Runaway Media.

ReganMedia, which produces television shows and has published books by authors such as porn star Jenna Jameson and shock jock Howard Stern, said Thursday that it has acquired the media rights to the life stories of Jennifer Wilbanks and her fiance, John Mason.
Wilbanks will reportedly be raking in a cool $500,000 for the tale of how she staged her own kidnapping just four days before her lavish wedding in April. ReganMedia has not confirmed that any funds changed hands.

Allright, I know this has nothing to do with fishing, even though I am sure that some folks would like to feed "The Runaway Bride" to the fish, but I had to comment on this.

Is this what it has come to?

Is the American public interested only in sensationalized--excuse my French--POOP!

Yes, I am blaming the American public viewing audience for this. Just say no.
That is what the new mantra should be when it comes to things like Jerry Springer, court T.V, or any reality based T.V. show. If they want to do a good makeover show-how about "Television Makeover"--a show where something of actual substance is replaced in time slot between 8:00 p.m. and 11:00 p.m.

If we keep tuning in, the "runaway T.V. producers" will keep feeding us more garbage that I won't even let my dog watch. And he drinks out of the toilet!!

$500,000.

That's the going rate these days for disrupting thousands, NO millions of lives, with a bogus lie and fabricated drama. I won't even go into the social ramifications that I am sure is being felt by millions of people who can't even put food on the table, or perhaps a needy child somewhere who could use that money to .... Oh I don't know... maybe get a heart transplant or something!!

No, let's give it to the bimbo to pay for her therapy sessions and help build up the dowery for their impending marriage. Which I am sure will draw another $500,000 for the "live" T.V. broadcast of "Vows or Vamoose", where we will all wait to see if Wilbanks takes the plunge this time. Maybe, the home audience can call in to make the final decision. If we vote for vamoosin'--she can run to the next set, where she can "Flee With the Stars " or run onto the set of "The Bachelor" where she has twenty-five eligible Psychiatrists to pick from!! How about an episode of "Fear Factor", ---"NOOO I just can't do it,John!!"--- then you must take the walk of shame...
Or--- perhaps she can sign a lucrative deal with the milk industry?! GOT BRIDE!
Complete with her milk mustachioed face on the back of a milk carton.

How bout a deal with Nike? Can you see it... the bride at the alter ...looks a little fidgety... lifts white gown to reveal a lovely beaded white pair of Nike Wilbanks... sprints out of the church...pan to Mason(the groom) ... he looks down at his shoes dishearteningly and realizes he has Reeboks on!! JUUUSST DO IT!

Hmmm, you know what? Those ideas are starting to sound pretty good. I better copyright them (C)
so if you are interested, it is going to cost you.

How about $500.000!!

Further North To Alaska.

With the excitement of my first trip to Alaska still fresh and percolating in my mind, I can hardly keep from telling fishing friends and aquaintances of my ensuing trip.

As you would well expect, it draws different and varied responses from those that I tell.
Tom, a softball teammate and avid fisherman, and I were celebrating a post game loss (we celebrate win or lose!) at a local pizza parlor, when I mentioned to him that I was headed to Alaska.

Tom is a veteran of several fishing trips to Alaska, and I was anxious to hear some of his accounts of past trips to the" land of many fish".

"Where you headed to?" Tom asked politely.

"The upper Kenai." I replied.

"Oh. Yeah it's quite a zoo there." He said matter of factly.

Suddenly, I felt like I had just told him that I was going fishing in the sporting goods department at our local Wal-Mart store.

"Yeah, we are headed up to the Kisaralik for an eight day wilderness float. Fly in, get dropped off and won't see civalization for the next eight days." It seemed like he was boasting now.

It felt like I was back in junior high,and some kid was telling me that his dog was better than mine--or that I had just rode up on a brand new Huffy stingray bicycle only to see that my friend had a brand new Schwinn. O.K-- so I guess I am ONLY going to the Kenai now.

A good starter river, I guess.

"Where's the Kisaralik?" I asked, trying not to sound to deflated.

"Up in the interior, tundra, big bears, big guns, some class IV rapids and were doing it ourselves,- no guide."

O.K., now he appeared to be questioning my manhood. What, is the Kenai like the Jungle cruise at Disneyland?Are King Salmon going to electronically rise out of the water, jaws agape? Will our guide fend off bears with his bare hands while we cower beneath some Douglas fir tree?
Is the Kenai a trout pond?

This Alaskan "one ups-manship" is something that is becoming quite common. Once upon a time, the Kenai was the benchmark river and destination of choice for most adventurers headed to Alaska. But now it appears that in this day of wild exotic fishing adventures, that the Kenai is looked upon like some "dude ranch"fishing experience, not worthy of the "Admiral Peary" like adventures that exist elsewhere in Alaska!!

Well, excuse me, Captain Cook--for not getting there earlier, but I still think my fish will barbeque up just as well as yours, and I won't have to contemplate eating my fishing partners if the trip takes a turn for the worse. So there,plehhhhh...

