Tenkara Angler - Winter 2021-2022 by Tenkara Angler

Winter 2021-22 tenkaraangler.com

WINTER 2021-22 Editor In Chief: Michael Agneta Editor: Matt Sment Editor: Jason Sparks --INTRODUCTION 2 FROM THE EDITOR

CONSERVATION 4 SOUTHERN APP BROOK TROUT 8 COMMUNITY IN CONSERVATION 10 GILA TROUT

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ESSAY 12 MEADOW IN THE MOUNTAINS 14 JANUARY THIRD 16 THE JOY OF SHARING 18 SECOND CATCH IS THE BEST 20 OUT OF YOUR COMFORT ZONE 22 MY JOURNEY INTO TENKARA 24 AFTER SCHOOL SPECIAL 28 POND "TENKARA" 30 DESOLATION WILDERNESS 40 SEPTOMBER 50 FEATURED IN NH CHRONICLE

INTERNATIONAL 54 GENRYU TENKARA 64 URBAN TENKARA 66 ESCAPING THE HEAT DOME 72 VIEW FROM THE ALPS 78 TENKARA IN THE TIME OF COVID

GEAR 80 TOP TO BOTTOM FLY BOX 84 EDC & EQUIPMENT HACKS 88 AKAI O TAKAYAMA KEBARI 92 GETTING LOST THIS WINTER 96 LET'S GET TECHNICAL

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RIFFLES 102 READER ART & PHOTOS 110 FRIENDS OF TENKARA ANGLER 118 CONTRIBUTORS & CREDITS 120 #TENKARA

Photo: Bill Holleran Front Cover: Rachael Rosenstein Back Cover: Martin Montejano Cover Logo Design: Nick Cobler 1

From The Editor I Guess We're Back...

Toward the end of the summer, I had messaged my co-editors Matt & Jason about the possibility of running a “call for submissions” for a new print issue of Tenkara Angler. It had been a while, was it even worth trying? Eventually, we decided to pull the trigger and give it a go. I’ve always felt that there’s just something about holding a physical item in your hands. (Notwithstanding the sudden popularity of NFTs). Now that we had made the pivot toward an online format, the only question was would the community still care to go analog? Well, as you can probably see by the heft of this issue, the turnout was quite positive. Overwhelming to be frank. 120+ pages of articles, photography, and original art literally from all over the world. I certainly didn’t expect a response like this, and despite the long hours it took to edit and layout, I can’t say I’m unhappy that it happened. Will we continue down this path? Perhaps. I don’t see Tenkara Angler ever going back to quarterly magazines. History has shown there’s potential for both writer and editorial burnout

keeping to that cadence, but perhaps an annual or bi-annual edition may be in the cards. Additionally, we’d still love to maintain a robust contribution of community-based stories shared throughout the year on the flagship website. Either way, the adventure of 2022, and the stories that follow certainly awaits! On a separate, but related note, the new year is always a time where I check in to make a small donation to my favorite fishing or outdoors related conservation groups. I’d hope you take the opportunity to do the same. Be it Trout Unlimited, The Native Fish Coalition, Backcountry Hunters & Anglers, American Rivers, or even something more grassroots. Better yet, call up your local chapter and find out how you can help out. Sometimes a contribution of elbow grease can be far more impactful than a financial donation. After all, these groups, and others like them, do much of the heavy lifting needed to keep our “tenkara-perfect” places healthy & wild. In closing, I’d like to extend a warm

“thank you” to the tenkara & fixed line fishing community for all of the support you’ve provided Tenkara Angler. I hope this issue finds you well, and let’s make a resolution to stay close. Email or direct message us your thoughts. Comment on our blog posts or social media. Perhaps we can meet in person at an upcoming live event. Whatever it is, Matt, Jason, & I will do our best to return the favor. The best communities are interactive communities. Thank you, and happy new year!

Michael Agneta Editor In Chief tenkaraangler.com

Do you want to contribute to Tenkara Angler?

Tenkara or conservation-themed articles, essays, fly tying recipes, gear reviews, tips, tricks, & photography are all fair game!

See www.tenkaraangler.com for more information

The Southern Appalachian Strain Brook Trout by Arran Kerr

My name is Arran Kerr, and I have a burning passion for trout. I live in east Tennessee in arguably one of the best trout fishing zones in the world. I've always loved fishing for rainbows and browns my whole life. As the years went on, I went to discover we had lake trout in the lakes near me, and my research paid off heavily after finding out about the Southern Appalachian strain brook trout. We're all aware that lake trout and brookies are actually char. How is this related to tenkara you may ask? I'll get to that!

I'd like to talk more about our brookies. Yes, I said Southern Appalachian strain. They are a sub species of brook trout that can only be found from northern Georgia to southern Virginia. These fish are very special and rare. Many locals refer to them as "specks". What's the difference between a southern strain and a northern strain you may ask? Well, the northern strain can be raised in hatcheries for one. The southern strain can't survive hatcheries because they are very susceptible to

disease and other hatchery hurdles. The northern strain has a different diet and can grow much larger. I'll always say that these southern strain fish may not get as big and that may not appeal to some anglers, but to me they are twice as beautiful. What else makes this fish rare aside from the inability to succeed in captivity? Logging in the 1800s devastated their habitat. Then came the historical stocking of rainbow and brown trout. Of course, we all know rainbows and browns can grow to be massive, and feed on smaller fish, i.e., our little, native brookies. Brook trout are also a great indicator species of clean waters. Which means of the water is too polluted, they’ll die. (I'll go ahead and take a second to tell everyone to clean up your waters) Now we'll get into tenkara for our special sub species! I've very recently started fishing tenkara. In fact, I'm coming close to a year of it now! I fished spinning gear all my life. About 5-6 years ago I got a western style fly rod and fell in love with fly fishing. I found a documentary called

"The Great Shaku Hunter" that showed the beautiful Japanese yamame and iwana. They were fishing western style in this documentary. I started doing research into these Japanese trout, char, and salmon. Low and behold I inevitably stumbled upon tenkara! I had to get a tenkara rod now, it wasn't a choice! My love for Japanese culture and fly fishing practically forced me into the obsession of tenkara and other forms of fixed line fishing! When I found out about these fish, and this form of fishing I'd never heard of, I had to try it for my southern strain brookies. After all, brook trout are very similar to the iwana in Japan! I managed to beat my personal bests that I caught on both spinning and western styles with a mondo foot long Southern Appalachian strain brook trout. Yes, that is very big for these fish. Once I finally figured out how to fish a tenkara rod, it was game time. Within a year I've caught hundreds, maybe even a thousand and beyond of these beautiful southern strain brookies and I strongly encourage anyone and everyone to try it out.

Finding Community in Conservation by Philip Tipton

Growing up a young spin fisherman, I found myself at odds with a fly rod. To my uninitiated hands the rod felt like a willow branch and the line a bird’s nest. Yet, there was something about those tiny, artful, and utterly intentional little flies that I couldn’t quite shake. I’d given up on the idea until opportunity came knocking during my time at Philmont Scout Ranch in Cimarron, New Mexico. We were to stop at a fish camp along the trail and fly tying and fishing was on the menu. I’ll never forget my first encounter at a fly vise. We were informed that fly fishing required flies and if we wanted to fish, then we would have to tie our own! Intimidated and stoked, I sat down at the vise. I remember the feeling of us young men sitting around a large tying table anxious to get out on the water with our newly tied creations. Personally, it was the first time that I felt like I played a role in tricking the fish. Fast forward twenty years and I found myself reminiscing about those days. I started to research the rivers around me and to my surprise, we have two trophy tail waters and countless high mountain streams within an hour in any direction. Growing up in a rather rural small town, no one I knew fly fished and none of the local stores carried fly gear. Any talk of the sport usually happened around a TV marathon of A River Runs Through It. Fly

Fishing seemed so distant but resided so close. Not knowing what to do, I joined Trout Unlimited and began to attend their free fishing days. I figured at least I would learn where some good fishing spots were. To my surprise, it was so much more. I was surprised because I only had a Hollywood reference of fly fishing – snobby, expensive, exclusive, and unobtainable. I believe this false lens still exists today. Context is a funny thing. See, it frames moments in our lives that we either wish to hold onto or can never forget. It is hard to grasp, but every day you play a critical role in shaping the context of another’s experience. The context of my story could have taken a terrible turn if I would’ve believed my preconceived notions or allowed social anxiety to render me frozen. Fate had other plans. I began to attend fishing days often, and contacts became friends. We started to fish outside of the scheduled dates and carpooling to TU events together. A year later I was voted on as a board member and my community continued to grow. Often, we want to fish to disconnect, but at our core, humans need community. It is also no secret that the environment needs our community. Remember context brings who, what, where, when, why and how into focus. This focus raises our awareness which creates our call to action. Engaging in that call to action strengthens the bonds in every relationship. The Overmountain Chapter of Trout Unlimited with the help of our local guides recently completed a massive

Overmountain Trout Unlimited members, guides and locals removing trash from the Watauga River

“A great community comes together and works toward one common goal, while be ering everyone in the process.” -M. Seyers clean up effort on the South Holston and Watauga Watersheds. Tons of tires and plastics were removed from our river systems by great volunteers. To them, it didn’t matter how hard it rained or how hard the task at hand was because the bonds of community were stronger. The pandemic tested everyone and for a long time we lived in uncertainty. We now

have a choice to get back out there and connect, so I would like to challenge you to do so too. Whatever your choice, there is magic in getting like-minded people together – even if you’re a novice. So, I encourage everyone to take that step, search for and grow your community, whether it’s TU, a social media group, or friends – you won’t regret it!

Gila Trout by Jon Carver

In October of this year, I unexpectedly angled a Gila trout (Oncorhynchus gilae gilae). From a population reduced to perhaps 20 total miles of stream, this native southwestern trout has been brought back from the brink of extinction through the joint efforts of New Mexico and Arizona’s Game and Fish departments. Details of the recovery effort are readily available online. The story of the Gila trout, like every story of conservation and recovery, should cause us to reflect on our role in the ecosystem. The fact is that there is no place on the planet totally free from human influence. This does not have to be a sad fact. So far, most of humanity’s relationship with the natural world has been exploitive and destructive, intentionally, or not. It is easy to despair

about this and think that the best we can do for the world is to try and wall ourselves off from it and leave it alone. I think this is a mistake. Wasn’t it this very idea -- that we are somehow intruders into nature -- that gave us permission to disregard it? We are an infant species that only recently learned to walk. We are just now learning to think. We have made big mistakes. We will make more. But humanity isn’t a mistake. Nature makes no mistakes. I have never seen a trout with incorrect spots. There is a long way to go. But the Gila trout is just one example of how far we’ve come in what amounts to a geological instant. In 1950 Gila trout were all but extinct. Today, they have a future. Yesterday we were dynamiting fish out of the Colorado to fertilize potato fields. Today, our kids can teach us the basics of ecology and genetics. It is not unreasonable to think that, maybe tomorrow, they will not only know how to save a fish, but how to build a river.

Visit the Tenkara Angler website to see Jon's recipe for the Dokeshi kebari, a versatile futsu style pattern with an interesting name!

The Meadow in the Mountains by Martin Montejano

There’s a place in the mountains that holds a special meaning to me. A place I only visit on occasion to try to respect its peace and tranquility. A short drive down a rocky road brings you to a small, open valley. Trees border an open meadow. A narrow creek runs through, with bushes and tall grass lining the sides of gin-clear water. Fallen trees create crossing points at areas that aren’t narrow enough to jump across. While the fishing can be tough, there’s something very relaxing about this place. Birds overhead and the occasional deer add to the serenity. Beyond that, it may be the certain temporariness of it all. As most meadow streams are, clear water without much movement allows the fish to see your approach, often before you realize they’re there. Further back in the tall grass, you make your casts not knowing if you’ll catch a fish or a large branch lodged in the side of the bank. The cast must be delicate, and precise. If the line hits the water first, your chances of catching a fish in that section vanish.

