the river, though I’m sidelined with domestic chores (at least steam cleaning a carpet involves a power tool).

I hate missing a snowy day on the water; even if you don’t see a bug or catch a trout, it’s heartbreakingly beautiful (that shiny clean thing again).

And yes, you very often do catch trout, typically on #20 BWO dries or emergers, which – for a Modern Traditionalist Intemperate Dry Fly Partisan – is pretty close to heaven on a stick (a big stick).

Tomorrow, however, may be a different story. Should the planets align and I find myself on the river, you’ll hear it second.

Meanwhile, the Underground’s not deaf to the pleas of the Wally the Wonderdog partisans, who have seen neither hide nor hair of the Magnificent Sausage Beast for some time. Consider this a Wally Snow Day. (He certainly has; he runs around in the stuff like it was money, chasing the falling snowflakes to the ground.)

See you at the Winter Wonderland, Tom Chandler.

The Underground’s always up for a good spoof, and this one – sent to us by Alert Underground Reader Andrew (if that is his real name) – is short, but amusing. As an added FREE BONUS VIDEO, we’re including another spoof – this one at LLBean’s expense (no nasty emails please):

Let’s hope LLBean has better sense of humor than they do a legal department:

African-American Boycott of L.L. Bean Enters 80th Year

As always, pretentious, overblown film critiques welcome in the comments section (pinkys up!).

OK. I lied to you.

Last week’s trip to an alpine stream wasn’t my last of the general trout season, but then, after my flyfishfromhome.com post, let’s face it – you’d be a fool to trust me anyway.

Lumpy ice buildup reflects last warm sunlight of the day.

(Clearly, I intend to toy with my readers again, so, you know, deal with it, suckas.)

In fact, the only reason you know I’m not fabricating this report is because I admit I got skunked – the kind of admission no self-respecting, self-promoting outdoor writer would make if he didn’t go fishing. (See the logic?)

That’s the Underground: We’re all about the Truthiness, except when we’re not.

You’ve been warned.

Oh Yeah, the Fly Fishing

Though some enlightened Upper Sacramento winter fishing regulations mean I’m never far from a Quality Fly Fishing Experience, it’s hard to ignore California’s general trout season closer.

Last week, I thought I’d staggered through the last trip of the season, but on Sunday, that little nagging voice on my shoulder (the one that wears waders over its cloven hooves) told me there was still time.

So I went fly fishing. On a tiny stream I fished for the first time earlier this year.

Why?

I guess because I’m a deeply tortured individual, suffering at the hands of my my own wader-clad personal demons.

(Frankly, how much weirder could it get?)

Fortunately, I get to deal with the voices right on the stream. And though that stream is apparently fishless (as if all the little trout had been airlifted out for the winter like some kind of trouty theme park) – it’s still damned nice.

The mountain wasn't too hard on the eyes either.

Sadly, I lack any pulpish Man v. Trout action sequences to fill out my word count thrill my readers, so I’m going to voice a few observations about fly fishing small streams on cold season closers:

• When it’s cold at home, it’s colder on a tiny stream that’s spent the last couple thousand years digging its own tiny gorge, where cold air presumably settles in large quantities starting mid-November.
• That cold thing? It means you need a warm jacket, and there might just be an icy glaze on the rocks.
• That ice thing? While those Patagonia Riverwalker “sticky rubber” wading boots are the perfect small stream wading boot (they’re like rock climbing shoes on the boulders), they (important note to self) don’t function well on ice-glazed rocks. In fact, they don’t function at all.
• That cold & icy thing? It’s a small problem when the trout are eating, but it turns out that trout don’t eat as much when the water’s cold. So it gets to be a big thing.
• That eating thing? It turns out (and I should have learned this last week) that trout in small streams don’t really eat dry flies at all when it’s really cold and icy, and in fact, they don’t seem much interested in small nymphs or streamers either.
• That 7′ 3wt Diamondglass fly rod I never fish? It’s actually pretty stunning on a stream this size.

Plan B

With the trout not eating and the wrong battery in my slowly dying digital camera, the Wonderdog and I fell back to Plan B; we hiked up the tiny river gorge to see what was up there.