Anyway, his trip sounds fantastic, and if I have to settle for starting my Alaskan dreams on the lowly Kenai, while he catches some three hundred different species of fish...so be it.

I am still excited.

Besides, I already have my brochure for the next fishing trip to Alaska, where I take a dog sled team fifteen hundred miles north, then ride a Moose for two miles and sleep with Albino Grizzlies. All that, to get to the rare LOCH NESS SALMON-- that only one human has ever even seen!!!

Top that Tom.

Today my Son... You are an expert...

It's official.

Today I am an expert.

I have the e-mail right here to prove it, although I soon intend to frame it and post it on the wall right next to my "Printer of The Year" plaque.(Which I paid good money to receive!)

The e mail is from Associated editor #3, and if anyone knows experts--it is #3. For those of you who are unfamiliar with #3, he is the heir apparent to #2. AND we all know what kind of career #2 has had and how well respected he or she is!!

Evidently, it doesn't take much to become an expert these days. I should know because I have never been an expert at anything before.

I have been fishing for almost thirty-five years and no one has called me an expert. I have been in the printing industry for twenty-five years, and I still can't tell you exactly how the miracle of putting ink on paper works. Heck, I have been breathing for fourty-seven years, and one day without the completion of that task, and I am pretty sure I will be relegated back to novice level and possibly be even considered a failure.

It's not that I am not appreciative, and honored by this lofty title I have achieved, it's just that writing and having one article published on a website hardly seems worthy of any titles or honors.

Nonetheless, Associated editor #3-- obviously an expert of some sort himself-- has cut through the long and arduous red tape and winding road that most of us have to take to become an expert, and seen my true potential. Why wait for a lifetime of effort and gathering of knowledge when I can use that expert title right now!!

Thank You #3.

Someday, I even hope to meet you in person, but looking at your twin on my keyboard may be the closest I ever come realizing that dream!!

This is posing somewhat of a dilemna.

Now that I am an expert, the pressure mounts, and I am completely vulnerable to the criticisms
of everyday common folk, who will be waiting for the daily gleaning of my obviously superior brain power and advice on... ahhhh.... you know what? I forgot to ask what I am an expert in??!!
Is it fishing? Fishing Alaska? Writing? Submitting e-zine articles?

My God, I am now going to have to take up some serious binge drinking as I contemplate the self doubts I will have that I am living my life as a sham. I don't even know what I am an expert in! People will be coming up to me and asking things like: "Hey AJ, I am going to Mongolia to fish for Taiman-- what kind of fly pattern should I use?"
"Why a triple ott Prairie Dog --and be sure to fish it dry!!"
Then they will bound off to the Mongolian highlands or lowlands, or in-between lands and start hurling Prairie Dog imatations into rivers and expect to catch large Salmonids.

Am I going to be introduced as "EXPERT" at cocktail parties? Am I going to have to go to cocktail parties? This is all so new. What about my business cards, my letterhead? Do I have to put special letters after my name, like CPA or FDIC,Phd,ROTC??

Ahhhhhhh!

Well, I suppose it is to late to turn back now. So I will just try to become comfortable in my new found skin and lend you my expert opinion when the situation deems necessary.

But if anyone sees fly fishermen hucking Prairie Dogs in any Wyoming trout streams...it wasn't me...I swear!

The Importance of Hugging & Dancing

The male species has never been accused of being overly affectionate.

In fact, women are always criticizing us for not hugging them or taking them dancing. We are especially shy in public, and any show of affection in a public place will get you dangerously close to having to turn in your "guy card".

As for women, they claim that a smelly guy is the biggest turnoff, and a sure way to get them out of the mood. Furthermore, lest we come home from a tough day of wallowing in our work, and get a little soiled or stenchy... women are sure to direct us to the nearest bar of soap and running water, before they will even pay us the time of day. Even when we sensitive guys need a hug, it's "pewwww you stink, go take a shower then I will give you a hug."

Well, our crack squad of investigators here at -fish this- have been out scouring the internet this morning, and I am here to tell you that we have uncovered some startling evidence.

In the following photos you will see both the male and female species in various acts of affection. that will dispell these "myths"-- that have driven a wedge between our genders.

Please view for yourself and then draw your own conclusions.




In exhibit one we see a man openly hugging his Wahoo.
Yes, his Wahoo.
He seems neither ashamed nor embarrassed of this open act of affection.
If you are this mans female companion, please take note, you need only wear something silvery and slimy and your man will instantly be turned into the young smiling stallion he once was.
It probably isn't hurting that some sort of "lap dance" is going on here also.

In exhibit two, again we see a smiling member of the male species not only hugging, but ahem...

apparently groping or trying to sneak a feel of his date. To get a date or gain the attention of this strapping fella, I suggest that a female counterpart douse herself in one of the readily available "attractants" that are on the market and soon you will also be held closely and rather proudly next to this mans heart. If you are a world record catch of some sort, that won't hurt either.

