SCOF - Summer 2021 - Issue no.40

S.C.O.F ISSUE NO. 40

SCOF

MAG

STILL FREE

|

SUMMER 2021

southern culture

Nearly 300 species of fish depend upon the massive-but-fragile ecosystems unique to Everglades National Park, including bucket-listers such as tarpon, redfish and snook. © 2021 Patagonia, Inc.

Crush barbs and pick up stream-side trash. Volunteer skills, money and time.

Fight for access and vote your conscience. Even our smallest efforts build a future for wild fish, clean water and an inclusive community. It’s not too late.

It’s never too early. It’s every day. We are all wild fish activists.

SCOF summer Fluffer

Photo: Watauga River, Tennessee - June 2021, Rand Harcz

Photo: Rio Tejo, Portugal - July 2021, Steve Seinberg

Photo: Charleston, South Carolina - July 2021, Lawson Builder

Photo: Indian River Lagoon, Florida - June 2021, Steve Seinberg

Photo: Pisgah National Forest, NC (with M. Williams/ TSG) - July 2021, Lawson Builder

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scof summer fluffer

26

a letter from dave

30

haiku

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bench press

.david .danny

grossman reed

.green-eyed

tarpon beetle .noah miller

106 fur

and feather matinee

belly dragger .hogan brown

departments

.hogan's

130 we

can read; so should you

.game

changer - blane chocklett .lords of the fly - monte burke

154 stratergizing .hot

randy's handies

162 sayin's 168 the

.paul

we shouldn't be sayin'

back page

puckett and mike benson

34

brood x by allen gillespie

photos: david grossman

features

74 lisbon: two days with peter photos: steve seinberg

112 tampa

perch

bay

nutrient pollution in florida where do we go from here?

by

will buehn photos: præch productions

134 stay

east. young man

by john van vleet photos: john van vleet and wesley white

no. 40

SENSE

NEW

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Greater control of fine euro nymphing leaders, tippet and flies.

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sageflyfish.com

s.c.o.f summer 2021

issue no. 40 no.40

editor co-publisher:

David Grossman creative director co-publisher:

Steve Seinberg

contributors: Noah Miller Peter Perch John Van Vleet Rand Harcz Hogan Brown Allen Gillespie Lawson Builder Will Buehn Praech Productions Wesley White Paul Puckett Mike Benson Danny Reed

copy editor: John Van Vleet copy editor emeritus: Lindsey Grossman ombudsman: Rand Harcz general inquiries and submissions: info@southerncultureonthefly.com advertising information: info@southerncultureonthefly.com

cover image: Steve Seinberg

www.southerncultureonthefly.com 22

all content and images © 2021 Southern Culture on the Fly

S.C.O.F MAGAZINE

S.C.O.F MAGAZINE

Photo: Steve Seinberg

southern culture

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FAIL is not an ABSOLUTE TROUT SUPREME FLUOROCARBON TIPPET “Catching big fish in low clear water requires preparation, persistence and the right product. In spring hatches, I might be running 6x to a size 18 dry with size 26 dropper. I need to know I can rely on that tippet to hold when I set the hook. Stealth and strength, that’s why I fish the SA Absolute Trout series.” - Landon Mayer, SA Ambassador

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A letter from Dave, the editor...

Summer 2021 Forty issues, huh? Doesn’t feel like a single more than 39. When we started this whole goat rodeo, Steve and I had absolutely no idea what we were doing, and 40 issues later we are very proud to carry that same befuddled spirit into issue number 40. I think and hope we have gotten better at all the technical stuff it takes to get these issues out. I wish we could get better at the planning part as I sit here and write this at my inlaws' 50th anniversary lake weekend the Saturday before we publish.

On the other hand, diamonds and nervous breakdowns are a result of pressure, so there’s that.

Fishing-wise, I think both Steve and I are infinitely better off as all-around fly fisherman as the magazine has afforded us fishing avenues that neither of us thought would be available to guys like Steve. Just in case you were wondering, the fringe benefits of creating a marginally successful regional digital fly-fishing magazine (the term I have used for 40 issues when anyone asked me to describe SCOF) are super choice. I highly recommend everyone do it.