See, in addition to screwing with my readers, I derive happiness from looking for places to fly fish that other people maybe haven’t fished lately, and this stream offered that potential, though in part because its trout are tiny and the fishable spots rare.

Still, the Wonderdog and I did bushwhack our way up a particularly steep stretch – which contained zero worthwhile holding water – stepped out on a ledge, and found something interesting waiting for us:

Next year? I think so...

Let’s hear it for Plan B.

The Big Finish

In the end, a pair of trout too small to hook threw themselves at my fly, so no fish were harmed in the making of this fishing report.

Wally the Wonderdog – not exactly built for rock hopping – suggested he’d been badly harmed by a criminal lack of dog treats, but then, he says that pretty much every trip.

He’s consistent, if not agile.

In an odd, long-term-thinking kind of way, it makes sense to close out this season with a trip dedicated to finding places to fish next season.

It’s also telling.

Some have suggested I don’t always keep my eyes on the horizon – that I’m more grasshopper than ant.

Yet I’m already looking ahead to next year, suggesting I’m more of a grownup when I’m playing than when I’m acting like an adult.

See you next season, Tom Chandler.

Every John Gierach fan absolutely will want one of these for Christmas.

And no – no need to thank us. At the Underground, we’re all about fostering obsessive behavior among fly fishermen (as if that was hard).

Why would any Gierach fan ask for anything else?

It’s Day 77 of the Underground’s Home Hostage Crisis, and no, it hasn’t escaped the Underground’s notice that if he can hit a tiny, fast-moving clay disk with a shotgun, a fleeing contractor wouldn’t offer much challenge.

Just saying is all.

Fortunately, the L&T and I managed to liberate small parts of our home from the grasp of the slow-moving insurgents, and the end may yet be in sight, though with even the absolutely, positively, drop-dead deadlines slipping away, it doesn’t always feel like it.

Of course, this blog isn’t about home-based acts of remodeling terrorism.

It’s about fly fishing, and with California’s general trout season closing soon, I’m abandoning my newly expanded (and largely sleep-deprived) family for a few hours in favor of a trout stream.

Where Do You Go When You Can Only Go One Place?

As closing day looms, fly fishermen tend to panic, though with many of California’s rivers now open to C&R fly fishing year-round, closing season no longer means putting people like Wayne Eng on suicide watch.

Before Chris Raine almost single-handedly got the Upper Sac’s season extended, you could actually watch Wayne grow more disconsolate as the closer neared.

One year I even brought a battery powered fishing game to Wayne & Myrna’s end-of-the-season party – a desperate attempt to stem the black tide that engulfed Wayne after the close, where he could only look at the river running by his front door.

It was useless of course – like handing a pack of cigarettes to a heroin addict – but it was either that or encourage Wayne to engage in highly illegal acts of fly fishing.

Fortunately, local fly fishing life has improved the last five years, though realizing that most the other local rivers (and all the small streams) are closing soon is still a bit of a rabbit punch to the groin.

It’s as if fly fishermen are faced with their own version of that old question: “If your home was on fire, which thing would you save first?”

Only for us, it’s “If the season’s closing soon, which body of water do you fish last?”

For me – and for reasons I can’t even begin to explain – it’s going to be a small stream.

Stream Y, in fact.

The Forecast: Trout, Followed by Rain

The weather forecast allows as to how I’ll probably see a little rain, and given the altitude and proximity to the mountain, it’s likely temperatures won’t even reach the 40-degree mark.

That, Undergrounders, sounds like perfect soft shell weather, and after this trip, I may be forced to write an addendum to my previous soft shell equipment reviews, where I largely gushed about this embraced-by-mountaineers-and-outdoor-geeks technology.

Since I published that review, I’ve tested the Patagonia “Insulator” soft shell in a steady (and very cold) rain, and discovered it’s not waterproof – but it is waterproof enough to hold up for three hours or so before I noticed any dampness.

And yes, even when it got damp, it stayed fairly warm.

Would I wear it all day in a driving rainstorm? Not on a cold day, I wouldn’t.

But more after the trip, which because it’s a special occasion, will probably see me wielding a bamboo fly rod.