Does it ever stop raining? Why I'm fishing in drainage ditches and reviewing 3wt rods that I keep buying even though I can't figure out what the hell I'm going to do with them and was perfectly happy with the first one i had. two. ok, ok, first two. still.

The mist hides dirt.

Clever cropping.

Seriously, man. I'd actually planned on commenting on my ability to be all timely and cash in on the fiberglass thing that seems to be reaching a point of pre-cool, but, no...later this week, maybe. For now? Rain, man. Rain.

Biblical rain level it seems. Maybe not, but it feels like it. It seems that whenever I have the chance to fish, some jackass is either breaking into my car or its raining.

Its constant. I was able to get out one day, and since then, its raining or blown out. As a man who won't drive 10 miles from the front door, the 45 minutes to the local tailwater is like travelling to Uranus. Ergo, I'm stuck for ideas in places to fish. My summer of exploration continues to be stymied by nature.  But, like everything else, you make due. Its tiny, its encased by filth (I think the trash holds the walls in), but there are fishable, wild, trout waters to be found. Its also forced me to use all the damned 3wt rods I seem to accumulate.

I mean, I know why I keep buying them, but I should frankly just say no. I think I finally have. I've been on the search for The One, as it were, and I think up next is a 4/5wt. Anyways, I'm up to four 3 weight rods, two this summer (y'know, the one I couldn't fish) alone.

Actually, five. I sent one back. At least that one was long, every other one is under 8', three 7' or shorter. I babbled about the Cabela's CGR 5'9" rod awhile ago, today its the Hardy 7' 3wt Classic Lightweight. I suppose the rain is fortunate, then, because its forced me to try something different: drainage ditch fishing.

Fish porn: a LVstoner novelty!

Don't get me wrong, its interesting. Its different. At its widest, its maybe 7' across, usually 4' and hemmed in and over by dirt, trash, and trees. Even though I've never seen anyone fish this, and these fish are unpressured, they bolt as soon as I lumber my ass in, but its still fun, especially as I missed the low and clear late summer fishing, which I like. Its nice knowing I can find it, and fish willing to eat dry flies, no matter how much rain. I'm thankful for that, really.

I just wish the average fish was bigger than 5" though. There's a few that one could eat if one were into eating them, but generally speaking, I think they'd qualify for PFBC fingerling programs.

More to the point, though, it provides me a reason to talk about 3 weight rods, and use them as intended. They're more practical than 1 weights, less utilitarian than 4 weights, and in my case all short little affairs.

Did I mention the one is a 7' Hardy? I know I didn't, coz that's what this is about. Its pointless gear, and a pointless review. You know how this works...

Why Bethlehem Township Hates Mrs Housenick and the Monocacy Creek, oh and other non watery shit.

Nerd fight!

Fluff piece first, eh? I engage in an entire spectrum of dumb nerdy shit. Oh, and don't kid yourselves, people, tying little flies out of dead animal bits then obsessively chuckin' em to fish so you can put the fish back is pretty fucking nerdy. Amongst other shit I do, I play role playing games. The real kind, with paper and dice and shit, not that lame computer based shit. My friend, he writes them, which is either more nerdy or more creative, don't give a fuck... He blogs that shit up, and has once asked me to write up a review for a minis game. I did that right here. Am I rad, or what?

However, there's more stuff afoot. Dare I say actual, important stuff for once. The Bethlehem Township commissioners evidently hate open spaces, joy, and life. They do love money, though. So, that pits Bethlehem Township directly against the Archibald Johnson Housenick Estate.

There's a little tract of land that's set aside as a nature preserve or some shit in what's now Bethlehem Township. Seems some lady named Housenick died and left huge tracts of land to the County, the Township, and her church. Seems that there's a movement afoot to take part of that land, build some shitty apartments, and wreck the lovely little patch of unspoilt land by filthing it up.

Three hundred sixty five. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. And then?

This post is gratuitous  and pointless. Deal. Its my shit, I can make these whenever I feel like it.

The thing is, I can't be assed to take fish pictures. Oh, sure, I tried today. I figured I'd go out and make this momentous sort of gesture in a return to proper fishing, since I'm tired of life kicking my ass around for the last six months.

So, the plan was to do this big presentation all sorts of wonderful visuals of stream life, still life, grab a picture of my first post-cancer troot and be all awesome.

Nope. Never bothered. Honestly, I don't fucking care.

Not that I catch many giant fish, lots of pretty wild ones, sure, but not giant. Still, its not a size thing, lack of them thing, or inability thing, its well... Somehow, I feel that its proper to put them back in the water as quickly as possible after I've jammed a steel hook through their face, drug them through the water, hoisted them out to drown in air as I rip the hook out..a picture, well, it just seems gratituous, no?

So no fish pictures. Fuck, no pictures of anything except a tired one of the shit I dropped on the hood of my trucklet when I was done.

But, whatever. I had a good time. I fished a ninety-six year old Hardy 8' Fairy rod (Hemingway's preferred tool, from what I'm lead to understand) and a seventy-six year old Pflueger 1496 reel swinging leadwing coachmen across-and-down.  One hundred sixty-nine years of accumulated fishing mojo in my hand, and a one hundred ninety-six year old fly pattern still worked well enough to take enough fish to keep me amused for the first time I went proper trout fishing since Father's Day.

What's old is new again.

It was nice to be back.

Alas, my waders leak. Goddamnit.

Trout Unlimited, back in action-ish; Return of the LVLS Book Club: Bush Pilot Angler.

-Ish.  That's the key here. The Monocacy Chapter of Trout Unlimited resumes their meetings for fall through spring this month. Next week, to be exact. Tuesday, to be exacter. The fourth one of each month, even. 7pm. Be there or, well, have something better to do, I guess.

But don't be a  douche. Isn't it time you do something for the local waterways? Not that I think many locals (or anyone, fwiw) reads this crap, but whatever, that was my design theory, and I'm running with it. This meeting isn't going to be entertaining, but its chance to help set the tone and course for the coming season.

Now, onto something more interesting....

You know, there's something about Lee Wulff that I find compelling. The guy's legend is just cool, and God himself handed him the secret to the greatest fly, evar (although I'm willing to concede Fran Betters' was on the receiving end of the most killing fly, evar).

So, anyways, Lee Wulff. The man's got a legitimate legend about him, and I really enjoy reading his exploits. I figured an extended hospital stay was an idea time to start reading his memoir, as I'd been putting off buying a copy for some time now.

Of course, with my winning streak in full effect, it didn't come in until about 3 or 4 days until after I'd left the hospital. Whatever. I've been slowly working through it since then, and its inspired me...

Pointless gear reviews: Cabela's Custom Glass Rod 5'9" 3 weight. (insignificantly updated 9/18)

Hi there!

Well, I was pretty enticed by the other end of the the CGR line, the 5'9" 3wt. I didn't have a very practical use for it, but fuck it, I truly do expect them to be limited availability, so I pulled the trigger a couple weeks ago. Not that I had a chance to use it, nor do I know when I will, but sometimes I do dumb shit.

So, with that said, even though I've only taken it out for some lawn casting and about 15 minutes in a very limited test on the water, I've got opinions (fuck yeah, do I ever!) on the baby of the CGR line.