Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Coupons!
I’m always on the lookout for a good deal. By good deal I mean, getting something for nothing or as close to nothing as I can. It usually involves a coupon that purports to a lesser price with conditions written in small print that is seldom read until the coupon is rejected. When it is finally read, otherwise intelligent people apply their own interpretation that apes a Philadelphia lawyer trying to convince a jury not to believe their eyes and forget about reason … “Don’t you understand, this is me!”
Most of us know there is no free lunch. After all, if the stores giving these coupons lost money, there wouldn’t be a coupon in the first place. So the cost is built in to the “deal.” But, it’s the chase that makes the hunt fun and so getting all you can out of a “deal” is the bragging right to …well, bragging about what you did to get someone to give you whatever you wanted at the price you wanted to pay.
I like to watch people when a store has a coupon out …listen really, because it’s the words that come out of their mouths that make a more lasting impression than actually seeing them say them.
Some of the more memorial rational I’ve heard is: “You mean, I can’t use all of my coupons on one item? I really do have to give you money?”
Or: “It’s not my fault you sold out, I want a rain-check and I don’t care if the sale is for stocked items only.”
My all-time favorite is, “Can I cash these coupons in?”
During harvest time, driving down farm roads up north, I’ve found unmanned tables set up with various vegetables on them and signs that read, “Pay what you think it’s worth.” Most people probably over pay, not wanting to cheat the farmer. Now if they had a coupon, well, that’s a different matter altogether.
TD
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Another sad story!
For the next couple of weeks I’m going to feel like a landlocked salmon: I’m ready to make the arduous trek upstream, but can’t seem to get out of the confines of social obligations. Seamus is feeling it too. This morning with cool air blowing in the bedroom through open windows, he tried to motivate me several times, each time I ignored him, trying to get a few more minutes of sleep. Finally, the smell of fresh ground coffee brewing got me on my feet.
Week after next, I’ll be northward bound and another dilemma will present itself: do we float for big browns or head for the woods in search of bonasa umbellus? I know what Seamus is hoping for. So, why not do both?
Sometimes I think life was simpler when I was still working fulltime. Back then, every weekend was planned out with one thing in mind. Not able to do it all … well, I could always blame it on the job. Now, it’s my own fault due to poor planning …and Seamus is too good a friend to hold a grudge. (Something he had to work at: Brittanies are notorious for getting their feelings hurt and taking their time about forgiving. We’ve been a team for so long, well, he bypasses the grudge stage and goes with what’s coming.)
I’ve missed one river cleanup and will miss another but I’ll be in town to make the Paint Creek Fly Festival in Rochester – though only for a few hours. Yep, another obligation.
By now some will have tears in their eyes as they ponder my plight. Cheer up, I’ll survive. But if you see me in the Rail Side Bar and Grill in Elmira, tired looking, wearing briar pants, a red shirt and a whistle on a lanyard around my neck, just buy me a drink. I’m just taking a break from trying to make up for lost time.
TD
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Vegetarian, lousy hunter!
There is a bumper sticker on my refrigerator at the cabin that says: Vegetarian – Up North word for “lousy hunter.” It’s held on the Frig by a magnet, and I’m so used to seeing it, it takes a few days for me to realize when it’s missing.
Katie, my oldest granddaughter, is a vegetarian and takes exception to the slogan. So, when she comes to visit, somehow, the sticker goes missing. And she does it with a straight face. At 9 years old, she’s going on 30.
The Frig is full of slogans, mementos and of course, pictures. Each one a memory of great times at the cabin and the lake. Our kids grew up there – at least during summer vacation – swimming, fishing and just plain enjoying not being in the city …that is, until they got to be teenagers.
I don’t think I’ve ever met a pure vegetarian before Katie. I know people who love to eat vegetables more than meat, but do eat chicken and beef. I like vegetables too, and could easily make a meal out of just vegetables, but couldn’t do it day in and day out. Katie at age 9 has been doing it for almost two years and came to it all by herself.
I’ve learned that Katie isn’t going to be persuaded to change her mind … it has to be her own idea. So, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. I’ve been compiling vegetarian recipes Katie and I could make for the rest of the family. It’s quality time spent teaching, learning and just plain spending time with “Papa.”
So far I’ve managed to find the sticker when she hides it, but even if I didn’t … well, that’s a memory too.
TD
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Penance!
There are no greater hypocrites than piscators who turn their noses up at other piscators then fall back into what they turned their noses up at. Guilty, I shamefully admit it and am heading out to do my penance for the shameful act I perpetrated yesterday. I was so aware of my misdeed, that I ate the evidence almost immediately and got “She Who Must Be Obeyed” to engage in the cover-up – in fact, she delighted in assisting me.
