Tag Archives: Tom Chandler

The Post-Solstice Fly Fishermen (or, A Short Essay Designed to Prevent Madness)

December 22, 2009

Yesterday was the Winter Solstice – that day when winter officially begins, and the sun shines the least it will all year long.

It’s a day you notice not because it promises any immediate relief from the cold and dark, but because it offers the faintest hope; from now on, each day grows a tiny bit longer instead of a tiny bit shorter.

With winter’s worst yet to come, progress of any kind makes a real impression on those of us who think light and warm and Green Drakes are better than dark and freezing and nothing.

Fly fishing a small stream in mid-summer

Me on a small stream last summer. A repeat is many months away... (photo courtesy Jim Troyer)

And while surviving a mountain winter from the heavily insulated, nicely heated Trout Underground/Man Cave World Headquarters doesn’t exactly qualify me to write a Jack London-esque short story, sunsets at 4:30 in the afternoon do eventually take their toll.

If you’re a short-horizon type like I am – someone who tends to focus on the near-term situation instead of the long-term picture – milestones are the tools that keep you going when the light at the end of the tunnel is dim indeed.

Some fish even when the river’s too high (and going higher), and others decide that writing about something interesting is almost as much fun as doing something interesting, and hole up in their office and type.

Chris Raine – being neither – is (typically) scattered across a half-dozen different bamboo fly rod building projects, while the local guides either work hard on their businesses, or essentially take a few months off.

Others tie flies like obsessed shamans – wielding fly tying tools like talismans meant to ward off madness – and some fools even clean their fly lines and oil their reels for next year.

That we look to January as the start of the year is nothing more than a convenience borne of rigid thinking.

The real fly fishing year begins (and ends) yesterday, and what are you doing to get ready – or simply make it to – next season?

See you in the (growing) light of day, Tom Chandler.

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AFFTA Goes It Alone On Trade Show: Hires Industry Veteran to Lead Effort

December 21, 2009

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.

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Upper Sacramento Brown Trout Tapes Out at 27? (or, Why We Officially Hate Wayne Eng)

December 17, 2009

Local fly fishing guide Wayne Eng used to grow so depressed when the Upper Sacramento River closed for the season, we considered confiscating his belt and shoelaces and placing him on suicide watch.

Now he gets to fish the Upper Sacramento all winter long (which is good, because it runs right by his home), and Wednesday, he was very, very happy the fishing season extends year-round. Why? Here’s 27 great reasons…):

Bigger than life? Wayne Eng's 27" Upper Sacramento Brown Trout

Bigger than life? Wayne Eng's 27" of Upper Sacramento Brown Trout happiness.

That’s an Upper Sacramento Brown trout which Wayne suggests taped out at 27 inches. That’s two-seven, Undergrounders. On a river not exactly known for its populations of monster brown trout.

He caught it on a (ta-da!) black woolly bugger – at a time when the rain and snow melt were just starting to drive higher flows and murk the water a bit – an awfully good time to go headhunting.

Still, these kind of fish have a tendency to appear in the winter, and you’re often left to wonder exactly where the hell they were all summer.

Hiding at the bottom of a deep pool? Living the high life in Lake Shasta? Lacking a hideously outsized government research grant more information, we’re not sure.

But at least we know the things exist.

See you at the fly bin, Tom Chandler.

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A Bold New Plan For Revitalizing The Ailing Fly Fishing World (or, Death Becomes You…)

December 16, 2009

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?

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.

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Fly Fishing the Upper Sac’s BWO Hatch (or, Are Trout Capable of Deceit and Revenge?)

December 13, 2009

You can’t ascribe human terms like “revenge” or even “manipulative bastards” to trout, but you damn sure can experience those feelings when you’re fishing for them.

One day you arrive late in the hatch and the trout show themselves just long enough to let you know they’re down there, but they stop eating even as the blue-winged olives continue to float by.

Wayne Eng contemplates vengeful trout on the Upper Sacramento

Wayne Eng contemplates vengeful trout on the Upper Sacramento

“Too late” you think, and the next day you head back (only much earlier), and you and your friends catch the exact same number of fish as the prior day, and this despite experiencing the entire BWO hatch instead of just 20 minutes of it.

As you stand there in water that is only barely liquid (water temps at the Upper Sac’s Delta gauge registered 36 degrees that morning), it’s not hard to think you threw the trout off balance for a few minutes by showing up early, but they recovered quickly and sulked on the bottom.

The result?

Day One Party Wide Trout Count: 3
Day Two Party Wide Trout Count: 3

In what has come to be a regular occurrence, the BWOs of “deep” winter are actually larger than those that hatch in the fall. The early bugs are #20s and #22s, but the bugs now look like perfect 18s, though some have much larger wings (I’m told the females have bigger wings).

Raine picked this cripple out of the film. Poor cripple...

Raine picked this cripple out of the film. Poor cripple...

