Tenkara Angler - Winter 2018-19 by Tenkara Angler

Winter 2018-19 tenkaraangler.com

WINTER 2018-19 PEOPLE & OPINION 2 FROM THE EDITOR 4 INTERVIEW WITH JASON SPARKS 20 THE THREE PATHS 24 TENKARA WITHOUT THE MOUNTAINS...

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ESSAY 26 FIRST YEAR TENKARA 28 COFFEE & A PINCH OF OPTIMISM 38 ROCKY MOUNTAIN GENRYU 42 A WEEK IN THE WINDS FLIES 58 THE MERITS OF COMMON SEWING THREAD 60 SCHMIDEK SAKASA KEBARI FIXED-LINE FLY FISHING 62 BLUE LINE SURPRISE CONSERVATION 66 THE MARVEL OF THE HIGH SIERRAS 70 GILA TROUT: A NATIVE TROUT CONSERVATION STORY EXPRESSION 72 HAND-PRINTED LINOCUTS 78 DIGITAL ART OF JIM TIGNOR 82 BROOKIES & BEER: WINTER EDITION RIFFLES 84 FRIENDS OF TENKARA ANGLER 94 CONTRIBUTORS & CREDITS 98 TENKARA CALENDAR 100 #TENKARA

Front Cover: Adam Klagsbrun Back Cover: Melissa J. Alcorn Logo Design: Nick Cobler

Photo: Jason Hammond

From The Editor Winter is here...

Winter isn't typically kind on the tenkara angler.

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I mean, sure, it's an opportunity to take stock of your gear, tie up some flies, (like the kebari tied by Paul Pigeon in the header image above), read some books, or do some planning for the year ahead, but let's be honest, not a ton of fishing gets done. There are definitely those that brave the cold temperatures (or are perhaps blessed with slightly milder climates) that are able to get out this time of year, but for the most part many of us are just daydreaming of warmer days; including the Spring and Summer adventures that lie ahead, the long hikes in, campfire camaraderie, and all the tight lines and frisky trout that will likely be caught and released. So until then, I hope this issue makes the time go slightly faster. I think it's a pretty good read, and I'm sure you will too. Now I'm not going to lie, I did put out a "call to action" to prospective authors that I was trying to make the co-themes of this issue "traditional tenkara" and "tenkara art," you'll likely notice that isn't exactly what

came back in large quantities. But that's okay, as a crowdsourced magazine, the community dictates the content --- and what did come in is quite stellar. Between Adam Trahan's feature interview with Jason Sparks, a thought provoking opinion piece by Jay Johnson, six solid essays from Dennis Vander Houwen, Mike Hepner, Adam Klagsbrun, Melissa Alcorn, Paul Vertrees, and Michael Richardson, some great points of view on fly tying from Robb Chunco and Mark White, conservation shorts by Craig Springer and Brad Trumbo, some gorgeous art from Anthony Naples, Jim Tignor... and the uncategorizable (is that a word?) "Brookies & Beer" from John-Paul Povilaitis, there's just a ton to consume in the next hundred or so pages. So let's get your tenkara fishing flame stoked for 2019, it's going to be a great year, but only if you make it that way. Please enjoy the Winter 2018-2019 issue!

Michael Agneta Editor In Chief

TWI

Do you want to contribute to the next issue of Tenkara Angler? Tenkara or conservation-themed articles, essays, fly tying recipes, gear reviews, tips, tricks, & photography are all fair game!

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3 Photo: Shigeki Miura

An Interview with Jason Sparks

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By Adam Trahan

Jason Sparks is the author of a popular social media forum, “Appalachian Tenkara Anglers” that is very active with quite a few experienced tenkara anglers. It’s a forum where people come to learn about and share their experiences tenkara fishing. In 2016, Daniel Galhardo (Tenkara USA) named Jason Sparks, myself (Adam Trahan) and Jason Klass as “Outstanding Tenkara Ambassadors” for the sport. Ever since that time, I have wanted to find out more about Jason and I’m

finally able to do that with this interview Without further delay, let’s get started. Adam: Jason, it is my pleasure for you to participate in this interview and I appreciate what you do. “Is there anything you would like to open with?” Jason Sparks: It is pretty cool to be

able to connect like this. In my mind I see a really cool interview taking place between Will Ferrell and Jack Black in wing-back chairs next to crackling fire. That image is a bit funny, because I'm not really sure where it comes from. I think we would be better suited to be sitting stream side to a small brook with a 270 in our hands ready for action at the end of this. Let's work off of that one. Adam: I really like your forum. It’s nice. I personally enjoy participating there. You drive it with questions and it’s open and the conversation is loose. As with social media, there is the human element in differences of opinions but from what I’ve read, there is very little aggravation. The forum has a great feel, there is a respect for diversity and I appreciate that. You are the spark that got it started and keeps that going. You also keep the ship going in the right direction. I also like it that there is a wide variety of vendors contributing. Your forum is welcoming to all and that is important. As we get deeper into the subject of tenkara, I want you to remember, I value your openness and your perspective on tenkara. The “tencolors” of tenkara are essential to remember when having the

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conversation on the growth and the history. The broad spectrum of this fun form of fly fishing is truly served by your forum. “How did your forum come to existence?” Jason Sparks: That seems like so long ago. I just had to look up what the date was that this group started, which was October 8th, 2012. There were some independent forums out there like Tenkara USA's forum and your Tenkara-Fisher forum and just a few groups on Facebook. At the time, the Tenkara USA group called “Tenkara Anglers” was the most popular and most active. That group was already having a global reach on social media. There was a few localized groups out there too, mostly tied into state areas. I wasn't really sure what I was doing or how best to approach it on day one. I took a regional approach and started the group originally as “Southern Appalachian Tenkara Anglers”. It was a bit of a rip-off maybe to latch onto the coattails of “Tenkara Anglers” group name and simply add to it. I maybe should have been more original, but I wasn't. Mea culpa Daniel. At the time, I saw it as a bit of a subset to the TUSA group. I took the regional approach so the entire Southeast could play together and interact. About 2 years into it I could see that the member list far exceeded the Southeast region, it had gone a bit global also. The “Southern” was dropped as we grew into the

“Appalachian Tenkara Anglers” group. Maybe it is akin to a baby moving from crawling around faster and faster to finally just standing upright an walking. By the time this renaming happened, the online group was pretty established as a “community” in my eyes. Adam: It’s always interesting to me how people got into tenkara, especially outside of Japan. In America, there are as many ways as people found tenkara as there are tenkara anglers. “How did you discover tenkara?” Jason Sparks: Pizza. I discovered tenkara waiting for a pizza in Black Mountain, NC. I was out on a day trip of adventure with my family one day. We had driven from Boone, NC over to Black Mountain about an hour away. We looked around that old hardware store on the corner that has been there for a hundred years. We looked at soaps, candles, birdhouses and expensive art in the shops spread around the central “old town” city blocks. When every one was good and hungry we stopped in the local brick oven pizza house. Sitting at the table I was turning pages in the regional “Blue Ridge Outdoors” adventure rag. There was an article titled “Unreel fly fishing” that caught my eye. About three paragraphs into it I realized this was something that I had never heard of before. I started the article over and paid attention to every word. I read it several times. This was

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something that I needed to know more about. That is the moment I found tenkara. What my family remembers of the day was the visit to Tractor Supply Co. down the street after that pizza. There they had just put out the Spring load of baby chicks for sale. There were hundreds of soft fuzzy “chirpers” in pale yellow and whites. They begged and begged for those baby chicks. That didn't happen. Tenkara did. Adam: In 2009, I was making bamboo fly rods when I got my first tenkara rod. Needless to say, I already was fly fishing for longer than the person was alive that introduced me to it! That was a little bit difficult to fathom, but I’ve learned many things in my life from young people. Before tenkara was exported out of Japan, I had already been conversing with Yoshikazu Fujioka for many years. He wrote very little about tenkara back then, maybe a rare mention. Nothing like he does now with his extensive Japanese kebari study. Yoshikazu is primarily a fly fisherman and that is what his web site started as back in the 90s. After I transitioned to fishing tenkara as the only way for myself to approach a mountain stream, I began collecting old Japanese books and traveled to Japan to find out more about it. On my first trip, I was guided around by a Japanese fly fisherman. Here I am in Japan, an experienced fly fisherman wanting to learn tenkara, and it’s a

Japanese fly fisherman that is introducing me to Japanese tenkara experts. Tenkara is something that is very small in relation to the whole of fly fishing there. Truly, it’s the way that I see tenkara here in America. It’s growing but it’s still small in relation to the whole of fly fishing. Back then and even now, tenkara has always been a little confusing to me because of the nature which it exists and how the information is typically disseminated. “Was tenkara easy for you to understand when you started?” Jason Sparks: Tie on a kebari, cast the fly, catch a fish. Tenkara is easy. What more is there to understand anyway? In the context of the question “... easy to understand when I started?”, I think that answer is yes. In its simplest form and definition, fixed line fly fishing made sense to me. I quickly saw the benefits the rod system added and I saw the variables it eliminated from other types of fishing. That is a short answer. I've been fishing for more than four decades. The first ten years of that was introductory and novice in practice. I knew how scour the dark wet grass for night crawlers and skewer them on a 1/0 bait holder hook. I grew out of my Zebco 202 green plastic push-button spin-caster to a spinning rod in my teens. At that

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time I adopted a mindset to start using artificial baits and lures. I think this was the first conscious challenge I made for myself in my angling. Could I continue to catch fish by “tricking” them to bite a piece of plastic? I went into ultra light spin gear and found that level of touch was so much fun. That started my intermediate phase that was nearly the next two decades. I really didn't grow very much in my angling knowledge or skill set during this time. Towards the end of that period I started dropping treble hooks from my lures and running them with one single hook. That allowed me to fish some North Carolina waters that are designated as “single hook artificial only”. It was another step toward increasing my knowledge and experience to be a better angler. With all of that said after my short answer, I'd like to say that the fixed line rod system has increased my angling knowledge in just a few years much more than the first decades did. That is where the “easy to understand” in the question takes on many deeper layers on insight and explanation. Since the day I found tenkara, I have begun to study angling, gear application, presentation techniques, approach angles, and much more in very different ways. My willingness to learn from tenkara has made me a vastly better angler. Tenkara was my introduction to fly fishing. Adam: Recently, I’ve been including a little reading by a broader audience of tenkara authors outside of Japan. Particularly, “Discover Tenkara” and

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the information that is co-presented with their Japanese peers. Paul Gaskell is an experienced fly fisherman and I see this as an attribute and relevant to the conversation on tenkara. I enjoy a fly fisher’s presentation of tenkara. I believe an experienced fly fisherman, with the help of Japanese experts is an attribute of tenkara. Many of the best tenkara anglers in and outside of Japan also do fly fishing. Their expertise in the greater scope of fly fishing and the focus on Japanese tenkara is advantageous to the story of tenkara within the broader community of fly fishing. “Jason, can you reflect on fly fishing and it’s relation to tenkara?”