Summertime and the living is easy. Although this gentleman seems to be a little serious about his relationship, he still is openly embracing his rather buxom lass right there in the open water for all to see. She obviously is quite taken with him also, as she appears to have fainted or swooned over her man. Of course I might be mistaken and this may simply just be a fish "baptism" taking place. Either way, he is obviously smitten in some sort...

You have already seen this guy, and despite the girth and size of his betrothed, he is more than happy to have the biggest moment of their lives captured digitally for all the world to see.
And you women thought we were put off by a few extra pounds!!!

Dancing. What could be more romantic. As these two trip the light fantastic, he gets ready to "dip" his dance partner in one of the most openly romantic moves you can make on the dance floor.

You say he never takes you dancing. Especially slow dancing? Here is evidence that a slow dance does not bother this young man. If you are this lads lil' misses, I suggest simulating the gill plate of a fish. Perhaps something low cut in a bright pink will put the spark back in your relationship. He obviously can't take his hands off this speciman.

Dancing with the stars....watch out!!

Now as for the women:

Exhibit one for the women, shows a big happy embrace for this fish. Replace this fish with a man who has just returned from working on cars all day, or hammering nails and I doubt he gets held as close to her bosom as Mr. Stinky here. Maybe, we need to stop by the Safeway fish section on the way home and slather a little fish packaging all over us, before opening the front door and cuddling into the waiting arms of our loved ones. Or maybe it is just that big dumb happy look on that fishes face... so vulnerable!!

Again, risk of permanent stench has no apparent effect on this woman. She may have to burn the clothes she is wearing, or drop them into a dumpster behind some pet store, yet she appears overjoyed.But let the male specie in her well kept household even get near the living room sofa after a game of Golf and he will be chastised and forced into having every piece of furniture fully cleaned and possibly replaced. He will also be constantly reminded of his crimes against sofa cushions for the better part of what will remain of his married life.

So there you have it.

The evidence is plentiful and is clear as mud for me.

I hope this helps to dispell the myths for both genders and will help to give you some ideas on how to put the "exhuberance" back into your relationships.

As for me, I think I need a hug...

Days Gone By.

Dave was by this morning.

Dave likes to talk fishing. In fact, Dave is a fish blogger extraordinaire.

Dave is old school, so he does most of his blogging the old fashioned way--ORALLY.

A typical conversation with Dave will start out always in the same fashion. "So, done any fishin' lately?"

This is typicaaly just a way for Dave to begin his oral fishing blog. He isn't really interested in your answer, nor does he really listen for it. I have learned to just give some sort of generic answer, like " Yeah, I used to like raisins, but they have a tendency to give me gas."

These words are basically transparent, and soon Dave is off onto his daily diatribe. At this point it is usually good for you to start organizing the rest of your day mentally and throw in an occasional "really" or "you're kidding me"-- because Dave will orally blog you to your knees otherwise. It is not that Dave's rant is off target or not worthy of contemplation, it's just that he likes to go around the block a few times before he gets to the point. So, while you mentally ponder picking up your dry cleaning and getting that oil changed in your car, he will go into the complete history of the wooly worm, before telling you that he caught a really nice trout the other day on a green one. The good thing is, you can jump in at any time and feel relatively sure that you can pick up the conversation and pretty much know it's full content.

Anyway, so after Dave gave his customary "done any fishin' lately?" introduction, and I gave my congenial reply, of " Yeah, I fished the Stillwater in Montana a couple a weeks ago."

Something different happened.

Dave must have listened --at least somewhat-- because he then went off on diatribe directly related to the subject. Maybe it was the mention of Montana that did it, or maybe he was ready to tell me this story anyway, and I just happened to hit upon the exact topic that he had already predetermined as today's subject. I'm not sure which it was, but since he was compelled to talk about an old fishing trip he and his dad had taken when he got back from Vietnam, I was compelled to listen.

The trip was in the sixties and Dave and his dad jumped in the car and decided to fish what is now referred to as the "intermountain west." It used to be called the Rockies, and consisted of New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho and Montana. The story wasn't about the healing process for Dave upon his return from Vietnam--although I am sure this took place-- nor was it about the fish caught or time spent with his dad. Instead, Dave's blog was about how "back then" you could pull into town talk to somebody local and within minutes be fishing in a spot where more than likely you would catch a fish.

Dave then went around the block a bit, or in this case the Rockies, as he re- mapped out that obviously meaningful trip. There was that crick in New Mexico, the Animas in Colorado. various other streams near Telluride and Ouray, the Salmon in Idaho and the bug infested waters of Montana.

What Dave remembers was the lack of fences, the eagerness of people to point out Trout rich waters on their own property and the willingness to let you have a go at 'em. Those days are gone now. Nowadays, most people are tight lipped and overly protective of any fishing spot, and in many cases rightly so.

Many fisherman will run roughshod over other people's property, littering and having a general disregard for the property of others. This, and the sheer fact that there are more people fishing has caused this "pay for access" or "pay for information" thought process.