Some things haven’t changed for the better 40 issues later. Water quality issues throughout the South, and especially Florida, are worse for 40 issues’ wear. The readers of the weather cards proclaim new record temps on what seems like a daily basis, and West of the Mississippi

has been transformed from Eden into a hellscape of fire with no water in sight. Not to be a gloomy gus, but shit in our natural world has gone bonkers, and it seems like this is the beginning of the change, not the end.

Publishing 40 issues has me slipping into a nice comfortable pair of slippers, wrapping myself in a pleasingly itchy cardigan, settling into my chair with a nice warm winter root vegetable soup and reflecting on how much better everything used to be. Every old person I have ever met has never failed to tell me how much better shit was before I came into being. Fish were bigger, gas was a nickel, and smoking an unfiltered Pall Mall gave you the lungs of a mountain climber. I wrote all of this talk off as simply a natural product of aging. “Of course everything was better grandpa. No, we’re not going to put you in a home,” type of shit.

But is it possible that maybe, just maybe, existence as a whole is just getting progressively shittier with each generation? Whoa, that got dark quick.

To change the mood on what should be a joyous 40th issue celebration, let me leave with you a breezy observation I have gleaned all these issues later: Never trust a fart.

Thanks for hangin’ with us for 40.

Here’s to at least a few more.

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NO. 1 FALL 2011

NO. 2 WINTER 2012

NO. 3 SPRING 2012

NO. 4 SUMMER 2012

NO. 5 FALL 2012

NO. 12 SUMMER 2014

NO. 13 FALL 2014

NO. 14 WINTER 2015

NO. 15 SPRING 2015

NO. 22 WINTER 2017

NO. 23 SPRING 2017

NO. 24 SUMMER 2017

NO. 25 FALL 2017

NO. 32 SUMMER 2019

NO. 33 FALL 2019

NO. 34 WINTER 2020

NO. 35 SPRING 2020

ve A FUN Summer southernHaculture

S.C.O.F issue no. 12

summer 2014

we’re better than them

S.C.O.F

magazine

still free

NO. 11 SPRING 2014 S.C.O.F issue no. 21

Dance Poon...Dance Topwater Timing Totalitarianism Hardly, Strictly Musky Roadside Attractions Fishing the Proper Popper-Dropper

Disco Shrimp Gangsters of the Pond Von Beard Chronicles Linwood Blue Crab ...and more

fall 2016

olde time fudge shoppe

THE

ReJiggering

SCOF

MAG

STILL FREE

southern culture

NO. 21 FALL 2016

NO. 31 SPRING 2019 28

S.C.O.F MAGAZINE

Everything that Matters

NO. 6 WINTER 2013

NO. 7 SPRING 2013

NO. 8 SUMMER 2013

NO. 9 FALL 2013

NO. 10 WINTER 2014

NO. 16 SUMMER 2015

NO. 17 FALL 2015

NO. 18 WINTER 2016

NO. 19 SPRING 2016

NO. 20 SUMMER 2016

NO. 26 WINTER 2018

NO. 27 SPRING 2018

NO. 28 SUMMER 2018

NO. 29 FALL 2018

NO. 30 WINTER 2019

NO. 36 SUMMER 2020

NO. 37 FALL 2020

NO. 38 WINTER 2021

NO. 39 SPRING 2021

S.C.O.F MAGAZINE

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Haiku

with Danny Reed

Pop Pop Sippy Suck Skates On Top Like Hockey Puck Strip Strip Stop Pop Pop

CRUSH VARIABLES. Conditions in saltwater environments can slide sideways in seconds. Walloping wind and cloud cover pack the potential to hinder the performance of even the most experienced tropical angler. When favor’s stacked in nature’s corner, level the playing field with fishing tools forged to conquer these, and other common variables.

Rolled with our most advanced compound taper construction to date, NRX+ S provides the power, line speed, and loop stability expected from modern fast-action rods, without compromising “feel” and finesse for short shots when clouds turn the lights down. NRX+ empowers anglers with confidence-boosting control in less-than-ideal situations.