Jason Sparks: I know most of the readers understand the words of “fly fishing” and “tenkara” that we are using are to differentiate between the two styles. For the readers that may be newly introduced to tenkara, I want to let them know that we both agree that “tenkara” is “fly fishing”. The word choice we are using is to distinguish between conventional western style rod & reel fly fishing and fixed line fly fishing practices. To the question, I understand what you are saying here Adam. I have blurry lines around this topic. If I were looking to learn a strict discipline of historical and traditional tenkara, then finding an instructor deeply schooled

in this practice would be ideal. That set of lessons though would need to set with strict discipline to the origins of the style and the practical application of it. Quite frankly, I'm not sure that exists, or is needed. The Japanese with the greatest knowledge are sharing valuable information with all us that are new to tenkara, and by that I mean those of us that are in it over the previous ten years. I suspect that many of them are familiar with and have fly fishing knowledge. Has that influenced or bled over into the tenkara lessons that have been shared? Let me take a step back and clarify that. I'm not making any assertions to any of the shared knowledge. Not at all. I'm not saying that they are pure teachings and I'm not saying it it blended with other influences. Let me ask a question here. If you learned pure unadulterated tenkara teachings, would you apply it as such on the water, without blending other angling knowledge? I don't. When I am fishing I am sure that I blend the lessons I have read or been taught about tenkara with things I have discovered for myself. I am sure that I blend trout tactics with bass tactics. I am sure that I blend moving water techniques with still water ones. I think my point is that I have a toolbox of tactics. When fishing, there is a primary focus on the tools selection I have made, but undoubtedly it is influenced by the breadth of knowledge that I have, whatever that may actually be.

Let me choose some different words to express what I shared in the previous question. I am a better angler because I have learned some tenkara methods. I am a better tenkara angler because I know many other styles of fishing. All my angling knowledge fits into “my toolbox” and I call on it every time I hit the water. So the relationship between fly fishing and tenkara might be about applied comprehension. The more you know about fishing in general, fish behavior, lure selection, lure presentation, reading water, etc. makes you a better angler. The two styles of angling are not dependent to each other. You can do one and not the other. What I have chosen to do gather knowledge across the board and apply it smartly where it is best suited. Adam: In my old and new Japanese tenkara books, quite a few include western fly fishing within their pages. I believe the two forms are closer together than they are farther apart and in my view, they perfectly co-exist together inside of Japan and I want to promote this outside of Japan. I don’t believe you should sell your fly rod to get into tenkara. Get into tenkara to use it where it works. Bring the two together, I don’t want to contribute to a divide. The two should coexist because they belong in the same family, tools in the same tool box. On their own, the Japanese have been doing both since the beginning of tenkara as a sport.

Marketing tenkara can be like politics. It can bring people together or it can divide them. Perhaps you understand what I’m trying to get across, fly fishing and tenkara are brothers in the same family. At the time of the writing of this interview, I do not know if you are a fly fisherman. That is neither a plus or a minus for me, but it will be interesting to understand your perspective either way on how the two are in relationship to each other. “What do you think of the fly fishermen that negatively portray tenkara?” Jason Sparks: I don't understand it quite frankly. I sort of have two groups divided in my head around fly fishermen, or more appropriately said, fly fishing anglers. One would be every day recreational fly casters and the other would be the business/industry side of it. I'm not sure I understand why recreational anglers would get their neck hairs up over a different method of catching fish. I have talked with many people that haven excellent bass catching skills and they don't seem to mind fixed line angling. There have been crappie specialists here in the South that have no interest in coming to fisticuffs over fishing method differences. I don't suppose a “fly fisherman” ever went ape over those swimmers itching to stick their forearm into a 30lb catfish mouth. Do fly fishermen bang on “noodlers”? I

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don't understand it. I don't feel like they should any insecurity around it or any fear of threat. It isn't like tenkara anglers are trying to take over the world. The business side of it also baffles me. For the most part, there are very few things a real business should have strong objections too. Child labor, intellectual property theft, and global/ local corporate citizenship concerns are ones I can understand. I can't see any scenario where a fishing style or type of fishing rod is one of them. For fishing industry businesses, gill nets I get. Long-lines in protected waters I get. Dolphin slaughters, yeah that too. But why would a business take such offended positions as some of the fishing industry and small private fly shops have? It doesn't make any business sense to me at all. There are small fly fishing shops and outfitters that even carry tenkara rods and accessories as product. Many make no effort to learn the style or the tactics. Many can't speak intelligently about tenkara or even open and rig the rod safely. I'm surely not suggesting that all fly shops are like that, but we all have stepped into ones that are. It just makes no sense to me. Adam: As I read more and more on current tenkara perspectives, I see a lot of division. I feel bad about it but people tend to gather together with those of the same opinion. Politics is an example of this divisiveness, the way people gather, divide and the rhetoric that goes along with that.

I don’t even want to go into tenkara politics or contribute to that divide. We go fishing to escape that yet when we gather in social media, we are not fishing, we are gathering and conversing about our subject. I think your forum and particularly you are good for the sport. You are bringing many new people into tenkara and I appreciate it. “What motivates you to continue with the forum? Its been a long time now since you have been doing it.” Jason Sparks: I didn't realize that it has been six years now. That is a pretty long time. Why do I keep messing with it? That is a good question. More than once I've looked at the membership to see if there was a good set of hands, or several, that I could pass the reigns off too. The truth is that the forums takes from me and gives back to me. If it were monetized in some way, I may have people interested in taking it over. As it is, it is a community that I lead, but “we” built one by one. I have a vested interest in seeing it survive and grow in some smart fashion.

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There are three large tenkara groups on Facebook. I don't compare Appalachian Tenkara Anglers to them in any way. Number of members isn't my measure. This group has been modeled to be an interactive community of welcoming and sharing people. I don't have anything to sell. Every week we have new faces arrive and ask a first question. It is the open arms that the returning answers come from that really makes me smile. I see

people answering questions now that only six or nine months ago were asking the same questions. We have very experienced tenkara anglers chiming in to help answer stuff. Knowing that this group is accepted as a central place to “gather” online across brands and definitions of tenkara and fixed line angling, I really like that. That is why I continue to do it. Adam: I think that Japanese tenkara has a story that must be included in the conversation on our subject, it’s where we came from and it is honorable to understand our history and where it was developed. In my own interview with Masami Sakakibara and also reading interview with Yoshiyuki Mushu in the Discover Tenkara book, I am understanding a common idea that once tenkara has left Japan, it is open to interpretation and discussion however, the Japanese history and form should be included in the conversation along the way. I find that honorable to where tenkara. In my case necessary from day one and to this day, I separate Japanese tenkara and everything else outside of Japan. When I use my tenkara rod for Rio Grande Cichlids or Sunfish in warm water, I use the hashtag #untenkara when writing about or describing it on social media. If I am conversing with people online, I do not point out what their tenkara is or isn’t, what they do is their fishing, I do mine. I tell the story of tenkara passively.

I know what tenkara is. I think the passion for this form of fishing is awesome, the people into it really enjoy it and for me, how you practice your craft, it doesn’t matter to me… Jason, I understand you are open to different styles of flies and presentation on our subject, tenkara fishing and my words are in no way a critique nor am I trying to throw shade on you. I respect you and your work and I enjoy your contribution to tenkara and I think you are bringing more people to the sport than you are creating a divide with people that have a singular view. “What is your perspective on the growth of online tenkara communities and the Japanese storyline?” Jason Sparks: This is an interesting question and I've thought about it more than a few times. I am sure that my position on this has changed a bit over the last few years. I wonder what other perspectives people have looked at it from.

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Let me step out on a limb for a second. Have you ever wondered about the origins of using fiddler crabs to catch sheepshead against the pylons of a pier? Have you researched the birth of molded plastic baits for largemouth bass? Was having a deep understanding of sea run striped bass necessary to chase them when they

swam miles up the Connecticut rivers? How about... hey, there are many more examples. Note that was to the proverbial “you” by the way. If you have done anything of the sort, was “origins” knowledge necessary for you to be able to fish that way? All the times I fished those ways I didn't really care about origins of or the story behind it. I just went fishing. Why does “tenkara” have to be treated differently? With that pointed out, I'd like to say that for me, it is different. It has been important for me to learn about it from an inquisitive scholar perspective. I don't proclaim to be the most educated on the tenkara story. I do however know enough to satisfy me for right now. When I want to know more, I'll go find my own answers. I think it is very important that the authentic tenkara story lines are available online and on social media platforms. I'd like to think that all tenkara anglers would be interested in that. It is clear that many are not. I like that the information is available and I like to direct people to it. However, I'm not the tenkara police and don't feel like chasing anyone down that may be “doing it wrong” by someone else's interpretations. Adam: You do more than the forum. I’ve seen some reporting on gatherings. I’m not playing dumb, I just don’t follow everything you do so I ask the questions here to understand and bring to light what you do.

“What else do you do to create community in tenkara? Gatherings? Camp outs? Get togethers? Can you go into this a little?” Jason Sparks: I seem to recall that one of the first things that ever got planned was a fishing trip to some amazing back-country water in the Blue Ridge Mountains near Boone, NC. I planned it, promoted and invited people to it. The local tenkara guide, Bob Ivins and I were ready to show off some local waters. One person came. The three of us tackled the water and had a great day together. It was a success. Why? Because it was the first one, with bigger better things to follow. There was an idea that came about to create a tenkara event that included merchandise as well as educational

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presentations. The first one came together in Foscoe, NC after a few conversations with Bob Ivins and Lance Milks. As the event was coming together, I was working on branding for it. As a friendly gathering of vendors and anglers, sharing a room for learning, wiggling rods and telling fish stories, along with catered Carolina BBQ and some time on the water together, it was clear it was going to need a name. Late one night, “Tenkara Jamboree” popped into my head. We have had four different “Tenkara Jam” events here on the East coast. I am very proud of those events. There has also been several tenkara camp outs planned and executed. We did an event at Smokemont Campground in the Great Smoky Mountain National

Park in October a few years ago. In October of this year we just had the “Tenkara Campout: Davidson River” in the Pisgah National Forest just outside of Brevard, NC. The in-person get togethers are really nice. I've also tried a handful of interactive events in the Appalachian Tenkara Anglers group. We have held kebari/fly swaps. We have had round robin swaps, where you send a dozen of the same fly to someone and receive a dozen of the same fly from someone else. I also include a “tie or buy” clause in the kebari/fly swaps. This means that buying a dozen gets you in the same way as if you had tied them. The effort is to include as many people as possible.

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There has been several “kebari material swaps”. This is where you join to send $10-$15 of spare materials you have in your goodie box to someone else. And receive $10-$15 of spare materials from someone else. The idea is that you get exposed to new tying materials without having to spring for it yourself. That concept seemed pretty original and I haven't seen it replicated anywhere yet. The idea actually came from something you did Adam. When I was just getting into tying flies you sent over a care package of feathers, hooks and items. That inspired the material swap where others could participate in something similar. For the previous four years, I was presenting a “Tenkara 101” class for the North Carolina Wildlife Resource

Commission at the Pisgah Center for Wildlife Education. There were usually six sessions through the warmer months. The program covered tenkara basics to include; history, rods, lines, flies and tactics. I hope this picks up again next year. I'm always considering ideas to continue and start up in an effort to keep the tenkara momentum moving forward, growing and expanding. Adam: When I started tenkara, I was all about being a rank beginner. Even as an accomplished (advanced) fly fisherman, I wanted to learn tenkara from a day one perspective. I started a forum, it grew but people did not learn about tenkara as I did and my perspective is mine. I don’t expect people to know what I know, especially if they aren’t studying the things as I study. As I traveled to Japan and fished with many different tenkara experts in many different mountains and their streams. What I learned was not what I was reading in social media. I didn’t force my understanding of it preferring to just report what I knew. I see your forum as a portal. There are experts there and there are a lot of beginners too. I like to see the mixing of experiences, I think this is where you see a lot of growth. “For the Appalachian Tenkara Anglers forum on Facebook, where do you see it going?”

