Recently in Fly Fishing History Category

Author and guide Pat Straub spent a couple of days on assignment in Craig, Montana for us last week. His mission: to talk with the good folks running the Theodore Roosevelt Conservation Program (TRCP) and to find out what was new with the organization. For those who don't know, TRCP is a non-profit corporation that works to preserve the traditions of hunting and fishing -- not an easy task in a country where perhaps 25% of the population fishes and only 10% of the population hunts. They deal with a multitude of issues, from roadless access to mining and energy development to climate change. Of new interest to anglers is their Marine Fisheries Initiativ -- an effort to end the boom-and-bust cycle of commercial fisheries management -- and their push for improvement of the Clean Water Act.

TRCP is also important because it takes its political "agnosticism" seriously; you'll find just as many Republicans as Democrats and Independents donating to the cause.

Read Straub's report on what the TRCP is doing today. Since TRCP is on top of virtually every key issue affecting anglers and hunters today, it's a great overview of why and where all conservation non-profits need support.

Any public perception of Norman Maclean's father -- who famously blurred the lines between fly fishing and religion -- was forever changed by Tom Skerritt's 1992 portrayal of the man. But look at the remarkable resemblance between Skerritt and the Rev. John Norman Maclean, and how involved the actor still is in the movie and its after-effects, and you might begin to wonder who changed who more.

The Missoula, Montana church where the elder Maclean once preached will honor him and his son with a monument to be unveiled this weekend.

"The reverend died in late 1941 at age 78. Clara, 10 years his junior and herself a remarkable leader in the church and the family, died at 79 in 1952. Both are buried in the Missoula Cemetery, as is Paul, around whose murder in Chicago in 1938 Norman constructed the plot of 'A River Runs Through It.'" Kim Briggeman of The Missoulian.

Yesterday Morgan Lyle called Mike Valla's new book Tying Catskill-Style Dry Flies (Headwater Books, August 2009, 534 color photos, 252 pages) a must-read for those who love fly fishing and fly tying. As Lyle says, "Tying Catskill-Style Dry Flies is above all a fly-tying book, and tiers will love learning the details of how the masters plied their craft. Precisely what vises they used, what surgical instruments they used as hackle pliers, what color thread they used (you might be surprised), what they discovered when they dissected Rube Cross's flies - this stuff is priceless."

Buy Tying Catskill-Style Dry Flies on MidCurrent.

We just couldn't pass up sharing this picture of arch conservationist and author Roderick Haig-Brown in wet suit and mask getting ready to swim with the fish he loved.

Haig-Brown is remembered this weekend in an annual festival at the Haig-Brown Heritage Site on the banks of the Campbell River. Admission to the festival is free, and you can get more information by contacting the Museum at Campbell River.

New on MidCurrent this week: a chapter from Mike Valla's brand new book on Tying Catskill-Style Dry Flies. "Quill Gordon" traces the history of the famous eastern fly pattern from the those who first recognized the value of stripped peacock quill to the tiers who turned them one of the most recognized patterns of all time. Valla's insight into the personal whims of the great tiers is accompanied by images of their final product, courtesy of the Catskill Fly Fishing Museum and Center. Even for those who never plan to visit an eastern U.S. trout stream, it's a unique look at fly pattern evolution.

Buy Valla's new Tying Catskill-Style Dry Flies on MidCurrent.

Alan Farago, a dedicated conservationist and long-time south Florida angler, writes about Bill Levy -- the original "permit fanatic" and one of the few anglers who could hold his own with Ted Williams when it came to stubbornness of opinion. "'That Ted Williams is the nastiest man in the world,' [Levy's wife] Esther said to me. 'He's a great fisherman,' I replied, baiting the hook. 'Oh he fishes with a guide,' she said, waving off the Splendid Splinter. 'Bill Levy,' she informed me, 'is better fisherman than Ted Williams with his little pinkie,' she said, holding up her finger." In Counterpunch.

For the record, Levy occasionally kept company with guides too. The first time I met him, Bus Bergman was toting Levy'vs canoe out to the Marquesas on the front of his Hewes Bonefisher. I followed them out there just to see Bill fish for tailing permit in his unlikely craft.

Mark Simonson writes a short but detailed history of the Catskill Fly Fishing Center and Museum in this morning's Daily Star (New York). "The idea of the Catskill Fly Fishing Center and Museum (CFFCM) dates back to 1978, and can be credited to Elsie Darbee. She and her husband, Harry, had a shop in Livingston Manor where they'd make flies and sell them to local and visiting anglers."