Even outfitter and sporting good stores, really want you to book a trip or hire a guide out of their business, rather than purchase a handful of flies or some relatively inexpensive supplies. Property owners? Well, if they are lucky enough to have river front property, they are now considered a "guest ranch" or "fishing preserve".

Yes, those very same waters that you could drive up to and ask if you could fish for a couple hours, are now posted with warnings and protected like Edward Muench's art. Oh wait, that's not a good example, how about --more like file sharing on the internet!!

I imagine with time it will get even worse as public access dwindles and more people populate the "intermountain west".

As usual, Dave was right on--it just took him a little side journey through time to get there.

Come to think of it----it took me a couple trips around the block to make my point also.

Dave must be a genius...

Magazineaholic.

I have always admitted to being somewhat of a "magazineaholic". More specifically, a fishingmagazine-ad-aholic. I know to most of you these are new terms, and you may have never heard of them, but trust me they exist. By definition, and according to the Izaak Walton-Orvis slightly abridged Dictionary; mag.ah.zeen.ah.haw.lik-- is an uncontrollable urge to constantly read and subscribe to any and all tabloids printed on 80# glossy substrates with vegetable oil based ink.

O.K. I made the vegetable oil ink up-because it could be printed with pure tar from the La Brea tarpits, and you would still be drawn to the glossy, high varnished, carefully plotted out front covers that LURE (pun- intended) us in to the waiting jaws of it's inside contents.

Anyway, from that description you can obviously figure out why I am afflicted with the fishing version of this common yet greatly ignored disease.

The disease--and have no doubt about it- it is a disease, stems from a desire to always be looking for the perfect fishing spot, gear,or technique, to enhance or better the fishing experience. Of course the old adage of "a picture is worth a thousand words" comes into play on the cover. Here we will see either a brightly smiling fisherman holding a beautiful trophy fish, or a single solitary fisherman standing in some remote pristine stream in the middle of Montana.(with the picture taken from outer space at just the right camera angle, as to not show the other six-hundred fisherman just upstream from him.)

The fishing male species urge for either of these experiences is impossible to ignore, and therefore we are drawn in. It might as well be the centerfold of some rather risque magazine or a shiny chrome bright Harley-Davidson catalog, the results are the same for those afflicted with those forms of the disease.

"That could be me." That is what our feeble male brain outputs, so we dive in.

Once inside, trained writing professionals peek our interest with more pictures and titles to articles like "Twenty Pounder River: Unmapped New Zealand River Yields Lunkers"
or-"The Top Sirloin Fly: Catch more fish and never go hungry."

Tell me we are not powerless to these kind of promises!!

My own personal weakness has always been the fishing ad. I am like putty in the hands of those dasterdly clever Madison avenue geniouses. I may really be interested in "Nymphing techniques for Bolivian Rain Forest Piranha", but my attention is quickly drawn to the ad for Angel fishing reels proclaiming: "Angels... beautiful. subtle. inspirational-"

Of course it doesn't hurt that carefully placed next to these words is a lovely young lady, clad in waders with fly rod in hand, looking.... beautiful. subtle. and inspirational!!

Damn the Piranha, I have to have that reel-- it will make me SEXY !

Yes sir, a fish slaughtering, bait stenching, sex magnet to all the chicks.

The ad goes on with it's description: "And able to throw 90 feet of fly line without breaking a sweat."-- My eyes divert back to the young lady... NOW she is borderline GODDESS level!!
I read on in hopes of finding either a personal invitation addressed to me or the phone number of the young lady printed in 20 point Helvetica type( for my aging eyes) splashed across the page.Instead I find the technical aspects of the reel and the descriptive virtues of the craftmanship that goes into every one of these reels. Of course it is too late for me to turn back, for they have sucked me in, and the only number I am calling is the order number to purchase one of their reels. "Angels... Touch One Today."

This is what they finish me off with, and my future estate sale has grown by yet one more item.

Like the dog that gets faked out by the old" fake throwing the tennis ball and hiding it behind your back trick"- I know that they are trying to trick me with the ad--but I still aimlessly run, or in this case look at the next ad in hopes of finding that tennis ball... err... next great product that will improve the fishing experience.

I would like to say I am checked into some rehab program, where they can help me focus and get ahold of my fish lusting instincts, but alas I am miserably spiraling further into the lurid, seedy, world of tri-tapered fishing lines, and frozen 1/8 second speed waterfalls--that show whispy running water and lone fishermen selecting the perfect fly for the perfect place to fish on earth!

It may take an intervention.

If only the postman can LOSE next months issue of Northwest Fly Fishing Magazine, there might be hope for me. I dunno though, I can still find happiness at magazine racks or the library.

Well, I would like to write you more of my plight, but I see in my latest issue of Fly Fisherman, that there is a new driftboat that is being made, and they claim that: "All Drift Boats are Not Created Equal."

I better check it out. After all, my old drift boat is looking pretty ragged these days...

Fear No Fisherman?

