What's Cortland suggesting..?

Trannies.

Couple years back, I bought some shitty ass China cane on megaclearance from Cabela's. One of the guys in the Fly Cave (am I making that up, or is it actually referred to as a Cave?) said that Cortland Sylk was the bee's knees for those sorts of rods.

He's right. With a lone "speciality" application, my last four fly line purchases have all been Cortland 444 Sylk DTs. Each one's been fished hard they've all lasted really well, with only one complaint (they crack at the whipped loop every single time, wish they'd do a welded loop).

All, except my last one which cracked and fell apart for about 3' straight, generally about where I figure eight retrieve. And after maybe six months.

So, I complained, and Cortland very quickly, and nicely, sent me a replacement line and didn't ask for the old one back (dual taper, I'm just gonna flip that shit around and fish the other end before I put the new one on). Who can possibly complain about their customer service? It was awesome.

What confuses me though was the use of a German newspaper to pad the box.

The sex classified section, none the less.

Explain.
(update: oh, shit, they did a welded loop, i guess if i wasn't baffled by the packaging i'd have noticed that, go cortland! bet it snaps off in a month)

In the land of the one armed fly fisher, the automatic reel is king.

I get looks from some people when I say my favourite reel is an automatic, I've been known to quip that "its not your grandfather's automatic."

I bought a Franco Vivarelli Goldstar semi-automatic reel a few years back, mostly because it was cheap and entirely bizarre.

Most automatic reels are chunky spring fired affairs which are reknowned to suck ass. The Intertubes is filled with stories of destroyed rods and impaled troot seem to pretty much go hand in hand with people bitching about the classic automatic reel.

The semi-automatic doesn't work the same way, when there's resistance, they stop. Its actually pretty fucking brilliant. I bought one because it was cheap, and because I like weird shit...the thing is, it turns out it'll pretty much ruin you on any other reel. Christ, last time I took out a regular reel, my hand got tired cranking it in every time I moved.

So, the ultimate goal is to get more of these things because it turns out they're fucking awesome. Matter of fact, once you start using one, you can't really go back, certainly not for the kind of fishing I generally do where I know I'm not going to find a fish I can't line by hand.

The downside is at $560 per reel means I'll never own another. There's only a couple manufacturers of these things, all of them European, and all of them almost as expensive, unless you want the shitty kind of automatic reel (and I've considered them), you're shit out of luck.

Then I discovered that you could buy semi-autos on the eBays for under $20. Turns out these fancy European things are not original designs, but classics. The goal was set, and it turns out I had ended up buying your grandfather's automatic reel. Shot that whole fucking line to hell, eh?

The greatest gift of all, its bigger than Jesus.

I meant for this to be the official one year happy anniversary sort of shit, and well, didn't happen.

Oh fuck yes.

Whatever.

This is, arguably, a fishing blog. Somehow, I've had more discussion in a week on a post about moustaches  than ever before, which is amazing to me. That post, however, started out as a fishing post.

This one doesn't.

I may or may not have been in an altered mood when I had a vision... a vision of a sandwich as handsome and powerful as any ever imagined before. It combined several basic ingredients, but did so in a way that made me feel I was onto something good.

Not that this is all mine, I actually owe the genesis of it to my father, a man who for years has epoused the power of peanut butter toast. That is whole wheat bread (healthy fucking assjacks) and creamy peanut butter. The official recipe called for Shoprite brand, IIRC, but I suppose any type of creamy should be.

The basic inspiration of PB toast is that the toast melts the peanut butter into the pores of the bread.

Simple, right? Right.

Turn the key; unlock the One True Sandwich.

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...

The Modified Pflueger Medalist.

Seemed like a good idea at the
time, which was rather late.

Sulphur time is upon us. but I still can barely catch a fish, thank Jebus I don't fish for food or I'd starve.

Probably lose more weight, though. I suppose you find the good side of things when you can. That's probably why, when fishing through the park this evening and having my fly brutally ignored by every riser I put in front of, I didn't mind. Seems a nice group of churchies decided to spontaneously erupt into gospel for me, and provided a lovely serenade to my failure.

S'OK, though. Still had one of the nicest evenings I'd ever had. Beats the bad amateur rock bands I've fished through listening to, which was different but annoying. Its not that I'm a gospel fan, but really, its a great way to really accent the pleasure. I made sure to thank them, and they were kind enough to give me another song.

Being brutally skunked in the middle of an awesome hatch is pretty humiliating, though. So, I decided to get crafty, tie up a hair mouse and then go fishing in the same park (willfully breakin' the law!) at 2am. It was stupid, and fruitless, but what the hell, gotta try it once. Guess the music was the only blessing I was gonna receive that day, eh?

Less mouse, more Medalist. Go!

So, if its not obvious to anyone who's read this, I like to stand out. I also like to do things Ye Olde Way, with a real interest in proving to people that yesterday's junk is still good enough, and you don't need titanium alloy mega arbor reels with ceramic water cooled inline offset caliper 23 surface drags on rods constructed from boron-kevlar fiber that are as light as a gnat and propel triangular ribbed tactical strategic combat-ready line at light speeds. That meant  embracing the humble Pflueger Medalist.

 So, a throw away line in a Lefty Kreh book and some spare time was all the inspiration I needed to make a statement.

Pointless gear reviews: Vivarelli Semi-Automatic reel.

Why'd I buy this? Coz you don't have one.

Man, I love dumb shit. I don't mean dumb as in not smart, but as in... Dumb shit. OK. Not smart. 

Whatever.

Not only that, but I'm into reels. They're just cool. Machined steel, assorted clicky bits, gears and all sorts of fancy stuff.

Man, I eat that up. 

So, when I stumbled on a pair of Franco Vivarelli automatic reels for sale by the Feathered Hook, I knew I needed to own one. These are exceedingly uncommon in the US, and unusual as Hell. So, I bought the Newstar.

There aren't many reviews on this thing out there, and after giving it some serious use, I think I'm ready to opine.

Not a minute too soon...

Not pictured: Thermometer that reads like 67 degrees.

I know there's 30ish days til it officially starts, but you could've fooled me today. The sun was warm, I did not require a dead rabbit strapped to my head for comfort, and most importantly... the blue wing olives were back!

The downside is the fish weren't cooperating.

Oh well, was the first day this year I didn't need three coats and wonder about just how to tell what the openign stages of frost bite might look like with regards to my fingers.

There's something to be said for a late start time for work, and moving your tying station to the stream side.