Monday, December 26, 2011
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Merry Christmas!
As the sun rises, I would like to take the time to wish you all a Merry Christmas. May your day be filled with fun and lots of new fishing items.
To all that do, thank you for taking the time to read my blog. I really appreciate it!
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Passion on Paper
As the first semester of my sophomore year comes to a close, a few of my elective classes come to an end. One of the classes that I took this semester was drawing, and one of our assignments was a colored pencil drawing with a variety of ink techniques for added texture. I chose to draw a big, lake run brown in fall colors, and I think it turned out pretty well! Anyways, here are a few pics of the finished piece, so let me know what you think of it!
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Full Size
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Up close and personal
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Monday, December 19, 2011
Tuesday Tie ~ Rio Grande King Special
I figured I would mix it up a bit today, and go back in time a few years. Nowadays our boxes are filled with stimulators, copper johns, and many more synthetic creations. Back in the day, the Rio Grande King Special was a staple amongst fly fishermen, and has recently been "updated" by local experts like Charlie Craven. The pattern pictured here is the original version, tied in black. Enjoy!
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| Side View |
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| Quartering View |
Recipe
-Hook: Sz 14 Dai-Riki #075
-Thread: Black 70 Denier Thread
-Tail: Golden Pheasant Tippets
-Tag: Gold Tinsel
-Body: Medium Black Chenille
-Wing: Duck Quill, White
-Throat: Brown Hackle Fibers
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Snow Flakes, Call of Duty, and Fly Fishing
Glancing out the window of my friend's basement, I couldn't help but notice the fresh layer of white powder that lay frozen on the ground. Accompanying the powder were delicately falling snowflakes, and dark, dreary skies. But the decision was made to make the best of it, no matter the conditions. Besides, it was the weekend, and it would be an unbearable five school days until we would get to do this again, so why not?
The mission of the day was to teach my friend Trevor the basics of fly fishing, and hopefully get him into a few fish at one of my favorite spots. So, we arose from the mess of left over pizza, blankets, and video game controllers from the previous night, and bundled up in our warmest clothing. As we downed our cinnamon rolls at the kitchen table, I couldn't help but think about the day, and the events that it would bring. Trout have a way of indirectly forcing you to pursue them, no matter what the conditions; something Trevor was having a hard time understanding.
As we geared up and jumped in the truck, the thermometer read 17 degrees Fahrenheit. Hopeful that the sun would soon show its face after a long night of hide (and seek), I stepped away from the car, and grabbed the rods from the back. Two minuscule thread midges were selected from the warm, homely rows of my fly box, and a few feet of 6x fluorocarbon were peeled off of the spool. My fingers shook violently as I clumsily tightened the clinch knots on the chosen meal course of the day. After repeating the process with the second rod, both Trevor and I were ready to go, and trudged through the light, fluffy snow to the river's edge.
We watched as fish leisurely moved about a particular riffle, slowly munching on the tiny snacks adrift in the current. With carefully placed presentations, and a lot of luck, we managed to trick a few small rainbows.
As the temperatures continued to drop, I removed the last midge on my rig from the hook keeper that sat firmly fastened to my rod. The wind howled, and I placed one last cast into a low, clear moving run. Intently, I watched as a glint of white showed up in the water, and I set to the feeling of a long, slow tug at the end of my line. As trevor sat shivering on the bank, I netted the fish, and set him free to his home in the frigid waters.
We reeled in the rods, and returned to the truck, frozen to the bone. As the digital temperature gauge glowed with life, the temperature read 13 degrees fahrenheit, even lower than when we started.
After removing our frozen waders and boots, we returned to the basement of his house, and munched on left over pizza as we played a few rounds of Call of Duty. About the time my Dad arrived to pick me up, the feeling had returned to my toes. Upon entering the car, I couldn't help but laugh to myself as I glanced over at the thermometer.
13 Degrees.
The mission of the day was to teach my friend Trevor the basics of fly fishing, and hopefully get him into a few fish at one of my favorite spots. So, we arose from the mess of left over pizza, blankets, and video game controllers from the previous night, and bundled up in our warmest clothing. As we downed our cinnamon rolls at the kitchen table, I couldn't help but think about the day, and the events that it would bring. Trout have a way of indirectly forcing you to pursue them, no matter what the conditions; something Trevor was having a hard time understanding.
As we geared up and jumped in the truck, the thermometer read 17 degrees Fahrenheit. Hopeful that the sun would soon show its face after a long night of hide (and seek), I stepped away from the car, and grabbed the rods from the back. Two minuscule thread midges were selected from the warm, homely rows of my fly box, and a few feet of 6x fluorocarbon were peeled off of the spool. My fingers shook violently as I clumsily tightened the clinch knots on the chosen meal course of the day. After repeating the process with the second rod, both Trevor and I were ready to go, and trudged through the light, fluffy snow to the river's edge.
We watched as fish leisurely moved about a particular riffle, slowly munching on the tiny snacks adrift in the current. With carefully placed presentations, and a lot of luck, we managed to trick a few small rainbows.
As the temperatures continued to drop, I removed the last midge on my rig from the hook keeper that sat firmly fastened to my rod. The wind howled, and I placed one last cast into a low, clear moving run. Intently, I watched as a glint of white showed up in the water, and I set to the feeling of a long, slow tug at the end of my line. As trevor sat shivering on the bank, I netted the fish, and set him free to his home in the frigid waters.
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| The picture doesn't demonstrate how cld it really was... |
We reeled in the rods, and returned to the truck, frozen to the bone. As the digital temperature gauge glowed with life, the temperature read 13 degrees fahrenheit, even lower than when we started.
After removing our frozen waders and boots, we returned to the basement of his house, and munched on left over pizza as we played a few rounds of Call of Duty. About the time my Dad arrived to pick me up, the feeling had returned to my toes. Upon entering the car, I couldn't help but laugh to myself as I glanced over at the thermometer.
13 Degrees.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Home Invader Take Three
This is probably getting old by now, but when given suggestions for a fly, I never quit until I (and others) are satisfied. So, I decided to try the home invader yet again, this time with even a few more changes than the previous time. I am tying these up for a good friend of mine, and will hopefully have some pictures to prove its effectiveness shortly after they arrive at his door. So without further ado, the home invader round three!
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| Straight on shot...I really like the color combo on this one |
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| I must say, I am liking this thing more and more every minute |
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| After a swim...the profile is sweet! |
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| Up close and personal |
This one's for you Charlie! Let me know what you think!
Monday, December 5, 2011
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