One of the last times I didn't fly fish

This is a factual account, but I have changed the name of my fishing partner to protect him from embarrasment...

Several years ago I was roped into a bass tournament.  Yep, a fast boat, plug slinging afair; something that is so far removed from me now that I have a hard time placing myself in the events that transpired.  This could very well be one reason that I laid down the bait castors and spinning rigs for good.

Early Saturday morning.  Watts Bar Lake in East Tennessee.  Late Spring.  I boarded a bass boat owned by a guy I worked with.  Hale was kinda a quircky fellow that always seemed to be a little depressed.  Only one or two people on staff really spoke to him much.  He always seemed lonely to me so when he asked me to be his partner in a fishing tournament, I said yes in part because I kinda felt sorry for the guy.  When I told people that I was fishing with him, they all said "oh" and changed the subject.  I should have seen the warning signs right then and there.

I climbed aboard and sat down in the passenger seat of his big sleek bass boat.  He picked up a rod he had just rigged up and proceeded to impail one of the treble hooks of his huge rattle trap into the sleeve of my brand new wind breaker.  First time worn and he had in one fell swoop ripped a gash at least four inches long in the left arm.  Hey, it could happen to anyone...right?  Well...let me continue...

He said he was sorry and I begrudgingly said it was fine.  We blast off at break neck speed across the lake, the whole time he is talking to me in a normal voice.  The lips were moving, of that I was sure, but the sound had been ripped out of his mouth by the wind as quick as my sleeve had been ripped.  I just smiled, nodded, and hoped he would slow down soon.

We pull into a cove, his fish finder showed a ton of little blips that he assured me were bass.  He dropped the trolling moter and we started fishing.  No more than ten casts and he says "they're not hitting, lets move" and jumps down into the driver seat and fires up the big black engine.  I sit down and we take off...and when I say take off...I mean take off!  He hammered it and the front end of the boat shot up as we were jettisoned out of the cove.  Just as the boat started to plane out I noticed that the trolling motor had not been pulled up.  I tried to get Hale's attention, but it was to late.  The boat came down, the trolling motor was ripped of the deck, and the blade from it literally whistled not three feet from my head.

Hale...just a little to late...kills the engine, and proceeds to cuss and beat his fists against the steering wheel to the point that his hands were bleeding.  I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.

"We'll just have to fish without it.", he says, and I'm thinking "duh..."  And as he did in the cove, he guns it.

With God as my witness, we had gone no more than twenty yars when he hit something in the water and ripped the prop off the engine.  So...here we are, not an hour into the tourney and I have a ruined jacket, no trolling motor, and am sitting in the middle of the main channel of a huge lake in a boat with no engine.  Not to mention this mad man who I am trapped out there with.

Hoping to try and glean something positive...I stand up and start casting a spinner bait...in 100 feet of water.  Hope springs eternal I guess.

About an hour later this guy sees us and offers to tow us back to the ramp.  He throws us a ski rope and we start the slow tug back home.  It was then that we spotted a group of very large fish busting shad.

"Mind if we stop and fish?", the guy in the other boat called out.

And so we did.  And I hooked into a huge Stripe bass that was tearing line out and giving me one heckuva struggle.  I turned to Hale to ask him to pitch me the net when I notice that there is about six inches of water in the bottom of the boat.  Instead of calling out for the net...all that could come out was "WE"RE SINKING!!!!".  Evidently, the structure we hit ripped a hole into the hull of the boat.  I lost the fish (I think that was the last hook up I have ever had on conventional tackle), we all reeled in and with just a little space to spare, we made it back to the ramp.

Hale loaded his beated and battered watercraft up onto its shiney trailor and headed home.  I got a pinch of snuff, and sat there watching the others work the banks feverishly for a few minutes before heading home.  I left a note on one of the guys wind shields that simply said..."you were right".  I guessed they could figure out all the details.  If not, they could fish out all the details at work on Monday.

I prayed a lot on the way home.  And to this day, I have never, and will never, fish with conventional tackle again.  A guy can get hurt that way ya know?.

A little blooper enjoyment to add to the story...

Got Boo?

In my last post, I reported on the new Orvis rod I now call my own, and how I am a bamboo nut who is wrestling with the fact that I am now fishing graphite.  Here is one of the reasons I struggle with it so...

I build my own bamboo.  The price of a quality bamboo rod made by one of the amazing builders was just so far out of my price range that I couldn't take the plunge.  So I began building them...and I love it!  Here is what I discovered.  It is possible to build a quality bamboo fly rod for a very reasonable price.  I have built several and don't think I have ever spent as much as what some of the top end graphite rods sell for.  Plus, I could customize them to my taste.  Color of the wraps, type of guides, grip, reel seat...it was all for me to choose.  Plus, I get a kick out of putting them together!

