What Do You Believe In?

In the immortal words of Crash Davis….Well, I believe in the soul, the c*&$#, the p*@!*, the small of a woman’s back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days….

I couldn’t have said it better myself when it comes to life and baseball.  But when it comes to fly fishing, what do you believe in?  We all have those special flies that we just trust, that we know deep down in the cockles of our hearts that just plain work.  Perhaps it’s traditional fly with a pedigree to match?  Or is it a junk fly that you would never tell your friends at the trout club for fear of ridicule?  Or better yet, is it a recipe of your own creation?  What is it about our pursuit that you have as much conviction in as your own religion?  Maybe fly fishing is your religion?  What gear would you never ever do without?  As I was sitting down at the vise prepping for my annual weekend trip with CW to Presque Isle Bay it got me thinking.  What do I believe in?

Well I believe in the Clouser Minnow, the wooly bugger, the back stabber, the blood dot, the white zonker, that fly fishing shows should divulge how many days on the water it took them to piece together 20 minutes of crappy footage. I believe that Lefty Kreh partied with Elvis and taught him how to throw a perfect loop.  I believe that inconsiderate anglers that can’t respect your space on the stream should have their line cut the next time they get too close.  I believe in the eugene bend knot, barbless hooks, over sized guides, full wells grips, fingerless wool gloves, and giving flies to complete strangers to honor the fish gods.  I believe in the perfect drift, the double haul, buying your crap from your local fly shop rather than online, consuming salted beef products prior to during and after every day on the water.  And I believe in still holding out hope for a long week in a secluded cabin with my wife and April Vokey….

Good night and Tight Lines

MBL

Blatant Self Promotion and Shameless Plugs

So at the risk of sounding way too full of myself, this past month marked a momentous occasion for yours truly.  No I did not finally get the long awaited call from Angelina Jolie letting me know that she left that slouch Brad for me.   (She did however inform me that she still closes her eyes and thinks of me every time he touches her)  It was far greater than that.  No… don’t get up… please really…. the applause is not necessary…..  What?  I must share?  OK… If I must….

Mr Brownliner, yours truly, ghost writing as none other than well…. ME…. was featured in the spring issue of The New Fly Fisher E-zine.  If you are looking for a full year of some high quality fly fishing education for less than a large pizza and a six pack then check them out!  http://thenewflyfisherezine.com/  You may be familiar with them for their own show on WFN as well as their association/production of the show that Orvis airs featuring Tom Rosenbauer.  Big thanks to Colin and the gang for providing me a few pages to talk about carp and all things brown line!

Come on…. no snickering… For the first time Mrs. Brownliner raised her eyebrow in shocked disbelief!  No no no… not over my sad pathetic pining over Angelina.  (no shock or disbelief there at all)  It was more over the fact that there were more than 10 people in the country… scratch that… world that actually cared about fly fishing for carp let alone had an interest in hearing what I had to say about it.  While I won’t be quitting my day job any time soon as John Gierach I am not, It was nice to see carp on the fly begin to get its much deserved respect.  Thanks again to the folks at The New Fly Fisher for the spotlight and a chance to talk about fishing on the fringes!

Tight Lines,

MBL

 

Scratching The Itch and Other Musings on Fishsturbation

I have lost track of days.  Days have turned to weeks and weeks have turned to months.  For many, that is all they ever get.  They hit the water every few months and that is the whole enchilada.  Fishing is my happy place, my calm eye in the center of my life tornado.  So to quit cold turkey regardless of how noble the reason (I love you Hannah and Zachary) is a bit of an out of body experience.

I have read old magazines, frequented my usual web communities, watched countless fly fishing re-runs on my DVR, and organized my gear twice.  I can feel myself getting twitchy… anxious.  Is there something wrong with me?  Has the bug bit me that badly that I can’t spend a few months out of the water without all of the detox like side effects?

It doesn’t help knowing that a few of my friends have had some really solid days both chasing chrome up in Erie and trout across many of our streams.  We have had some good rains and conditions are looking promising this year.  The only thing not promising is my ability to even consider going anywhere just yet.

For now, I am going to have to settle for allowing my imagination to wander and my memories of many tight lines of the past year to get me through till December.  Wish me luck… I’m going to need it!

I Seriously Need My Head Examined!

