Sunday, April 29

On Sulphurs, the Lehigh Valley, its fly shops, and the Heritage Fly Shop.

C'mon, that bitch is charming, and you know it.
According to the US Census, the Allentown-Bethlehem-Easton-PA-NJ-Metroplex, aka Lehigh Valley, is the third most populated area in all of Pennsylvania... so why the hell can't we have a big ole fly shop without driving to goddamned Reading?

Oh well, at least we have the Heritage Fly Shop, formerly the Little Lehigh Fly Shop.

That's not really a fair assessment. To say, in the past, "at least there's the LLFS" was a fair statement, because the former proprietier was, for all intents and purposes, a raging cockhole. That's probably part of why its not his shop, but someone else's, now.

Don't get me wrong, Dave (the new guy) has the same floor space and general supplies the old shop did, but he brings a much better atttitude about the place...and frankly, that matters. Alot. I will go out of my way to buy what I can at the LLFS rather than bulk up a mail order for sundries elsewhere, because you want to support the local guy, and especially the local guy who's not a raging asshole.

So, this part of the post, Dave, is dedicated to you for not being an asshole, and for being not only the sole fly shop of the Lehigh Valley, but the one with the most character. While my meager purchases probably don't make much of a dent, I'll continue to give them to you because you smile at me and greet me when I come through the door, and that means a whole lot.

Dave sold me a Fenwick, gave me some tips on using woodchuck fur, and generally is a good guy. I wanted to give him free publicity. Go buy something from him. 

Now, if I hear one more asshole tell me they're fishing sulphurs I will fucking murder someone.

Tuesday, April 3

there was a point to this but FYF i stopped caring somewhere long before I ate the pie so just read words words words

Hare's Earses. A variety, even.
I look at the bins upon bins of shit I bought to tie flies with, and I realize I could get by with the following:
One grizzly cape.
An assortment of snowshoe rabbits' feet.
A bag of peacock herl.
A partridge skin.
A hare's mask would be nice, but I seem to be making due with a rabbit skin coz it was only like $5 at the craft shop.

What the hell else does one need? Fine, maybe a pheasant tail, and calf tail for the Royal MF Wulff (I could use snowshoe, I mean...).

But, yet, bins upon of shit.

Nymphs. I tie one religiously, and one because I think it works better yet I never tie them on as to not ruin the magic. Let's deal with the one I tie religiously because, well, its awesome shit. Its the gold ribbed hare's ear. and you fish that bitch anyway you want and it goddamned catches fish.

You also tie it three ways. Wherein upon completiton, its all about how to fish wet flies versus nymphs from a guy who does neitehr well, but loves one and hates the other. And whatever. I can sum that up in like three groups of words.

Monday, April 2

Welcome to Open Season. (see, its funny coz I used that title a year ago)

Sure looks regal, eh? Has no bearing on this post.
Fuckin eh, new year. Well. Open season and shit.

Christ, almighty I hate the four fucking weeks I have to endure "closed season" each year. Because, inevitably, it will contain awesome weather, time where I'm free, and...err, restrictions to the same two fucking miles on each stream segment as the rest of a fucking population of assholes.

Including super fucking self important internet nymphing superstars who will loudly splash into the stream less than 20' away from you, and just upstream of the pool that's frankly, filled with eager and happy fish under faster water so they're particularly stupid, that you were about to get into as soon as you went under the bridge (that's approximately 20' wide, if you see where I'm going here).

All the while shouting to his buddy how its is favourite spot to fish.

I won't mention the stories about watching you manhandle a fucking 12" fish for 3 minutes while your pal ran to teh car and got the camera, either. I suspect its douchebaggery such as this that has you out of the already douchey competitive fishing scene, eh, pro-spec?