Jason Sparks: It has been pretty much on the same path of growth since it was started. It is very important to me that the group is inclusive. That the group is tolerant. That the group is welcoming. The interactive and dynamic nature of the membership is special. Every week we get brand new members. We do have some very experienced tenkara anglers in the group. The model that has been crafted by my efforts, but driven by the members, is that of mentoring. Every week beginner questions get answered with respect. Valued experience is shared by a veteran angler. Short of Zuckerberg pinging me to let me know that ATA just won the Facebook global recognition award that carries a $1MM check with it, I just want it to continue being what it is; a smart and caring place for like minded anglers to share time and knowledge. Adam: I’ll be honest, as much as I enjoy the social aspect of online tenkara discussion, I also want to escape it. Typically, I go alone on long journeys up to twelve hours drive time and sometimes I get on a plane, alone and follow my dreams about it. Lately, I’ve had a friend or two to share my adventures with. I have a friend in particular share almost all of my trips. He also is a fly fisherman learning tenkara and I don’t force anything on him. He has access to my library, really isn’t interested so much in that kind of study and his tenkara is excellent. He does cross some flies as I do but that’s about it.

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We leap frog each other onstream and we stop for onigiri and some sake or whiskey. I cherish the time we spend together, he is a family man too and we escape like a couple of kids to our youth. “How do you do it? Do you fish alone? Tell us about your adventures into the forest.” Jason Sparks: Not necessarily by design, but I fish alone nine out of ten times. Mostly because I don't plan out many fishing days in advance and it often is a moment of opportunity. I love spending time in the waters with people at Tenkara Jam, and the tenkara camp outs. That is nice to watch others “do” as a learning experience. I love to share that. A bigger truth may be that I like fishing alone. Being alone on the water, operating at my speed in my waters is where I find myself. Have you seen the movie with Kevin Costner when he is a baseball player about to pitch a perfect game? Not “Field of Dreams”. It is the other one, “For Love of the Game”. There is a scene in there when this perfect game is coming together for him. The fans in New York are heckling him, the pressure of the situation is mounting. I mean “a perfect game” in baseball is a big deal. The camera dials in on Costner's face and you hear his voice say “Clear The Mechanism” as the sound falls to silence and the entire stadium of activity goes into a blur. The only thing in focus is the pitcher

and the batter. At that point he is dialed in. That is me on the water. When I get three steps into the water, I have dozens and dozens of times said out loud those very words, “Clear The Mechanism”. My time fishing allows me to decompress. This is where I find myself. That cool water grabs the hardness of my day and flushes it downstream. The experiences I have on the water are mine. There is a savior in that. Adam: I read where you traveled to California and you went and caught your trout in Horseshoe Meadows, I’m going to do that too sometime soon. “Can you tell us about that?”

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Jason Sparks: That was the single most impressionable day fishing I have ever had. I will never forget it. It almost didn't happen you know. My three day California license had expired the night before after fishing Yosemite National Park for a few days. At breakfast, I opted to pass on the morning of fishing and just drive out from Lone Pine into Death Valley early. My wife insisted! I had read about them, talked about them, planned for them, mapped them, and tied special kebari for them. She knew where my heart was. Praise her, she saved the day. This was the day that we drove up to 10,000 feet in the Sierra Nevada mountains and entered into the

Golden Trout Wilderness. This place was magical. For an Appalachian angler, these were very different mountains. Once we left the parking lot we were both trudging through sandy soil with small bits of gravel in it. It was very much like walking on the beach. We pushed down the trail about half a mile and then turned left into the meadow. The short grasses were waving in the wind and seemingly pushing us toward the dark green ribbon meandering through Horseshoe Meadow. The creek in that meadow was some of the smallest water I have ever fished. It averaged about 12 inches deep and about 30 inches wide at most points. There were some bends that opened up a bit and there were some straightaways that were super tight. I had a new Nissin Royal Stage 320 rod I was breaking in on these fish. I got it rigged up and started casting quickly. Look, I was super excited and almost giddy. Within a few casts I had my first catch. At this point I was definitely giddy. This was a high altitude Californian Golden Trout, native only to these mountains. It was the most beautiful fish I have ever caught. That is saying something since my comparison it to the Southern Appalachian brook trout, which is a Blue Ridge gem. This meadow offered no vertical cover at all. There was nothing to hide behind, with the exception being the bank itself. I found myself working back and forth across the side of the creek with a keen awareness to the

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undercut banks that the slow flow of water had made over the centuries. The little wild fish were very skittish. The wind was breezing and gusting the entire time. The midday sun was bright and the sky was an amazing blue. I worked that creek for three hours. In that time, I landed 39 golden trout. I could probably go on and on about the amazing day on the water. It was a pinnacle day. Adam: Freaking awesome. I’ve asked you some really tough questions, I know you are a good guy and I have come to understand a little about your background. “Can you tell us about what you do?” Jason Sparks: In my day job, I work for a large bank in a global crimes group and investigate money laundering. Essentially this is looking at the source of funds, tracking movement of funds and assessing activity around those funds trying to determine if suspicious activity is present. Some scenarios present themselves in very obvious manners, some do not. It is important for me to collect information and frame a story that clearly explains illicit monies and the ways that it are being used. It may be more important that I can glean the right information that explains and justifies the activity for your neighbor. We don't want to get these reports wrong. “Jason, do you have any questions for me?”

Jason: I may be looking for a few tips here. How do you manage to keep your Tenkara-Fisher forum relevant? Adam: I stopped the Tenkara Fisher forum at the start of 2017 due to a malicious hacker planting a virus in our database. I have been making forums for twenty some odd years but keeping them relevant was never in the cards for for me. You see, I’ve had at least a couple of forums going on, somewhere since '95. Let me explain, I usually make a forum because I’m interested in something and want to learn more about it. When I have stopped learning, if the forum is interesting on it’s own then I just let it run its course. If I end up driving it trying to keep it relevant, then I know the life of it on its own is over and I move on either letting it die or transferring it to someone else. Relevant just was not in the thought process. Hackers have killed a couple of the forums too. That’s a war I’m not interested in fighting. The way the Hackers have fun is evil, screw that, not fun. So I stopped setting up forums on servers I had to pay for and let the big social media companies fight the hacker war. That is a big relief. At this time in my life, I’m really focusing divorcing myself from the Internet, I’m taking back my time.

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Your interview is a project I’m happy to get in the can. I’m not going to do this like I’ve done in the past. It’s all about my time and that is a precious thing. I’ll still go online and do the things I do, I’m just not going to waste time doing it. Absolutely NO REFLECTION on what you do, you are an individual, just as I am and you do what you do and I respect that as I’ve already said. Jason: We have seen several companies embrace “warm water tenkara” in the last few years. Badger Tenkara was one of the first to really push on small mouth bass as a target species. I remember having some talks with Daniel at Tenkara USA some years ago about addressing a wider group of anglers, such as warm water fishers. You spent some time working with them on the inside with them. What did you learn or experience about how a business looks at the direction of growth tenkara is making outside of Japan? Adam: I already had learned a lot about fly fishing ever before being introduced to tenkara by Daniel Galhardo. I was making bamboo fly rods at the time and my education in fly fishing was nearly complete. I just like doing it. I was fly fishing in the salt, making bamboo and then the housing market forced us to sell our home and no more shop. The timing was right, this focused form of Japanese stream fishing that was similar but better to what I was doing comes along and boom, I want to get

good at this, learn all about it and sharpen that knife in my tool box. In learning, I became affiliated with Sakura and many of the experts in tenkara from Japan. I was doing this independently from Daniel and Tenkara USA, sort of in parallel, same path but a little different. I’m happy the way I ran my own business, I helped people if they needed help, even if they were a competitor. When I was hired to work for Tenkara USA, I didn’t find out anything new about tenkara in Japan or the way they run their business. Tenkara USA has done an excellent job at spreading tenkara. The way they do it is their trade and their recipe. I was a professional tenkara angler for a while when I was working for them. As a

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professional, their secrets are safe with me. But the truth is, there are no secrets, just a bunch of nice guys and well, Margaret, she is cool. Jason: It looks like my interview is #39 to be posted to your site. That is an impressive catalog you have there. I am honored to be included in this group. I'm always inspired when I see so much strong positive energy being shared across the “tenkara world”. I suppose that mine being number #39 and that fact that I caught 39 golden trout on my bucket list day may be just a coincidence. But then again, maybe not. The “Tenkara Gods” may shine on me yet. Adam: I really appreciate who you are and what you do. “Thank you for participating in this interview.”

The Three Paths

By Dennis Vander Houwen Tenkara is what brings my life peace. It is no mistake that my blog is called “Tenkara Path.” For me it is how I am traveling through life. Tenkara has been a great teacher and healer to me as well. I know others who have made it a very important practice in their lives too. This said, I also know that there are people who do not follow tenkara with the same sense of reverence I have. For them it is just another style of fishing. I can accept this because not everyone is on the same path but whatever path they are on it is to the same destination. For a couple of weeks now I have been really working to find a way to look at the bigger picture of tenkara. This article is the result of many late nights writing and rewriting my opinion in a way that I think represents a better tenkara for our future. This is how I see tenkara and how I will teach it to others going forward. Before I dive into this, I think we need to establish some basic agreements. If we can agree on a starting point, then we are working in the right direction for keeping the basics of tenkara intact and well defined.

Let’s agree that tenkara is a “fishing style.”

First I believe we can all agree that this is the commonality that we all share with tenkara. We all see tenkara as a style of fishing. Simply a rod, a line and a fly. We all know this mantra. Let’s agree that tenkara and western fly fishing really are two things. Tenkara really is its own form of fly fishing. Tenkara and western fly fishing are similar, but they have two very different histories and even more differences than similarities when it comes to their techniques and tackle requirements.

Finally, let’s also agree that there are different “ways” to fish tenkara. People who fish tenkara make choices along the way as to how they are going to embrace tenkara. “Each of these paths are different and yet, they all work to travel to the same summit.” Each person’s path is a choice they make. I propose that there are three definitive paths that are taken by people regularly regarding their relationship to tenkara. They are “Tsuri, Renshū, and Dentō”. They can be seen as different paths however they are dependent upon each other in a way that makes them all really one path to the summit that is a place I call the “heart of tenkara.”

The Path of Fishing 釣り - Tsuri - Fishing “Tsuri no michi” translates to “the path of fishing.” Each style of fishing has its own tackle, techniques and history. In this path we want to look at “just fishing tenkara.” Many are happy to just fish tenkara “recreationally.” This is fine, enjoyable, and serves them. They hold tenkara as just a style of fishing that they do. They have no more expectation or devotion to tenkara than they do for western fly fishing, deep sea fishing or even ice fishing. This is a free choice of course. Tenkara shows us that we really do not need much in the way of equipment to catch a fish. It also shows us that tenkara is more than just the gear. We must also learn how to fish with the tackle and techniques of tenkara for it to work and catch fish. We must learn all the basics from how to rig your rod, line and fly, how to cast, where to cast, how to present the fly, and how to bring a fish in is the reality of this path. This place of learning is one we will return to again and again. The amount of information is growing. We also learn from our own experiences.

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This path is about actually getting out and fishing tenkara. It is about embracing and learning tenkara with the help of others and through our own self study of the techniques. Those who take on this tsuri no michi should do so with intent to do it correctly. You will learn by doing and experiencing this path actively and

with intent to take the path beyond the trailhead to the summit. Let your path in tenkara be a path that is not weighed down by western techniques. The Path of Renshū 練習 - Renshū - to Practice “Renshū no michi” translates as “the path of practice.” This is the path of those who have decided to make tenkara not just about fishing, but also as a form of mediation and mindfulness that informs them on how to live their lives better. By applying the basic principles of tenkara to other parts of their lives they find a happiness, productivity, and deeper meaning in their own lives. The Renshū no michi looks to the experience of tenkara fishing with deeper appreciation for the minutia and details seen along the way. The traditions of tenkara act as a guide and map to how they fish and how they live their lives. By observing oneself and practicing mindfulness to fishing tenkara the person begins to see the connectedness of all things in life. Coming to this path is a decision that is likely based in a desire to find more in tenkara than just a technique. It is a philosophical journey that can be compared to many of the traditional Japanese practices such as gardening, tea ceremony, sumi painting, calligraphy, flower arrangements, and martial arts. It is with this depth of focus and discipline that the renshū no michi is taken.