The Museum maintains a frequently updated Web site at www.cffcm.net.

Environmental writer Doug Peacock gives kudos to John Holt's new Yellowstone Drift (AK Press, June 2009, 275 pages), after first delivering a suberb history of "Elk River" country. Peacock says Holt was the perfect writer for this book. "Hovering over the 671-mile journey is Holt's own thunderstorm of a life; the man is not hesitant taking a stand, whether it's a rage against the livestock-centric insanity of killing free-ranging bison that wander beyond Yellowstone Park's boundary or quietly summoning the 500-year flood that would wipe out all the garish trophy homes littering the river's flood plain."

Yellowstone Drift: Floating the Past in Real Time on Amazon.

When you ponder the private fly fishing collections that lie stashed away, only occasionally revealed by a death or via the curiosity of smart people, you begin to sense that those most valuable to the sport don't belong to celebrities, politicians, or society's notables. A perfect example: the memorabilia of Chauncy Lively and George Aiken, one a writer and fly tier, the other the founder of the Family Tyes fly fishing clubs. They fished together for 50 years and collected 20-some Paul Young rods, among other things. "'These men left quite a legacy and I wanted to be sure it is honored,' said [artist Nick] Kratofil, who will deliver the displays to the museum association's repository near Boiling Springs tomorrow, adding to an impressive collection of books, photographs and tackle from the estates of Vince Marinaro, Charlie Fox and other Pennsylvania-bred legends." Deborah Weisberg in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.

Last night on NBC News Tom Brokaw fly fished off of the Mercer Island dock of Hugh Riley, the subject of his story on the discovery of who was the real subject of Robert Capa's famous D-Day image of a soldier struggling in the Normandy surf. Riley was hit four times and dragged to shore by Capa and another soldier. After the war, Brokaw noted, Riley "returned to Seattle, and worked for a fly rod company."

This morning Brokaw told me that his subject was in fact Fenwick's "man in the North," and that he told Brokaw during their interview that "his Washington state outdoors childhood saved him," because he was comfortable in water.

From pronouncing "Miami" like a true Florida cracker to showing how guides towed their underpowered skiffs into the backcountry and positioned themselves on the flats, the narrator of this old film segment -- revived by the IGFA -- gives as genuine a picture of 1950s Florida Keys bonefishing as you'll find anywhere. The clip features the legendary Captain Jimmie Albright and shows the "GAF Ashaway experimental nylon" fly line ("Jimmie examines this line with interest") and Albright's bucktail fly. The camera even captures the angler casting to and hooking a big tarpon in 2 feet of water.

Also interesting is that the leader Albright used would in today's terms might be considered a "stealth rig," tapering down to 6-pound tippet (tied to the fly with a clinch knot). Of course a 6-pound tippet in 1959 would have had a considerably larger diameter than today's materials -- a reminder of how technology has changed the sport.

The Atlantic Salmon Museum in central New Brunswick houses more than just a fine view of the Southwest Miramichi River. It contains a ton of memorabilia, including Ted Williams's salmon fishing hat, antique rods, reels and flies, and paintings by Henry McDaniel and John Swan. It's also adjacent to an aquarium and plans to add an underwater river camera this year. Kevin Bisset of the Canadian Press calls it a "hidden treasure."

While Japanese-American detainees knew there was no chance of escape from World War II internment camps, those who spent years in isolation at Manzanar, near Lone Pine, California, still took great risks to go trout fishing in the nearby high mountains. "As the Manzanar National Historic Site prepares for Saturday's 40th annual pilgrimage, a commemoration of what was endured during the war, and as the region welcomes thousands for the opening of trout-fishing season, the detention facility is being fondly remembered by some as a secret fishing lodge." Pete Thomas in the Los Angeles Times. (Thanks to reader John DeVault for this link.)

I started my day by reading an innocent question by Esquire book reviewer Benjamin Alsup: "Would anyone still subject themselves to the embarrassments of fly-fishing if it weren't for Hemingway?." While Hemingway fished and wrote about many waters now famous for their fly fishing, he was, by many accounts, reluctant to throw a fly. (As Nick Lyons said in his intro to Hemingway on Fishing, "For a writer so beloved by fly fishermen, he shows little interest in this brand of fishing." Apparently Hemingway preferred swinging multiple wet flies through the riffles -- when he had to.) So Hemingway/fly fishing references do beg the question of whether the great literature is fading from view faster than we'd like.