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BROOD X

By Allen Gillespie Photos: David Grossman, Rand Harcz, and Allen Gillespie

By David Grossman Photos: Steve Seinberg

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I. Rumor and Speculation.

At the onset, the crazy patchwork of rumor and speculation was hard to avoid. It came walking in the front door of the shop daily, or digitally on my phone and computer at all hours.

Conjecture most frequently concerned the timing of the emergence; when would the ground temperature achieve that magical 64 degrees? When should I book a trip? Most were betting on early May, but April can be a fickle bitch and cold fronts and rain came in waves at what seemed like the most critical times, and probably put the bugs back down their holes to cook for an additional week or two. When the sun finally came back out, actual photos began popping up on the Internet and in text strings.

By this point, I wanted to run and hide, escape the engulfing nullity.

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II. The beauty of inflections or the beauty of innuendos I begin frequenting the woods at the reserve on the south side of the river where rumor has been the strongest. One day, there are holes in the ground along the path through the tall trees. But that is all.

A suggestion of a thing. A few days later, there are shells clinging to the side of an oak. The physical representation of that thing, but no songs. Finally, in the early morning hours, while running, they are there, in the trees on the underside of leaves, sometimes falling on me heavy with the dew.

There, waiting on the sun to dry them before they begin their song.

This is the cue to begin the search. Up the lower Holston, in the frog water before the pump station intake, I see the first bug, struggling in the film while singing. I stop and allow the moment to take hold. Here is the thing desired most. Struggling beautifully. Further upstream, while underway, just before double fish trap shoal, I recognize the inflective pitch above the whine of the outboard.

They are here en masse. The greatest joy realized, the lightning has finally flashed, now there is just the waiting on the thunder. The time between the emergence and the fish finding the cicadas.

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III. The Big Rock Candy Mountain Low water and limited access allow me to find pockets of early emergers no one else has seen.

The first weeks of June are like magic. Every day is a new parallel privacy; fish and bugs and behaviors which must be seen to be believed.

Twelve miles above the rivers’ confluence, in the early days, midstream, catfish are gamboling like your giddy aunt, drunk on sherry Christmas Eve. Carp are daisy-chaining under the trees in the slower water, sipping bugs at a precise pace. In the fast water along the bluff, carp are holding in the back eddy, cycling through the fast water rip like their cold-water cousins. Smallmouth slink along the undercut banks, rise at their leisure, only when the need for another snack arises.

Trout, unaccustomed to such vulgarness, insist on the flies being moved, chugged, like a popper presented to a bass, before they would make their quick slash at the fly. For over three weeks this party persists. I am in my prime and between lovers, so I do what I am supposed to, I fish for 24 days straight. There is no dailiness save for the river, the cicada, their song, the predators and the angle. The maelstrom is omnipotent. It is precisely as you would imagine and as unpredictable as you could hope.

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IV. The Last Dance Towards the end, there are only a few pockets of late emergers left.

Further upstream, higher in elevation, a longer ride and/or a longer drive.

Only devotees to the chase are privy to the last locations. The fish are full.

You can read their thoughts in their sluggishness. They eat, masticate, contemplate, and then remember that this too shall pass and begin looking for another waning meal. Like the fish, I am spent. I do not want to catch another carp or trout. The smallmouths are sulking and haven’t reacted the way one would expect.

I begin pulling the fly from fishes’ mouths. I am ready for this to end, for the old routine to creep back in.

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V. The Long Sleep The riverbanks are silent again. The fish have resumed their normal patterns; carp feeding on the bottom, catfish rarely seen, smallmouth riding the flanks of the carp or chasing bait fish on the flats. The bugs sleep and they count.

Seventeen long years they count the cycle. In the car, on the way to practice, Alec, my youngest, realizes, almost flabbergasted, that he would be 30 years old when they emerge again. And then, realizing the almost inconceivable, that I would be 66, or worse, dead. I issue an assurance that if there was anything worth staying around for, it would be another go at what we had just experienced. I’ll still be here, waiting and speculating.