I call my rods Riverdale Classics and I have everything from a small stream 3wt. to a streamer chunking 6/7 wt.  When you build...the sky is the limit.

The graphite...due to the reasons I mentioned in my last entry, will probably be my go to in a lot of situations, but I will always have a rod of my own construction lurking verrrrrrrrrrrry close by.

If any of the readers of The Perfect Drift would like a very affordable bamboo rod of their own with the accounterments of their choosing...shoot me an email and we'll talk.

You can reach me at marcpaynemsp@aol.com

Breaking in a new rod

For many years now, I have been a bamboo rod lover.  But my latest rod purchase was of a different variety...graphite.  Yes, the evil empire of graphite.  The arch enemy of any true blue bamboo lover.  The Antichrist of traditional fly fishing.  Graphite.

I bought an Orvis TLS power matrix 9' 5wt.  And Friday I took it on its first trip.  Here are my findings.

The rod itself is much lighter than anything I was used to.  Topping the scale at less than 5 ounces, it felt very different than the 8 or so ounce bamboo.  What is the difference, you ask?  What is two or three ounces?  A lot if you take longer trips, or your right arm is showing signs of age that can only be attributed to a steady decline.

Next is action.  Bamboo rods are, by nature, slower, more relaxed.  The TLS is listed as a mid flex which means that it is bending about midway down the rod, but even this rod was faster than anything I was used to and it took a few minutes for me to get into the swing, but when I did, this rod really hummed.

It was also fitting that the first fish to christen this rod would be a brown trout.  Man, I love catching those fish.  Of all the available species to catch on a fly rod, I would rather catch a brown trout than anything else.  I'd like to say that I caught it on my first cast, but it took a while for me to get the feel of the hook set with this rod.  I missed several before I found that right technique.  But when I did...it was on!  Caught a bunch of fish and with the exception of two rainbows...all were browns.

Have I found my way over to the dark side?  Am I now a converted graphite guy?  Maybe on tail water which is really what this rod was designed to be.  But when I enter the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in search of some wild rainbows and the indigenous brookie.  You can bet your bottom dollar I will have boo in my hand.  No matter how much it hurts.

You got trout down there?

When folks think trout, most don't readily let their thoughts head to East Tennessee.  It just isn't a place that is high on most anyones map as a fly fishing travel destination, yet, for those that do come...well...

If you are in Knoxville you are unbelievably close to some prime trout water, and if big ol' Montana sized trout are what you are lookin for...

Taken from the infamous Fishless River/ Bluegill Hole

This nice one was pulled from the water less than 40 minutes from Neyland Stadium in mid town Knoxville.

Because I fish this spot a lot through the year, I WILL NOT divulge the location, but if you are ever in the land of The Perfect Drift and we go fishing together we might stop by and see whats bighting.

I dream of Alaska, I dream of Montana and Yellowstone.  But it isn't for the fish really, it is just for the experience and the scenery.  If it is about the fish, I can leave my office and be casting to big fish like this in short order.

Yep.  I do want to visit the dream locations for an avid Fly Fisherman.  But I can't imagine any other place I'd rather be than close to my family, and close to broad shouldered trout lurking water that the majority will never see....

Largely minimalistic...more or less

Been really focused on downsizing lately.  Not that there is anything wrong with having a bunch of stuff, but for me...well...I am just feeling like less is more and here is the thoughts....

I have a friend here at work who is a true ebay junkie.  He has several areas of interest and the money to spend on them, but I often wonder why accumulate so much and do nothing with it?  Why have over 1,000 dvd's if you only watch maybe fifty of them more than once?  Is it an ego thing?  Perhaps.

Minimalism suggests that you evaluate exactly what you need and remove the rest.  The thought is that the excess is clutter and requires a certain amount of energy that could be better placed elsewhere.  So, I am giving it a go.  I am ridding myself of a lot of books.  Some I've never read, some have not been off the shelf in ten plus years.  CD's and movies too.

I tried to boil down what I need or use (the two are not the same), and here is what I came up with.  I need food...got it, I need clothes...got it but am getting rid of a lot, I need shelter...got it, I need my family...got it. 

As far as my fishing goes, I am gonna stop reading the advertisement fueled magazines, better police what I view online as far as fly fishing goes, and reduce the number of items that someone in a big city high rise has determined that I cannot do without.

Rod, reel, line, tippet, leader, small box of flies, waders, and a couple of odds and ends should just about cover me for any situation I might encounter.