Arnold Gingrich, who founded and ruled Esquire during its heyday in the 30s, 40s and 50s and was a fly fishing fanatic, probably also knew more about the sport's literature than any man of his day. He fished with Hemingway and listened to F. Scott Fitzgerald's excuses for not doing so ("I can't face Ernest again, when he's so successful and I'm such a failure"). Gingrich was one of the first -- and last -- to publish Hemingway (and Fitzgerald, and John Steinbeck, and Truman Capote) in a major U.S. magazine. It would be fair to say that he saw fly fishing as one of his era's "extreme" sports, one that was worth the attention of the very best writers, fly fishers or not. But Hemingway, who was writing stories like "Sailfish Off Mombasa: A Key West Letter" and "Hemingway On Being Shot. Again," and was probably glad to lend a touch of machismo to Gingrich's favored sport, was unlikely to dilly dally around with the engraved fly fisher's flask when there was a case of Jameson's Irish whiskey stashed in the bow of The Pilar.

Some better literary candidates? Negley Farson, who lived in remote British Columbia and who fly fished to put food on the table, John Gierach, who cared enough about saving fly fishing from pretension that he coined the phrase "trout bum," or the gifted Jim Harrison, whose poetry inspired by rivers has nothing at all to do with the glamour of being a celebrity sportsman.

But maybe the best choice would be Gingrich himself, who did as much as anyone to point out that fly fishing is not a sport for sissies.

Moments ago we spoke with Cathi Comar, the executive director of the American Museum of Fly Fishing, and learned that the Museum has gone ahead with their invitation to former Vice President Dick Cheney to attend their annual fundraiser dinner in the fall. The decision was reached late last week but not made public until now. Cheney has accepted and will attend. Comar explained that the Museum board discussed the decision at length over the past several weeks and ultimately decided that since the Museum's role was historical, their primary duty is to record and preserve artifacts of fly fishing history. When asked about Cheney's obviously negative impact on fisheries conservation, Ms. Comar replied that the Museum chooses not to take sides on political or environmental issues. "Although we work with conservation organizations," she said, "conservation itself is outside of our role."

In a board-approved letter to the many fly fishers who have complained about the Museum's decision, Comar notes that the Museum has never allowed political reputations to influence its decisions about whether to include and display the fishing equipment of the various presidents or vice presidents. "Our premier traveling exhibition, Anglers All: Humanity in Midstream, highlights the fly fishing paraphernalia of former presidents Carter, Coolidge, Hoover, Eisenhower, F. D. Roosevelt, and George H.W. Bush. Controversy attended the administrations of each of these men. We did not vet any of these contributions using a standard of political popularity nor could we serve the Museum's overarching purpose had we done so. The Museum's commitment to the total history of fly fishing is inclusive."

On Fishing Jones, Pete McDonald interviews filmmakers Justin Coupe and Palmer Taylor, whose upcoming "Rivers of the Lost Coast" promises to be a multi-layered account of the history of west coast U.S. steelheading. Though brief, the interview offers some interesting detail about the filmmakers's subject: "Most of the innovation in California came out of the Golden Gate Angling and Casting Club in San Francisco. A lot of the stuff that we take for granted today was designed and refined back in the 40s and 50s by the GGACC, Winston, Powell, Sunset Line, Jimmy Green, Pete Schwab, Jim Pray, Myron Gregory, Buddy Tarantino, Phil Mirravelle." Don't miss the anecdote about Ted Lindner's hatred of Bill Schaadt, either.

"Angler of the first order" is how a 1917 French newspaper described the then-current king of England, King George V. With the passage of time, the behavior described makes us cringe, but then in the early 20th century serving as Emperor of India was considered magnanimous by some and shooting over 1000 pheasants in six hours only marginally excessive.

"In due time the salmon comes to approach himself to the bank. Aha. The king has cast aside his rod. He hurls himself flat on the ground on his victim. They splash and struggle in the icy water. Name of a dog. But it is a braw laddie! The gillie, a kind of outdoor domestic, administers the coup de grace with a pistol. 'The king! Hip-hurrah.'"

