Tag Archives: fishing clothes
Got this email today from Stripers Forever which includes a link to this video:
Please read this and make your voice heard and if you haven’t already done so, join their email list.
Stripers Forever members – on Jan. 15th the North Carolina, ocean commercial striped bass season opened. In this trawl fishery, individual boats can keep the 50 largest fish that they catch in a day. This practice allows and encourages the culling or high grading of the catch. This means that the boat will keep the 50 largest fish in possession but may continue trawling all day and may replace these fish with larger ones caught later. Replacing means they will throw the dead or dying fish over the side, substituting them with the freshly caught larger bass. It is nearly beyond belief that such a system could be in place, but it is.
Here is the link http://www.examiner.com/fish-and-wildlife-policy-in-charlotte/commercial-trawlers-slaughtering-thousands-of-striped-bass-off-the-outer-banks to a newspaper story about the debacle. The story itself contains a link to a YouTube video that shows pictures of the dead floating stripers. The trawlers committing this atrocity tow their nets right through fleets of recreational and charter boats that are fishing on the schools. Is it any wonder this resource is becoming scarcer every year?
SF has sent a letter to Louis Daniels Ph.D. the Director of Marine Fisheries in NC. We hope that you will send the note below or something like it in your own words to Dr. Daniels and let him know that this is a barbaric and unacceptable practice. Here is an e-mail link to his office email@example.com.
I have to confess something: been high-sticking it lately and it’s becoming a problem.
I’m a dry fly snob. I’ll own it. Presenting the dry fly and getting the eat is religion. Idiotically waiting, I’ll wear an ass shaped groove into a riverbank until fish begin to look up. It’s a foolish, narrow minded stance—and one I’ve regretted on more than one occasion. But I like what I like.
Nymphing is just, I don’t know, trouble. And I mean that on many levels. Tandem rigs, blood knots, split shot, bozo clown hair, measurements of water depth and speed which lead to addition, subtraction and advanced physics. And we haven’t even gotten the flies in the water yet.
It’s a taboo subject among purists. Some old timers tolerate it but don’t give it lip service. Others revile it to the point of sacrilege. I mean, is it even fly fishing? Advanced bobber fishing, maybe, but not real fly fishing.
There is no argument though, that subsurface flies are lovely to look at and touch. True creativity is flourishing among modern nymph artisans. What with their sexy use of cheerfully colored wire, playful sparkle, crafty beads (metals and plastics), glues, devilish epoxy and imaginative use of game birds. Nymphs are all naughtiness.
Going deep is a dark art to satisfy our baser desires, the id, the self—the bad. In other words, it’s fun. But why is it fun? Is it fun because it’s stupidly complicated and frustrating? Is it fun because the flies look cool and have cheeky, über-colloquial names and you must use two or three of them at a time? Or, is it fun because each time you loose a rig it’s like you threw a ten dollar bill in the water? All of the above, friends.
If dry fly fishing is dogma, nymphing is a cultish (yet surprisingly endemic) activity, abounding with splinter cells and sub-subcultures (Czech nymphing is all the rage among the younger, tattooed stream jock set) heading in seemingly disparate trajectories, the only common (and worthy) goal being to slay giant trout. And really, is there any other reason? After all, when temptation calls, are we expected to limit ourselves? Hell no! I say do whatever will put a bend in your rod and a smile on your face, even if it’s… frowned upon.
Thankfully, my brothers (and sisters) deliverance comes: in an endless, greasy mirror run dimpled by an armada of duns and the noses of happily rising tout. I will wait for it with a 15 foot 7x leader, and bottle of gink, pouring over box upon box of fussily tied no-hackles, comparaduns, para emerges, thorax-es, parachute caddis, rusty spinners etc. etc.
And with sweet salvation comes pious indignation. I will look down my nose at you, nymph. Don’t be offended or surprised at my betrayal. I told you from the start I was a devout dry fly snob. So what if I go slumming. Disingenuous? Yup. But I’ll turn my back on you, sure enough. Just sayin.’
See you in Hell.
Welcome to A Perfect Fish Blog. Seems everyone is blogging about one thing or other. I won’t bombard you with posts on every fish I catch or my opinions on fishing.
No. The point of this blog is to share with you what’s going on at A Perfect Fish, which is creating images which capture the spirit and culture of what we do: Fishing–The visceral nature of what it is to fish, to be consumed by the hunt, the thrill of the “eat”, of the hook up, fight and finally to lay hands on a cold blooded quivering work of art. Then let it go (OK, I like to kill fish and eat them on occasion).
I’m mainly a fly fisherman, but I didn’t start that way, so I don’t judge how you choose to fish. We fish because it’s fun. It’s an obsession for some, merely a pastime for others. I fall into the obsessed category (that’s what my wife tells our marriage counselor).
So, I created A Perfect Fish mainly for myself because I couldn’t find cool fishing shirts (and other stuff like hats & stickers) with style and humor. There is a deplorable lack of cool apparel for anglers. Mainly, we are relegated to established apparel brands like Simms, Patagonia, ExO, Orvis(ugh) and others. Make no mistake, they all make superb technical stuff and some even have cool t-shirts.
Problem is it’s all sorta traditional, cookie cutter old guard fly fishing garb that everyone is wearing. It’s boring.
Going forward, what you’ll see and read here is an effort to go in a slightly different direction. You’ll see what I’m working on: What inspires me, the art I create, and finally putting it on clothes so you can wear it.
The mantra is: It’s all about the fish.