The other day I wrote an article on the bold bravado of a middle aged SUV driving slayer of fish.

Fear no fish.

Well, today I picked up our local newspaper and the outdoor article du jour was featuring a local fisherman who while Salmon fishing was struck in the eye by a two ounce lead weight. The story is quite sad and the fisherman has lost the vision in his left eye.

Purely an accident, the event took place while bank fishing on the Rogue River here in Southern Oregon. Another fisherman had a salmon hooked and was embroiled in a mighty battle complete with full tension being exerted by both parties-- that being fish and fisherman. In this case the hook was not set well, and when a mighty tug came from the fisherman the lead came barreling out of the water like a 45 caliber bullet. In "matrix" like fashion the injured fisherman saw the lead hurtling right at him--but unlike the matrix he was unable to react and dodge the lead.

Broken eye socket, blood pouring free, and iris exploded, the man was able to stagger to the parking area where a little while later he was rushed to the hospital and then later airlifted to Portland to try and save his vision.

His story is still in progress and while on the mend- he has yet to regain the vision in his eye.

While most folks don't consider fishing an extreme or dangerous activity, the article goes on to reveal that over 60,000 visits a year to the emergency room are directly related to the activity of fishing.

WOW.

It may be presumptuous for me to assume that all these injuries have come at the hands of other fisherman, but I feel relatively safe in assuming that a minimal number of accidents were caused by the fish. Although, with the newly emerging popularity of "noodling" for Catfish on the rise, I am sure many fishermen will soon be checking into emergency rooms to have the "jaws of life" extract tightly clamped Catfish from miscellaneous appendages.

But that's a different story for a different day.

Perhaps we should be boldly proclaiming "FEAR NO FISHERMAN", from our rear windows and bumpers. This would be a far greater act of bravado than fearing the fish-since fisherman can put a far greater hurt on you than Mr. Trout!!

I have witnessed fist fights over tangled lines and lost fish, hooks impaled in various body parts of fishing partners,and watched men flail like giant Blue Herons before being knocked off boats into frigid waters.Then there are the self induced injuries from slipping on rocks, torn rotator cuffs, and the always popular "line burn" or "fishing line cut".

Not to mention high blood pressure inducing "high water line" property feuds, fish camp related injuries, and occasional drunken fisherman falling into campfires.

Yes "FEAR THE FISHERMAN".

In related news, fish all over Oregon will be "fearing the fishermen"-as this is "free fishing weekend" in our state. This event is akin to opening up the seafood section at Albertson's and letting shoppers grab some free seafood, or Friday night Seafest at the all you can eat buffet.

Watch out.

In reality, the theory behind the event is good, and one I believe in wholeheartedly-getting kids and people interested in the sport of fishing.

Just try not to poke somebody's eye out...

North To Alaska

For many fishermen Alaska is the ultimate "mecca" of fishing. Early childhood dreams of Salmon choked rivers and Bears of every shape and size basking in the sun, their bellys full of fish- and the occasional "slow" fisherman- help to fuel the vision that is Alaska.

The north country.

The place where even a blind man can catch a fish. At least I hope so, because after forty-seven years of talking about it, buying books on it, watching videos and saying "next year"-- the time has come for me to make my Alaskan pilgramage.

Bags packed and flights booked.

Come mid August I will be on the upper Kenai River casting bugs to Silver Salmon and Graylings and Dolly Varden Trout. I sure hope I don't get skunked.

I literally have travel guides that date back to the mid 1980's, that I picked up, because that was the year I was heading north. For one reason or another the trips always got cancelled or put off.

Not this year!!

Every time I picked up a map of Alaska, I was always amazed at the immense size of our 49th state. So much so, that I always felt I needed three full months to explore it.
With that kind of self-imposed mind set, I just kept putting it off.

I finally decided that one week is better than never, so I'm going!

A friend of mine has a son who will be guiding up there this summer, so it seemed like an ideal time to go. Besides, now I can blame him if I come home fishless. My real worry is that I am a lot slower these days so I will have to be selective as to who I fish with while I am up there. I have been having time trials here in Southern Oregon and anybody that can outrun me over 100 yards has been eliminated as a fishing partner. You know the old saying about not having to "outrun" the bear--you just have to be faster than the other guy. Unfortunately, if the bear happens to be a "long distance" bear-- I'm screwed, because I think both of my current fishing partners are marathoners. Maybe I can size up some of the other fishermen while I am up there and situate myself as close to a 250 pound out a shape smoker as possible.If he was to have a prosthetic leg, that would help also, but I'm not sure exactly how to check for that. I certainly don't want the guy to be too large, because then the bear might be intimidated by his size and opt for me as an appetizer??!!

A lot of things to think about before fishing in Alaska.