While the characteristics of this stream make it a challenge of technique, it also presents an opportunity to observe wild brook trout. If you’re stealthy enough to creep up without scaring any of them off, you can find stretches of the creek where the yellow-marbled backs and the white tips of the fins can be seen moving in and out of cover along the banks, gently swimming at the seams of the current, and coming to the surface on occasion. The brook trout on this spring-fed creek are advantageous, and quick to act when opportunity presents food. A slow approach gave me the chance to watch a brookie swimming in and out of the plants lining a straight stretch of the creek. Water flowed under a log and tumbled over some rocks into the stretch bringing plenty of food through the section. After a few minutes of observing its movements, a light cast toward the top of the pool to hide a potentially bad cast landed the kebari just a bit short. Luckily the turbulence of the water still masked the landing, and the dead drift of the fly

continued just under the surface. The fish moved close to the kebari but directed its attention toward something else at the last moment. A short pause and a second cast placed the fly in my first intended spot. The kebari rushed down into the pool, and as a subtle pulsing manipulation brought the fly toward the surface, the brook trout darted out and snatched it up! After a quick few seconds of swimming around the open water, it took to cover in the waterweed, tangling the line in all the whorls. While trying to keep enough tension on the line, I moved around the bank, looking for a way to free up the line

without losing my catch. Without knowing exactly how it happened, the line untangled and the fish darted back into the center of the stream. Holding the rod a bit higher up to keep the fish from repeating its dive into the elodea, I pulled it closer and closer, and finally into the net. The challenges of fishing this stream make the catch worth it. The reward of watching those dark green, red and white spotted brook trout swim away as you lower them back into the water in a region where they’re hard to find is well worth the time and effort one puts in to fishing this creek.

January Third by Tristan Kloss

As I stood at the bank to set up my line, a snowshoer tromped along the hiking trail that crossed the stream. He stopped and watched my numbing fingers struggle with a slip knot. "Setting a snare?" he asked.

“Fishing,” I said. "Have you ever come across a fish in this creek?" I broke out into a grin. Does one ask Han Solo if the Millennium Falcon is fast?

"You know," I said. "I never have."

He shook his head.

"Thought so. I've never seen anything, either. Isn't this a Class I trout stream?" My remark was delivered Sahara dry, but this gentleman took it rather earnestly. Now, I felt a bit bad. I didn't mean to lie to him, and the fact this is trout water is not a secret. Still, I was already committed to this path and there was no turning back. The conversation evolved into what constituted a Class I trout stream in Wisconsin: in short, water needs to have the capacity for natural trout reproduction.

I may have omitted the fact this particular creek had one of the highest concentrations of brook trout in the state. The man wished me luck and continued on. A while later, I bushwhacked my way to a point further along the trail and came across a couple and their dog.

"Any luck?" they asked. "Not yet." That was the truth, at least. I enjoy winter fishing the most when it doesn’t feel like winter. Terribly cold days, windy and wet days, are days for something else. But today, with temperatures just about freezing and no wind, is about as good as it will get until April. I've never caught much through the first few months of the season, but there's enough for that later. January and February are the times I use for experimenting with new flies and rods, trying new things, scouting new stretches of water. Today the experiment is a new tenkara rod—the TAO UNC, a rod that’s been on my mind since it was first introduced by Badger Tenkara but only now, finally, in my hand—and a pocketful of beadheaded things I haven’t bothered to name: gold bead, green thread body on a small emerger hook with a bit of soft hackle for a collar. My cast is rusty, but at first blush feels good. It helps that bank-robbing vegetation is still slumbering beneath

three inches of fresh snow. Where last season’s husks of prairie plant snag the line, I tamp them down and away from the stream’s edge, consider it my own stream improvement project, and move on. The stream is narrow, the water clear and cold. Dancing eelgrass contrasts against sand scours on the bottom. I bumble along on my haunches, then my knees, and dark forms scatter into the undercut banks at my approach. This is peak early season form, my version of the of two-inning, six-run stat line from a pitcher in Spring Training still working out the kinks. With each flick (pitch) of the rod, the line screwballs over and delivers the green nymph with a gentle strike at the water’s edge. At last, the line comes alive as the fish answers the gold bead’s intrusion. A brook trout comes to hand. It’s been hardly an hour since my conversation with the snowshoer. In a long weekend bookended by greater responsibilities, it’s a short time stolen for frivolity. On the first weekend of the new trout season, after a long off-season, after a year of the unprecedented, uncertainty, unexpected days working at the kitchen table, watching friends and family under glass, wondering what the hell is coming next, one hour is a brook trout in hand: brief, and then gone again. It feels tremendously normal. And, for the moment, it is enough. To the anonymous snowshoer from Baraboo: there's at least one fish here.

The Joy of Sharing by Joshua Brooks

"Keep the line tight! Enjoy the ride!" These words always seem to come to mind watching your fishing buddies hook up on a nice wild trout. The past year has been interesting to say the least. Fishing the little creeks that I love so much played a huge part in getting me through it all. It's been said many times that it's not always about catching the fish. I would have to agree. Maybe it's my age, or general enthusiasm about small creek fishing. Maybe it's because I've spent countless hours in the middle of nowhere all alone. Who really knows?

As of late, there is nothing better to me than sharing these experiences and being a good net man. This is why I enjoy tenkara so much. For me, there is nothing more efficient for this style of fishing. Everything has its time and place of course. Tenkara is the perfect gateway into learning some fly fishing basics. You can take it as far as you want, and in many directions. I've seen some amazing wild and native trout caught this year on classic fly patterns placed in just the right spot. Nothing real fancy about it. Just setting yourself up for a good sneaky cast. You don't need to be a fly fishing expert. All

you need to do is give yourself that chance. Sharing a day with a friend or family member, climbing up huge boulders, through laurel thickets and navigating waterfalls is what it's all about for me. The time we spend together enjoying the beauty of nature, and each other's company is priceless. I love the journey and the long hikes, just for the shot at that spooky brookie. Each trip is different in its own way, but the excitement never fades. Now I'm no fly fishing guide. I'm happy to

share any of my gear, flies, line, or whatever it takes, just like others did for me when I was starting out. I do this because I know these stories last a lifetime. So, get out there and enjoy each other. Put the phone on airplane mode. Crack open a cold one. You might be enjoying that streamside sandwich when a bobcat walks right in front of you. You could stumble across a bear or even see a rattlesnake. Just get out there and share. That said, be safe and know your limits. Be prepared and let someone know where you are going every time while chasing those blue lines.

Second Catch is the Best by Jared Willadsen

This year I participated in the 4th Annual Driftless Flyathlon in Yellow River State Forest, Iowa. It is a race that mixes running and fishing. I have never been in a race before, let alone felt the pressure of trying to catch a trout during a race. As you might imagine, it is an interesting event that attracts all levels of runners and anglers. One can walk it casually with a beer in-hand or go as hardcore and fast as they’d like. I chose the latter because it was my first time in the event. With five-and-a-half miles of flat trail, I ran as far as I could and bushwhacked to where no one else was. I had a great looking run to myself that was on the narrower side for Big Paint Creek. While I was exhausted, the feeling quickly turned to excitement as I hooked into an eleven-inch brown trout.

As I fought the fish, I noticed an even larger trout beginning to follow, but being in a race I was not going to be picky; I took what I could get. After landing the trout, I reached for the official ruler to take a picture to document my catch. I chose to keep the brown wet and in the net; not wanting to put it in the dry sand and grass. Then what happened? It flopped out as I was just about to take the picture! Luckily, my disappointment was short lived. The very next cast I landed that big male I had seen in pursuit of my first fish! He was fourteen inches, which ended up tying me for the biggest fish of the Flyathlon. What a great experience and event!

Out of Your Comfort Zone by Dave Noll

Each year one of the highlights is a day of fishing with tenkara guide extraordinaire Paul Vertrees on some small stream in Colorado. I have been fishing with Paul since 2013, first with Rigs Fly Shop out of Ridgway and currently at Royal Gorge Anglers in Canon City, Colorado. In 2018 when I checked in with Paul the day before our trip to see where we were headed, he said “I’m going to take you someplace out of your comfort zone.” Instead of a small stream and kebari we were headed to big water and tiny size 22 nymphs.

Fast forward to 2021. Because of COVID-19 I missed fishing with Paul in 2020 and was eager for this year’s trip. The plan was to hike quite a ways up a small creek and fish a small mountain stream. However, nature doesn’t always take our plans into account. The creek (which shall remain nameless) and our second choice, the Arkansas were both blown out. Plan C was once again big water, using a double nymph setup plus lead shot to get down to the required depth - a combination I never use. Since the area we were headed is very popular, we met

early and were rewarded with an empty parking lot. We quickly got down to the river and started fishing.

always serves up a great meal and he always has an ice cold O’Douls along for me.

Since we were looking at rainbows and browns well over 20-inches Paul would ask me at each spot what my plan was for landing a fish. After a while he headed upstream to check out a run where he had seen a very large fish a couple of days earlier. He came trotting back with a big grin and I headed upstream to try our luck. Long story short, I hooked into my largest fish ever, and with instructions from Paul had it a couple of feet from his net when my 395 Honryu shattered!

After lunch we headed back to the river and by the time the day ended, I had hooked 18 fish and landed 7. Time and again, after a nice fight, the fish would spit the fly out. We just laughed and handed out high fives. I have often hooked and landed many more fish, but I have never had as much fun or had my heart race like that. Getting out of your comfort zone isn’t a bad thing. I’m already looking forward to my next trip with Paul.

I probably said some bad words and then Paul reached down and picked up the front sections to find that the fish was still attached to the line. I started slowly hand-lining the fish in but when it was a couple of feet from the net it spit out the size 22 fly which bounced off my sunglasses; we just stood there and laughed. At that point Paul gave me his DRAGONtail Hellbender to use for the rest of the day. As Paul was setting the rod up, we saw another large fish surface and it was “game on” again. After a few casts I hooked into another beast and this time we got it into the net; it was easily the largest fish I had landed on a tenkara rod. We fished until noon and then took a break for lunch. Paul

My Journey into Tenkara by Spencer Mortensen

If you were to rewind my knowledge of fly fishing by 10 years it would be focused 100% on the next trip to the famed Green River or escape into the mountains with my “traditional western fly fishing setup”. I was so focused solely on those trips that I didn’t even consider the evidence of doing things differently. I had never spent time chasing bluegill, carp, or bass. I had never fly fished in the surf, never caught so many of the species that I have now come to love. I had never even thought of the idea of tenkara fishing, let alone ever heard of it.

If we return to the present day, I prefer to chase carp and bluegill over most trout trips, and I would rather learn something new than do the same thing over and over. THIS is what led me to try tenkara fishing this year. My first outing was uneventful and painful. I didn’t learn nearly as much as I thought I would, I didn’t have any positive fishing reinforcements, and I didn’t find much joy in it. I promised myself that I would give tenkara a few more tries before I decided to remain a western fly fisherman. My next trips

changed my entire viewpoint on tenkara.

scrambled back up the embankment.

The next trip I went fishing on a small stream with my brother-in-law. He was throwing conventional spin gear with a small gold Mepps spinner and caught a few fish while I was watching him. I decided to set up the tenkara rod and see what I could do. The first several pools that I fished I had no success. I realized that I wasn’t getting accurate casts and that I wasn’t doing what I needed to do to get into some fish. So, I walked to an open stretch of water to practice some casting. Once I figured out how to get my fly where I wanted, I called to my brother-in-law that we should move along.

A few moments later I hooked into a fifteen-inch brown trout that fought well above his weight class. It was a euphoric moment that let me understand how fun and pure tenkara fishing can be.

We headed downstream and found a section of water where we could see some fish. I tried some traditional tenkara flies that I had on hand and the fish weren’t interested in my offerings. I switched it up and threw on a beadhead nymph that I could sight fish with. A few casts in and I had my first fish on. After a few chaotic moments of trying to figure out how to get down the cliff’s edge, I was able to land my first fish on a tenkara setup. A quick release and I

Eventually, I decided that I wanted to chase some bluegill and bass with my tenkara rod. I headed over to a favorite body of water and proceeded to have one of the best three hours of fishing that I can recall. I probably landed more than twenty-five bluegill, landed my personal best bass on the fly (and another half dozen bass), then drove over to a different body of water and caught ten rainbow trout. It was one of those short, half day outings that made me just giggle the entire time. What I can say now is that tenkara has earned its spot in my quiver of rods. I will probably be adding a few more different tenkara rods before I add another western style fly rod. I hope that my short story of how I started my tenkara addiction helps remind you of the joy that both tenkara and fly fishing can bring into your life.