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GET OUT

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bench press Noah Miller

Green E yed Tarp on Beetle

Noah Miller

Tarpon fishing on shallow flats often requires a fly that suspends, as tarpon almost always prefer to feed up on prey items.

Spinning deer hair is one way to accomplish this, but it requires some time in both the spinning and trimming of the body. I wanted a fly that would suspend but could also cast easily—and that I could tie quickly.

I got the concept for this fly after seeing my good buddy Robbie Powell’s “Shrimp Slurpee” fly. The foam used allows the fly to suspend just below the surface, and you can impart a lot of movement to the fly without it needing to travel far, therefore keeping it in the strike zone longer.

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Material List: • • • • •

Hook: Umpqua Back Country, size 1 Tail: Black marabou 2mm black foam Black Schlappen feathers Green Bead chain (medium)

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Step 1: Tie in a mono loop to act as a foul guard.

Step 2: Tie in the black marabou tail, about an inch-and-a-half long.

Step 3: Tie in the medium green bead-chain eyes a little back from the eye of the hook.

Step 4: Trim a piece of 2mm black foam; I use the same length and width I would use to tie a Gurgler. You can trim the rear to make it easier to tie in.

Step 5: Tie in the foam on top of the wraps that secure the marabou.

Step 6: Tie in a black schlappen feather where you tied the foam in.

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Step 7: Palmer the schlappen forward all the way to the bead chain eyes. Secure it and trim the excess feather.

Step 8: Fold the foam forwards, and secure it just behind the bead-chain eyes.

Step 9: Trim the excess foam to a point; it should extend just beyond the eye of the hook. Cut any excess foam off after it is secured in front of the bead-chain eyes.

Step 10: Wrap the foam down on top of and forward of the bead-chain eyes. Cover the rest of the hook shank up to the eye with thread and whip finish.

Step 11: Use your preferred UV resin on the thread behind the eye of the hook.

Step 12: Finished fly.

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Photo: Steve Seinberg

FAR FROM HOME

LISBON :

Two days with Peter Perch

Photos: Steve Seinberg

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Peter Perch is SCOF’s “International Man of Mystery.” We try to keep one around at all times. Previously based in Amsterdam, and now making his way to Spain, Peter illustrates, paints, prints, and does things in his studio we still don’t quite understand, but we know we like it. So when Steve had the opportunity to hang out with Peter on his family vacation in Portugal, it seemed only fair for Steve to abandon his family for a couple of days. Two artists out on the town, oh the headiness of the whole thing. To be a fly on that wall. Steve and Peter headed north up the Rio Tejo in search of some sort of snooty European fish that looks like a carp but its name I think is barbel. I’ll have to ask Peter again about that.

We have no idea what they look like because none were caught. We think they’re pink and have horns.

Now it’s our turn to bring Peter to the Keys to not catch permit. Seems only fair.

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Photo: Todd Field

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Tampa Bay Nutrient pollution in Florida

where do we go from here?

By Will Buehn Photos: PRÆCH Productions

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Florida’s harmful algal blooms have a bad case of the munchies, and the only way to shut them down is to pull the plug on the state’s all-you-can-eat nutrient buffet.

Tampa Bay has always been known for its finicky redfish. Lefty Kreh

locals are used to when it comes to the unwelcome (albeit, familiar) visitor.

Captain Dustin Pack, local fly guide and member of the Board of Directors for Tampa Bay Waterkeeper, says, “What we’re experiencing right now in the bay when it comes to fish kills and red tide is something that I’ve never seen anything remotely close to.” Cleanup crews have already removed over 1,700 tons of dead marine life and debris from the bay. And that number doesn’t show any signs of slowing either, as the emergency fleet of repurposed shrimp boats continue to comb the waters. It’s an event that takes a toll on more than just the physical ecosystem, one that has cascading effects on the For the past several weeks, a entire community and the millions supercharged red tide has been of people that depend on the wreaking havoc on Tampa Bay estuary. Pack understands that all waters, causing fish kills on an too well, explaining, “As a guide, unimaginable scale. Floating when you have a fish kill like this, mullet by the millions, dead nobody wants to go in the water. dolphins, manatees washing ashore, half-grand goliath grouper It’s a trickle effect—everything revolves around this waterway, getting hoisted out of the water this estuary, and if it’s dead, then with a front-end loader—this red everything dies with it.” tide event is nothing like what used to say, “If you want to get good at bonefishing, come to Tampa Bay and go redfishing.”