At the invitation of my friend Bob, I joined him and two others for a couple of hours on Lake ***** to fish for bluegill. It wasn’t the first time I was there and I knew what to expect and looked forward to the biggest gills I’ve ever caught anywhere. I also knew the way to catch them was with a worm retrieved slowly on the bottom in about 15 feet if water. So armed with a 35 year old spinning rod (the first rod I ever built) a tackle box I hadn’t opened in years, I made the pilgrimage …..after buying a couple dozen night crawlers.
The short of it is, we caught so many jumbo gills, it took a while to filet them on an assembly line basis, after which into the frying pan on top of a bed of onions sautéing in butter, they went. The rest is history – or should I say, gooood eating!
So in an hour, I’m off to meet one of the best fly tiers and fishermen I know, to let him cleanse my soul of the misdeed I burdened it with yesterday. If a float with Jerry Regan doesn’t return me from the “dark side” I’m forever doomed.
TD
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Aaah, the Dream Cruise!
I’m taking a slightly different approach to the Dream Cruise. Instead of sitting on a lawn chair waiting for nostalgia to pass in front of my eyes, I’ve decided to walk the route and take it all in. If I need to rest, I’ll just sit on the grass and patiently wait for the next “thing of beauty” to come into view.
Of course I’ll wear a water proof garment to keep from getting wet and I’ll carry everything with me I’ll need for the day. I’ll take an occasional deep breath to get the full ambiance of the day and keep my eyes protected from the sun with good sunglasses. I’ll take in the noise of the activity and try not to let it put me to sleep when I sit and take a break.
There won’t be a big crowd where I go to watch and wait; just a few other like minded aficionados of the “Cruise” will seek the spot I’ve staked out ..and are welcome to share. Armed with everything from a 3 wt. to a 6 wt. rod – some bamboo’s but mostly graphite – and boxes of flies full of patterns from hoppers to Trico’s, it will be hands on.
….Oh, you thought I was going to the Woodward Dream Cruise. No, this is the Manistee River Dream Cruise, consisting of browns, rainbows and brookies. Sorry for the confusion!
TD
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
This isn’t an apology …just history!
It’s been said that fly fishing is a way for people with more money than brains to show off their latest toys trying to catch a fish with fur and feathers tied to a hook while those fishing with worms are reeling them in (fish). Except for the money part, I guess that about sums it up. Somewhere along the way, we fly fishers have gotten a bad reputation; and when you look at an old picture of someone standing in a river or stream that looks like it was manicured just for the photo op, wearing a shirt and tie, you can see how the label “snob” might apply.
The thing is, fly fishing began in Europe and we imported it’s basics from England where they have some peculiar attitudes toward fly fishing: First off, not everyone is entitled to enjoy the benefit of a trout stream; most of the water is owned privately and access is restricted. Their idea of fly fishing holds that trout can only be fished with dry flies, up-stream and only to rising fish. Anything else is poaching. When fly fishing came to our shores, it took hold in New England where “civilization” was and English traditions were common place.
A lot of our fly patterns – especially dry fly patterns – were English patterns until someone had the good sense to “improvise, adapt and overcome”. Slowly, fly patterns emerged, not only into our current dry fly patterns, but when someone realized trout feed more under the surface, the evolution to emerger patterns began.
The rest, as they say, is history.
It’s true that fly fishing can be expensive. All you have to do is look at the multitude of catalogs of rods, reels and even clothing. But like shopping for a car, you can buy a Ford Fusion or a Lincoln or a Rolls Royce. The point is, once you know what you want and what you’re trying to achieve, it’s a matter of wading through ad campaigns and choosing what works for your wallet. Having said that, those of us who are old enough to know better, know that “the difference between men and boys is the price of their toys”…. And that’s what manufacturers of “stuff” depend on.
I don’t know many people who are considered fly fishing “purists” that began fishing by casting a fly rod over the Au Sable. Most of us dug worms, caught night crawlers and drowned them on a hook from the other end of a casting rod or three piece cane pole with a cord line and bobber tied to it; and we caught fish. But somewhere along our evolution from the “the dark side” someone gave us a crack at casting a fly over water that held hungry fish waiting and willing to snatch a furry hook if we presented it properly. And like that first bluegill, we were hooked.
Certainly equipment is part of the equation and good equipment makes it all that much more enjoyable. But it doesn’t have to empty our bank accounts or delay our kids going to college. There is so much equipment on the market, it’s incumbent on us to do our homework and make the choices we can live with and afford. The key is in knowing what we’re trying to do, how we need to do it and what we need to get it done. And above all, have fun.
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Wow, the aluminum, rubber and plastic hatches are on!
Finally, time to float the Big Water at Mio. With a friend and newbie to fishing for browns and rainbows with a fly rod, we cast off in the “poor man’s float boat” and drifted to Comins. Great weather, few hatches (mostly midges) and only a couple of rises. Chris had a few fish follow a leech, but no takers other than a creek chub that took a BWO emerger I put on out of desperation.
