Season Ended?

 

Aaaaaaarrrrooooooooooo!

Lou the foxhound upset at the end of the season. He barely noticed it was here!

He's practicing with his Christmas Antlers. Takes a few weeks  of breaking in every year to get them to stay on long enough for the holiday picture.

It was almost the season without fly fishing. 

I live three hours south of "the trout band" of cool water. The streams were largely open this year. The campgrounds ... not so much. Michigan delayed opening the public campgrounds this year by locking the gates and ... more decisively ... the latrines. 

Social isolation on the streams - fine. In the facilities? Not so much.

The June 22nd campground opening allowed the dash of campers for the 4th of July. The campgrounds remained packed all summer by the hordes of covid refugees seeking some sort of recreational comfort. 

 

I've neighbors who purchased a new Airstream Bambi just for this summer. Yes, I have my eye on it for when the novelty wears off. Hellooooo trout trailer.

 Being officially old (my daughter's appraisal and our oldest son is now ... 40. No way to dispute it.) I need a good night's sleep to enjoy the "up north." I've a fine selection of tents and sleep like a bear out in the woods. 

I'm not a fan of "Generator Johnny" or the guy on the F-150 who has to lock the truck (honk honk) at 11:30 PM or the drunken brothers-in-law who have to argue about the Detroit Tigers at 3 AM. 

I was once in a party store in the up north buying cheese in a line with a Sheriff's  Deputy. I asked him how the gig was and if he worked year round. He said he was part of the regular staff and the gig was great until summer. When Memorial Day hit, all the folks from down south made the trip north and the first thing they packed was all their troubles. Domestic disputes were a common theme.

I am chasing new fish for the holidays. 

Snook.

I'm driving to an island where I can hide from the covid and where the infection rate and positivity rate are far less than where I am now.  Also, they have Snook in the surf.

Stripping basket. Full-caged sealed-drag utility reel. Switch rod from Echo (saltwater suitable) in 9/10. Long-handed guide net.

Flies. ... Hmm. I have some clouser minnows. I'll be tying palmered-style shrimp. I may have to run over to Steve's Soft Hackle Journal and look at is barred surf perch soft hackle patterns.

I'll make up for a lost summer with a discovered fall.

 2021

 I am excited for 2021. 

Late July and early August will see me on the Madison. I've a place booked (roll over) from the 2020 season and my friend the wandering writer (and fly fishing equipment rep)  will be camped out for a couple weeks to bookend my trip.

The first part of my trip is paid for. The second part will cost me a case of gin and some steak-and-eggs fixings. 

I hope your 2021 plans include some story-worthy outings. I have a thing about hot coffee on the beach early in the morning when only the triathletes are making their 7 mile runs. I'm a slow moving obstacle in the dark just like the sea turtles making their way back into the surf. 

Spit snow here Sunday night. It was pretty serious about it, too. First sleet/snow of the season. More to follow I'm sure.

So .. 2021 excursions? Any plans? I'm feeling NakNek in the fall.

Prost!

How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice. Practice.

 

This is the Way ?

 

This is the way.

Photo is from an expedition tot he Michigan U.P. this summer and yes, Michigan considers the area above to be a "marked trail". Takes a bit to see but there are blazes in paint on the trees. 

This being covid season direction is a little less sure than normal. I've been catching up on the Disney+ and the series _The Mandolorian_ after a writing buddy explained to me that the storytelling was simple and direct: Nick Adams set in space.

The protagonist frequently utters his "catch phrase" of : This is the Way.

I'll be damned, but; I think he is correct. There is a lot of parallel there and by all accounts the series is a smash for Disney.  Dog knows they could use the help. Who wants to be kissed by Snow White in a mask? 

Speaking of masks: wear one.It isn't a political statement but a statement of concern for those around you. 

Masks save lives. Other people's masks save yours.

I'm ready for the next twelve weeks of onslaught. Good thing I'm part hermit. Aren't all fly fishers? Solitary pursuits executed in social isolation often in the most beautiful parts of the world. 

On my death bed I'll not be wishing that there was one more cocktail party to attend. I'll be wishing I could of climbed down into one more valley.

So, covid. If I could have engineered a virus this good, they'd have made me a twenty-star general and let me sleep in the White House for an entire summer. (Lots to see in D.C.). Turns out, covid is sleeping in the White House. 