Chasing them on fly can be a bit of a challenge, but that’s not for a lack of fish—at least it hasn’t been until recently. Being such a densely populated area, they’ve always been subject to a lot of fishing pressure, so they’ve become a little bit tough to trick.

Now, a different kind of pressure from the bay’s surrounding landscape is taking its toll on an entirely new level—one that’s far more serious than the stock’s stubbornness to take a fly.

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Now, red tide (Karenia brevis) is nothing new for Florida’s gulf coast and the Tampa Bay area. The harmful algal blooms are something that many coastal residents are familiar with and have experienced in the past. What makes this current situation different— and utterly devastating—is the sheer magnitude and intensity of the bloom. So, why has this event been orders of magnitude more destructive to the estuary than other events? The short answer—nutrient pollution.

supplementary to the naturally occurring marine nutrients, and the blooms are able to use them as fuel to grow to unnatural levels.

That’s what we’re seeing in Tampa right now, a humanfed catastrophe.

In Tampa Bay, the waters already endure problematic nutrient loads from urbanbased sources such as outdated stormwater infrastructure, inadequate sewage systems, and fertilizer runoff, so when you compound those with acute incidents like the Piney Algal blooms, like red tide, Point disaster, the current feed on nutrients in the red tide levels should come water, primarily nitrogen and as no surprise. Back in phosphorus. Unfortunately, April, the state declared an the blooms aren’t picky emergency when there was where those nutrients a breach in the liner of a come from, and there’s phosphogypsum stack at an an abundance of excess old phosphate mine known nutrients flowing into the as Piney Point, releasing water from the land. Those over 200 million gallons of nutrients—which come nutrient-rich wastewater from a variety of sources— directly into the bay at Port aren’t natural to the marine Manatee in order to prevent ecosystem. They’re pollution, a total collapse of the stack.

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Now, Capt. Pack is seeing his home waters suffer from the consequences he hoped wouldn’t manifest but knew were likely, remarking, “215 million gallons is going to push any estuary over the top when it comes to nutrient load.” This endless assault of nutrients entering the water is like dumping gasoline on a forest fire, a direct pipeline of fuel to supercharge a natural occurrence into something other-worldly. Unfortunately, it’s not at all unique to Tampa Bay—it’s happening all over the state.

Tampa may be experiencing the worst of it right now, but waterways throughout Florida are feeling the same heat, and they have been for years. The nutrient pollution that fuels these events is a statewide crisis, and it’s threatening the lifeblood of the state—clean water. The Caloosahatchee River Estuary, Indian River Lagoon, Mosquito Lagoon, Charlotte Harbor, Lake Okeechobee, Biscayne Bay, they all suffer from heavy nutrient pollution that’s pushing them towards the brink.

algae that feeds on nutrients from seeping septic tanks, sewage spills, and stormwater runoff.

Biscayne Bay suffers from urban sources of nutrient pollution similar to those of Tampa Bay. The list goes on.

The good news is that there is hope—there are paths to solving these issues and keeping the nutrients out of the water, but it’s going to take a great deal more public involvement to see solutions implemented. Ultimately, it’s going to take major legislative reform at the state level. The state The sources of nutrients and the needs to create new, meaningful impacts that ensue may vary from policy that prioritizes water waterway to waterway, but it’s all quality, addresses the pollution the same root issue—too many at its source, and holds polluters nutrients. In Lake Okeechobee, accountable. Jessica Pinsky, it’s largely fertilizer runoff from Director of Policy for Captains For industrial agriculture around the Clean Water agrees, adding, “We lake that takes toxic blue-green have a lot of catching up to do in algae to unfathomable levels. In Florida when it comes to policy the Caloosahatchee, the biggest pertaining to nutrient pollution threat to the estuary comes from in our waterways. We need an the high-volume Lake Okeechobee executive branch that will be the discharges, which carry nutrientenforcer of the law, a legislature laden lake water out to the gulf that does not bow to the will where red tide blooms can use of special interest groups, and it to intensify and increase in water management districts that duration. Mosquito Lagoon has prioritize protecting and cleaning lost most of its seagrass to brown our water resources.”