Seven hours on the river, good company, a cooler full of nourishment and the best seat in the house to watch the parade. Come on September.
TD
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Enough is enough!
I have a taste for brookies and if there are any left over, it will be fishcakes for breakfast. So tomorrow morning will find me in my favorite haunt on the Jordan doing what I can to put brookies in my creel before the plastic, rubber and aluminum hatch occur.
If anyone has any idea of saving me from myself, forget it. When this mood strikes, it’s like a Whimpy looking for a hamburger. (If you don’t know who Whimpy is, ask your grandfather.)
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Kitchen Sink Fish
I see a lot of pictures of successful piscators holding fish they’ve caught and each one looks like a cousin to Moby Dick. Actually, that same fish could be ten different sizes if the camera angle and distance to the lens were changed.
Don’t get me wrong, I go for the same optical illusion when it comes to bragging about my catch, but it’s always interesting to see a picture of a brown or brookie that looks like it had to be gaffed to land.
Guides survive by the fish they put a client on; too many “no fish” floats and the bookings wane. But the reality of fly fishing for trout for me is, those lunkers aren’t the norm, the 8 to 12 inch fish is. And for some reason – only another trout bum can understand – it keeps me going back.
There was a time when fish were kept and shared with family, friends, neighbors and the proof was in the showing – “kitchen sink fish” they were called. But for many those days are gone, so the way to show off is to take a picture with the i-phones some can’t leave home without. Works for me.
TD
Category Archives: Tongue ‘n Cheek
Definitely Patience
This is a re-print of a column I wrote for the Oakland Press several years ago after a reader chastised me for my misuse of the word “patience.” (patients).
They say patience is a virtue, and mine is constantly being tested ….by me. Once I decide to do something, I usually forge ahead like a bull in a china shop and with the same consequences. Take the time I watched a rising trout on a section of the Jordan I had great difficulty getting to. It took planning and constant adaptation to make my way through a bog that looked to be more solid ground than it actually was. By having a little patience I finally got through and sat on a downed cedar log alongside the bank to catch my breath. As I sat there I observed the happenings in and on the river: ducks were swimming along the slow side of the river, stopping to rest in a small pool; grouse drummed behind me and across the river and feeding trout dotted the surface further downstream. There were (and still are) riffles about 50 feet upstream from where I was sitting and the river curved sharply just below me. On the inside half of the bend a trout was feeding – he wasn’t just the run of the mill trout, this fish was a monster as trout in the Jordan go. I watched him for quite a while and finally formulated a plan in my mind on how to approach him in a way that would allow me to throw a fly and set it gently directly in his window. The problem was, I was on the deep side of the river and the current was swift.
Going upstream to enter wasn’t possible because of the riffles and trying to cast from the bank wasn’t an option because of overhanging trees and bushes. My only option was to go downstream, enter and make my way back upstream. The problem there was he was feeding just above the bend and that made him invisible until I was almost on top of him. (He didn’t get as big as he was by being stupid.)
My patience was starting to wear thin; I wanted that fish. He rose again. This time he cleared the surface revealing him to be a brookie. He was without a doubt the biggest brook trout I’d ever seen on the Jordan and it was as though he laid a challenge at my feet; I had to cast a fly to him. Tying on a parachute Adams, size 14 on a 6x tippet, I decided the best approach was to cross over above the riffles, and hug the bank making my way toward the bend without disrupting his feeding. The current was almost nonexistent on the other side and wading would be easy.
Since he was feeding almost at the tip of the bend, it was necessary to go far enough toward the middle of the river in order to be able to see the drift of the fly, mend and react if and when he took it. After several casts – each one falling short of where I wanted to place it – I inched closer which meant going further out toward the middle of the river. Several more casts with no interest from the big trout, I stopped, took a quick glance at my footing and took two more sidesteps. The rest is history.
My lack of patience made me a patient. All of a sudden I lost my balance, slid from the sand shelf into a hole, water poured into my waders and I wrenched my back trying to regain my footing.
I reluctantly divulge this chapter in my fishing experience to make the point I know the difference between the words “patience and patient”. More than one reader picked up on my error in the word usage in last week’s column. That too was due to a lack of patience.
Seamus could teach patience to a snail. In the dictionary, there ought to be a picture of him next to the word. Every night he sits, starring at me, waiting for three things to happen: he wants his nightly dish of frozen yogurt and banana concoction; the ability to lick our ice cream bowls; and to be taken for a walk. He knows if he becomes too pushy he’s likely to miss out so he just sits or lays, watching with a sad eyes – a look that usually pays off for him.
Seamus has his moments of reckless abandon too; catching a scent too soon as he gets out of the truck on a pheasants hunt can cause him to yelp like a beagle until the bird flushes, then as the bird flushes and flies away, he realizes his mistake and settles down. You can bet when that cold water hit warm spots of my body, I settled down too. Patience re-learned.
TD