The Path of Dentō 伝統 - Dentō - “Tradition” “Dentō no mishi” means “the path of tradition.” Having and holding respect for tradition is very important. There are some romanticized ideas about tenkara that we can only speculate on the history surrounding them. But there are also things that we know to be true. Dentō dives into these understanding the truth of the history. But tradition is not just the history or the development of rituals surrounding that tradition. Traditions are very tightly guided by a culture’s experience and relationship with those traditions. What becomes culture and tradition is based in what worked and in how something became revered as it served the culture over time. Tradition does evolve, and the authentic remains in place despite changes in technology. Most know that tenkara's tradition can be traced to commercial fishing in the mountain villages of Japan. It was how villages not only fed themselves but was also what they traded for the things they needed. Remarkably they recognized their immediate resources and developed not just the equipment for fishing but the way that they could catch the most fish economically each day. These centuries of dentō are not to be forgotten or their importance taken for granted. Today we do not fish to catch our meals, feed our villages, or to trade our fish for other items. We can still hold great reverence and respect for these forefathers of tenkara and the share it

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when we are teaching the practice to others. Dentō no michi tenkara practitioners seek out the finer elements of the tradition by practicing and studying the ways, techniques and presentations used for centuries before them. They still use the modern rods and tackle available, and they likely have a better historical appreciation and understanding for the tools we use. You can be sure that they have studied a range of known traditional kebari patterns and techniques as translated from what books are available and have been translated from Japanese to English. I believe the Dentō practitioners have an important role as protectors of the traditional teachings. Their passion for the history, tradition, and form guides them. We should hope that we can count on them as needed to remind us of original forms and traditions. We need people who are willing dig into texts and historic records as they come available. It is incumbent on them to teach and at times gently defend the historical facts and ideas of tenkara. It is an honorable pursuit for those who decide to take this path themselves. We need people to be caretakers of history and traditions related to tenkara. The power of dentō practitioners is that they can be resources and teachers to all of us in some way. Dentō informs and guides both Tsuri and Renshū paths.

Let’s look now at how these three tenkara identities relate to each other.

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When we look at these paths together, we see how they influence each other and how they really do work together to create what I call the “heart of tenkara.” Tsuri is just the practice of fishing. No matter how a fisherman embraces tenkara, so long as they are using tenkara in a way that is in line with the simple core principles of the Japanese progenitors, they are on the tsuri no michi. Just by fishing tenkara they are contributing to keeping tenkara alive. They may or may not be influenced overtly by the dentō of tenkara and they may not pursue tenkara on the path of renshū. Never the less, all paths have an influence automatically to tsuri no michi and all paths practice fishing tenkara. Renshū provides a depth of purpose to tenkara. It should not be confused as being a religion but does embrace the philosophy of tenkara and applies it to our modern world in a way that continues to provide meaning and a practice of mindfulness. Renshū in a

way, and with a little luck, becomes part of the continued history and future dentō of tenkara. It is the people who live tenkara today that will add to the dentō over time. When people on the tsuri no michi meet the renshū no michi they can take inspiration to make tenkara more than just a hobby. Dentō is where we look back to for facts, guidance, and direction to the form. The traditions and origins have a role to play in not just providing a richness and history to our experience but in guiding us in the primary techniques and ideas behind tenkara. While there is no “true” or “pure” form of tenkara. We have only a few historical references to look to combined with what the modern masters of tenkara have passed on to us from their work. Tenkara as we have it today is no longer a necessity for feeding our families or for trading for the things we need. We do not live in mountain villages in Japan. We use tenkara mostly for recreation, socialization, and for some, as meditation. It is my hope that as you look over these different paths of tenkara that you recognize the path that you are on and embrace tenkara with your heart. Consider each path of practice and assume each mindset when you fish. Perhaps you find yourself between two of the paths I have described. I believe that you can embrace any two with ease and all three with just a little more effort. Doing so will make your tenkara experience deeper and more meaningful.

Tenkara Without the Mountains… By Jay Johnson

… just isn’t tenkara. This has nothing to do with purism, elitism, or Tenkara Wars 3.0, it’s simply my thought on the matter. I couldn’t imagine tenkara without the mountains. Why even bother? Sure, catching fish in any form can be fun and therapeutic for some. But as long as I am physically capable, I will go to the mountains for tenkara. Better writers than I have put into words what the mountains do to a person. The only thing I can do is share some pictures, that even though they don’t do justice compared to what it looks like in person, is a thousand times more impressive than any bluegill pond. My final thoughts on the matter are this. You can have your Amerikara, bonekara, or any other form of fixed line fishing haphazardly branded as "tenkara." I’ll take the mountains.

Even living in Arizona, I’ll drive 2 to 5 hours to get into beautiful scenery. It’s worth it to walk where few others will go.

I probably donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have to take my shoes off to count the number of people that fish this part of the stream each year.

The Great Smoky Mountains is home to some of the best tenkara waters Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve ever seen.

A meadow stream at 8,000ft elevation can be as memorable as a high gradient, boulder laden cascade.

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First Year Tenkara: 2018 Year in Review By Mike Hepner

January, February and March were spent behind a vice, tying fly after fly with thoughts of how it would work once the snow melted and the temperatures rose above freezing. The occasional trip to the headwaters that may hold a native or two that are hungry enough to break out of the winter slump and grab a passing bead head kebari, while Belgians and high percentage Porters fill the Zimmerbuilt hiking bags with for each trip. Cabin fever begins to set in. April, May, and June start to see less time on the vice. The fly-tying get-

togethers come to an end and we increase trips to the mountains and can fish productively. Hatches begin, and water temperatures hit the money spots. Come May the beads are off, and the top water kebari begin. This is what we all have waited all winter for. Pilsners and strong IPAs are carried and consumed throughout the trips. July, August, and September, temperatures rise to the point of keeping us from fishing. We wait for the cooler mornings and go out with large, bright colored kebari and anything else we can float on the top of the water. Dry fly season makes it hard to watch the gradual color change in the leaves giving us warning that the cold winter is approaching. During these sweat filled hikes, we turn to the Session IPAs, and

fruit flavored beers to stay hydrated. October, November, and December and nothing is a more beautiful backdrop for fishing pictures than the months where the leaves are seemingly on fire with color. We work our way into streamer season and see a decrease in the number of fish we are pulling in per adventure. Increasingly cold temperatures take over and we once again start to envision fly-tying get-

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togethers to plan for 2019 adventures. Trips during this time begin with pumpkin beers and end in Christmas ales. My inaugural year of tenkara now complete, I can see that this is a yearly agenda that will continue for years to come without changeâ&#x20AC;Ś other than the adventure that each year contains. Long live the Ratskincanoe!!!

Coffee and a Pinch of Optimism By Melissa J. Alcorn

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Blue Mesa Reservoir

Snow sparkles on ground that has not been exposed for decades. A resurrected river runs a twisting path over a rock bed channel drowned in 1965 as the gates of Blue Mesa Dam closed. The Gunnison River that was lost is reemerging, striking fear and awe. Other reservoirs around Southwest Colorado look similar, rivers rising from silty mud basins. These most obvious signs of ongoing extreme drought were once great fishing rivers, lined with resorts and stories, but they became our water storage. Mixed emotions flood the angler who lives in this changing environment. A stream reborn, water too warm, less to drink, will there still be trout and kokaneeâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;so much to ponder while praying for snow.

The 2018 Colorado fishing season was dominated by extreme drought. 2017 was dry, but it was the lack of snow last winter that set us up for exceptional issues. It wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t good for our ski season, but we shuddered to imagine the impact on fishing. Spring sunshine came out strong, but the melt was pitiful. Rivers did not roar, and the reservoirs marginally rose. Worse, the rains of summer never materialized, and the heat turned up. Colorado had its fourth driest summer and its third hottest. Water started to disappear and with it the fishing season went into survival mode, particularly in the Southwest. The Gunnison, San Juan, Uncompahgre, Animas, Rio Grande all became slivers of themselves. Wildfires threatened the health of

streams. The drought maps spelled doom and gloom, and fish shaming ensued. Rather than wallow in the scary unknown, I recently asked two Colorado Parks and Wildlife fish experts to join me for coffee. I had questions and they possessed wisdom with access to data that I craved. Over a communal Palisade peach scone and three Americanos we, surprisingly, discussed reasons for hope. The rivers have buffer systems, thanks to a generation of dam building— words I swore I would never use. Irrigation call-outs and endangered fish pacts mean that cold water is routinely released into the Gunnison, the Cimarron, and the Uncompahgre. Wading within those clear stretches you do not believe there is a possible crisis. Go fish downstream where irrigation water returns to the system and it is a different story. Returning irrigation water enters rivers superheated from flowing through shallow ditches under hot Colorado sun. The fish push up to the tailwater to find more hospitable pockets, leaving the appearance of trout rapture, gone but not dead by the shore. This answered my puzzlement of why we were not seeing carcasses. Our coffee conversation turned to the extreme adaptability of fish. They run on primal impulses—eat, breathe, procreate. They self-regulate to maximize efficiency. Fish respiration and metabolism--both regulated by temperature--are challenged in a

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drought-stricken water supply. The permeable membrane within the gills that exchanges oxygen is temperature sensitive. The warmer it is, the less efficient it is. Add in the fact that warmer water carries less oxygen and the fish are in trouble. They’ll stick their noses in the small rifles to breath but that takes tremendous energy. Metabolism speeds up the warmer they are. A hot and bothered trout wants to eat but can’t breathe. The only thing for a fish to do is look for the coolest spot it can find and sit still until some darn bug slaps it in the face. It is a challenge for both angler and fish in that scenario. We abandoned plans to fish the Lake Fork of the Gunnison this summer. I hoped to explore stretches of the old Trout Highway, the abandoned bed of the Durango and Rio Grande Narrow Gauge Railway that ran next to both forks of the Gunnison prior to the reservoir. The drought was extending the fishable terrain I could access with bike and waders. Reports circulated that anglers were being hassled and shamed along the Lake Fork. We wanted nothing to do with that vibe and waited until the temperatures of fall removed the issue. On a cool, caramel-hued morning we finally went to the river and found it deserted and dropped well below the driftwood line. The CPW signs were still posted asking anglers not to fish during the heat, which seemed odd given how bundled in layers we were. The river was shallow, the fish were invisible, and no one taunted us for trying to lure trout out of hiding spots. It was a

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Walking the Trout Highway next to Lake Fork of the Gunnison, September 2018 Well below the usual waterline

good experience despite the low water. We feared most for our small streams. Those gems meandering through mountain meadows. Reliant on natural springs and snow, the creeks risked complete demise. The canary in our creek lineup was one that locals refuse to mention by name and cherish because it always yields handfuls of exquisite native trout. We were compelled to check on it. The hike in revealed dried up meadows where profuse flowers normally obscure the path. Water skimmed through the creek bed, but it barely moistened the rocks in places and the edges were not as protected as they should be. The fish were hunkered in plain sight within teal pools, but we cast our flies with breath held, fearing we would hook a struggling trout and hasten its end. For the first time I wondered if this sport was appropriate in a summer such as this. I raised this issue with my coffee buddies. They admitted a viable solution for overall fishery health was to keep what you catch and not worry about the release. I just haven’t developed a taste for rainbow, let alone any trout that must be cooked without a backcountry campfire during burn ban summers. I needed answers about letting them go. They advocated for carrying a thermometer and not dipping a fly if the water is seventy degrees Fahrenheit or higher. If the need to chase fish cannot be ignored at that temperature, then the next thing is to take all measures to