Another concern of mine that I have heard about, is the abundance of mosquitoes that apparently are everywhere. If there is one mosquito in a 50 mile radius he will find me, so I am concerned that millions of the tiny buggers might cover me like a bee colony drawn to the hive.
Based on past experiences, I think my body must be made up of 90 percent carbon dioxide-- which I believe is what they are drawn to-- because I can stand next to ten people outdoors and while I am flailing and swatting like an epileptic, spasmatic fool-- they will stand there calmly looking at me like.... well... like I'm some epileptic, spasmatic fool!!

Again, not being one to enter a wild country unprepared, I am currently undergoing some slightly painful yet necessary skin grafts with a very fine screen mesh that should do the trick.

If not, I will be offering myself up to some rather slow and undernourished Grizzlies.

I know this sounds rather drastic, but my wife was once able to read the entire braille alphabet on my back after I was bitten so many times on another fishing excursion. That and the fact I have heard of guys having metal plates inserted into their head from to many bites. Oh, and of course there is always West Nile virus to worry about--but I can get that here in lower 48 as well.

Other than that, I can't wait to be fishing in Alaska.

One persons misfortune, is anothers...

Woman Charged With Smuggling Fish in Skirt
Mon Jun 6, 7:21 AM ET
There must have been something fishy about the way she walked. Customs officials said Monday they stopped a woman as she arrived Friday in the southern city of Melbourne on a flight from Singapore and found 51 live tropical fish allegedly hidden in a specially designed apron under her skirt.
"During the search customs officers became suspicious after hearing 'flipping' noises coming from the vicinity of her waist," the Australian Customs Service said in a press release. "An examination revealed 15 plastic water-filled bags holding fish allegedly concealed inside a purpose-built apron."
The species of fish was not immediately known, but customs officials warned they could carry diseases that could decimate Australian fish if they escaped into local rivers.
Customs officers will charge the woman once they establish what species the fish are. If convicted of smuggling wildlife, she faces a fine of up to U.S. $83,617 and could also get a prison sentence of up to 10 years.

A friend of mine sent me this interesting tid-bit yesterday. It never ceases to amaze me what kind of efforts people will go through to do something that is illegal. If people actually put this much effort into creating items and products to help the world... well , lets just say the world would be a better place.

Now on a lighter note-- this is exactly what the fishing world needs. More specifically, the Bass fishing world. I'm thinking that maybe Orvis (the well known purveyor of fine fishing products) could develop the ultimate catch and release "Portable Live Well Skirt". No more having to take time to place your Smallmouth Bass into the live well-- you just flip open your individual "well bag" and cast your rubber worm back into the lily pads.

What a time saver!!

I suppose Trout fisherman can use it also. If you are on a river fishing, and the limit is one trout, you can keep putting your latest catch into the "Waist Not Want Not"-porta creel--and safely return the small ones to the river until you get a keeper.

Whad'ya think?

I'll be busy in R&D today and will probably contact this woman--since she has some current information on the design and prototype-- should be available on the market soon.

If the Orvis people won't buy into this "ingenious" device--I plan to contact the folks at Halston( the dress designer) and create a whole new trend in Aqua Wear. So if you see Paris Hilton at the Emmy's walking the rug, with her "Goldfish Aquari-dress" remember you heard it here first!!

Laurence Fishbourne-- well obviously he is looking dapper in his"glow in the dark-Neon fish tuxedo"... and look there is Ellen Degeneress in a colorful Clownfish top--"she looks a little funny Steve"...

The possibilities are as endless as the sea. Octopus hats, Starfish croptops--you name it...

Anyway, I am currently looking for investors so if you are interested, be sure to let me know.

Looks Good In the Driveway

I hate boat motors...

...and anyone who knows me, knows that boat motors hate me!!

As a card carrying fisherman, it is inevitable that at some point you will own some sort of floatation device to get you to "pristine" waters. Along with that fact comes the high probability of owning a gasoline powered "time and energy saver"--called the boat motor.

Let's face it, all "pristine" waters are not downstream or even on moving water, so unless we want to walk, use conventional paddle power, or get beamed to our favorite spot by "Captain Scott"--the boat motor is our best chance of spending more time fishing and less time getting there.

HAH !!!

Maybe for some guys, but not for me.

Let me explain.

This past weekend, which was supposed to be the rescheduling of "grandpa's pond", we decided instead to take our fishing boat/ski boat/ bank account drain out to one of our local lakes. At this time of the year the lake is chock full of water-- and trout. The "pristine" spot that we usually go to is quite a hike for an adult let alone our five year old daughter, so we like to get there by boat. In the past, I have used a six horsepower Evinrude to motor my driftboat to the "secret" spot where we spend the day catching lot's of fish and enjoying the solitude. Since my Evinrude is evidently powered by six "Shetland ponies" it usually takes us an hour to get to our spot.

It takes three hours to get back.

Not because we are heavily laden with fish or heading into a strong headwind-- but because I typically have to row back since the motor breaks down.As boat motors go, it would make a pretty good anchor.It has happened on more than one occasion, and I believe that the "Shetlands" can only go in an easterly direction-- because they never seem to want to go west,back to the docks. I was kindly towed back the first time it broke down, but the disgrace and riducule I suffered through while sitting in my disabled vessel prompted me to vow to never seek assitance again.