With air temps hovering around the water temperature, fly fishing the Upper Sacramento would normally offer fly fishermen few chances at trout but excellent odds on frost bite, but through the miracle of modern gear, I was a toasy, happy camper the whole day.

Yes, it rained. Yes the BWOs are now a size 18. Yes, I was warm.

Yes, it rained. Yes the BWOs are now a size 18. Yes, I was warm.

Last year I became a convert to the fly fishing soft shell, a remarkably lightweight jacket that’s achieved widespread acceptance among mountaineering and active types for its ability to keep the wearer dry even during high-output activities.

It’s an ideal choice for many situations, but this, my cold-weather Undergrounders, wasn’t one of them.

In truth, something warmer was called for – a Patagonia Micro-Puff jacket I got last year, but rarely wore on account of it being a little too warm.

The last week – with us experiencing temperatures in the low single digits and my time on the river making a weekend in a deep freeze seem tropical by comparison – I hauled it out, and was happy I did.

Lightweight, water resistant and damned warm, I’d marry it if I wasn’t already married (and let’s face it, the relationship would fall apart in the summer), but in terms of keeping me warm on the river, it was perfect – even to the point of being compressible and light enough to stuff in a vest back pocket.

It's winter - time to break out the prototype Raine quad hollowbuilt

It's winter - time to break out the prototype Raine quad hollowbuilt

As for fly rods, it’s oddly true that fishing tiny bugs on tiny tippet on the Upper Sacramento in the winter demands more rod than you might imagine.

A three weight sounds like the right piece of equipment, but the trout on this particular stretch are wary, and you regularly find yourself laying out long leaders and long casts, and my mainstay in the winter has been a strong 8.5′ 5wt, in this case a prototype Raine hollowbuilt quad that he loaned me for testing and forget to take back.

Let's Raine's not reading this...

Let's hope Raine's not reading this...

Whenever I fish it and he’s around, I cringe, wondering if he’s going to remember and ask for it back. It’s not as if I don’t have other rods capable of doing the same job, but again, this one works real well, and only a fool would give that up.

At some point, you tend to settle in with the gear that works for you – and I’ve been that way roughly since I moved up here more than a decade ago – but every once in a while, you check out the new stuff and see if the state of the art has advanced (instead of the state of the industry’s marketing), and in the jacket world, it appears it has.

That’s coming from a guy who still mostly fishes bamboo and fiberglass fly rods, which suggests I’m a lot more interested in staying warm than I am in generating high line speeds. (Of the two, I know which is most useful on my river.)

Still, in the end, fly fishing the Upper Sacramento in the winter isn’t about gear or even catching a lot of trout.

It’s about practicing a sport in conditions where hope is your biggest ally, and the trout and the bugs often act like they’re out to drive you mad.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

I could pretend I went for the painted effect, but the pic just wasn't that sharp...

I could pretend I went for the painted effect, but the pic just wasn't that sharp...

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The Underground’s Off Chasing BWOs (or, Fly Fishing in the Snow for Redemption)

December 11, 2009

After exposing the terror war being perpetrated on fish, I looked out the window (as fly fishermen often do), and noticed it was snowing lightly.

Snow forecast

And that air temperatures were hovering around freezing.

Hot damn.

That my friends, isn’t just snow.

That’s BWO Snow.

A couple calls later, and Wayne and Steve and I are gearing up and heading for the river – a stretch known for its BWO hatches.

Bolstered by a few tiny BWO flies sent by a sympathetic Undergrounder – and wearing the latest warm-weather stuff (Patagonia’s Micro-Puff jacket) – I’m ready to do what I couldn’t do before (namely catch trout in the midst of a BWO hatch).

Even as you envy my soon-to-be-freezing ass, say a quick prayer for me. The bugs are tiny, the trout are picky, and I’m out of practice.

See you on the river (really), Tom Chandler.

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More on the Fishy Terror War (A Report From a Yellowfin Tuna On The Front Lines)

December 11, 2009

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.

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Fanny Krieger (of Mel & Fannie Fame) Launches DVD Aimed at Kid Fly Fishers

December 3, 2009

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.

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Fly Fishing the BWO Hatch When You Haven’t Fly Fished a BWO Hatch in a Year (or, Ouch)

November 30, 2009

The bugs had just started and a few trout were rising, and it was suddenly very clear I’d spent most of my summer fly fishing small streams.

Well, somebody caught something. I just wasn't me...

Well, somebody caught something. It just wasn't me...

Fishing a small stream is gratifying, but it’s not the best preparation for throwing #22 emergers at very spooky trout – which tend to stop rising whenever you wade closer than 35′.

In other words, I was rusty.

Rusty enough that I got a little cranky with myself on the water.

That’s a bad thing, because when I’m cranky, I start cataloging my fly fishing failures, and under the impetus of an admittedly self-critical nature, that list can grow very long.