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avoid playing the fish out—barbless hooks, get them in fast, handle them efficiently, skip the pictures, and get them back to water. Without a reel, reliant on a dance of line and battle of wills to bring the fish to net, can tenkara remain compatible in that scenario or does it have an upper temperature limit where the right choice is to find cooler water? It seems like a question each tenkara angler should ask herself and the community needs to consider. Looking back on our little struggling creek experience, we felt guilty pursuing cutthroats during the heat of the summer day and opted to spend the time listening to the water instead. Crisp morning temps the next day momentarily restored our desires, but our hearts were not in it. The stream will be fine, and the trout too, but our ambitions to fish it dissolved in this season of nonexistent rain. We didn’t need a thermometer to tell us the odds were not in the favor of fish and our creek rods were shelved for the rest of the summer. The lakes near tree line felt like fairer play. Our choice for alpine adventure was the trifecta of Missouri Lakes, Treasure Vault Lake, and Fancy Lake in the Holy Cross Wilderness. The water level in the lakes was lower than prior years, but still robust with happily feeding trout. We fished for three days and enjoyed the relief from drought-induced angst with our activity. As I stood next to Fancy Lake and watched Stephen catch one last trout, the first snowflakes of a

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Holy Cross Wilderness Lakes, September 2018

changing season landed gently on our shoulders. My thoughts turned toward winter--shallow lakes, almost nonexistent streams—what was going to happen to our fisheries when the season transitioned for good? As our coffee cups drained down like Ridgway Reservoir, I asked my pals for winter survival prognostication. Both think we will come through winter just fine. Fish needs are so much less when it is cold. Stream-based fish will find a hole to hide out in and be fine. Most lakes and reservoirs are sufficiently deep enough to have a layer of open, oxygenated water. Smaller lakes may see fish kills. The drought has allowed vegetation to grow at the edges which lowers the oxygen levels in the water,

and the depths are shallow enough to freeze solid or sufficiently solid to leave nothing for the fish. This is the scenario for a few of the lakes on Grand Mesa. An additional concern is fish parasites, such as gill lice, that thrive in low-water environments. When appropriate fish habitat is compressed, parasites spread more easily, like virus in a daycare. And overall health of the population can decrease with such stresses. Winter fish survival, however, remains one of nature’s puzzles, and chances are they are hearty enough to weather what we hope is a very stormy season. The last sips of coffee chased down a communal sigh of relief around the table—chances are good that our fish will be fine.

Holy Cross Wilderness Lakes, September 2018 35

I relished fishing a stretch of the Gunnison well into Iola Basin that has been under the lake for decades. The only thing I pulled out was my husband as he sunk into a patch of quicksand near the river’s new edge. The water was clear and ran swiftly toward the west to find the retreating edge of the lake. A fellow angler enjoying this resurgent stretch of river was enthusiastically pulling rainbows out of the stream. The trout were thriving in this new habitat. Drought gives us a unique chance to experience historic fisheries. While that is intellectually rewarding, modern life in the West is at odds with such delights and most of us will be doing our snow dances and incantations for a winter that can start to restore the water supply. I went into the coffee conversation thinking drought had made a massive

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negative impact on Colorado fishing. I feared there would inevitably be fewer native fish next season. I was wrong. Our fish and fishy places are adapting and surviving. What is true, however, is that we need an epic snow pack. We need to rebuild the reservoir supplies that kept us going this summer. We need to restore the alpine lakes and little streams meandering the high country. And we need to have the moisture to prevent wildfires. Without that, we will start seeing losses next summer. As we tie flies and dream of the season ahead over the next few months, let’s be sure to lace up our snow dance boots for some regular jigs, and take a jog to the store for thermometers to add to our fishing kits. We’ll be in better shape from all the dancing to enjoy the reinvigorated places we love to fish next season— when temperature appropriate.

Rocky Mountain Genryu 2018 By Adam Klagsbrun

As I sit here this winter writing my first tenkara article in about six months, I think about what has changed, and what has not. Everything in my life has changed since last winter… its back to the grind, the patterns revolving around chasing business successes instead of trout more often than I’d like. And just as much as it feels like everything has changed, plenty else has not changed… apparently people still think you can call warm water fixed-line angling “tenkara,” most of the American tenkara rod companies still have not sponsored new content from Japan, and we continue as Westerners to attempt to control and use the narrative to benefit business goals rather than tell the story of tenkara. C’est la Vie.

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At this point, I’ve given up all hope that pointing this out will ever contribute to any positive change or reflection, and likely only cause defensiveness and strife… and why should it… but that doesn’t mean I can stop caring. So in defiance of these slightly depressing realities, what should a tenkara angler do? Well, ignore it all, of course, and go on a Genryu trip with friends! So naturally I invite Rob & his friend Samb to join me for a reserved campsite in Rocky Mountain National Park for the last trip of the season. September is a great time to be in the mountains. As usual, we scramble over boulders, climb waterfalls, lose valuable items to

the wilderness, pick up some scuffs and bruises, lose a few big ones, and land countless beautiful native/wild trout in some of the most picturesque tenkara water Colorado has to offer. Nothing beats a tenkara trip into this kind of territory… it is an all-in kind of experience, not for the faint of heart. Usually these trips involve sliding down a slippery hillside or dropping down an escarpment into a steepwalled canyon, hopefully far from the trail and protected from the riff-raff carrying bait-rods, the guides, the green weenies, and the Gore-Tex wader-brigade. This kind of adventure is something we learned from Sebata-san, not something you can find out about from a fly shop. This is his style of tenkara… his kind of Genryu trip. Almost off the grid, but not quite as hard core as his trips. I like to wear his colors, or his shirt or use his lines when I’m in these places often, both to honor him, and to remind myself what inspires me to live out these adventures in the first place. But Sebata is not the only one I think of in these moments. I think of Go Ishii, Keiichi Okushi, Kazuo Kurahashi, Otani Tadashi, Masayuki Yamano, Keiji Ito, and others whose names I am forgetting at this moment… I think of them and their kind words, their advice, their camaraderie, their honesty, the moments we shared and the friendships we started while in Japan. I don’t know if I thank them enough in real life, but I do it in my head all the time.

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These thoughts lead me to settle into a rhythm on the river…. Step, plant my right foot… Keep my elbow in, and rotate at the shoulder not the elbow. Back cast to the sky. Stop the forward cast early. Aim above the water and let the fly fall gently… almost like swinging a hammer… then all of a sudden there it is… that beautiful wild trout I came here for has taken my fly aggressively and turned - and the fight is on! I turn the fish a few times and angle my wrist back, bringing it to my feet,

where I let a little slack into the line and it swims away. Rinse hands, dry fly on my shirt-sleeve, repeat all day. But now the light begins to fade. My friends are tired. I am beat… it is time to turn around and go back to camp. The fact that this is the last Genryu trip of the year weighs heavily on my mind, and as we navigate back down the way we came, I wonder what will change for next year… one thing that I know will not change though, is what tenkara truly is to me.

A Week in the Winds

Words by Paul Vertrees Photos by Paul Vertrees, Eric Lynn, and Shawn Larson

“I am me because I grew up in this celestial 2 ¼-million-acre Wind River Range while the land also grew on me. It is a true sanctum and retreat of mountains, glaciers, streams and lakes.” -- Finis Mitchell, in a letter to me, 1984. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAA

I’m sitting next to a hot wood stove on a snowy day, writing this article and poring over a stack of letters Finis Mitchell wrote to me in 1983 and 1984. I was 20 and he was in his early 80s. It was an unlikely friendship. I was a young soldier, stationed overseas five thousand miles from my home state of Colorado. He was an aging wilderness champion, lecturer, and photographer living in Rock Springs, Wyoming. We had mutual acquaintances that were devoted to wilderness preservation, and we soon began writing letters to each other. Each letter he wrote to me took about 2-3 weeks to arrive in Europe from Wyoming, and mine took just a long going back to him. It was always a special treat to get a letter or card from Finis. In those letters, he told me all about his wonderful Wind River Range in west-central Wyoming. Finis had migrated west to Wyoming from Missouri in 1906, and in 1930 he and his wife started up Mitchell’s Fishing Camp, located at the Big Sandy Openings, on the west side of the Continental Divide. In the early years, Finis and his family stocked some 314 high lakes on the west flank of the divide, packing in huge milk cans full of trout, two cans per horse. The milk

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cans were covered with burlap to prevent most of the water and the all of the trout from sloshing out while the pack train made its way up to the lakes. All of the jostling of the pack train kept the water in the cans aerated, keeping the fish alive until they could be released into the mostly barren lakes. These barren lakes had been void of trout until the Mitchells stocked them, and much of the fishing we enjoy today in the Winds is a direct result of Finis’ backbreaking work, love of trout and wilderness, and vision. This was my connection to The Winds. Serendipity had gifted me the longdistance friendship with Finis. The whirlwind of my return from a deployment in December 1984, and the subsequent early years of my Army career kept me from going up to Rock Springs, Wyoming, to meet Finis and his lifelong wife, Emma, although he had offered me an open-ended invitation to do so. From the mid-1980s up until 2017 I spent my time and effort fly fishing in Colorado’s Rocky Mountains, backpacking and visiting streams and high lakes in most of my home state’s wilderness areas. During those decades I had also taken my tenkara rods to the wonderful Driftless in southwest Wisconsin, the interior and southwest corner of Alaska, and beyond. However, the thought of visiting the Wind River Range was always in the back of my mind, especially when I would leaf through my well-worn copy of Finis’ venerable little book, “Wind River Trails”. In August 2018, all that changed. The

people, circumstances, and events of my life up to that point in time all converged to make a trip to The Winds a reality. It’s interesting that during the span of our lives we really never know exactly when such things will happen. I’ve learned that when they do offer the opportunity, it’s always best to jump on them hard, and I have never regretted doing so. Our tenancy on this planet is brief and time waits for no man. I have a handful of close friends with whom I’ve shared many backcountry adventures. Two of them joined me on the trip to The Winds, and between the three of us we made quite a team. I had been backpacking, fly fishing, and big game hunting with Eric for many years. It was with Eric that I burropacked deep into Colorado wilderness, clambered to the top of a 12,000-foot ridge, and killed the biggest cow elk of my life, with one of the longest shots I had ever taken on an elk with a rifle. We are both retired military, and lifelong patriots. The third member of the Wind River team, Shawn, is also a fellow backcountry adventurer.