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The only way that’s going to happen is if more people are made aware what’s going on.

People can’t care if they don’t know what’s happening, and policymakers are never going to care if the public doesn’t care. The state legislature needs to feel public pressure on these issues. If they don’t, they’ll just keep kicking the can down the road, like they did this past legislative session.

To make progress on addressing the issue, the next step for the state legislature is to fully implement the recommendations of the Blue-green Algae Task Force into enforceable legislation. They had an opportunity to do just that during this past legislative session, but they elected not to. That’s why we need everyone to get involved and demand better for our waters. Whether you live in Florida or just like visiting, it’s all the same—we all need to fight together for these threatened ecosystems. It all creates pressure on our elected officials to do what’s right. So, stay involved, learn more about the issues, spread the word with your friends, and bring others into the fold—we’re going to need an army for this fight. Things might not change overnight, but with enough people, we can make real progress and save our waters.

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COMMITT

FLORIDA’S M

Photo by Gary Gillett

WAT

TED TO PROTECTING

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TER JOIN THE FIGHT CAPTAINSFORCLEANWATER.ORG Captains For Clean Water is a Grassroots Nonprofit Organization Advocating for Clean Water & Healthy Estuaries Across Florida.

so should you LORDS OF THE FLY | MONTE BURKE The Florida tarpon scene of the '70s and '80s lives in my mind as one of those magical periods in time and place where a true raconteur could fill their coffers with a lifetime of crazy-ass shit. Hallucinogens, orgies, and drug smugglers walked amongst the first explorers of tarpon and those bacchanalian beginnings would eventually lead to obsession over records that only the participants in the chase had the slightest interest in. Tales of guide/client treachery, titans of industry, and legends of fly fishing all happened to intersect in the sleepiest of West Florida bergs.

Monte Burke has talked to all the players, or at least player-adjacent witnesses, and assembled a great verbal history of the birth and pursuit of the idea of catching world-record tarpon in Homosassa, Florida. The game of chasing world records must be played obsessively and at a ridiculously high financial and personal cost. Booking guides for months at a time is a game that a small sliver of the readers could possibly imagine. The book skillfully brings the reader into that world with all the overwhelming failure and fleeting glory this kind of obsession entails. I have never had any desire to chase or break world records, but I do have an unwavering dream of devoting myself to tarpon in a way that can only be described as single-minded.

While the Jerry Springer fishing scene of those days and the characters behind it make for a great story, I feel Monte expertly used that as a carrot to draw the reader in, so as to consequently hit them with a proverbial “tragedy of the commons” stick. If nothing else, Homosassa is an all-too-familiar tale of paradise lost. A combination of irresponsible land development, hotspotting-induced fishing pressure, and a couple of decades worth of bait line gauntlets have left the fishery a shadow of those halcyon days when Steve Huff first poled the Oklahoma flat. I knew the end of the story before I even read it. But in reading it, I couldn’t help putting myself on that boat, freaking out the first time those silver kings were daisy-chaining beneath the boat. I can’t ask much more than that from a good story, and Lords of the Fly is definitely a good story, well told.

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GAME CHANGER | BLANE CHOCKLETT Blane Chocklett has a once-in-a-generation fly-fishing mind. Fly tying as a practice tends to lend itself to the derivative. New patterns, more often than not, are merely clever variations on an established theme. This is not how Blane ties. Blane plucks ideas from the primordial bog of an apex predator’s mind and then invents the materials and techniques to execute his vision. It’s a little more impressive than sticking an orange bead on a Pheasant Tail and claiming intellectual property rights to the Hot Spot nymph.

Game Changer is a culmination of Blane's most inventive and effective patterns to date. Any one of these patterns by themselves would’ve been enough to make any fly tyer's vise stand at attention. Collectively, it’s almost incomprehensible that this much innovation could be contained in the mind of our buddy, Blane. The thousands of hours developing each of these patterns reveals a mind obsessed with the techniques and craft of catching the biggest fish in any given fishery.