After School Special by Rob, Mark, & Stephen Langford

“This set of photos comes from what we now call an “After School Special” with Pops (Rob, our dad). My brother and I were fortunate enough to venture into one of my dad’s coveted fly fishing spots with him (after one of his days teaching). What a time we had. So much action. So many takes. The hardest part was setting the hook and netting them before they wriggled off of the fly. It was wild how many bites we were getting. Thankfully we were all able to net some in the double-digit range! Nothing larger than the three fourteen-inchers between the three of us, except the one that got away from Mark due to poor netting by his brother… whoops! That one had to be in the fifteen or sixteen-inch range. We’ll be back for him/her later! No matter the amount or size of fish caught, it’s always an absolute treat to be in the water with family and tenkara fishing together. Something I look forward to doing more of. Thanks Pops for sharing your secret spot and knowledge!”

- Stephen Langford

Pond "Tenkara" by Richard Mozer

In Florida we don’t have trout filled mountain streams, we don’t even have trout or streams or mountains. We have retention ponds with bluegill, bream, and bass. In these ponds you don’t get to stalk from crystal clear pool to pool. However, there is a way to approach and fish these large puddles. When I first come to a pond, I try to figure out why it is there. Is its purpose to capture rain from a certain area, parking lot, neighborhood, loading docks, etc.? That water must flow into the pond, so I find where that is, usually a culvert but not always that obvious. It could also be a dug-out ditch or just a sloped embankment. Once figuring out where the water flow is I will walk around the edge of the pond toward that area casting my rod just in front of me at an angle of about 45 degrees and letting the fly sink until it is at a depth that it is not visible. I do this walking at a steady pace and not stopping while I cast, covering lots of water this way. I am looking for structure along the edges, fallen bushes, points, hidden or smaller culverts. If I see one of these things or get a take I will stop and cast the area. For ponds I use two rods, a Tenkara USA Rhodo extended to 10’6” with a weighted

fly, a pheasant tail nymph, and a Nissin Royal Stage 400 7:3 with thirteen feet of level line and four feet of tippet with a kebari. The Rhodo is the prospecting rod, and once I find a promising area, I switch to the longer Royal Stage to thoroughly fish both near and far. I will not immediately walk up to the bank while fishing. Even when I have picked out desirable area, I will stand back from the bank and cast thoroughly from a distance before I get close to it. There are videos of bank fishers (spinning and tenkara) where they walk straight up to the spot they are going to cast and immediately spook the fish by the bank. If they had stalked up to that same spot, they may have caught that spooked fish. I get many takes standing back off the edge, about ten to fifteen feet and presenting my fly right in the shallows. Then I work my way up to the bank covering more and more water with each cast. While ponds do not have the water flow of a river or stream, there are plenty of fish to be had in them. They do present the opportunity to find, stalk and glean a pattern for the fish. They can be a fun time if approached correctly.

Desolation Wilderness by Nick Feller

Day 1 7.1 miles, 3050' gain We headed down to Desolation Wilderness Friday morning. It's a fairly long drive, so we got there shortly after noon. Our intended lakeside camp was quickly forgotten when we laid eyes on the creek nearby. This is what dreams are made of. Fairly steep granite slides and waterfalls led to plunge pools loaded with eager brook trout. There were a few times where it was every cast.

These were some of the most beautiful brookies I've ever seen. Vibrant colors and incredible parr makings. We watched the sunset and called it a night. Excited to see what the rest of the trip had in store.

Day 2 11.8 miles, 3160' gain We woke up Saturday morning about 6 (sleeping in by some standards), broke camp, had a little breakfast and were on the trail by 7:30. This second day we were basically going to relive the route we followed through Desolation along the Tahoe Rim Trail, last year. We made our way past Lake Aloha, over Dicks Pass (9390'), and found camp near a smaller lake in the basin below. I fished a few spots along the way, and I lost what I believe would have been my only rainbow trout of the trip. A fellow tenkara angler I met on the trail told me of a nearby creek with a pool loaded with 16"+ brookies. I found what I thought was the place he described but didn't find the giants. However, I was more than pleased to catch another dozen smaller, beautiful brook trout. After being rained on every day in Desolation Wilderness last year, and not catching any fish... I'd say this trip was going muuuuch better!

Day 3 12.4 miles, 2300' gain

Woke up on Sunday around the same time as the day before and headed out. This was the day we altered our intended route the most. Instead of looping off to check out a few more lakes, we opted to spend almost the whole day following the Rubicon River. It was definitely low, as we are in a drought, but I found some nice pockets that were holding fish. All beautiful brook trout again, varying in size but rich in color. After lunch, we made our way over Mosquito Pass (8428') and back down to Lake Aloha. The most unique thing about climbing Mosquito Pass to me was seeing Clyde Lake, the headwaters of the Rubicon River. We got to Aloha a bit earlier than intended though, so we decided to push to a much smaller, remote lake nearby. It appeared to be fishless, but I can't be too greedy. I had caught too many fish this trip to be upset about much of anything. I crashed out early, ready for one last day of fun before heading home.

Day 4 5.6 miles, 1360' gain

Ah, Monday morning. The bittersweet feeling of waking up on the last morning of a trip. We knew we had an easy day today, so we really took our time getting up and getting ready. We weren't going by any other creeks or lakes after leaving camp, so the fishing was over for this trip. However, we decided to bag Ralston Peak (9209') on the way out, as it was only an additional 400' from where we were anyway. The extra climb rewarded us with breathing views of the entirety of Desolation Wilderness. It was surreal to look down on everywhere we'd been the last three days. While the gain was minimal, the decent this day was 3040' down. Knee brace kind of day for me. I ended up breaking a trekking pole, but I only use one most of the time, so it's not a big deal. All in all, this is one of my favorite trips Maddie and I have done. 10/10, will do again!

Septomber:

A Tale of Three Trips By Paul Vertrees

There is a time each year, sandwiched between the end of August’s oppressive heat and December’s snow, that allows the land and water to breathe a sigh of relief before beginning the slow, soft death of early winter. There are turkeys, elk, deer, bear, and caribou to hunt. There are flaming orange and yellow trees along streams and rivers filled with eager trout. There’s a winter’s worth of firewood to be stacked, and lengthening shadows in the afternoons. Like fine wine, cheese, and venison, a calendar year must be aged to fully appreciate it. I call this time “Septomber”, and it’s my absolute favorite time of each year.

This year would prove to be a pivotal autumn season. The nagging pandemic had postponed a trip to Alaska in 2020, and the fall of 2021 was our chance to finally make that trip a reality. I began my 21st and final year as a high school Junior ROTC Instructor, and my 41st year wearing a United States Army uniform. The summer guiding season was off the charts with nearly nonstop work in the fly fishing industry. We were completing a major remodel of our home. In some ways, similar to the relief the landscape was experiencing, I too felt relief and peace with the arrival of autumn.

TRIP 1: THE LAKE Just prior to the beginning of my school year, as we usually do, my close friend and traveling partner, Shawn Larson, aka “Troutprospector”, and I escaped the heat and bustle of the Colorado foothills and backpacked six miles up into a twelve-thousand-foot basin in central Colorado’s Gore Range. This was a place I had bushwhacked my way to several times over the years, and I was happy to show it to Shawn. The two of us share a love of high, lonely places. The fact that this particular cirque held an unnamed high lake full of cutthroat trout without a trace of a manmade trail leading to it made this trip a great way to celebrate both Shawn’s upcoming birthday, as well as the prospect of fall arriving just around the corner. The trailless hike into our little high lake is strenuous, even in good weather. This

trip would prove to be more difficult than usual, simply because it rained the entire five hours it took to clamber our way up to the twelve-thousand-foot high basin. Miraculously, it stopped raining long enough for us to pitch our tent and get our gear off our backs. We spent the next three days drying out in sunny weather, spending long hours fishing the entire circumference of the lake. The trout in our Gore Range high lake are very special fish that go through many mood swings during the course of a year, or even a week. At times they are willing to take nearly any fly, and at others they act as if they’ve had their jaws wired shut. We experienced this yet again this fall. One day we were catching fish nearly every cast, as they smashed big floaty dry flies and hammered small black streamers. We caught over a hundred fish between the two of us one day! My thirteen foot tenkara rod got The author, left, and Shawn “Troutprospector” Larson

Camp on a high Colorado lake

One of hundreds of beautiful cutthroats caught

quite a workout! The next day the cutthroats refused many good casts and offerings. Such is the nature of high, wild places. Returning home from this trip, I had only a month until I headed up above the Arctic Circle in northwest Alaska with my two friends, Patrick and Jon. This pandemic-delayed trip had been on the drawing board for two years, and we were excited to finally pull it off! We would fly ourselves and a large pile of gear four thousand miles north over the course of one very long day. We would eventually be flown by bush plane to a spot on the banks of the Noatak River, 170 air miles northeast of Kotzebue, Alaska, a place so remote and quiet you can hear an incoming aircraft 10 minutes before it’s arrival. We planned to hunt and fish, living off whatever sustenance the tundra would provide. TRIP 2: THE ARCTIC After a marathon day of long flights, baggage hassles, and airport food, the final leg of our journey hopscotched Alaska Airlines touchdowns in Anchorage, Nome, and finally the outpost village of Kotzebue. Kotzebue’s native Inupiaq name is Qikiqtaġruk, means "small island", since the town sits on a spit of land jutting out into the Kotzebue Sound and the Chukchi Sea. We were met at the airport by Heather, who works at Golden Eagle Outfitters, which was our bush flight service and where we would pick up even more gear for our expedition. It’s only four blocks down a semi-paved street from the airport to our lodging at Bibber’s B&B, but with nearly 500 pounds of gear, we

hired a cab (actually a beat up minivan) driven by a local native, Raymond. How Raymond got the three of us and the 500 pounds of gear into and on top of that minivan I’ll never know, and we could hear the tires rubbing against the inside of the wheel wells as we crept down the road to Bibber’s. I could write pages about our night at Bibber’s and the colorful proprietress, Jean Bibber. If you need a warm bed and kitchen, and don’t mind simple accommodations seasoned by conversations with one of the most interesting people in Kotzebue, then Bibber’s is your place! We were up early the next morning, and spent a couple of hours sorting through and weighing our pile of loaded dry bags, rifles, and inflatable river raft. Since Cessna 206 bush planes can only carry 800 pounds of humans and gear, everything had to be weighed down to the nearest pound. With three of us and our necessary adventure gear, two bush planes were needed. At 11:56 AM on September 19th our bush plane lifted off the runway at Kotzebue and we headed straight out over the Chukchi Sea before banking to the northwest. We flew over the rugged and totally uninhabited Baird Mountains, which are one of many smaller mountain chains in the huge Brooks Range in northwest Alaska. Below our tiny bush plane we could see Kobuk Valley National Park and the Squirrel River and later the Salmon and Tutuksuk Rivers. The last river we flew over was the Cutler River, a place we knew could hold many caribou, lots of dolly varden and arctic char, and just as many grizzlies. The grizzlies on