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I actually met Shawn when he booked a guided tenkara trip with me in southwest Colorado back in 2013. We quickly found that we had many shared interests, and most of them were centered on wilderness fishing and backpacking. In the ensuing years, Shawn ceased being my client, and became a frequent partner on numerous mountain adventures. Shawn accompanied me to interior

Alaska in 2016 to scout for trophy arctic grayling with tenkara, and he returned to Alaska with me again in 2017 as a client on my annual hosted trip to Intricate Bay Lodge in the Bristol Bay region of southwest Alaska. Together we’ve fished for wilderness cutthroats in Colorado and many trophy rainbow trout and arctic grayling in the Last Frontier. Having two great friends, rock-solid outdoorsmen, and fellow tenkara anglers in my company for my first trip to the wilderness of the Winds was a godsend. Our trip began the evening of August 4th. I drove the hundred or so miles northeast to Eric’s place, arriving just before dinner. Shawn had already arrived and was rummaging through a pile of gear in Eric’s shop building. After passing a mason jar of apple cinnamon moonshine back and forth on Eric’s front porch, and watching wild turkeys scratch in the pine needles next to his house, we ate a huge dinner. After dinner we returned to our piles of gear, sorted things out, and decided to rise early the next morning for the trip to west-central Wyoming. Shawn and I sacked out on cots and sleeping bags in Eric’s shop, and between the moonshine and the dinner, I really don’t remember my head hitting the pillow. Day 1, August 5th Eric Lynn is a burro man. He has a small herd of various sized burros, some of which spent their early years running wild in the Arizona desert until

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the Bureau of Land Management rounded them up and shipped them to Colorado penitentiaries where inmates tamed them and offered them for adoption through the BLM’s Wild Horse and Burro Program. Eric adopted others from friends and acquaintances. He’s also added a big 15-hand sorrel mule named Duncan. Eric’s fascination with all things equus asinas resulted in his start-up of Mountain Ridge Gear in 2009, and the development of his Original ATV line of specialty mule and burro packing equipment, including pack saddles, tack, and panniers. We would be taking four of Eric’s pack stock on our trip to The Winds, enabling us to take better food, beer, bigger shelters, and more creature comforts than we would if we were backpacking. Eric was recovering from arthroscopic knee

surgery, so he would ride one of the animals, and the other three would carry packsaddles. Shawn and I would hike with full daypacks. We had a 50plus-mile trip planned over a span of five days on the trail. After a huge breakfast at Eric’s the morning of August 5th, and an hour or so spent loading gear into Eric’s truck and pack animals into the horse trailer, we pulled out and headed north through Denver, Fort Collins, Laramie, Rawlins, and the stark beauty of the Great Divide Basin. As with traveling west across the Great Plains of western Kansas and eastern Colorado, the Wind River Mountains were a welcome sight as we arrived in Lander and stopped for diesel. Lander was our jumping-off point, and was the nearest town to Worthen Meadows trailhead.

We drove straight uphill from Lander, past Frye Lake, and turned west to the campground. This US Forest Service campground has handy hitching posts and corrals for horse and mule packers, and we camped overnight there, sleeping in my ultralight tipi. Day 2, August 6th We rose at dawn the morning of August 6th, wondering why we hadn’t assembled and lit our portable wood stove. It was near freezing as we watched the sun rise over Worthen Meadow Reservoir. After eating breakfast on the fenders of the horse trailer, loading and weighing six panniers (we had a total of 406 pounds of gear on three burros), saddling the donkeys and mule, and shouldering backpacks, we signed the register at the Worthen Meadows trailhead and headed up Stough Creek Lakes Trail and into the 101,870-acre Popo Agie Wilderness. At the beginning of Stough Creek Lakes Trail there are several low boardwalks designed to keep hikers and pack stock out of marshy low spots. Eric’s animals had seen few, if any, of these in the Colorado backcountry. We moved less than a mile in the first hour, and in that hour was spent coaxing, pushing, pulling, and swearing at our long-eared friends. Burros are slow to trust, but once they do, it’s easy. They figured out they wouldn’t die if they walked on those boardwalks, and after that we had very little problems with boardwalks. We did, however, have a problem with bear spray. We were

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traveling in grizzly bear country, and all three of us were carrying bear spray canisters on our belts. Eric’s canister has somehow leaked during one of the wrestling matches with the burros, and he had gotten some of the noxious liquid on his hand and then onto his face. Eric spent most of the day with tears and snot running down his face as the spray worked its magic and eventually wore out over time. Numerous high log bridges were another story, but again once the burros trusted both the bridges, and us we moved much faster. Eric is a firm, patient burro wrangler, and watching him work is to see a man completely in his element, spending time doing what he loves. Nine miles of rocky trail led us to the Middle Fork Popo Agie River and Tayo Park, which would serve as our basecamp for the week. Shawn and I felt great after spending most of the day hiking with 20-pound packs, and we had plenty of energy left to set up camp and get settled in. With burros corralled with a portable electric fence in lush grass, and our own bellies full, we turned in for the night. It’s a weird feeling, going to bed in grizzly bear country. We fell asleep with our “bear radar” on, somehow keeping one ear tuned to any strange noises on the other size of the papertin fabric of the tipi. After spending nearly half my life in the Army, I’ve developed the ability to both get good night’s sleep and also awake at an instant when I hear something out of place. It’s this ability that’s kept me

safe and out of trouble for many years. After about an hour or so of sleep, I snapped awake, hearing something banging against the bear-proof food panniers that were stashed about a hundred yards away. Eric and Shawn tell me I yelled something to the effect of “boys, we’ve got noise!”, but I honestly don’t remember what I said. Springing out of my sleeping bag, I grabbed my headlamp and bear spray and leapt out of the tipi and into the blackness, with Eric and Shawn right on my heels, doing the same. Waking two retired military veterans and one salty backwoods adventurer with “bear noise” in the middle of the night is not an experience I would want if I were a bear!

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After scanning our camp and those food-laden panniers with our headlamps, we discovered it wasn’t a bear at all, but a mule deer standing in the middle of camp making the most unnatural coughing sounds, which interestingly enough sound just like something thumping against a bearproof pannier! After a good laugh and saying goodnight to the deer, we went slithered back into our sleeping bags and enjoyed a sound night’s sleep. Day 3, August 7th We had come to The Winds in search of gold… golden trout that is. Shawn and I had both caught some rare goldens in secret backcountry spots in Colorado, but when it comes to golden trout, Wyoming is king. I had spent some long phone calls with Rich Osthoff, author of the excellent

guidebook, “Fly Fishing the Rocky Mountain Backcountry”. I’ve had Rich’s book for nearly 20 years, and I had just about memorized the lengthy chapter about The Winds. Rich shared his extensive experience in The Winds with me, as well as some of his most productive fly patterns. Rich had also recommended some streams and lakes to Shawn, and Eric, me and I had planned our trip around those. On August 7th, Eric rode his burro, DarLynn, and Shawn and I hiked all the way up to Coon Lake, which is nestled in a 10,600-foot basin right up against the east side of Continental Divide. Eric’s knee was feeling much better, so he hiked while I rode DarLynn for a couple of miles. DarLynn and I have a special friendship, for it was she who saved me from a charging bull moose in Colorado a few years earlier. Several miles due west of us, on the other side of the divide, was the Big Sandy Openings, Finis Mitchell’s stomping grounds. On the way up to Coon Lake, we stopped to fish the Tayo Creek, and caught so many brook trout that we lost count. This would happen daily during our week in The Winds! As we topped out the climb to Coon Lake, we found it surrounded by a nearly treeless shoreline that was lined with boulders and willows. On the western skyline loomed the divide ridge and beyond that the squared-off dome of an 11,500-foot unnamed peak west of Little Sandy Creek. It was a calm, sunny day on an alpine golden trout lake!

All three of us deployed our tenkara rods and split up into different directions. I had taken a 13 ½-foot tip flex rod to Coon Lake, knowing full well I would need to cast a long line in windy conditions. This wasn’t my first rodeo on a high lake. Rich Osthoff had tied me up a dozen #12 Fast Sinking Scuds, his famous go-to pattern for goldens in The Winds. I rigged up one of the custom-length 13-foot Tactical Tenkara Nymphing lines I had recently designed, added about six feet of 5X fluorocarbon tippet, and tied on the scud. Since the water I intended to start fishing dropped off quickly and looked quite deep, I attached one BB split shot about a foot above the scud. After about an hour of fishing, and disheartened that I hadn’t even see one single fish, I sat down for a break. At that moment a trout broke the surface about 50 feet out. Game on!

Since I hadn’t seen a fish within the range of my tenkara rod, and hadn’t had any takes on my weighted scud, I switched it up and deployed my 9-foot 5-weight western rod. My reel had a 5weight weight-forward floating line on it; so I attached one of my Skagit sink tips, and a 9’ fluorocarbon leader, along with the scud and weight. I was standing right next to a deep trough in the bottom of the lake, so I cast about 50 feet to the far end of the trough and let the scud sink. As soon as the scud sank I felt a strong take through the rod and strip set the hook. Five minutes later Shawn netted the trout for me, and I was holding my first-ever 14-inch Wyoming golden trout! I was disappointed that I hadn’t caught it with my tenkara rod, but that was eclipsed by the experience of catching it and marveling at the beauty of such a fish.

We spent the rest of the day fishing Coon Lake, but mine was the only golden caught that day. We did see a few trout break the surface, but they were always just out of tenkara rod range, and none were seen cruising the shoreline the way our Colorado cutthroats often do in high lakes. Happy to have spent a good day in the high country on a beautiful lake, we left Coon Lake in time to arrive back at our Tayo Park camp for supper. Day 4, August 8th Eric decided to stay in camp to take care of some of his donkey-related chores, and even talked about scouting Squirrel Lake, which sat in a small wooded basin directly upslope and north of our Tayo Park camp. Shawn and I hiked west of camp past Poison Lake, following Tayo Creek until it met the outlet from Mountain Sheep Lake. We bushwhacked upstream, following the outlet until we found a well-used game trail that led us to the spectacular basin where Mountain Sheep Lake sits at an elevation of 10,250 feet. We spent the morning fishing the north end of the lake from huge boulders, catching dozens of 10 to 12 inch brook trout.

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Mountain Sheep Lake is strictly a brook trout lake, but you can go there and catch as many as you want! The scenery at the lake is second to none, and there are even more hidden gems you can’t see from the shore. Secluded above Mountain Sheep Lake is another, smaller tarn, and Shawn and I promised each other that we would return on another trip and climb up to

it to see if any fish live there. After we enjoyed lunch while stretched out in the warm sun on a house-sized boulder, we dropped back down to Tayo Creek and fished our way downstream to Poison Lake. I fished the entire day with a triple zoom tenkara rod, fully extended out to its relatively short length of 10’8”. The short length of the rod made casting in overhanging water birch and willows much easier. I’m not a fish counter, clicker in hand, tallying up the day’s total, but by all estimates Shawn and I caught well over a hundred fish between the two of us, all on mostly traditional Japanese tenkara fly patterns using simple level line and about 4 feet of 6X tippet. At the end of the day, Shawn and I returned to camp to find that Eric’s scouting of Squirrel Lake resulted in no fish seen or caught. Day 5, August 9th Up early, Shawn and I loaded backpacks while Eric saddled DarLynn for the ride up to Tayo Lake, the largest lake within a day’s hike from our basecamp. At the trail junction at the turnoff to Coon Lake, we stopped and spent about an hour fishing Tayo Creek, catching over a dozen feisty brook trout. Once we finished the climb up to Tayo Lake, we were treated to an awesome view of the lake and the peaks and ridges surrounding it, including a couple of hanging glaciers clinging to the granite cliffs of the Continental Divide. The

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completely treeless, and boulders and tundra surround the lake. With plenty of casting room and a vast expanse of shoreline to fish from, we split up and started fishing. As with Coon Lake, the goldens were just out of reach with our tenkara rods. I had a couple of solid hits with my tenkara rod, fishing Rich Osthoff’s Fast Sinking Scud, but didn’t land any trout until I had switched over to my western 5-weight rod, casting at least 50 feet out into the lake. In contrast to Coon Lake, Tayo Lake presented us with cruising golden trout and golden-rainbow hybrids, but they weren’t inclined to take a fly until they were out farther in the lake.