Blane takes you through the execution and theory behind flies such as the T-Bone, Flypala, and Gummi Minnow, but the star of the show here is the Game Changer platform and all the variations possible for lifelike swimbait type action in a streamer. Before the Game Changer, we tied articulated flies with one joint between two hooks, and some of them swam pretty damn good. Once you start adding joints, the movement of the fly becomes hypnotically life-like. I remember the first time Blane showed me the prototype, oh so many years ago. I was supposed to be looking for a striper on a cicada, instead I spent the next hour with my jaw on the deck as Blane manipulated the wiggly streamer like a marionette. I honestly believe that the Game Changer platform will be looked back upon as a seismic shift in fly design, much like sealed drags were for reels. These days, Blane doesn’t need any endorsements from the likes of little ol’ us, but there is no higher praise for Blane’s fly-tying genius than the fact that I, since the day we met, always steal a fly from his box every single time I see him. Sorry Uncle, but also you’re welcome.

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GUIDED TRIPS AND TRAVEL

Stay East, Young Man

By John Van Vleet

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Several years ago, a friend of mine brought up an issue I’d never spent the time to fully consider, despite being born out West and

spending a large chunk of my adult life living here.

As per usual, this made me feel like a dummy.

“I could never live in the West,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I think it would be irresponsible for me to move my family there, considering the water situation that part of the country faces. Yeah, the fishing’s good, but is the environmental cost worth it?”

When he said that, the busted circuitry and empty beer cans that rattle around in my head finally jolted to life and I got to pondering some of the choices I’d made, which is never a good thing. He made a valid point, and as someone who considers himself a fan of—and advocate for—conservation, it really gave me a good case of drinker’s remorse.

Only this time, I’d been drinking water instead of delicious, delicious booze.

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Should I have moved to Montana in the first place, or stayed down South, where to me a drought was running out of Mountain Dew and not an everyday environmental reality?

Should I have gotten into the fly fishing industry, which directly depends on the usage of a rapidly depleting natural resource, or should I have followed through on my plans to open up a paint shop called Color Blind Colors, where customers could request whatever color they wanted and then I, a color-blind person, would attempt to match that color, often with disastrous results?

The lesson here, as always: I’m a man who makes a lot of mistakes. Was moving out West one of them? Am I part of the problem?

The water situation in the West is something we should all keep an eye on. According to data from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, in June of this year, nearly half (47%) of the contiguous United States was classified as experiencing moderate to exceptional drought conditions.

The heat map looks like someone with a paintball gun had a vendetta against the Rocky Mountains. Water levels are disastrously low across the western United States, meaning trout water is heating up, rainstorms are few and far between, and even looking at a brush pile the wrong way could start a million-acre fire.

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Take Montana, for example.

Right now, the Yellowstone River is running half of what it normally does and is closed to fishing from 2 p.m. until midnight every day. Paradise Valley is blanketed with a thick cloud of smoke from fires near and far; at times the river is barely visible. The Missouri, famous for being a consistently good tailwater, is running low and warm.

It’s also closed from 2 p.m. until midnight, while several major rivers are closed entirely.

they are to ask about the hot fly of the moment. Like many things, this can be both good and bad.

The West is an alluring place, there’s no doubt about that. The landscape is stunningly beautiful, at least in parts. The fishing can be awesome, at least sometimes. The summers are perfect, at least until the winter, which can start in September.

What I’m getting at here is this: the West isn’t in a great spot at the moment.

In addition, the West in This shouldn’t come as general, and southwest a surprise, but the states Montana in particular, has covered by the drought map seen an explosion in tourism are the same ones currently and new homeowners. New on fire. Out here, we’re all flights to Bozeman from hoping for some relief to the far-flung destinations are suffocating smoke, intense announced almost daily. heat, and something called Local fly shop parishioners “humidity” that I thought I are just as likely to tell you got rid of forever when I left what city in California they South Carolina. just moved here from as

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Is this just a weather cycle, or the start of something more sinister? And how should we, as anglers, react?