Tres Hombres-The author, Big Jon, and Patrick at the Seattle airport

Bibber’s B&B in downtown Kotzebue, Alaska

The Baird Mountains, Northwest Alaska

Noatak River, Alaska

the Cutler River had caused a lot of trouble for hunters and anglers before our trip, and we were relieved to know that we were flying over it and on to the northwest to the larger Noatak River. The Noatak River is the longest river system in northwest Alaska, flowing some 425 miles, and it drains the southern slope of the enormous Brooks Range. The Noatak River drainage lies entirely north of the Arctic Circle, and it passes through both the Gates of the Arctic National Park Noatak National Preserve. There are no villages or permanent settlements of any kind. To say the Noatak lies in a remote part of the North American continent is an understatement! As we flew low over the river and approached our campsite, I was struck by the realization that, despite over 40 years of rambling the Rocky Mountain backcountry, I had never been anywhere as remote and wild as this. As we banked low over the Noatak River, a hundred feet in the air, I spotted two bull musk ox, and only a minute later we were bumping along the tundra as we slowed to a stop. After we quickly unloaded our bush planes, our pilots Jared and Jason buzzed away across the tundra and popped into the air and were gone… we thought we were alone. A trio of caribou hunters were watching from the nearest hill. They walked down to us, we exchanged greetings, and learned they were camped not far from us on the riverbank. They had floated downriver in a raft, and would continue to do so for several more days. Neighbors… I didn’t know what to make of this at first, but as we learned more about the grizzlies in the area, it was a bit of a comfort to know

we would have some company for a day or so. Our camp was around 200 yards from the banks of the Noatak. We had flown up my friend Patrick’s ultralight tipi, which gave the three of us plenty of room, despite the amount of gear it took to make this trip work. We set up camp, and hiked out of camp a ways to do some scouting. In Alaska, you can’t hunt big game the same day you fly into a camp, so we hiked, glassed, and scrutinized caribou, musk ox, and wolf tracks near camp. I also walked down to the river to gather drinking water, look for fish, and to read the current. The Noatak at our camp is around 200 yards wide, but looked to be fairly shallow. After failing to spot any dolly varden or grayling near the river’s edge, I returned to camp, hoping for a good day of fishing and caribou hunting the next day. I had brought a 13-foot tipflex tenkara rod, the same rod I use for big fish and big rivers at home in Colorado. My backup rod was a fast 9foot six weight western fly rod. Packing light, I had brought one box of riverspecific flies that included a number of weighted streamers and an assortment of egg beads for the big dolly varden, as well as dry flies and nymphs for droppers for the arctic grayling. There are no trout in the Noatak that I know of where we were, only dolly varden and grayling. Truth be told, I was as excited to fish this far north as I was to hunt caribou. I had been checking the weather online for this part of Alaska for a good month prior to our trip. For the first half of September, the highs had been in the

A successful caribou hunt, but no fish!

high 40s and the lows in the high 30s, which was still suitable weather for fishing, even though the huge anadromous dolly varden had most likely gone back out to sea. Hoping for resident dolly varden and the ever-present grayling, I was optimistic that the river would provide us with supplemental protein as well as the excitement of catching fish in remote places.What greeted me the next morning changed all of that! As I poked my nose out of the hole in the hood of my sleeping bag at dawn the next morning, I could tell it was very cold… much colder than when I had tucked myself into it the night before. Our little indoor/outdoor thermometer read a crisp 2 degrees Fahrenheit! After warming our tent and eating breakfast, I discovered that my wading boots I’d worn the day before were frozen solid. I had to boil water to pour into them, making them pliable enough to pull them over my stockingfoot waders. As I walked

down to the river for more drinking water I realized the river had frozen overnight, and what water wasn’t iced over was completely full of slush. I had to walk a quarter mile just to find a piece of driftwood big enough to break through the ice so I could gather drinking water. My high of rafting and fishing above the Arctic Circle on this trip were crushed! The weather over the ensuing days never crept above 25 degrees, so the three of us focused on hunting caribou. The first day we hunted, Patrick, Jon, and I all harvested very good bulls. We also had some close encounters with grizzlies, one of which destroyed most of my bull’s carcass while Jon and I were field dressing and quartering his. After many trips hauling meat and antlers in backpacks and ultralight sleds, we contacted our bush pilots by satellite communication to call for our flight back to Kotzebue. As we bumped along the tundra and

lifted off into the frigid air, I felt both the satisfaction of successfully completing my first caribou hunt, as well as the sadness to be leaving this stark landscape without fishing this beautiful and now-frozen Arctic river. TRIP 3: THE CANYON Once I returned from the Arctic, I spent many days enjoying the warm fall weather on my home rivers and streams in the southern Front Range of Colorado. The October colors were vibrant this year, and the water was low and clear. Eager brown and rainbow trout continued to crush big bushy dry flies and grab dropper nymphs as well. With the Arkansas River flowing right through our town, there were plenty of opportunities for fall fishing for an hour or two after work each day. Toward the end of October, I put together a plan for a multi-day backpack trip into one of our Fading fall colors in the southern Colorado canyons

local canyons with my good friends, Patrick and Bryan. This particular multi-day backpack trip was one I had done many times before. I loved this particular canyon and stream so much I decided to share it with others, and so I created an overnight guided fly fishing trip there in 2021. I never tire of working my way up this rugged, rocky canyon in search of scrappy browns and rainbows. As a tenkara angler, this stream is ideally suited for fixed-line fly fishing. It has countless pockets, bend pools, riffles, and small tailouts, and at only 25 feet wide, everything is in reach with a tenkara rod. On October 23rd Bryan, Patrick, and I stepped off into the canyons and hiked upstream about five miles to my guide camp. As usual, we didn’t see another person the entire time. We spent two days exploring upstream from our camp, and

were pleased to find the trout still willing to eat nearly every fly we put in front of them! The brown trout were nearing their spawning time, and the three of us worked carefully around the few redds we found, making sure we didn’t disturb the areas in the gravel the brown trout had cleaned off with their tail fins. The browns in this particular creek do not clean out very many redds, so any that exist hold great importance to the future of the trout in the stream. The early sunsets and cold temperatures each evening drove us into my wood heated tipi, where we enjoyed long conversations, good food, and fine Irish whiskey. Fall days and evenings like this are some of the most enjoyable times I spend in the outdoors, and this weekend trip was certainly splendid! On our last day, we packed up camp and headed back downstream, pausing twice

to watch bighorn sheep on the canyon walls above us. It’s always with a little sadness that I leave a landscape like this, wishing I had just a few more days to spend alone or with a couple of good friends. Hiking past familiar pools and runs on the way out, I remembered past decades of great fishing and adventures in this canyon when we all had younger legs, lungs, and hearts. We may hike and wade a little slower now, but our love of the canyons hasn’t withered a bit. Septomber… it’s a magical time. It’s a time of long shadows, cold clear water, crisp nights, and blazing orange leaves. It’s a time to appreciate the warmth of the sun a little bit longer. It’s also a time to spend with the fish we love so much one of two more times before the landscape freezes solid. Get out and create your own Septomber while you can!

Tenkara Featured on New Hampshire Chronicle by Bill Holleran

About a year ago, I was talking to someone from the New Hampshire Chronicle television show about the possibility of doing a segment on tenkara fly fishing. Chronicle is a nightly magazine program about the people and places that make New Hampshire special and is watched by people all over New England, which makes it the perfect platform to spread the word about tenkara. The person I spoke with seemed open to the idea and said they would pass it on to the producers of the show. Well, a year passed without any word, so

I gave up on the idea. Then out of the blue, I received an email from TV anchor/ Chronicle producer Karen Meyers asking if I would like to do the segment, and could I be available next week? They had an opening in their schedule for next Thursday. The timing was perfect as we had just released our newest tenkara rod, the Ranger. The Ranger is our answer to our loyal customers’ request for a smaller rod for fly fishing the backcountry. I cleared my schedule for Thursday and happily accepted. Luckily, I had already

planned to fish in the White Mountains the weekend before, so I could use this trip to scout locations that would be easy to film and would hopefully produce good results. Nobody wants to watch a show about fishing where they do not catch fish. Karen wanted to know our location, so I gave her a few places I had in mind but told her I would scout them first. It is a good thing I had a chance to scout first, because my first choice was less than ideal this season. It was wide open and would be good for casting and filming, but the water levels were wellbelow normal. I spent a couple hours there, only to be disappointed. I moved on to my second choice, and the results were similar. So, I decided to visit North Country Angler and talk to owner, Steve Angers, to see if he had any good suggestions. Steve has always given me good fishing reports on the area, and I always rely on him when I am struggling or just looking for something new. So, I left North Country Angler with advice to head further north where the water levels were higher and the temperatures cooler. I went to a spot north of Franconia Notch that looked very promising. The conditions were great, and the access was relatively easy. I had to keep in mind that we would have a cameraman with a full-size news camera following us, so I wanted to avoid any difficult terrain. On the scouting trip was my friend Tyler, who was learning to fish tenkara. This was his second trip so it was good to get his perspective as I would be teaching Karen when we filmed. We fished the rest of the day on this river and found several

great spots for brook trout that would also be accessible for filming. We finished out the day catching several decent sized brook trout, and both agreed this would be a great location for the New Hampshire Chronicle story. On Monday, I told Karen about the new location, and we confirmed our meeting point for Thursday. I was so excited to be able to show the Chronicle audience how much fun you can have with tenkara. My wife and I watch the show all the time, but I never thought I would be on an episode. Of course, this also led to a spike in my anxiety. Most of you do not know this, but one of the reasons I love to fish tenkara in remote locations is because it does wonders for my mental health. It is a natural therapy. Wednesday night I packed up all my tenkara gear and checked it over several times. I did not want to forget anything, and I wanted to be prepared for everything. Thursday morning, I left the house early in the morning because I had a 2-1/2 hour drive to the location. I arrived at the dirt road and saw construction vehicles, grading the dirt/ gravel road. I immediately thought the worst but felt better when they waved me past them. I drove up the road, crossing several single lane bridges and parked across from the scouted site. I was early so I got my gear together and went down to the water. I walked up and downstream looking for brook trout in all the various pools. I found several holding but they were in different pools than the last trip. About 20 minutes later, I heard someone coming my way asking if I was Bill from Red Brook Tenkara.

It was Joel, the cameraman from New Hampshire Chronicle. Joel was a great guy and calmed my nervous excitement after talking to him. He said he was an avid hiker and was psyched to get this assignment. I was no longer worried about a cameraman having trouble getting around. Joel set me up with a mic and told me to just start fishing like I normally would, and that Karen would be here soon. I fished the first pool and quickly landed a nice brook trout. This took a lot of pressure off me, and I relaxed some more. A few minutes later Karen arrived. She had been trying to call us from the beginning of the road but could not get a signal. I am glad I sent her a picture of the location so she could find it. It was exciting to meet someone who you have seen on television on a regular basis. Karen explained how the filming would go and to just relax and be myself.

She asked a bunch of general questions about tenkara but saved the details for our streamside interview. I explained to Karen and Joel that I put a GHOSTech strike indicator on the line that would help us catch brook trout and help the camera follow the line as it moved downstream. In the beginning they just filmed me fishing as I explained the gear and methods. I had limited room to cast in the location and did a lot of tight overhand casts as well as some bow and arrow casts. I was able to catch several brook trout on a few different fly patterns, mostly nymphs. After catching a few on dead drifts in the main current I switched to a pulsing action, coming at the trout from the far side bank. This produced a few more brookies from the same pool. Next, Karen and Joel picked a place to do our interview. They wanted the best

lighting as well as a good background. I think they found it. Karen said to ignore the camera and just have a conversation with her. I was a little nervous and was afraid I would stumble but she put me at ease. The interview went better than I expected, and the feedback has been great. After the interview we moved back down stream, and I showed Karen how to fish tenkara. She was a good student and was drifting a fly in the right spots in no time. She had several strikes but did not set the hook in time. The brook trout in these waters are very fast and will reject a fly in the blink of an eye. I could tell that she was excited by the strikes and determined to catch a brook trout. I had her drift her fly on the far side of the stream on the edge of a fast current that led to a pool. Sure, enough the indicator moved ever so slightly, and Karen set the hook. Fish on! I jumped down with the net and she landed her first brook trout. We released the brookie and high-fived. What an exciting moment it is when someone catches their very first brook

trout on a tenkara rod. We fished a while longer and talked about how cool it is that we were in this beautiful scene and had not seen another person. The whole day, Joel was climbing all over the place with his camera and GoPro but I barely noticed he was there. I want to thank him for doing his part to make it a great day. A special thank you to Karen Meyers for taking an interest and helping me spread the word about tenkara. The exposure and reactions from the Chronicle episode have been nothing short of awesome. If you would like to know the specific location of our day you can probably figure it out with a little research. But I encourage you to grab a map and a tenkara rod and plan your own adventures in the White Mountains.

Editor's Note: You can watch the the New Hampshire Chronicle's segment on tenkara here: https://tenkaraangler.com/2021/09/03/redbrook-tenkara-new-hampshire-chronicle/

Genryu Tenkara by Satsuki Tanaka

In Japan, we usually fish in the middle area of the river, where we can usually fish immediately after getting out of the car. However, as a recent trend, it is popular to climb into the mountains and enter the headwaters of the river to do tenkara fishing. It is called "genryu-tenkara." Many people in Japan are beginning to enjoy genryu tenkara. The attraction is the extraordinary

feeling that no one has set foot on these waters. There are steep mountains, even snow in the summer, and there are strong signs of animals. We can catch the char, which is the target of tenkara. Challenge, achievement, exhaustion, a sense of unity with nature, one feels various emotions, but when you look at it in total, it makes for a very satisfying trip. This time, I will tell you about a recent outing through photos.