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While Eric and I were shooting a video for his company on the slope above the lake, Shawn could be heard at least a quarter mile away, whooping it up as he caught several nice goldens. The three of us were at yet another

high lake in The Winds that we vowed to return to on another trip! Day 6, August 10th August 10th was the day we would pack up our Tayo Park Camp and head back downstream along the Middle Fork Popo Agie River to Three Forks Park for our final overnight before heading back to the original trailhead. As with all adventures like this, the days go fast, and the last day in basecamp is bittersweet. I think we could have spent another week on the east side of the Continental Divide in The Winds on the south end of the range, and still not have been able to visit all of the lakes worth fishing. There’s just that much water in The Winds, and it’s a big range. Our trail miles on Day 7 took us downriver through thick timber and marshy meadows along the Middle Fork. We arrived at Three Forks Park in

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time to do some fishing for brook trout. During our week up to this point we hadn’t taken any brook trout out of the streams for a meal, but on this last night on the trail we kept a half-dozen brookies from the 50 or so we caught before supper. Shawn cooked up those trout on his backpacking stove, and I mixed them in with some lemon pepper rice I had in my pack. I was a wonderful meal! We kept our camp simple that night, sleeping under the stars. It was such a treat to face the black starry sky, nestled warmly in my down sleeping bag, watching meteors and satellites track across the black summer sky. Day 7, August 11th This would be our final day on the trail, and we spent most of the day

following the trail downstream through the hottest and driest part of our trip. In the lower reaches of the trail, just before Sheep Bridge, we crossed a few openings covered with sparse sagebrush, dusty trails, and hot temperatures. Sheep Bridge was the ultimate test for Eric’s mule and burros. The iron and wood bridge towers some 25 feet over the Middle Fork, which is much larger on this end of the drainage. It’s wide enough for pack stock carrying full panniers, but has little margin for error if one of the animals panics. Shawn and I clambered down below the bridge to do some fishing while Eric worked with his animals on the approach to the bridge. After some coaxing, he crossed with all of the pack burros, while riding...

Not one to be satisfied with quick success, Eric turned the whole pack string around, crossed back over the Middle Fork the way he had come, and rode back up the trail away from Shawn and I. Eric then turned the whole line around a second time and crossed Sheep Bridge a third time without a hitch. I was very proud of Ericâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s diligence, as well as the solid performance of his pack string.

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While all of this burro-wrangling was going on, Shawn and I enjoyed some really good fishing under the bridge and just upstream from it, catching one of only a couple of rainbow trout from the Middle Fork during the entire trip. A few more miles of mostly uphill hiking and riding up the Sheep Bridge Trail brought us back to our original starting point at the Worthen Meadows Campground. I always start hiking more slowly toward the end of any backpacking trip, wanting to savor

every step before I have to stop. This trip was no different, and although I was happy to get back to civilization, I was also sad to have to say goodbye to the Popo Agie Wilderness and all of that wonderful fishing in the Wyoming backcountry. Our last evening in Wyoming was spent relaxing at Worthen Meadows Campground and pre-packing some of our gear for the return trip home to Colorado. Once again, we cooked on the fenders of Ericâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s horse trailer, and drank the remains of a twelve pack of warm beer we had locked in the trailer during the week. We dispensed with a shelter, and spent our second night sleeping under the stars, snug in our feathered cocoons, staring up at the star-filled sky. Before we drifted off to sleep, we had already started planning our return trip to The Winds the next year, with another goal of catching an elusive golden trout with our tenkara rods.

The Merits of Common Sewing Thread As A Fly Tying Material After tying a few dozen kebari with Robb Chunco

Consider the cheap and ubiquitous, humble sewing thread. It’s thick (as far as fly tying threads go), bulky, it won’t lay flat, it’s got a rough texture and using it can help you become a better fly dresser. Because of these features, it forces you to be more cognizant of every single wrap you make. It helps you learn to economize your movements and plan ahead. It builds thickness quite quickly, which can be a good or bad thing depending on the type of fly you’re tying.

sewing thread, switching back to 6/0 or 8/0 thread feels quite different - not unlike playing an acoustic guitar with heavy gauge strings and then switching to a nicely set up electric guitar with a brand-new set of strings. Your movements become more fluid, your confidence becomes clearer. Several of the Japanese Masters are known to use common sewing thread in their kebari patterns. Is that due to frugality or tradition, or simply the ease of acquisition? I don’t know the answers to these questions, but I do know that if it’s good enough for them to use, it’s surely good enough for the rest of us to use.

Schmidek Sakasa Kebari By Mark White

Henry H. Schmidek M.D. was a world renowned neurosurgeon that I had the great pleasure to work with. An avid fly fisherman, unfortunately we never had the chance to share time on the water together. This fly is named for him.

Start with a #12 barbless hook securely anchored in the vise. Using brown thread, start touching wraps about an eye hook lengths way from the end of the hook and wrap to about mid way down the shank. Trim or break off any excess thread.

Strip the remaining feathers from the quill, leaving a bare stem. Then take the pheasant hackle and stroke the barbs back to create a small diamond shaped tip which will be used as an anchor to attach the feather to the shank.

Take a ring neck pheasant hackle, hold the stem of the feather between the thumb and forefinger for support. Then proceed to pull off just the tips of the downy feathers. Place these to one side to be used as dubbing.

Tie the hackle to the hook shank using 3-4 wraps to securely seat the tip. I find having the natural curve of the fly facing upwards makes the feather easier to wrap. Proceed to wrap the feather around the shank gently stroking the barbs forward, keeping them from being trapped in the thread.

Once finished wrapping the hackle, tie down the remainder of the quill. Trim off any excess. You can also trim off the tab of the feather or continue to wrap thread to the bend of the hook making it more secure. Since this area will be covered with dubbing a bulky profile is not worrisome. Actually it may help add to the body of the fly.

Coat the surface of the thread with a glue stick. I have also have used lip balm with good results. This provides a sticky surface to help attach the downy feather to the thread. Since they are a feather, albeit very fine, the down does not easily lend to being wrapped around the thread as in conventional dubbing.

Take several wraps and build a little thread dam to support the base of the feather. Then continue wrapping thread towards the bend stopping at the midpoint of the hook.

Once the dubbing is attached, pull the thread rearward and wrap the thread at the bend of the hook advancing the dubbing forward towards the hackle. Once there tie off the dubbing to secure. I like to use several half-hitches since I can make the loop large enough to prevent trapping of the hackle. Snip the excess off close.

Use your scissors to trim and create the shape of the body to complete the Schmidek sakasa kebari. Admittedly using conventional fly fishing methods I hooked into a trout on the Westfield River in Massachusetts. I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t get him to the net but it was a good time.

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Blue Line Surprise By Michael Richardson It was mid-March, but the temperature was twenty-six degrees. I was hiking up a trail with roughly twelve inches of snow. The only reprieve I had from the crunching and breaking through crust covered surface was when I hit the spaces that snowmobiles or ATVâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s had travelled earlier in the week. I hiked way up into the mountains to see what gems I could find. I took my little hybrid tenkara/fly rod with me. I custom designed this rod only a few weeks prior and was hoping to get in some quality testing time, so you can imagine I was excited to put it to use on some native brook trout. Up until this point I had only landed 8 or 9 brook trout with it, so I was hoping to add a lot more to that number today.

The walk in was very tiresome and noisy. It was killing my zen that is wintertime brookie fishing. The air was crisp, but my efforts soon gave me a chill of sweat. I stopped to catch my breath and take in my surroundings. It is often too easy to miss these sights if you are in too much of a hurry to fish. So here we are, roughly a mile and a half from civilization with a decent walk ahead of us yet. I am at the base of a hollow with a nice stand of hemlocks and rows of mountain laurel underneath them. I can hear the stream in the distance and started seeing the tops of mountain laurel. My heart wanted to flutter, but I did not allow any diversion from my game plan. I knew that I wanted to see some

of the finger streams that ran into the main branch of this stream. Onward I press, with my “brookie stick” shoved into my waders. I was happy with this rod thus far and was determined to check these potential gold mines of brook trout. I looked at my map and had almost a half mile to go. Head held high, I paused to check out the spring seeps coming from the mountain. Its rocks were covered in a pillow of moss. The snow had not settled here due to the ground water. A perfect place to take one last rest before traversing down the mountain to the stream. One great thing about these mountain springs is that they offer a thermal refuge for brookies in the winter. I have picked up a lot of fish in the hole directly coming off one of these springs. I caught my breath, checked the map and kept on walking towards the tiny finger streams. Something about catching a brook trout in the smallest stream I can find always intrigues me. As I crested the top of the old logging road I was walking on, I could finally take my blinders off and focus on the stream. I looked down over the steep bank and it looked small from up here. I decided that I was going to toboggan down the hill on my backside and start fishing.

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The water was super tight, and I was glad to have my “brookie stick” for this section. After nearly forty-five minutes and not getting a hit, I decided to walk the edge of the stream until I found

some fish. I focused only on hitting smaller pools and such and skipped the mini-riffles. Maybe an undercut bank or log jam would hold a little gem for me. A half hour passed before I found a nice plunge pool just downstream of a fruitless logjam. I walked down stream and away from this spot, so I did not disturb any of the fish in the pool. Most times I fish upstream, but on this trip, I was forced to bounce out and away from the stream and then come back to promising pools. I find this very effective, over just fishing down. “They will see you, and you will not catch them” is most often my philosophy when tempted to fish down. I approached the pool sliding on my knees to keep my outline hidden. With the “brookie stick” you must push the envelope to make a cast. You take on a predator and prey mentality, and nearly become a heron. My mop fly landed just where I wanted it to and began to drift the plunge pool. I felt the tap, tap, tap, and rolled a very nice fish. I felt its weight and I would have loved to catch it. I drifted a few more times and finally connected. The fish I caught may only have been two and a half to three inches long at best but was a true gem. Beautiful parr-marks graced the fish’s body. It had the silver shimmering backdrop as talked about in ancient Native American legends. Bright pink spots with very bleak blue halos were visible on this tiny small stream diamond. I took a quick picture and returned the

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fish to her pool. I was ecstatic because this fish was such a hard-earned fish. I continued down the valley, leap frogging from pool to pool. I was excited to come across a large pool, on the back side of a fallen warrior of a hemlock tree. My "brookie stick" was severely handicapped on this hole as I could not cast very far, so I had to do the unthinkable and fish this hole the wrong way, DOWN. Remember my quote, this is a forbidden policy of mine while brook trout fishing. I went above and hid in a rhododendron bush that was half crushed from where the old hemlock had fallen. I flipped the rod out and gave my simple streamer a few twitches. I felt the unmistakable tap, tap of a fish taking my streamer. I set the hook and looked down expecting to have a three- or four-inch native brook trout dangling on the end of my streamer. Suddenly a huge white mouth opened, and a

monstrous hold-over rainbow was on the end of my line. "What the heck is this?!” I shouted wildly. I hastily jumped on top of the brush pile while keeping my arm as high in the air as I could. There was twelve inches of snow on the ground and my bare hand became quite cold as it buried into the snow as I hurdled over the old warrior hemlock. I am looking into the pool and see what can only be called a small stream monster on my line. I am still 100% green on landing a fish on a tenkara style rod, and without a reel or drag I knew I was in for an epic battle. My instincts pretty much kicked in, and I kept the rod held high and constant upward pressure on the rainbow. She was not happy and filled the pool with head shakes and short runs. I was scared to death that the fish would take the whole top section of my hybrid tenkara rod. I had not designed this rod for fish of this caliber. I was not going to risk disturbing any brook trout redds, so I carefully walked into the silty area of the hole, away from any gravel that may still have eggs or fry in them. The bend in my one-weight “brookie stick” was incredible. I was about hip deep in the water and silt when the fish was finally tiring out. Due to a previous fight I had with a rhododendron bush that my net did not survive, I was left to only one option, reaching my hand down into in the icy water to land this fish. I reached in to the water up to my

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shoulder and landed this fish. I cradled her in the water as I walked her carefully towards the bank. I just sat there, soaked to the bone, in twentysix-degree weather, just gasping in disbelief. I looked down at her body and it easily was longer than my elbow to finger tips. To give you a point of reference, I am 6 foot, one inches tall. She was beautiful, and the type of fish you would want to get mounted if you were into that sort of thing. She had a red stripe nearly an inch wide that ran from her tail all the way up to her eye. Deep reddish pink and near spawning colors. I grabbed my phone and took a few quick photos and a video of the release. I knew no one would ever

believe this epic battle without evidence. After the initial adrenaline wore off, I started to feel bad for this fish. Through no actions of her own she was put here. She is an invasive species in a stream where she just didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t belong. She is only being a fish, but how many of the brookies like the one I caught early had she consumed just to survive? The stream's ecology is not set up to handle a fish like this. I am still kicking around the idea of harvesting that fish once the season opens to help protect my beloved brook trout, but that will have to wait for another day. For on this day, she was set free, never to be seen or caught again.