Much to wife and daughters displeasure.

I don't know why? The lack of a boat motor that can complete a full round trip excursion, has led to some impromptu romantic evening paddles across moonlit lakes.

And they say fisherman aren't romantic!!

Despite the efficiency of completing a three hour aerobic excercise while fishing, the unreliable Evinrude has certainly blown a hole in the" more fishing and less time transporting" theory.

I know what you are saying. Why don't you carry a spare "kicker" motor or electric motor to at least get you back...?
...what-and show a lack of confidence in my Evinrude!! I'd rather row. Or I could-- as I did last year, purchase a bigger, better, newer and more reliable boat. Seems like perfect logic to me.

At first it operated swimmingly getting us to more fishing spots faster. I now had one hundred and fifty horses --thoroughbreds to take me in style, with the wind in my face--both directions!!
Then towards the end of the season in late October the horses began to go lame. I battled half a day trying to get it started, not realizing that at 5500 ft. the motor had to be handled differently.
Something about "choke" and "advance"?? I don't know, I just like to get in and GO!

Thoroughbreds are apparently more tempormental.

At least my Evinrude would usually have a legitimate and vindicative reason for breaking down. I would take it in, and there would be metal parts floating around or pins broken off or fouled plugs--but not some prissy spoiled reason like needing more gas or OXYGEN at higher elevations.

Winter came. And winters are hard on boats.

I swore all winter long I would "winterize" my boat. Instead, I just let it sit there in the driveway looking cold and neglected, promising to build an insulated boat storage shed for my thorougbreds.

So, it has been with great apprehension that I have been waiting for this moment...the moment when I would fire up the one hundred and fifty horses strong, and ask them to race me once again into the wind to the fishy promised land.

Nothing.

No clicks, no sputter,not even a feeble attempt to try and turnover. Jeez- we can keep spaceships from burning up upon reentry into Earths atmosphere-but we can't make a battery that can withstand an Oregon winter? I know, what did I expect--treat a thoroughbred like a nag...

Anyway, I got the rest of my house painted this weekend.

And my boat?

Well, it sure looked good in the driveway!!

The Luck ofThe Fisherman

I was visiting with an old fishing guide friend of mine yesterday, a man I've known for over twenty - five years or so now. Irv, is a true keeper of the river and has caught more Rogue River Salmon and Steelhead than you or I will catch in this lifetime.

Or the next, if you believe in reincarnation.

He is a meticulous man, one who has kept a journal on his daily catch and river levels well back into the 60's.
That includes all the guides that have worked for Irv over the years , and that's a lot.When fish and wildlife needs to know some statistical information and river data, they sometimes just call Irv, and within minutes he will pull out his little black book and give you numbers. How many fish they boated, released, thumped on the head, or lost.

"Hey Irv, it seems like the Salmon run is down this year?"

"Well, actually the twenty year running average is just about 100 fish under what we normally have at this time of year." He will fire back--sometimes without the use of the black book!!

Irv took me on one of my first REALLY successful Salmon trips back in 1982. I was just young pup of twenty -four and it was early in the Spring Chinook Salmon season. Irv had a day off and knew I liked to fish, so he called me and said "If you want to catch a Salmon-- tomorrows the day." Technically, I was supposed to be at work in the morning.

It didn't take me long to develop a cold.

Actually, I only had to develop a morning cold, since Irv has always been the benchmark for when it is time to go fishing on the Rogue. That meant up at 3:30, on the river at 4:30 and fishing at first legal light. Irv knew first legal light, so if you were fishing before he was-----you were poaching!! That also meant you were usually off the river pretty early also. For me, it meant I could fish the morning and be back behind a printing press before noon. Actually it was more like 10:30 that day since we had six bright and big Salmon in our boat before the roosters were done streching that morning. Most of the trip was just a nice scenic float since we(Irv's son was with us also) were limited out, and meanwhile Irv would float by the other guides and boats and ask how they were doing, most were not doing that great.

Irv always seemed to have good luck.

There were not many blank spots in that black book of his, and he always attributed it to his special "roe cure" which he would jot down for you on a moments notice.

I still have that tattered sheet of jello, kool-aid and whatever sitting in my desk. Of course it never worked for me the way it worked for Irv.

Irv always made his own luck, and knew the river so well that he could point things out to you, like "jerk your line" before you even had a clue that a fish had your bait buried deep in it's lips. The first time he told me to"jerk" I thought he was crazy.Then my line took off in a screaming frenzy.

I never questioned him again.

Anyway, Irv and I were talking about river flows and I was making him some copies of this years scheduled releases of water from the dam on the upper river. Seems there was this meeting the other night and of course Irv was the only guide there.More data, and this for a guy who plans on retiring this year.

"Keep a copy for yourself, and I'll pay for it." He said.

"You don't have to pay for my copy Irv." I replied.

"No, I insist." He pretty much demanded.