First of all, we walk deep into the mountains.

We climb...

We eventually come down to the river, but do not fish yet. We continue to climb, using the river as our guide.

After climbing quite a distance, we finally start to fish tenkara.

A surprising number of chars welcome us, and all of the fish are beautiful.

We climb the waterfall while fishing, and cross the river...

Usually, there are too few fish in Japan, so catch and release is the premise of fishing. We rarely bring back fish. However, during genryu tenkara we often bring back a few fish to eat after returning to the campsite. We cook with sashimi, grilled salt, meuniere sauce, soup, and wild plants from the mountains that day. One of the attractions of the genryu is that a mountain lifestyle is closely tied to tenkara.

To close, our party went down the mountain and had a coffee break at the cafe. The mountains were great for us, but the peace of mind when we come back down safely to the areas where there are people is irresistible.

If you want to watch video of this trip, please access from the following QR code.

Urban Tenkara by Andrea Crobu

Verona is a wonderful city in northern Italy located at the foot of the majestic Italian Alps. It was there, a long time ago as a happy teenager who watched all 109 episodes of Tsurikichi Sanpei on television, that my passion for fishing took hold. The city was founded in the early Iron Age by a Celtic tribe in what they called a “vern”, or as the Italian to English translator suggests, a bend in the river. It was an easily defendable position that helped a lot in the growth of the city. When the Celts decided to join the Romans around 89 BC, the city grew even more and it soon became evident the need for a clean and dependable water source capable of sustaining the demand of a growing population. The Romans were an organized people, so they found a clean and abundant spring, big enough and not so distant from the city center. Today, the Roman aqueduct is still carrying water to the city.

The Fibbio spring begins here, in the middle of what now is the village of Montorio Veronese. It pours out of the soil in a calm fashion at the bottom of the hills that eventually grow into the Italian Alps. It flows smoothly across the plain, between vineyards and corn fields. Most people would not consider it the ideal tenkara river, but as a happy teenager then, and at thirty-nine years old now, I was not and am not most people. Thanks to its historical heritage, Montorio is like Venice, but smaller and with freshwater instead of saltwater. There are channels instead of streets and you must wear waders to walk around the village center. As in Italy there are way too many people and you have to go where others don’t, if you want to find something good. The most incredible feature of this urban situation is that the current is stronger between the houses than it is in the

lower fields, so you can find incredible fishing spots in the most unexpected places. I went fishing there on the last day of the season with my new River Peak Kiwami Tenkara 3.3m, and the fish I found made me enjoy it to the fullest. The rod is sweet, and it has this very enjoyable parabolic action that starts from the handle - it is not a soft rod and I’ve had a good sensation of being in control, even when fighting bigger fish. The weather was cloudy, and a little bit of rain kept me company all day long. However, casting a floating brown fly upstream made my day. Trout were rising continuously, giving me more and more chances as they were in full competition for my fly. Passing under bridges and sometimes entire houses is always an emotional journey. It takes me back to my youth, when I used to do it without waders (too

expensive), and it is always rewarding. It’s nice to fish under the same windows where I was fishing in the nineties, smiling at the people who still look at me with a surprised expression on their faces. Fish after fish, my day ended at lunchtime, when I'd reached the spring and no more upstream fishing was possible. Fighting a fish here is easy, as there are no tree branches to snag your line, but you have to keep an eye on balconies and low-hanging drying tablecloths. When I was young, I used to give away trout as gifts by passing them to the people who were watching me fishing through their windows. This allowed me to fish more because you couldn’t have kept more than five per day. It was a simpler time. If you happen to visit Verona, give me a call and I’ll take you to some places you’ll hardly see by yourself, with or without a tenkara rod in your hands.

Escaping the Heat Dome by Rory Glennie

This day was another trip up into the mountains looking to find more wild, native trout; cutthroats and/or rainbows. This time, self-discipline held, and some familiar waters were passed by in favour of testing more remote portions of the stream. To beat the lowland heat wave, we ventured up into the highest hills. Disappointed, the clear skies and strong sunshine had arrived before us making it hot up there, too. A saving grace was, the brisk thermal breeze which made our skin broiling bearable. Those same gusts helped carry our lines out over the water and made imitating a fluttering caddis child’s play. The trout loved it; often jumping clear of the water to drown the fly on their downward plunge. And, as we learned, if we were patient enough to wait a moment, the trout would circle around and take the subsurface fly solidly; then the fight was on!... a natural, light hued, size 14 Elk Hair Caddis was mouche du juor.

Wading wet was a sensual delight. My digital thermometer – fingers and toes -informed me water temp was cool, but not cold. Much like Goldilocks pilfered porridge, it was just right. Good thing, too, as much stealth in thigh-deep wading was required to jockey oneself into proper position to make an effective presentation. For those unfamiliar with tenkara style fly fishing, you may get the picture when visualizing an angler utilizing only a rod, a line, and a fly; no fly reel to store extra fly line to pullout to make a longer cast or to payout when fighting a strong pulling fish. This fixed line style of fly fishing is the pinnacle of close-quarters combat. And it is so fun, even if that is sometimes in a “Gong Show” sort of way, with the fish swimming through or around one’s legs. At the end of the day each of us had tallied several fish brought to hand with

Ultra-clear water on a Vancouver Island mountain stream

Ninja-like stalking reveals a resting rainbow trout

many, many more jumped and missed; mostly through having a too-quick trigger finger on the strike or by not being patient enough to wait for the trout to turn and take the fly solidly. The catch was about equally divided between rainbows and cutthroats. They were all in the eleven to thirteen inch length range and full of piss and vinegar, with one grand cutthroat of fourteen inches and a bit. And to tell the truth, all were quite a handful on a tenkara rod... just right. Sometimes, if you are really sneaky, or

supremely lucky, you can get so close to a feeding trout that it is all but impossible to make a cast to it without your movement spooking the trout away. Such is often the fate of a tenkara style fly fisher since most fishing is done at close range. Wading slowly upstream helps. The resting fish in the photo held in the tail out riffle and graciously allowed me to back down and cast above it. It rose to my dry on the first cast. As usual, in these tiny streams, the deeper holes and scoured-out pockets

Hookup with a feisty trout

around big boulders and flood stranded brush-piles are where trout make a home. Maybe one nice sized trout and a couple of tiddlers hold there. In this case, nice sized means twelve inches or longer. It’s very unusual to find two big trout vying for a meal in such close confines. Today was no exception; one and done, then on to the next likely looking hole, with a lot of hiking in between. Each new hole offered promise and delivered often. Some yielded a solid hookup, others gave up a rise and a miss,

or misses. A high-riding Elk Hair Caddis moved fish to the surface and got the most solid hookups with fewer refusals. A size 14 Klinkhammer, which worked its magic last time out, only brought rises and rebukes. That seemed a bit odd, because at this time of the year when breezes are blowing all sorts of detritus into the water, a high floating dry fly sometimes gets lost in the muddle; whereas a suspended body fly pattern hanging below the surface simulates easy prey. Fish logic... go figure?

One beautiful coastal cutthroat trout 70

View from the Alps by William Robichaud

Photo: Corina Cathomen

Indeed, I am a lucky fisherman - I live amongst the trout waters of the Wisconsin Driftless Area, and my girlfriend lives in the Swiss Alps. That’s even better than a woman with a bass boat, and we work it out, the long distance. I feel at home in Switzerland. Corina is one reason of course, and trout have recently become another. I’m not much of a catch & release guy, and in Switzerland catch & release of trout is essentially illegal. My sort of people. Now, rest assured dear readers and members of

Trout Unlimited, on my home waters of Wisconsin I still release most of the trout I catch, keeping only the few I can eat. Cooking and eating trout I’ve caught enriches the experience for me, through deeper immersion in the cycle of life feeding life. Nor do I believe that the moral high ground is held by releasing a trout and going home to cook a cod or salmon flown in from a thousand miles away. In Switzerland, all non-native trout taken (brookies, rainbows) must be kept, as well as all native trout above the legal

size limit (24 cm, or about 9.5 inches, in most of the waters we fished). The Swiss take on this apparently has two roots. The first dates to World War II, when this small country, neutral but surrounded by a continent aflame in war, strove to become self-sufficient, especially in food. Soccer fields were plowed and planted in potatoes, and it was made illegal to release any fish caught – gamefish or rough, it had to be taken home for food. More recently, the animal welfare movement became involved. Their argument, adopted by policy makers in Switzerland (and likewise in Germany I’m told), is that catching a trout once and killing it causes less suffering than hooking, stressing and releasing the same trout repeatedly (although I’m not sure which option the trout would choose if given the chance…). In fact, Swiss law requires each that keeper trout be killed immediately, first by stunning it with a blow on the head, and then slitting its gills or belly. And every trout caught (of any size) must be immediately logged, either on a phone app, or written in an official trout registration booklet (the latter for oldschool me). Switzerland and the Alps are a beautiful contrast with my home ground of the Driftless Area. My home streams are mostly soft, slow, and silent. Yin fishing. And at times I can spend five minutes trying to coax and thread just one cast to a small pool, under, around and through the trees, brambles, and devilish Angelica. Fishing the Driftless in August is not for the faint of heart. On some of streams late in season my simple marker of success is if a morning’s catch of trout exceeds the number of flies lost. I

contend myself with that as a good result over coffee afterwards. In the Alps, the streams are hard, cold, clear, and rushing. Yang fishing. And there is the constant music, mountain music – from small cascades, riffles strumming over stony flats, and cowbells ringing from alpine pastures. There’s also more room here to stretch out a cast, with longer rods. This past summer I took my 400cm Suntech TenkaraBum 40 for some walks in the Alps, and Corina fished her DRAGONtail Mutant at its full length of 380cm. It’s a welcome relief to fish stretches of stream where, like an honest man, one no longer needs to be constantly looking over one’s shoulder. And there are fish – beautiful native browns (Bachforelle in German, which translates, somewhat confusingly, as ‘brook trout’; the non-native brookies are called Bachsaibling, or ‘brook char’). For fun, and to show them something they’d perhaps not seen before, from level lines we fished my local homegrown Driftless pattern, the Pink Squirrel, and some allAmerican Prince Nymphs (beadless) and Pass Lakes. The Swiss trout ate them like chocolate. Productivity in the alpine waters is not as high, natch, as the warmer, wooded streams of the Driftless. But enough trout can be found to keep it fun, and with enough size to require some raps on the head, for feasting later with a nice bottle of a crisp Swiss white. It helps that the fishing pressure isn’t particularly high. The best fishing we found this past summer was along a gorgeous, stony stretch of the upper Rhine River that flows along the edge of

Corina hiking to trout – in July!

Photo: Corina Cathomen 74

Corina stalking native browns at 8,000 feet

Corina’s village. We could walk from her house to the best fishing, and some of it started just 50 yards upstream from a popular campground on the outskirts of town. The Swiss are more attracted to artisanal gold mining in the streams and fishing for pike in the lakes, than to trout. The few other trout fisherman we met reported declines in both trout and thus trout fishermen in the past decade. Skeptics might instantly point to the ‘catch & keep’ rule as a factor, but I doubt that’s it. The annual season limit in Switzerland for one fisherman is 60 trout. If you catch and keep 60 (which few fishermen probably do), you’re done fishing for the year, since there’s no catch & release. Sixty is probably a

sustainable cap. A more likely issue may be the continued Swiss attachment to the tradition of rearing and releasing hatchery browns (none of which Corina or I caught, identifiable by their clipped adipose fins). Studies in Switzerland are starting to show, as they have in the US, that the hatchery game can have longterm negative impacts on wild trout populations. Fortunately, being fairly new to seeking trout in the Alps, I have no past to compare it with. And comparison is the first death of love. The waters are cold and clear, the vistas spectacular, and my ratio of trout caught to flies lost is favorable. Life is good in these mountains.