The past few weeks have been a little taxing on my spirit in several ways, and one of the things that keeps reoccurring in my thoughts is that my life is just to junked up.  Perhaps if I reduce a part of it may resolve itself.  The rest is just for me to work out.  Now if I could just find some time laying around here somewhere.....

Everything old is new again...sorta

I am a bamboo guy, but as of late I have been leaning more and more toward graphite...and here is why.

If you are going to buy a quality bamboo fly rod, you can expect to pay a huge amount of money.  Money which I just don't have.  I have built my own, but even that gets a little deep in the pocket.  Plus, if it breaks...its broke...just like me.  Another reason, and one that I don't like admitting.  The weight of a bamboo rod is starting to show its impact on this middle aged shoulder of mine.  So I have been on the lookout for an affordable graphite that has a warranty that is good.  Sounds easy enough, but not so much when you want warranty and affordability. 

I have spoken with customer service reps for just about every major fly rod maker in the free world and finally narrowed it down to two.  Temple Fork Outfitters and Orvis.  At this point it became a choice based on price point and quality of product.  For a working man's rod, you can't beat TFO on price.  They are not the highest of quality in their workmanship, but they are functional.  Orvis has been in the rod business a long time and they have it down to a science...but they are a little higher on the dollar.

One thing that I kept returning to is the fact that Orvis rods are American made.  Our country doesn't make a lot of things now that are top of the line, but you can not top an American made fly rod.  So...with a modest dose of patriotism, I am going with an Orvis Rod.  American made, excellent warranty that will last till I am to old to lift a fly rod, and a reputation for good products.

Would I rather be fishing with a bamboo rod made by Bill Oyster or Gary Lacy?  Without question I would, but to do so would not only bust my bank account, it would no doubt send me to divorce court faster than you can say tonkin.  And THAT is why I will spare my shoulder the further discomfort, and go with a graphite rod.

Maybe someday I can afford a high quality boo built by a master...

American made as well...

(A tip of the hat to my old friends Dick and Marshall who were the "actors" in the video about Gary Lacy)

On the way to Hendersonville

This week my parents will be celebrating their 49th year as man and wife (an amazing feat in this day and age).  They went to Hendersonville North Carolina for the weekend, and as has become their custom, they used the GPS and took every backroad between their house and the destination.

Ya know, the interstate has really ruined the joy of a drive.  We are in such a hurry to get from point a to point b that we miss all the wonderful and unique things that our country has to offer.  So, with that in mind, my folks went on the pilgimage.

Somewhere, on a drit and gravel road, presumably across the border into North Carolina, they found one of the creepiest sights you will ever see...here is Dads Youtube Video...

Okay...this would be enough to weird me out.  My Mom goes up and starts snapping photos and in my mind I am thinking..."okay, some crazed nut job wearing his dead mothers dress is gonna come out from behind that tree at any second!" 

Why all the Vultures?  I will leave that for you to figure out...

See what you miss by taking the interstate?

Of course if I am headed to the river, I want the quickest route possible and will leave the Steven King Alfred Hitchcock sites for my much braver and adventurous parents.

On a fishing note.  I am getting a new rod tomorrow.  I'll try to post about it soon.

See ya'll this week sometime...but until then...

watch out for the Vultures.....and other things...

Dark days in the land of The Perfect Drift

"Whether we and our politicians know it or not, Nature is party to all our deals and decisions, and she has more votes, a longer memory, and a sterner sense of justice than we do."


— Wendell Berry

So much has happened and is happening right now in my area regarding the waterways I frequent that it boggles the mind.
 
One month ago, I was still reeling from an epic two day trip that literally left my arm sore from casting a bamboo fly rod and catching a multitude of quality fish.
 
Today though, the story is much different.  Rain over the past few weeks has blown out every tailwater.  The hydro-electric dams that regulate the flows are pushing water at an alarming rate which makes any thoughts of big water fishing a mere dream.
 
Then we go to the smokies.  The natural refuge for wild trout.  Blown out as well.  As a matter of fact, yesterday the CFS in the park was knocking on 4500.  To put that in perspective for those of you that do not frequent the park.  In most areas, the river is only about 20 feet wide and runs at about 350CFS.  You put 4500 in such a narrow area and you can imagine just how nasty that could be.
 
Yesterday. A waste treatment facility for the city of Gatlinburg had an incident that dumped almost 1,000,000 gallons of raw sewage into the river.  Two men lost their lives in the accident.
 
 

Friday, unless our Federal Government gets their act together. The park will actually close. CLOSE! So even if I could find fishable water, I couldn't get to it.


Yep, these are dark days. But as my Uncle used to say, "This too shall pass."


I just hope the damage it leaves in its passing will not be long lasting in its recovery.