It was mid-afternoon and the sun was beating down relentlessly upon the water.  What was I thinking?  Well that is exactly what Mrs. Brownliner asked me as I came home sunburned and dehydrated.  What kind of moron goes fishing when it is this hot out?????

I suppose this moron does!  Now I would be a complete liar if I told you the fishing was prolific or that the fight in the fish I caught was top shelf.  I think the dog days of summer pretty much left all of us uncomfortable and gasping for air.  My motivation however is both specific and timely.  You see, to put it in fly fishing terms, Mrs. Brownliner has a double on and she is just about to land both fish!

So life has taken some amazing turns.  Any time between NOW and six weeks from now I will be driving the fish mobile mach 3 to the hospital with a woman in the passenger seat telling me where to turn and smacking me in the head the entire way.  This means a tremendous joy for the Brownliner clan and for me personally.  It also means that my fishing crack habit is going into detox for a bit until life settles back down.  So for now, I am getting every minute on the water that I can.  I don’t care if I have to fish downstream from a sewage outlet dumping little chunks of toilet paper into the creek!  Wait a minute, I was fishing downstream from a sewage outlet dumping little chunks of toilet paper into the creek!  My brain can still smell it to be honest… ughhh.

But I did bring some fish to hand!  I’m hoping to get a few more hours on the water before two little brownliners make their way into the world.  Wish me luck… I think I’m going to need it!

Potential World Record Cuda on the Fly Caught in Jamaica

I’m sorry… Shameful…. I know… but I couldn’t help myself…. Yes it is the potential world record for the SMALLEST Cuda ever caught on the fly!

I was going through my photo’s and found this from my honeymoon in Jamaica.  I spent weeks telling my wife about the glory of salt water fly fishing.  I showed her all of my specialized (code for “did you really need to buy that?”) salt water gear.  She could hardly control her giggles when after a day of chucking lead the only thing I could scare up was this cuda that was smaller than most blue gills from the pond back home.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I had a blast.  I saw some amazing things that day.  I have fond memories of the island foliage in full bloom.

I distinctly remember the visual distraction of Mrs. Brownliner in her bikini throwing off the timing of my casting.  Yes dear… the tailing loop was all your fault!

But mostly I remember the amazing zen like feeling of being on the water with the tropical sun beating down on us as I scoured the shallows for fish with a huge grin on my face.  These days, Mrs Brownliner is preparing the nest for two new arrivals at home so it might be a while before the flats will see my reflection again, but it never hurts to take a stroll down amnesia lane…. soon enough…. soon enough….

Good Luck and Tight Lines,

MBL

Childhood Lessons Pay Off on the Creek

When I was a young teen, my father took me on a fishing trip to Raystown Lake in central PA.  The trip was a striper trip and we went with some cousins and their friends.  The weather was beautiful and the lake looked to be in great shape.  What we did not know at the time was that it was the year of locusts (17 year) and prolific does not even come close to describing what we saw.  I shit you not… thousands and thousands of huge bugs dive bombing into the drink.  They would buzz on the surface unable to escape until a fish came up and gulped them down or they drowned sinking to the bottom to a similar fate.

We threw everything in the box at the stripers with not even a strike on either boat.  At this point in my life I had never picked up a fly rod so please excuse my trip back into a different era of fishing.  As day two of no action wore on, my dad had to make a stop at the marina and use the facilities.  I sat there watching the locusts buzzing on the surface near the dock.  Just then a huge carp just came up and inhaled it.  It looked like a Dyson moving across the surface sucking up every huge morsel in it’s path.  A grin spread across my face.

My father was walking back up the dock as I was taking the minnow bucket out of our boat and dumping it into the lake… “What the hell are you doing????”  he barked.  I looked up at him and asked him if he wanted to beat water or go catch some fish.  With that I took the empty minnow bucket and ran up the grass hand picking locusts off the tree’s and the shrubs and depositing them into my now empty minnow bucket.  When the bucket was buzzing like a Hitachi Magic Wand, I made my way back to the boat.  As we idled out I tied a floating jig head on to each of our spinning rods.  My dad just looked at me asking if I was going to clue him in.