Oncorhynchus mykiss aguabonita: The Marvel of the High Sierras

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By Brad Trumbo

Californiaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s golden trout (Oncorhynchus mykiss aguabonita) was first described by Dr. David Starr Jordan in 1893 as a species of trout of unusual beauty. Native to the South Fork Kern River and Golden Trout Creek and its tributaries, their narrow distribution has been threatened by human impact for more than a century. In the 1960s, the State of California embarked on an intense conservation program to conserve the species and their habitat. In 1978, the Golden Trout Wilderness was established within the Inyo and Sequoia National Forests, protecting the upper watersheds of the Kern and South Fork Kern Rivers.

In 2004, the California Department of Fish and Wildlife signed an agreement with federal agencies to work on restoring backcountry habitat as part of a comprehensive conservation strategy. In that document, genetic introgression from other species is listed as the present greatest threat to golden trout within their native distribution. While threatened in their native range, golden trout have been transplanted throughout backcountry habitats in numerous western states to include a plethora of alpine lakes in the High Sierras. As early as the late 1800s, golden trout were transplanted from

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Golden Trout Creek or its tributaries into nearby Cottonwood Creek, and then Cottonwood Lakes. Decades later, fish from Cottonwood Lakes would serve as the founding population for transplants. A number of high Sierra lakes presently offer remarkable angling opportunity for this captivating species among breathtaking wilderness views and elevation. Traditional tenkara and fixed-line fly fishing can be quite productive in the shallows for cruising fish, but the often-overlooked cracks draining and feeding golden trout lakes offer unique challenge for their shy residents.

While not a tenkara-themed video, if you would like to view some of the beautiful backcountry places golden trout live, please enjoy this video, "In Search Of Liquid Gold" by California Trout.

https://youtu.be/lPOfNZdzsBI

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Gila Trout: A Native Trout Conservation Story By Craig Springer, USFWS

Plip. That’s the sound of a barbless beadhead nymph falling into a glassy glide of Mineral Creek, a headwater stream of the Gila River in southwest New Mexico. There’s a short drift over a stony run, barely time to track your line. Then follows that transmutation of fish flesh to your forearm—the taut tug of a trout on your rod. But it’s not just any trout. This one is yellow like a school bus. Petite black shards fleck its flanks over a hint of a pink stripe and fading oval parr marks. It’s not a rainbow trout—no, this fish is far less common. Rare, even. It’s a Gila trout, a threatened species.

The Gila trout was for a time the only trout considered endangered in the United States. But decades of conservation work by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (Service), New Mexico Department of Game and Fish, U.S. Forest Service and other partners pushed the fish toward recovery. The pretty trout stared into the dark abyss of extinction. Gila trout were off limits to anglers for 50 years until it was down-listed. In 2007, select waters in the Gila National Forest were open to anglers and remain so. The crystalline water of Mineral Creek above the storied ghost town of Mogollon, New Mexico, is but only one

place to catch Gila trout. Conservation work—much heavy lifting—employing pack mules with panniers filled with young trout, to helicopters dropping a tank along remote streams, or carrying in on foot freshly fertilized trout eggs in backpacks have improved the lot of Gila trout, and grown the number of places where you can catch them.

For more on the conservation efforts centered around Gila trout, please enjoy the video below by the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service:

Success begets success. Excise taxes on rods and tackle and fishing license sales fund much of this on-the-ground conservation work via the Service’s Wildlife and Sport Fish Restoration Program. Learn where to go, here. http://www.wildlife.state.nm.us/ fishing/native-new-mexico-fish/gilatrout-recovery-angling/

Jill Wick (NMDGF) and Andrew Dean (USFWS) ready a batch of Gila trout eggs to be placed in gravel in a remote Gila National Forest stream. The eggs were fertilized at Mora National Fish Hatchery. USFWS photo

https://youtu.be/3IVzWsOIB3I

Nate Wiese, manager of Mora National Fish Hatchery carries a batch of fertilized eggs in a cooler. The eggs are wrapped in cool wet paper towels. USFWS photo

Hand-printed Linocuts By Anthony Naples

If this style of art interests you, please take a moment to go back in time to the Spring 2016 issue of Tenkara Angler. Anthony takes us all through a "how to" in regard to the block printing process which yielded these stunning prints.

https://tinyurl.com/worldinbw

Digital Art of Jim Tignor

"Log Walking"

"Steep Rivers, Tenkara, & Trout"

Brookies & Beer: Winter Edition

By John-Paul Povilaitis

Friends of Tenkara Angler

Contributors & Credits This issue of Tenkara Angler Magazine was made possible by the extremely generous contributions of the following members of the tenkara community. Adam Trahan

Jason Sparks

Created Tenkara-Fisher in 2010, the 2nd oldest resource outside of Japan dedicated to tenkara. His extensive catalog of interviews with tenkara personalities can be found both online and in print.

is the founder of “Appalachian Tenkara Anglers,” a leading online tenkara community, as well as the Tenkara Jam, the largest multi-vendor tenkara gathering in the United States.

Anthony Naples

Paul Vertrees

Based in Western Pennsylvania, Anthony has been a voice in the tenkara community since 2009. He is the proprietor of Three Rivers Tenkara, an online retailer of tenkara rods and fly fishing supplies.

is VP of Zen Tenkara working in public relations and product design. He is a professional tenkara guide with Royal Gorge Anglers and also writes for his personal blog Tenkara Tracks.

Jay Johnson

Craig Springer

Is a backpacking and Genryu addict, as well as an aspiring meme-lord. You can find him at the Headwaters Facebook group.

Craig Springer oversees external affairs for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, Southwest Region.

Adam Klagsbrun

Robb Chunco

Adam is an avid lightweight backpacker and a champion of preserving tenkara as it is known and practiced in Japan. Adam authors the blog, “Of Rock & Riffle.”

Robb Chunco is a husband, father, and pretty passionate about tying flies of all kinds. If you’d like to see more of his work, you can check it out at Creekside Kebari Co.

John-Paul Povilaitis

Mike Hepner

Resides in South Central Pennsylvania where he enjoys spending time with family and friends, & sharing beers and stories around a campfire. If he's not at a local spring creek, he's probably in the woods snagging trees.

(a.k.a) “The Tenkara Kid” or “Gap Tiger.” Husband to 1, Father of 4. Die hard Penn State wrestling fan with a love for tenkara fishing, kebari tying, native brookies, Belgian beers, Pittsburgh sports, and lessons on the water or vise from OG.

Dennis Vander Houwen

Melissa Alcorn

Dennis Vander Houwen lives in Colorado with his wife, son, two dogs and a very lucky barn cat. He is the author of the blog Tenkarapath.com where he shares his thoughts, observations, and experiences living a life inspired by the simplicity of tenkara.

Based in Colorado, Melissa and her husband Stephen spend all their spare time playing outdoors. Drawn to tenkara as backpackers, they have stayed due to its simplicity and beauty. Follow her adventures at TenkaraChick.com.

Michael Richardson

Brad Trumbo

Sales Engineer and aspiring writer who resides in the Allegheny Mountains of Pennsylvania. Mike is new to tenkara angling but has been tying flies and conventional fly fishing since age 16. He has a fly tying business, Richardson Fly Company, and enjoys getting new fly fishermen involved in the sport.

Brad Trumbo lives in southeast Washington State and serves the public as a fish and wildlife biologist. In his spare time, Brad volunteers with Pheasants Forever, pens tales of outdoor pursuits, builds (and sometimes uses) custom fly rods, and reminisces of his Appalachian homeplace. www.bradtrumbo.com

Mark White

Jim Tignor

Mark E. White is a Physician Assistant working in the field of Neurosurgery at the Brain and Spine Center, Dartmouth, Massachusetts.

Jim Tignor lives in Chapel Hill, NC. He is a relatively new fisherman, but seemingly obsessed with tenkara. Find Jimâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s prints at: jimtignor.imagekind.com.

Photo Contributors:

Paul Pigeon II, Jason Hammond, Shigeki Miura, Eric Lynn, Shawn Larson

Photo: Shigeki Miura

TenkaraCalendar.com is a simple community-driven resource to organize, keep track, and promote tenkara-based events, get-togethers, "takeovers," meet ups, and seminars. The current events through July 2019 are listed below, however please feel free to visit the website to submit and publicize your upcoming tenkara or conservation-themed initiatives, or simply to learn more. Costa Rica: Guided Trout & Machaca with Zen Tenkara Monday February 18th - Sunday February 24th, 2019 San Jose, Costa Rica Texas: Troutfest Texas Friday February 22nd - Sunday February 24th, 2019 Lazy L&L Campgrounds, 11699 River Road, New Braunfels, TX Wisconsin: Driftless Tenkara Campout Thursday May 16th - Tuesday May 21st, 2019 Esofea Park, Park Road, Westby WI Maine: Fox Carlton 7th Annual Fly Casting Clinic Saturday June 8th, 2019 35 Fox Carlton Pond Road, Phillips, ME Oregon: Tenkara Bug Out 2019 Friday July 12th - Sunday July 14, 2019 Oakridge, OR Colorado: 2019 Tenkara Summit - 10th Anniversary Saturday July 27th, 2019 Millennium Harvest House Hotel, Boulder, CO

99 Photo: Paul Vertrees

#Tenkara

News & Notes From Around Social Media Looking for an inexpensive 8 foot rod? A lot of love being thrown around to the Shimotsuke Gen 240 for $45 US...

Jason Klass (TenkaraTalk) visited the Denver Fly Fishing show in search of tenkara, this is what he found... Want to geek out on trout flies? Check out "Trout Flies: What to Tie & Buy" from Discover Tenkara...

Tanuki is building new rods, it looks like the NINJA is coming in 2019. And no, this rod will not be orange... GROUNDSTORE is now selling furled, tapered GT lines to the US. These lines look rather promising...

Here's a cool little video by PLAT Co. of the unboxing of the new 2019 Nissin Tenkara Mini...

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Photo: Adam Klagsbrun

Winter 2018-19

Tenkara Angler - Winter 2018-19

Articles inside

Brookies & Beer: Winter Edition

Digital Art of Jim Tignor

Hand-printed Linocuts

Gila Trout: A Native Trout Conservation Story

The Marvel of the High Sierras

Blue Line Surprise

Schmidek Sakasa Kebari

The Merits of Common Sewing Thread as a Fly Tying Material

A Week in the Winds

Rocky Mountain Genryu 2018

Coffee and a Pinch of Optimism

First Year Tenkara: 2018 Year in Review

Tenkara Without the Mountains...

The Three Paths

An Interview with Jason Sparks

From The Editor