Photo: Corina Cathomen 77

Tenkara in the Time of COVID-19 by Danièle Beaulieu

The world stopped in March 2020 here in Quebec, Canada, well… because, you know why! This is a hard time for me and my tenkara business because I can’t do any fishing shows, no conferences, nothing as simple as that. The borders are closed so I can’t go fishing in the United States, no Adirondacks, no camping, no steelhead in Oswego County. I told myself don’t worry Danièle they will open the borders very soon, but it didn’t happen!

What to do? Where to go? Nevertheless, it was a good time to see what rivers I could fish near home (Montreal, Canada). Well, it was tough and not very productive. I could not take “Berta” (my camper) and camp near a river without finding signs posting private property. So, no access whatsoever to a nice river and if you could find one, the fishing was difficult (that is not an issue because I love a challenge) but it was definitely not the same as my typical New England fishing adventures. With those experiences over, I decided to visit my sister and childhood friend in the Alberta, home to the Canadian Rockies. I loaded Berta and off we went.

My first stop was in Petawawa, Ontario to see my other childhood friends so I could introduce them to tenkara fly fishing. We had a blast in the Petawawa River catching bass. They liked it so much that they bought some tenkara rods, how fun is that! With my journey starting well, I continued on the Trans Canadian route saying to myself, “this is going to be the best fishing experience I will ever have” as I was headed to the Bow River in Alberta. But when I arrived, the heat wave and smoke from wildfires took the fun out of it. It was really bad. With no time to lose, I had to make a hard choice of fishing or to see my sister and friend that I had not seen for a very long time. Don’t get me wrong, fishing is my life, but family and friendships are more important. So, I decided to stay with them. In the end, I was not able to fish a lot, but the view of the Canadian Rockies was candy to the eyes. So many places to visit, so much to do, you must come and see that once in your lifetime. I am planning to go back in 2022 and concentrate on fishing. I will certainly visit British Columbia because my friends in Squamish told me that they have great rivers for tenkara.

A Top to Bottom Tenkara Fly Box by Matt Sment

I’m not a “match the hatch” angler. Instead of mimicking the exact meal that a trout may be looking for, I’m looking to put “something tasty” into whatever water column depth the fish is paying attention to. The idea behind this box was to create a broad capability that can target all levels of the water column in a reasonably buggy way. You won’t see any kebari in this box. It’s not a snub to kebari patterns; I selected all these flies from a vendor who’s modest offering of kebari was out of stock when I placed the order. I don’t feel that I lost much capability in selecting western patterns. The sole concession is that it left me unable to fish the sakasa pulse technique. All the unweighted patterns are perfectly suited for traditional tenkara manipulations and

technique otherwise. I’ve never noticed a difference in catch rates between sakasa (forward sweep) or jun (rearward sweep) hackles, so to me they are interchangeable. What is not interchangeable is the utility of the futsu (neutral) stiff hackles for working the film. This box is an attempt to create a balanced mix of opposites - colors that are light/dark/natural/loud, visual profiles that are slim, medium, or large, with weighted or unweighted options. In many cases, I chose the pattern because it is basic, and be adjusted by stripping or clipping parts of it away to change its look. I can also quickly apply color to a fly with sharpie markers, allowing me to darken the pattern or add an attentiongrabbing hotspot.

1. Orange and Partridge #14

A slim profile with an almost natural color. I consider it to be a “medium light” shade and can darken the body or hackle with a sharpie if needed. Riding the film in a dead drift or skittered across the top with some action, I’m usually fishing it within the upper 6 inches of the water column, and rarely deeper than a few feet. I’d throw this fly where the fish are oriented upwards in slow to moderate currents and relatively clear water. The hackle can be stripped away to result in a very simple nymph.

2. Shakey Bakey #14

A similar profile with louder colors. It gets fished the same way as the O&P, but the high visibility tones are useful in fast water or on overcast days. The pattern can be adjusted down to a nymph/midge by clipping the tail or hackle. These could be darkened as needed, but I’ve never encountered a situation where that seemed necessary.

3. Adams Trude #14

This dark natural with a Jun hackle is all about fishing the surface in faster water. The stiffer collar keeps it riding high. The white wing helps keep it in sight but can be easily removed or darkened if needed. Like the soft hackles above, it can be trimmed down to a simple bug.

4. Blonde Wulff #14

A light natural that makes an excellent stand in for the ubiquitous caddis. Almost always fished in the film or broken water. I’ll sometimes prune it up for a slimmer profile, or add a hotspot with a sharpie, but most often I throw it just as it is.

5. Pass Lake #14

Jack of all trades, this classic can do just about anything the four other wet patterns can do. Adding a bright sharpie hotspot to the tail is good way to add color, and it could always be deconstructed if needed. I like to start it with a dead drift and move into increasingly dynamic presentations, focusing on the top 12 inches of water. I’m yet to find a stream where trout won’t take this fly. If I could only fish one pattern for the rest of my life, it would be an orange, red, or neon green tailed Pass Lake.

6. Euro Hare’s Ear #14

Slim, dark or light natural, and tungsten. Nothing to adjust. Fished like any nymph in just about any water. Boring and reliable.

7. Bread n' Butter #14

For all of the same reasons as the Euro Hare's Ear, this adds yet another versatile nymph pattern to my box, for those times fish are being confusingly selective.

8. Blowtorch #14

Medium profile, loud color. You can clip the tail to tone it down a bit, which leaves you with a peacock herl thorax soft hackled beadhead with a hotspot collar. I’ll typically choose this in fast or stained streams. It’s probably too much on sunny days in clear water.

9. Big Ugly #10

Larger profile, natural. I’ve really come to depend on larger nymphs for “searching patterns”. It's not quite a streamer but big enough to be easily seen. Whether on a tight line drift or fished aggressively, I typically move larger fish in mediocre conditions when I offer them a meal worth moving for. This pattern has a larger profile but keeps the overall size and weight within a package easily manageable by most fixed line rods. I usually go as large as #8 when filling this role.

10. Baby Bugger #10

Larger profile, natural with flash. When looking for a productive searching pattern, you can’t go wrong with a good old Woolly Bugger. A scaled down version in black and crystal flash is perfect for the down and across swing, or fast strips across angry water. This version isn’t tungsten, so its well suited for fishing the top of faster water and down into middle depths.

11. The Capability Gap

I’m on the hunt for a pattern to fill a gap in this plan – it needs something larger, natural, and squirmy; this box needs a micro leech! The Baby Bugger imitates bait fish very well but doesn’t have a lot of natural motion to it. I’ll feel that the box is fully rounded out once this gap is addressed.

So far, the box has been productive on a few days of fishing, but I'd like to spend the rest of the season testing out the contents. Ideally, I'll stick to the same patterns the full year and push this concept as far as it can go. Other than a handful of extremely picky fisheries, this box should do the work on just about any trout, in any water, top to bottom! Fly Photos: Big Y Fly Company bigyflyco.com

Everyday Carry and Equipment Hacks by Ana Echenique MD

To adhere to the Japanese aesthetic of elegant simplicity, and to honor the tradition of Tenkara, I strive to always downsize and simplify my “everyday carry” (EDC) setup. Of course, everyone has their personal preference, but I just wanted to present what I have come up with (so far). My friend Nathan Sutherland says I’m always changing something up. He’s not wrong, LOL. In that vein, I try to make everything I carry efficient and, when possible, have more than one purpose. FISHING HAT First, I wanted to focus on the venerable fishing hat. Of course, everyone has a favorite fishing cap or hat, whose purpose is primarily to protect us from the sun and reduce glare. I prefer a cap with its longer brim to a hat. My cap, as noted above has been “upcycled” a bit to give it even more functionality. I took a camouflage print thin neck gaiter and cut it in half and sewed it to the (inside of the) back of the cap to allow my neck to have protection from the sun when needed. The thin material allows me to tuck the gaiter into my cap when not needed. In addition, I took Yuzu Sebata’s innovation of adding a fly patch into the brim of the hat using some spare neoprene. I also sewed in a small mesh bag to the inside of the cap to store the “elusive” rod caps and any other small items such as a line spool. Finally, the inside of my cap has informational patches with one for knot tying (that helped in my early days on

the water) and a patch reminding me of various sasoi maneuvers when things get challenging. I made the patch myself.

FLY BOX/LINE SPOOL/TOOLS I LOVE my Revus Designs bamboo fly box/line spool. It keeps my flies organized and holds line and tippet readily accessible. I have chosen to hang this from a lanyard and use the included screw to affix a modified EMT scissor sheath to hold my Dr. Slick scissor clamp and lanyard to keep it handy. The added scissor feature frees me from needing an additional nipper. FISHING GLASSES What can I say? It’s frustrating but I need magnifiers for reading and fine work. I did have brim mounted magnifiers but were tough for me to use so I went with bifocal polarized sunglasses. Killed 2 birds with one stone. While that is my basic EDC, I will usually add a wading staff and net unless I’m short on space. These bonus EDC items are currently being refined and so I will talk about my current options that I am evaluating. WADING STAFF I first used a collapsible trekking pole for a wading staff that had an adjustable length. The advantages were that it was inexpensive and came with a great sheath (that I sometimes use now to carry an extra rod). The disadvantage is that the pole requires two hands to deploy and adjust length. The pole might also accidentally shorten if the adjustable part gets loose during use. Quick deployment and rock steady performance were important to me so I looked at other solutions, (but you can’t beat the price).

The next option I'm exploring is a wood wading staff, similar to one Tom Davis uses. I made mine using a mop handle, some paracord, spar urethane and a hook (to grab tree branches). The advantages; it's pretty cheap, really light, super sturdy, and does not produce metallic clinking on river bottom when used. It also floats so don’t feel like you are carrying around an anchor. The disadvantages; it's non-collapsible. The classic wading staff from Folstaf was also evaluated. Its advantages are that it is light, folds up, and has one handed deployment. The disadvantages are that it is kind of light, expensive, has an awkward lanyard system, and (this

continues to be a challenge) is very difficult to break apart if you put any of your weight on the staff while wading. The Folstaf is a very popular wading staff but the manufacturer is aware of this issue. They recommend carrying a candle with you to wax the joints, karate chopping the staff to close it, and if desperate, using WD-40. I wasn’t sure this was the answer for me so tried one more option (but I still have this staff). Finally, the Riverworks wading staff is the last option. This staff is a BEAST. It’s tough and has a design where the sections won’t get stuck when breaking down to stow away on an industrial hammer holster on your belt. It is custom made to your height and comes with a rubber foot to dampen river noise. The super tough elastic band inside allows for one handed deployment and the handle is from a bike handlebar. Rick Humphrey designed this staff to last forever. However, it is a bit heavy. Contact Rick at rhumphrey@telus.net if interested. As I said, I haven’t quite decided on which way to go with the last 3 choices. I

think if I could design a staff, it would be a tad lighter than Riverworks' but heavier and more sturdy feeling than Folstaf. I'd use the joints of the Riverworks staff and its beefy inner elastic band (maybe with a wood or paracord wrapped handle). Or, if I could make the wood staff appear magically at the snap of my fingers... that would actually be the best! FISHING NET My current preference is to use no net, which aligns with keeping things simple. However, I always seem to regret not having one, so I've opted to research net solutions. The Daiwa collapsible net has been a good option as it is not expensive, collapses, has fish friendly netting, and fits in belt pouch. However, the included belt pouch is a flimsy bag with Velcro closure that requires two hands to deploy. To remedy, I got a pouch from HandyPak Nets and have been using that on my belt.

(Why don’t I just have a HandyPak net and keep it all made in the USA? Well, I did but I could not for the life of me fold the net back down after deploying it!) I also use a Creekside Cedar Studio Brookie net. This net is just plain cute and when I use it I tuck it into my belt. It may costs a little more, but it is such a classic! So that was a whirlwind tour of my evolving everyday carry! I would love to hear what other ideas folks have had and other “hacks” that you might find helpful on the stream.