I rang up $7.81 in copies from Irv, and when I handed him his change I noticed an old "wheat back" penny that I gave to him. "Hey Irv, looks like it's your lucky day-- I gave you an old "wheat back " penny, maybe it will be older than you!" I chuckled.

"Hey, how 'bout that." He said. Then he flipped it over and said, "Whada ya know, it is, but just barely---1919!!"

Irv always seems to have good luck.

"Ya know Irv, if anybody deserves that coin it's you, " I said, "but if that thing turns out to be worth a million bucks --you better bring me ten dollars back!!"

Or at least his latest Salmon roe cure.

...and I now pronounce you...

O.K., so I pick up my morning newspaper early today, and after going through the usual worldly events and current update on the Chicago Cubs-- I come across BIG fishing news.
That's big with a capital "B" and that rhymes with "C" and that stands for Catfish.

One hundred and twenty four pounds of Catfish to be exact.

Staring back at me from the outdoor news, is an Ilinois man embracing a large new world record blue Catfish.

Very impressive indeed.

The story goes on to mention the epic 30 minute battle that ensued, and shows the victorious fisherman holding the behemoth fish like some newly wedded bride about to be carried across the threshold. Put a vail and pair a heels on that baby and they make a pretty handsome couple.

I can only hope that the marriage was not consumated!!

The next thing that strikes me as amusing in the photo, is that "the groom" is wearing gloves.
This alone would not be amusing, and actually would make perfect sense considering Catfish of any breed have never been regarded as highly fragrant...in the PLEASANT sense. What strikes me as funny is that he is clutching his "bride" closely to his chest--again-- arms embraced around tightly, obviously eschewing any regard for the after effects to his clothing or person.

"Put some gloves on Bob, you don't want to get that nasty Catfish smell on yer hands!!"

Don't get me wrong, I too would like to catch a world record, trophy fish of any breed and currently have been seen stalking KOI ponds around the country in search of BIG LOUIE!!
I'm just not sure I want to be photographically remembered as " the guy who looked like he was about to make love to a Goldfish."

Furthermore, the story goes on to mention that"Elvira"( do you mind if I give her a name?)
is going to reside in Kansas City, Kansas --in a new brand new home(tank) at Cabela's, the giant catalog and retail outfitter. It makes no mention of the future home of the "groom", but I assume the newlyweds won't want to be to far apart, so maybe he will be working in the "noodling supplies" section at Cabela's??

Unfortunately, this story ends tragically.

The "bride" passed on to the big Friday Fish Fry in the sky, enroute to the couples new home.

Maybe if she had only lost a few pounds before the union?

Funeral arrangements are pending.Until then the body can be viewed hanging proudly above aisle14, right near the fish attractants.....

Miscasted

A business friend of mine was by yesterday and gave me further news of the stormy weekend here in Southern Oregon. Seems he was all geared up for a guided Salmon fishing trip on the mighty Rogue River, when the big light show rolled in. A rather prim and gentlemanly fellow, he has never struck me as the type who enjoys spending his free time casting for underwater treasures. More of a GQ sharply dressed man, who likes fast cars and a lively nightlife over neoprene waders and the smell of sun hardened Salmon Roe! Which of course makes me wonder what he is doing in sleepy Southern Oregon??!!

Nonetheless, I am an opened minded sort and pressed him further about his trip.

He mentioned some of his co-workers had coercised him into joining them for the day, chasing Spring Chinook Salmon, and enjoying the sights and sounds of the river. As I suspected, he voiced his displeasure of getting all smelly and dirty as well as having to do any of the mundane tasks--such as bait hooks, sit still, and reel in forty pound fish. He also worried he would be bored spending the day on the river.

Poor fellow.

He too is open minded, so he agreed to join them, but only after his co-workers assured him the guide would pretty much do EVERYTHING except the reeling in of the forty pound fish.(which I am sure the guide would do if asked to!!)

Like everyone else within a 100 mile radius of Medford he spent most of Friday evening and the wee hours of Saturday morning, trying to get to sleep to the soothing sounds of giant bowling bowls rattling across the skies. He said he was supposed to be up at 5 a.m. in the morning--which was no problem since most folks pulled an all nighter counting lightning bolts.By 3 a.m. he was convinced he wanted no part of sitting in an aluminum drift boat, holding a graphite lightning rod skyward while sitting in one of the most dangerous places to be in such an event. He didn't want to be the one to make the first call to bow out-- so he planned to bring his Sony walkman, hunker down and go along for the ride--and perhaps help administer CPR should the need arise.

To his relief, he got the call about 4:15--there would be no Salmon trip that morning, the guide had called it off -- to dangerous.

He expressed his joy over this and when I asked what he got to do instead--he said "Oh, a little shopping, went to a movie, sat around the house--nothing special."



Yes, fishing is not for everyone--not when we can drive fast cars to the mall--sit and watch yet another "action thriller", and really live life on the edge shopping for new mini-blinds....

Boredom indeed!!