There’s really no good answers, or at least answers everyone can agree upon. Fly fishing the West is something anyone who loves catching trout should do. It’s practically a rite of passage for anyone who's ever held a fly rod. And it should stay that way. Being able to float down some of the most beautiful rivers in the country and catch nice fish on big dry flies is one of life’s most simple pleasures. But when those rivers are hot, flows are low, fish are stressing themselves to death, and entire states are either covered in smoke or fire itself, should we be attempting to realize our angling dreams at the same time?

The last thing I want is for this to come across as a “get off my lawn” old-man rant, but it’s likely too late for that. Yes, I feel the cold hand of death on my shoulder more firmly every day, but I’m a somewhat reasonable person. That being said, this is my main concern: How do we properly utilize and share the resources we do have without completely destroying them in the process? Should we shut down rivers on rotation to allow fish populations to face years without thousands of hooks shoved in their faces? Should we finally transition away from our reliance on fossil fuels and give the oil industry a big middle finger? I’m not sure what the answer is, or when or if we’ll ever find it.

My initial reaction was a simple one, however: Let’s just ban everyone from California. Can we all agree on that?

photo: Wesley White

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#1

Don’t ever float down the river sideways with your downstream oar danglin’. Put those suckers up under your knees so you don’t pole vault the boat or take an oar handle to the grill when that thing snags bottom.

#2

Buy a damn stomach pump! How can you know what they’re eating unless you stick a small turkey baster down their gullet, and extract all the contents of their stomach. I mean jeez y’all, duh.

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#3

If the fish ain’t bitin’, Hot Randy says, “Feed’em some of that teeny tiny midge candy, because if the fish are a fussin, you gotta just downsize your stuffin’.”

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BOOKING SUMMER TRIPS FOR SNOOK AND JUVENILE TARPON

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Sayin's we

shouldn’t be sayin' - Tight Lines This maddening valediction has been rearing its ridiculous visage in closing emails, texts, and formal letters between practitioners of the fly for years now. When I read this little dagger to my sanity at the end of a message, I am immediately struck with the image of a grey hair, hunched under the weight of an overloaded twill vest, with his liver-spotted bald head covered by a faded and frayed Gilligan hat that he wore as a young man during the gilded age.

If this describes you, live your last days in peace and contentment, ancient one. If this does not physically describe you and you use the phrase “Tight Lines” to end emails...Stop...Just stop.

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Photo: Steve Seinberg

november2021|no.41

Photo: Steve Seinberg

The Back Page

with Paul Puckett and Mike Benson Anyone who has ever booked a charter or showed up to the dock to fish with someone they don’t know, knows “The Look.” It varies in different situations, environments, and fishing scenarios, but you know the look you wanna see in each one, and you know when you see it. If you book a guide in the Keys you’ve never seen or heard of (I know, rare in the Instagram age), you don’t want to show up to a spotless boat, with a dude decked out in brand new gear, texting on his phone… that’s the wrong look.

You want to see a clean, organized, but obviously worn skiff. The guy stretching leader material behind the helm with a Marlboro dangling from his lip should have practical clothes on, but the pants should be slightly frayed on the hip on the side he poles, his hands and his plier sheath should be the same hue of brown, and roughly the same texture when you shake them. That’s “The Look.”

When you book a snapper fishing trip in the Gulf; sure the go-fast boat and guy with gold chains and too-tight-fitting sun shirt might be able to find a few fish, but the old pocket sporty belching a little too much diesel smoke is second only to the mate in the pit, rocking an un-ironic mullet, chiefing black and mild’s from a Costco-size box. That guy kills stuff, maybe at an inappropriate scale. But if you booked a snapper killing trip and want to bring home the meat, that’s “The Look.”

The look can’t be bought in a store or imitated. It can only be earned. And one day while walking down the dock to climb in your beat-up but clean and organized floating vessel, maybe you’ll catch a glance of yourself in the water, and with happy realization, see that somewhere along the line, you, too, have developed “The Look.”

S.C.O.F Magazine | issue no. 40 | summer 2021