Akai O Takayama Sakasa Kebari by Aaron Fleming

The Akai O, or Red Tail, is a modern take on a time-honored Japanese high mountain reverse-tied fly using (mostly) traditional materials. And that’s a mouthful. With any luck, a mouthful of classic spade end fly for the trout as well! As the colder seasons are setting in here in the Ozarks, the days are getting shorter and the trout are getting deeper. The Red Tail is designed to command some attention by attracting them with the darker crimson hue and reasonable body shape without also spooking them by introducing highly fluorescent colors and too much flash into an environment otherwise devoid of such natural features. I find that tying appropriately, mindfully, and with the colors of the seasons conjures the constructive subtlety necessary to evade such suspicion. Having given you something to ponder, I’ll leave you with a haiku and a recipe.

Up and away deep Into the high mountain stream Swims the winter trout This is my personal recipe: ● Japanese #6 spade end hook ● Semper Fli 12/0 (50D) olive nano silk ● Stripped red peacock herl ● Red peacock herl ● Onagadori neck hackle ● Head cement or S. H.

また明日また明日 Mata ashita.

Begin with a spade end hook. I began with a Japanese #6 spade end and did not crush my barb for aesthetic purposes.

Lay your base with your tying thread. I take the base almost to the halfway point in the bend on these hooks.

Lay your loop material across the top of the hook shank with your left hand and take 3 or 4 wraps forward securing it in place.

Create your loop! I’m using the end of a whip finisher to gauge my loop size, pulling the material around & holding w/ my left hand.

Secure your loop with 3 or 4 wraps rearward.

I like to pull up on the rear portion of the loop materials and place a couple of wraps under it, then forward to the eye to lock it.

Pull the loop up and place a couple wraps under the loop. Then lower the loop and wrap a couple more times rearward.

Snip the rear portion of the loop materials off at the rear of your locking wraps close to the thread.

Place a tiny dab of head cement on the snipped tail and locking thread for good measure. No need to let it dry.

Continue your thread wraps over the snipped tails and cement, completely concealing the snipped tail.

Bring your thread rearward to the bend in the hook and then prepare your stripped red peacock herl.

Tie in your stripped peacock herl narrow end first with just a couple thread wraps to secure.

I wrap clockwise around the hook shank and under the thread, taking the thread up the body with each turn of the herl.

Complete your wraps around the point where you snipped the loop material tails. Secure the herl with a few more turns of the thread.

Wrap your thread forward and build your fly head with an appropriate number of thread wraps until you are satisfied.

Prepare your hackle feather. I tie the majority of my Japanese flies using a North Country Spider fly method.

Secure your hackle with a couple of thread turns. I put a wrap or two behind and under the tail and then another over for security.

Begin your hackle wraps until you’re satisfied with the appearance. I try to get in around 6 or 7 turns before I’m through.

I’ll carefully place a few thread turns in between a couple of the feather fibers to secure the rachis to the body of the fly.

Place a few more thread wraps in to conceal your snipped ends and smooth out the contour of the body behind the hackle.

Create a loop with the tip of the peacock herl around the thread, give the thread a few wraps to secure and then snip off the tail.

Wrap your peacock herl tightly around the body to create the thorax. Start at the rear of the hackle and tightly wrap rearward.

Place a few more wraps tightly and evenly around the end of the herl to secure. Whip finish when satisfied.

I like to place a dab of head cement to the finishing location just to secure the knot.

Complete!

Getting Lost this Winter from the Comfort of Your Own Home “One Man’s Wilderness An Alaskan Odyssey”

A Book Review by Dennis Vander Houwen

“Needs? I guess that is what bothers so many folks. The keep expanding their needs until they are dependent on too many things and too many other people.” – Dick Proenneke As you hunker down through the winter months this year, you are going to take on all the usual winter activities; tying flies, plotting and daydreaming your spring fishing, taking in the family holiday stuff, etc. I would recommend instead that you add one more thing for yourself in taking the time to read a good book. If you happen to need a good book recommendation, then get yourself a copy of “One Man’s Wilderness – An Alaskan Odyssey,” by Sam Keith. This book is a compilation of the journals and photos of Dick Proenneke and covers his adventure of being dropped off alone at an Alaskan back country Lake. With great fortitude, skills, and resolve; but with limited provisions and tools, he sets to work building a small one room cabin. The book covers 2 years of his life, and he shares his story through journal entries. While this is not a new book by any means, or a New York Times best seller, it is a solid book you won’t regret picking up. I found my copy, a 50th Anniversary edition with a forward by none other than Nick Offerman, among the books left behind by my late father-in-law. I gathered some of his books as a way of keeping connected to him. Dick Proenneke’s book and videos were a common topic for us to discuss. This book was one that really stood out and I felt it very important to keep his copy as a memento of our relationship.

The journals start off with a slightly technical approach of recording his dayto-day activities and over time Dick becomes more revealing and intimate of his thoughts. By the end of the book, you hear the voice of someone who has been changed though his days and experiences. As I worked through the easy-to-read chapters, I became drawn in and found my imagination projecting a story in the spaces and life he lived between his entries. I could imagine his solitude, freedom, and peace of being in the wilderness alone. While these pleasant things are a good part of the story, Dick didn’t leave out any of the dangers of his life there either. He faces encounters with bears, losing track of time miles from home in cold weather, and injuries that he had to mend without so much as a radio to call for help. He seems to abandon any fears of the tragic though and focuses on being attentive and present going forward. So many parts of Dick’s story are about making choices to live simply. His simplicity is not about denying himself pleasures but in finding pleasure in what is there. Things like wild blueberries. I could smell and taste the sourdough pancakes and biscuits, oatmeal, bacon, and pot of beans cooking on the stove. Nothing fancy about the food he ate and yet very satisfying to imagine. He covers these simple living details throughout the book, and he does it in a way that makes you more aware of our over abundant variety of choices, that don’t seem to add nearly as much to our lives as we think they do. Dick did a considerable amount of fishing too. While this isn’t a book about his fishing, he does share his times out

fishing. Using spinning rods and lures as well as a fly rod set up. Sometimes he would fish for food and other times he is intentional about mentioning releasing his catch. His stories made me want to calculate the best time to book a trip and visit. I would love to see how my tenkara gear would fair in such a place as the creeks that feed Twin Lakes. The book gives a clear picture of Alaska’s seasons as they change and are documented in good detail. Regularly entries in the journal name temperatures, weather conditions, and speak about both the short and long days of sunlight experienced over the year. Dick is surrounded by and observes the prolific wildlife around him. Caribou, moose, Dall sheep, wolves, and wolverines. He tells many different stories about his wildlife encounters; some are funny, some scary, and some sad too. but I will let you find those yourself as you read. The story seems like a modern one but takes place in the late 1960’s. I was likely no older than 2 or 3 years myself while Dick was living this story out. Now that I am about his age though (in my 50s) I am entranced by his story and feel challenged to live up to his ambitions. The late 60s and early 70s were a time in themselves, but Dick gives a commentary on the “hunting class” of those times that could equally describe some hunters and fishermen today. Observing and commenting on the abuse of the wilderness by these tourist hunters, he calls out their wastefulness as well as their abandon with their litter they leave behind. But Dick makes the best of their sins against nature by scavenging materials left behind and cleaning up a

poorly cleaned carcass of a sheep to supplementing his food supply. If you are like me then you will find yourself inspired by Dick’s ingenuity and resourcefulness. My “maker mindset” was piqued as I read about the way that he would make some of his needed things out of found items, manufacturing functional furniture and tools himself. You may become jealous of the long canoe tips he made, then grateful that it isn’t you who has to paddle the tree poles he gathered and hauled with that same canoe from miles away to his build site. We get to witness the slow and steady progress of the construction of his cabin and a raised supply cache using only his rudimentary tools only a few commercial materials and provisions flown in by his friend “Babe” who drops in every few weeks and is his primary connection to other human beings and the outside world. As I read the book I could imagine the silence, the passing of time, and head space that Dick had to just ponder and be. It is a place few of us dare to venture into. Dick made it work though with just a limited connection to the outside world. He had letters from friends and family, and the occasional care package or two that Babe would bring him. Other than that, he had no radio, television, or daily newspaper to trouble him. He had only his own life in his wilderness to worry about and that seemed to be enough. “One Man’s Wilderness” is a reminder that we are preoccupied too much with complications and stuff. As a result, we begin to dangerously rely on modern conveniences, and we let the part of our brains that adapts to challenges become

soft. Few among our modern society have the skillset or confidence to build our own tools from the resources available to us. We have been taught that the things we need MUST be purchased. Winter is a great time to reflect on each of our own lives. While few of us at all will ever make the choice to live like Dick did, we can find his choice as a great

example to live by none the less. Through this book though we can perhaps have a small taste of being in a wild place alone and being self-reliant. You will find that in this book and that is the spirit of Dick’s adventure coming off the pages and into your own life, daring you to push your own boundaries and have meaningful connection with the wilderness.

Richard Louis Proenneke passed away on April 20, 2003. He was an American selfeducated naturalist, conservationist, writer, and wildlife photographer who, from the age of about 51, lived alone for nearly thirty years (1969–1999) in the mountains of Alaska in a log cabin that he constructed by hand near the shore of Twin Lakes. Proenneke hunted, fished, raised, and gathered his own food, and had supplies flown in occasionally. He documented his activities in journals and on film, and recorded valuable meteorological and natural data. The journals and film were later used by others to write books and produce documentaries about his time in the wilderness.

Proenneke bequeathed his cabin to the National Park Service upon his death and it was included in the National Register of Historic Places four years later. The cabin is a popular attraction of Lake Clark National Park. -Wikipedia

Let’s Get Technical on Tenkara by Karin Miller

Several requests have recently been made in various Facebook groups for more technical write ups on the aspects of designing and making a tenkara rod. The requests have been for manufacturers to respond. The questions pertain to design and how design impacts rod performance. Three years ago, I wrote an article for this very publication just on this subject but, as the tenkara community continues to grow and new people become interested in this fly-fishing method, it seems like a good time to revisit the subject.

A BIT ABOUT BLANKS Both fly and tenkara rods are only as good as their blanks (that’s a term used to refer to the actual rod, minus component parts such as the handle and finishes). The blank is what determines rod character, flex profile, accuracy, power, strength, and overall performance. Components minimally impact weight, balance and very slightly, the rod’s recovery time - or how quickly it “dampens” (stops wobbling). When you chose a tenkara rod, the most critical

part of the rod is the blank. That’s really where your money should be going. Not the paint, not the handle, not the packaging but the rod blank itself. This alone determines how the rod performs. While we’re on the subject, let’s talk about performance, “the action or process of carrying out or accomplishing an action, task or function”. All tenkara rods will “perform”. How each rod performs, on various fish and various water varies greatly from brand to brand and model to model. This is the result of different designs and the use of different materials. But, because one rod is “soft” and another rod is “stiff” doesn’t necessarily make the rod better or worse. It simply means the rod has a different character and a different flex profile. What appeals to YOU, the individual angler, is a personal choice although certain rod characteristics lend themselves better to certain scenarios. So, let’s dive a little deeper into tenkara rod blanks: Beyond the obvious measurements of length (standardized) and flex (somewhat subjective and nonstandardized), a plethora of variables exist that impacts how a rod blank behaves. These include blank taper, diameter, girth, blank wall thickness, number of sections (which also impacts flex, strength, durability and collapsed length), carbon fiber quality, carbon fiber modulus, the number of wraps used to form the rod blank, wrap directionality and whether any resins or composite materials have been added or used in conjunction with the carbon fiber to make the blank. All these factors give a rod blank its character. These variables determine how strong the rod will be,

how much “backbone” the rod will have, whether it will be brittle and break under stress, the rod’s dampening rate, how deeply it flexes, how slow or fast it loads and how sensitive it is (how quickly and accurately it transfers information to the angler through tactile feedback). Combine these dimensions, specs, material, and the components of the rod handle, along with the finishes used to complete the rod, and you produce a finished product that will perform in a certain manner. These variables also determine whether the rod feels well balanced in the hand or front heavy, how accurately it casts and, how much and what type of line it can move. So, when comparing tenkara rods, touch and feel is important and giving consideration as to how you most likely will use it, should guide your purchase. Ask yourself where you’ll be using the rod. What species will you be targeting? On average, will you be fishing very small creeks or wider rivers? Are you using it for fresh or saltwater? Will you be using the rod mostly to wet wade or from a boat? How you respond to all these questions impact the type of tenkara rod you might prefer, and which characteristics might be most beneficial and effective to get your particular job done, with the most success. THE LOWDOWN OF CF The moment you pick up a tenkara rod and give it a wiggle you get feedback or a “sense” of the rod. What talks to you the loudest is the material, what the rod is made of. Today, most tenkara rods are made from carbon fiber, but not necessarily the same quality or grade of carbon fiber. Not all carbon fiber is