Wrong flies. Out of 6x. Every cast eight inches short. Not sneaky enough. Not piling enough tippet for a good drift. Not focused. Bad karma from prior lifetime.

It can get a little weighty at a moment in your life when a little confidence is a real asset.

The Code

Sometimes, you never do crack the code, and the bugs stop appearing and the fish stop rising, and you stand hip-deep in seriously freezing cold water and wonder why you took up this sport in the first place.

Other times you change one simple thing: tippet, fly, more reach in the cast – and the whole experience resolves itself right in front of your eyes, and the trout do their part by eating the fly.

It’s either the way things are supposed to work, or pure magic.

When that does happen, you tend to forget the first half hour or so; that stretch where some apparently immature fly fisherman would be tempted to imitate his new daughter by stamping his wading boots and whining.

(Thank goodness that doesn’t apply to you or me.)

In this case, I sorta cracked it. Barely.

Well, not really.

I was able to get fish to eat, though before it all came together, I had one actually come up under my bug while aiming for the natural right behind it.

My simply too-big #18 parachute simply slid off his broad back, and I simply stood there wondering at the unfairness of it all.

The answer, of course, is that fairness isn’t a concept often adhered to in nature, and it wasn’t the trout’s fault I was stinking the place up.

The Ugly Reality

Chris Raine – who was ironically fishing my backup rod (an 8.5′ Raine prototype) because he’d grabbed the wrong rod tube on the way out of the shop – landed two nice fish.

Sure, his fish, but MY fly rod. I claim at least half of the trout's 15 inches

Naturally, I claimed ownership of half of both trout, suggesting it was a fool’s tax for grabbing the wrong rod (an obvious symptom of advancing age).

Just as naturally, he replied with a rude gesture.

I fished an 8.5′ Jim Reams hollowbuilt (a rod I love dearly for its smooth nature, but may sell because I’m not nearly caster enough to enjoy the taper when the bugs are on the water and I get impatient and start driving casts).

I had a total of four grabs, one brief hookup, one driven-by-frustration hookset (broke him off), and missed the other two on general principle.

In other words, I kinda sucked, and because I was preoccupied with rising fish, I can’t even save this fishing report with a handful of good pictures.

It was the kind of day that shows you brief flashes of promise, yet reminds you that you’re not nearly as good at this (or most other things) as your daydreams suggest you are.

Or more accurately, I’m not always as good at this as I was on the one day I did it all perfectly – a day which somehow becomes our benchmark for normalcy, which is self-deception raised to a high art.

While I’ll eventually adjust to the demands of the BWO hatch (I’m stocking up on #20 Roy Palm biot-bodied soft hackle emergers), I’ll also embrace the concept of letting the trout win the day without assuming I’ve lost my marbles.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

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The Underground’s Post-Thanksgiving, err… Post

November 29, 2009

The bird has been eaten and the relatives are seeing our driveway in their rear-view mirrors, and while holidays are always hectic, this might be the first in recent memory when fly fishing wasn’t even a blip on the radar.

That, of course, flies in the face of common sense; in what I’ll call one of the Upper Sacramento River’s Dirty Little Secrets, the October Caddis bite remains pretty good through the middle of December.

That means big fish on big dries, which is something I don’t take lightly.

Still, family get-togethers are rare things at the Trout Underground/Man Cave World Headquarters, and with Little M now racing around the house on two legs, it’s clear a new World Order has taken over.

Thus, does life nudge us forward.

The Turkey Talks, We Cringe

My Thanksgiving sadness extends beyond the lack of river time; in a move sure to disappoint the legions of Undergrounders, I must admit slightly undercooking the turkey on our charcoal Weber, despite producing perfect birds on several prior occasions.

In other words, I failed charcoal huggers everywhere.

I could recycle the same excuses widely employed for fly fishing (too hot, too cold, too many people lifting the lid/wading the river, etc), but all I can say is the fire just didn’t burn hot enough long enough.

I hang my head in shame.

The Word Count

More startling is this admission: I haven’t written a word in days.

In some ways, that bothers me more than the lack of fly fishing. I’m a writer by trade, and the absence of a little daily keyboard abuse raises alarms of every kind.

Never fear Undergrounders; two nearly finished posts are waiting the in the wings, and you’ll see them shortly.

The world my be spinning faster than it did ten years ago (OK, maybe it just seems that way), but we’re still on this horse.

This week, I begin teaching four nights a week for three weeks – the kind of honest workload that I simply have no stomach for. Sadly, the die is cast, and for three weeks, I’ll fill the role of hardworking, responsible educator/online marketing consultant.

Naturally, any sentence including the word “responsible” chafes the hides of fly fishers the world over, especially given that I’m not only hankering to get a little fishing in, but would love to annihilate a few more clay pigeons with the Browning, and yes, practice a little more precision shooting before the nearby range closes for the winter.

In other words – like my dinner plate on Thanksgiving – my recreational plate is also full of half-cooked goodies.

See you in the classroom, Tom Chandler.

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