You can't wish trouble away. Most problems in life just don't "go away" with anything less than a shotgun and a $100 bill.

At left: part of my larder.

 I'm anticipating trouble in the delivery of fundamental supplies and services in the next 12 weeks. Where I am from, we always have a couple weeks of food on hand because wind, snow, tornado all can appear and and disrupt supplies. 

When you live most of an hour from a food store and your region is partial to extremes of weather (60 mph straight line winds are fine for the ranch house; but, the high tension lines do poorly.) , you know to prepare. Two of your neighbor's may show up on your doorstep for a few days with bad storms. It's something to take in stride.

 

I'm much more urbanized now though as you see, I take the isolation tango seriously. I hope you and yours have no need for such contingencies and we can all make large gifts to the local food banks when this is over.

How are we coping with covid in my little part of the world? We're tying flies.

Scotch old enough to vote is a fine rust-remover at the tying vise. 

Prost.

The Beginning of the End

 Suntory Time!

The key line here is : For relaxing times, make it Suntory time.

The Old Suntory is not available where I live. This is a blended whiskey (boo, hiss) which is satisfyingly floral and soft. No decent Noir detective would be caught dead (or alive) drinking this stuff.

Luckily, I'm all about noir but not in the detective line of work. 

It is a fine summer "scortch" and as we're having a long drawn-out fall of warm days and light sweater nights by the fire: this bottle is perfect.

Laphroaig isn't quite in the offing this year. I need a good hard evening frost and a fire in the woodstove to take a dram of of the peat-y and settle down with _August 1914_  which I try to read every second year or so. Last year I re-read _Anna Kerensky_. 

 I love that Count Vronsky's horse Frau Frau had large nostrils .... like Anna. Yep - a line from the book.

The news today: 

 A vaccine is being submitted for approval which has a 90+ % efficacy rate in clinical studies.

It is going to be a slog to get it into 250+ Million Americans. That is sort of the epidemiologist's "base number" for public health control. We have about 335 M people in the U.S. With a 90% efficacy rate, the anti-vax folks and those medically unable to tolerate the vaccine will benefit from the greater populations' induced immunity.

 

Now, there are things we don't know for certain. The studies look good but the argument for release is the difference between 99% certainty it won't give you "The Crimp" and 99.999% certainty it won't.

"The Crimp" is shorthand for viral-induced consequences of an unintended sort.

WHAT THE MEANS TO YOU: 

You will be able to take those fishing trips you've put off sometime into 2022. The process of getting people inoculated and adapting to a new-new reality will take a bit.

Monday Night Flies is up and running virtually. 

Last week featured a few friendly soft-hackles.

 

 

Above: the Purple and Slate. This has been good for me in winter waters. Not great -> but good.

 

 

Above: My own Grey Drake. Size 16 to size 8 these work for any spinner fall. Meh. 

 

Above: the Partridge and Gold. Works as a hendrickson when in #16. Works as everything else in #12.

I'm trying a clock tonight. In North Country parlance, clock is a beetle. My box is shy of beetles. I'm fine on ant but good classic beetles? Shy. I have a nice collection of crayon-grade foam beetles from a trip to Yellowstone waters. They work but lack any soft-hackle style.

Almost time to fill my glass and step into the virtual den.

Maybe I can fly in the fall.

The End of 2020

 

One of the highlights of 2020 was a pilgrimage by the Amber Liquid guys to the mouth of the Two-Hearted River on the shores of Lake Superior.

We were fortunate to encounter a break in covid-19 before today's big swing began.

Kevin is making chili because ... camping needs chili. Was it summer? Sure. Was Superior a cold blooded bear drowner? Yes.

Chili.

I'm declaring an end to 2020. Frankly, I've had enough.

Monday night saw the resumption of our local Monday Night Flies group. We used Google Meet (free, encrypted end-to-end, easy access without passcode). Some nice flies were tied despite a little rust at the bench. 

The virtual fly tying really lightened my spirits and made me think I was doing something positive. I encourage any of you out there to get your buddies on-line and tie. It works out nicely.

I've got my photos of flies hooked up to the wrong user account at the moment. I'll get it sorted for the next post.

Time to get on with tying classics.

I'll say more later ....

We're back. Alert the trout.