created equally. There are also other options or composite materials like EGlass or S-Glass that can be used to roll the rod blank. These have their own characteristics. Fiberglass is strong and flexible but much heavier than carbon fiber, especially the higher modulus carbon fibers. For the purpose of this article, we’ll keep to CF. Carbon fiber is a material made up of extremely fine fibers consisting mostly of carbon atoms that are bonded together in crystals that align parallel to the long axis of the fiber. These fibers are then bundled together in quantities ranging on average from 1K to 24K (K= thousands) to make up “tows” or “yarns”. These different sized tows or yarns can then be woven into different patterns such as unidirectional, tweed, braids, and several others to make various carbon fiber “fabrics”. Different patterns have different characteristics and qualities

based on the pattern itself and the tow size used to create it. The same pattern can be made using different tow sizes which change the character and performance of the woven fabrics. Variables are almost unlimited. STRENGTH TO ELASTICITY RATIOS Carbon fiber is defined by grades. Grades are based primarily on two factors: tensile strength and tensile modulus. Tensile Strength (ksi) is a measurement of the maximum stress a material can withstand while being stretched or pulled apart before it breaks or fails under pressure. Tensile Modulus (msi) is a measurement of elasticity or flexibility - how much the material deforms (and returns to its original state) under pressure...or bends before breaking. Tensile modulus is a ratio of stress to strain. While tensile strength (ksi) and tensile modulus (msi)

are correlated, they are different, so don’t confuse stiffness or “elasticity” (tensile modulus) with strength (how much pressure is takes to break it or be pulled apart). A bit confusing but keep following me. Carbon fiber grades are broken out into four categories based on a range of tensile strength and tensile modulus: · Standard Modulus · Intermediate Modulus · High Modulus · Ultra-High Modulus The higher the modulus, the smaller and denser the fiber strands used to create it. This results in needing less of a higher modulus carbon fiber material, to obtain the same strength and stiffness as a lower modulus carbon fiber material. Since you require less material, the weight is reduced. The manufacturing process to create these higher purity strands is more time consuming and complex, so higher modulus carbon fibers are more expensive. High and Ultra-High Modulus carbon fiber is extremely expensive and primarily used in aerospace applications. The sports industry, think golf clubs, bicycles and fishing rods use Standard

and Intermediate Modulus carbon fiber. Intermediate Modulus (IM) carbon fibers range from a low IM5 to a high IM12. When you review the differences between tensile strength and tensile modulus within the IM range, there is only a small difference between the tensile modulus’ (elasticity) – roughly from 40 to 45 msi within the range. There is, however, a considerable difference in the tensile strength (what it takes to break it or cause failure) between IM5 and IM12 - from 770 ksi to over 1010 ksi. Remember, the higher the carbon fiber grade and IM, the lighter the material will be... and the stronger. These factors create the price discrepancy between different Intermediate Modulus – or any of the modulus carbon fibers and as such, the products manufactured from them. How else, besides price, does this lesson in carbon fiber transfer to rod blank performance? IT'S HOW YOU COMBINE IT Rod blanks made from a lower IM carbon fiber material will be heavier, they will be less sensitive and much less accurate than those made from a high IM carbon fiber. They may also be more “elastic” and wobblier. A rod blank made from a high IM carbon fiber will be lighter,

stronger, and more efficient since it will also be more accurate. It will dampen quicker and may also be less “elastic”. Thus, it is the combination of carbon fiber material used, along with the blank’s specific dimensions and other variables described above (like wall thickness, number of wraps, taper, girth, etc.) that determine how a rod blank behaves. So, not just the material alone, but what you do with it. Remember, regardless of the grade or IM of the carbon fiber used to make a blank, a rod can still be designed to have a specific “flex profile” (that ratio used to describe a rod’s action such as 5:5, 6:4, 7:3 or 8:2), by adjusting its other specs. A tenkara rod may have great flex but have very little backbone (for steering large fish). While it may not break, it also

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may not be effective in managing or turning a load or cast very accurately. Another rod may be called “stiff” and appear to have backbone but will snap and break under pressure. Variables, variables. How a manufacturer combines these variables: girth, taper, number of sections, wall thickness, wrap directionality, etc., in conjunction with the grade of carbon fiber (and its rating within that grade) determines what I refer to as “overall performance” - the end-result of balancing all these things to create the rod’s character and of course, the end- product. Your rod blank determines it all. Don’t get caught up in the frills and packaging. Will your rod only cast delicate super light lines? Do you want it only for tiny flies? If you hook into something big, will you be

able to steer it efficiently and land it quickly? Will the rod break under pressure? How solid are your hooksets? Does it take a lot of effort to set a hook? Do you miss many of them? How sensitive is your rod? Does it cast extremely accurately? What size tippet can it handle? How much does it weight? How balanced is it in your hand? How does your rod cast in wind? All these questions have answers that are determined by the rod blank not by the finish. While you may or may not know the IM of your tenkara rod, (and some manufacturers don’t or at least didn’t, prior to me talking about it), know there

is a difference. Whenever possible, do rod-in-hand comparisons. Ask the hard questions and then consider how you personally, will be using the rod. Different rods will undoubtedly perform differently in different situations. One tenkara rod may excel in one scenario but fail in another. Decide what you want or what you need. Then, as a consumer, you can make your own educated choice on the characteristics and qualities that will be most effective for your angling requirement. What one angler loves may not fit your bill. Do your homework and talk directly to manufacturers. Look to them to provide you with the information needed to choose a rod that’s right for you.

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Reader Art & Photos

Some quick hits from readers out and about with their tenkara rods

Amanda Hoffner fishing for some native Southern Appalachian strain brook trout underneath a waterfall in early September 2021. (Photos: Rachael Rosenstein)

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“One of the best things about tenkara is the portability and the opportunity to get into tight places. Caught the first rainbow of many in North Georgia in this spot between some rhododendron..." - Amanda Hoffner

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Trout & Streamscapes Anthony Naples

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“Tenkara on Elk River" Oil 36" x 36" Jim Tignor

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“Magic Tenkara"

Photo: Thomas Niedermair

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Friends of Tenkara Angler

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Contributors & Credits AARON FLEMING is a retired US Infantry Marine, owner of Hillshire Flies & Tenkara, pro fly tyer, and aviculturalist. AMANDA HOFFNER, a half Japanese angler from Pennsylvania, began her tenkara passion when researching fly fishing methods from Japan. Her Instagram is @ladytenkarabum & all photographs submitted were taken by her girlfriend, RACHAEL ROSENSTEIN, @rachrosenstein. ANA ECHENIQUE MD has embraced tenkara fishing, focusing on mountain stream fishing. She has a long fishing history and enjoys the simplicity and challenge of tenkara. ANDREA CROBU, photographer & video maker for big and small fishing brands, great tenkara enthusiast and also very tall person. Crobupics.com ARRAN KERR is a single father to a little girl! We love fishing, hiking, and foraging! You can find me on Instagram at @appalachian_af BILL HOLLERAN has a background in engineering and loves fly fishing & the outdoors. As the owner of Red Brook Tenkara, his motto is “no reel, no problems!” DANIELE BEAULIEU began fly fishing in 2000 and tenkara in 2014. She fishes rivers all across Canada & New England, and started a business selling tenkara rods and accessories called TenkaraCanada.net. DAVE NOLL lives in the Minnesota Driftless Area and after reading an article in BPL he purchased his first tenkara rod, a Hane. Now retired, Dave has now fished in 10 states plus Spain and Patagonia and usually gets out over 100 times a year. DENNIS VANDER HOUWEN is an early adopter of tenkara, he lives and fishes all over Colorado. For more information on living simply or approaching a richer life with fewer things check out his blog, Tenkara Path, where you can also support his tenkara lifestyle by purchasing one of his amazing, handmade tenkara line spool, fly keepers. JARED WILLADSEN is the creator of Tenkara Genki on YouTube and Instagram @tenkaragenki. He is a 2 year tenkara enthusiast and obsessor! JON CARVER lives in the Southwest. JOSHUA BROOKS spends his free time roaming the mountains of Western North Carolina in search of solitude, and that next brook trout. Western adventures also hold a special spot in his heart. You can follow his journey on Instagram and YouTube at Rare Form Fishing. KARIN MILLER, founder of Zen Tenkara, has established a reputation for being innovative, cutting edge and for pushing boundaries with her high-performance tenkara rods. Zen Tenkara is the first and only 100% female owned rod company in the world.

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MARTIN MONTEJANO is a Northern California based tenkara angler sharing his adventures and experiences through @sagehearttenkara on Instagram. MATT SMENT enjoys exploring tenkara rod fishing while pursuing a wide variety of species. Instructor, guide, co-founder of Badger Tenkara, and creator of the Midwest Tenkara Fest, his career in the outdoor education, leadership, and training fields stretches over two decades. NICK FELLER found tenkara while going down the rabbit hole of ultralight backpacking and fell in love. To help support Nick on his future endeavors, please use his code "NORCALTENKARA" from Tenkara Rod Co for 20% off all orders. Instagram: @norcaltenkara PAUL VERTREES was one of the first professional tenkara guides in the US and works as a guide for Royal Gorge Anglers in Cañon City, Colorado. He writes on his personal blog, Tenkara Tracks, as well as various online and print publications. PHILIP TIPTON is a free lance writer from Kingsport, TN. Philip serves on the Board of Directors for the Overmountain Trout Unlimited Chapter. Blessed with shoe size 15, he can be found roaming Appalachia like Bigfoot in search of wild trout. RICHARD MOZER has fished in all types of water around Florida and Brasil. Using every possible method, he feels tenkara as the perfect balance between fisherman and nature. RORY GLENNIE is a veteran field editor, columnist, and feature article contributor with B.C.’s Vancouver Island based Island Fisherman Magazine. Mountain stream tenkara is one of Rory’s fly fishing passions. SATSUKI TANAKA is a Japanese outdoors enthusiast. Through his work with the ClearWater Project, he is championing catch & release fishing on the Dando River, as well as maintaining a fishing ticketing agency and associated magazine website that promotes all types of fishing in mountain streams. SPENCER MORTENSEN has been fly fishing for 20 plus years across the Western US. Over the last year he began to dabble in tenkara and tried to figure out if it was something he could get into. He is now hooked. Spencer is the owner of Not Only Trout. STEPHEN LANGFORD is an athletic trainer and photographer. My dad introduced me to Tenkara a few years ago and now it is one of our favorite pastimes together. If you want to check out my photography, you can head to srlmediaproductions or @srl_media on Instagram. TRISTAN KLOSS's stream encounter in this issue also happened to be his last trout of the year, after welcoming his second child in February. Thankfully, he had more than enough fun chasing bluegills with his oldest son, Colton, to make up for it. WILLIAM ROBICHAUD is the president of an organization that is working to save the world’s most endangered large mammal, the Saola from extinction. When not doing that he hunts, fishes, gardens, and forages from his home in the Driftless Area of Wisconsin, and writes about it at birdinthebush.net.

Additional Art & Photo Contributors

ANTHONY NAPLES, JIM TIGNOR, ROB & MARK LANGFORD, CORINA CATHOMEN, THOMAS & BERNHARD NIEDERMAIR

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#Tenkara

News & Notes From Around Social Media Take some time to check out both the Flicky Flies & Tenkara Genki YouTube channels...

The 2022 Tenkara Wisconsin Great Driftless Campout has tentatively been scheduled for June 2nd - 5th... There’s some good energy coming from the #fixedlinefreaks hashtag on Instagram...

If you enjoy on-rod line storage, take a peek at the new Ultimate Tenkara Line Keepers from DRAGONtail... Tactical nymphing has become a buzzword, but it’s a bit more than simply nymphing with a tenkara rod...

Do you know what Genryu, Keiryu, & Honryu mean? Tom Davis at Teton Tenkara resurfaces the subject...

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This issue of Tenkara Angler is dedicated to the memory of our friend

Michael J. Moline 1958 ~ 2021

Winter 2021-22