When we told our cousins what we were doing they scoffed at us…..  “We didn’t come all the way to Raystown to catch CARP!”  OK… we said… catch you later.  My dad and I pulled off into a cove and hooked a locust onto the jig and let it drift.  It didn’t take long.  The V wakes coming at the bug here hysterical.  It was like an outtake from the movie “Jaws”.  I have no idea how many carp we caught that day, but it was a ton and we had a BLAST!  By the way, my cousins went home fishless and unhappy.

So what’s the lesson you ask?  No, it is not about the virtue of the much maligned carp.  Nor is it about judging a trip by the number of fish you catch.  The lesson I learned is that sometimes you have to take what the conditions are willing to yield.

Last night on the creek was a perfect example.  The water was stained and the clouds had shut off any site fishing so chasing carp was a pretty tall order.  After an hour I realized the futility of what I was doing and figured I’d change up.  It turns out I had a pretty good night with some very eager and game smallies and a nice Sauger.  Some of you might disagree but I try to keep multiple game plans in my pocket so regardless of what happens when you hit the water there is always fun to be had!

So… what would you have done?  Continue to chase your intended quarry?  Or go with what the conditions presented?  Curious to know.

Good Luck and Tight Lines!

MBL

CW Goes Red Neck… Plays with Kitty

So I FINALLY got out on the creek yesterday.  It had been close to a month since I had seen my favorite carp waters and was itching to get at it.  I only had a few hours, but it didn’t matter to me.  I was just happy to be on the water.  I showed up at about 6:30PM and suited up as quickly as I could.  I could see CW off in the distance landing a fish so I was optimistic right off the bat.

As he approached I doubled over laughing.  Dude!!!  That is about as “red neck” as it gets!  He just grinned at me and said, “yeah… I know.”

So I might as well just spit it out now… I got totally skunked.  Normally that really doesn’t bother me but after not seeing my creek for a month it did sting a bit.  Especially after CW landed this beautiful Cat!

We fished into the darkness but the bite just shut off.  The only thing that crossed our path were a pair of huge beavers.  These are the times in life that I crave more “me” time.  More time on the water… more time to reflect.  More time to match wits with a worthy adversary.  More time with good friends.

Life works in funny ways sometimes.  Sometimes it gives you what you want, sometimes it gives you what you need.  Sometimes it just tests you to see what your made of.  Yeah… I got skunked.  That should be the worst thing that happened to me

Good Luck and Tight Lines

MBL

Why the PA Fish and Boat Commission SUCKS!!!!!!

Sick to my stomach is the only way to describe how I feel about what I saw this week.  The news has been swirling for some time about the closing of Glade Run Lake in Butler county.  Apparently the dam that held the lake was high risk and there was no money to fix it.  OK…. I get that.  There are a lot of things right now that there is no money to fix…. the rust spot on the rear lift gate on my Subaru for example or the lack of hard drive space on my MacBook!

But nothing…. and I repeat NOTHING provides an excuse for what I saw when I went to visit the lake.  I heard from a friend that they were drawing the lake down.  We headed up with our fly rods to see if we could enjoy some shallow water site fishing since that was all that was supposedly left.  What we saw was an atrocity.

They gated off the area to keep people out and I totally understand why…..

The PA Fish and Boat Commission should be absolutely ashamed of themselves.  Supposedly they electroshocked and transported a few hundred fish to N. Park lake.  What about the rest?   You couldn’t have loaded up a stocking truck and taken them to other lakes?  The Allegheny river?  Offered them to private pond owners?  Was it a money issue?  Send out a call to action on the web for donations to help remove the fish from the lake!  I would have helped and I’m sure many of you would have too.

I pay my license fee because I have to.  I pay my license fee because they are supposed to support the fish populations of our state.  This is a prime example of politics getting in the way of the right thing.

These images have been burned in my mind and will not soon forget them.  If you are reading this blog chances are you have a passion for fishing and hopefully a deep respect for managing the resource that allows us to enjoy our hobby.  I hope that you will take this opportunity to voice your displeasure with the Pennsylvania Fish and Boat Commission for how poorly this was handled…. I know I will be.

WTF is Spotted Dick ??????

So this has absolutely nothing to do with fly fishing but couldn’t someone have come up with a better name for this?  I’m brave but you won’t catch me eating it!

The Deluge Continues

The rain continues to fall. The rivers continue to rise. Blown out is an understatement. Ughhhh