Before the arrival of spinning reels, fly rod owners were mighty inventive when it came to figuring out how to use a fly rod in non-classic ways. Gordon Wickstrom writes about spinners, swivels and artificials of all shapes and sizes that were once hung on the end of a fly line. "There was one thing, for sure, that we could do with this rig, which was to fling fly rod spinners around all up and down our streams. The interbellum period was the great age of the 'fly rod spinner,' and no trout fisherman worthy of his rod would be caught on the water without a few of these distinctly American lures." In the Boulder Daily Camera.

Here's a little teaser for a new video produced by Justin Coupe and Palmer Taylor. "Rivers of the Lost Coast" covers the history of northwest U.S. coastal steelhead fishing and is narrated by Tom Skerrit. From the Facebook page: "At the turn of the 20th century a handful of pioneers carried their fly rods into California's remote north coast and gave birth to a culture that would revolutionize their sport. For a select few, steelhead fly fishing became an obsessive pursuit without compromise."

These days few anglers have heard the name Gadabout Gaddis, but it's worth remembering that Roscoe Vernon Gaddis spawned an entire industry: the TV fisherman. His uniqueness was highlighted by the fact that he steered clear of expensive resorts and gear. Rob Streeter offers a short biography ijn Albany, New York's Times Union. "He even got his start before there was any such thing as television, on WGY radio in Schenectady in 1938. The General Electric owned the radio station. A year after his radio debut, GE asked Gaddis to do an experimental show for a new medium called television."

The impressive British performance in Beijing has Telegraph writer John Bingham looking back at the good old days of the 1908 Olympics, when the top swimmers had to share the pool with fly casters. Apparently it was a time when "running deer shooting" was considered PC and champagne was considered a legitimate electrolyte replacement drink, at least among the Italians: "Paula Radcliffe's upset in the marathon pales in comparison with the disappointment felt by Italy's Dorando Pietri in 1908 when he collapsed five times on the track and was disqualified because officials had to carry him over the line. But then his incapacitation is said to owe as much to the many glasses of champagne he enjoyed during the previous 26 miles."

We mentioned the new book by Van Gorman Egan on Roderick Haig-Brown a couple of weeks ago (see "New Limited Edition Tribute to Roderick Haig-Brown"), but since then a couple of stories have popped up about the book and about how Haig-Brown, who originally intended to settle in Washington state, ended up in B.C. In the Times Colonist, Jack Knox writes that being unable to renew his U.S. visa let him to cross the border into Canada: "Roderick Haig-Brown came out from Britain at age 17, toiling in Washington state as a logger and weekend prizefighter before an expired visa chased him north to Vancouver Island's Nimpkish River in 1927. Still only 19, he worked in the woods again, but it was writing that got him fired up."

By the way, if you hanker to experience a little literary history first-hand, you can actually stay in the house formerly owned by Roderick and Ann Haig-Brown on the banks of the Campbell River.

Roderick Haig-Brown on Wikipedia.

You gotta love the St. Croix story because it is quintessentially American. And in many ways it's typical of how fly fishing businesses often survive cycles in the sport's popularity -- depending on the support of family members, employees and dedicated customers. "Gordon [Schluter], unwilling to see St. Croix shuttered, bought the company and together with his sons -- Jeff, Paul and David -- rejuvenated it. In 1990, Gordon sold the business to his sons and daughter, Pam Smylie, and business has been booming since. Today, the company offers 600 types of rods for freshwater and saltwater fishing." Marjie McGraw on AmericanProfile.com.

Some parts of the historic Camp Senia outside Red Lodge were lost in a wildfire last week. The great-granddaughter of the folks who started the camp evacuated, with her husband, after learning of the fire's approach on their one-year anniversary. "Camp Senia holds more significance to the Millers than simply the place of their marriage. The camp was built and owned by Carrie Miller's great-grandparents, Alfred and Senia Croonquist, in the early 1900s. Her grandmother, Senia Mabel Croonquist Hart, grew up at the camp and still resides in Red Lodge." Zach Benoit in the Billings Gazette.

If you weren't aware of it already, the non-profit American Museum of Fly Fishing, located in Manchester, Vermont, has amassed an incredible collection of fly fishing art, artifacts and literature. They also highlight their offerings with regular exhibits of gear, personal histories and media and until October 31, 2008 will be exhibiting the art of Ogden Pleissner (1928-1976). Pleissner was very influential in mid-20th century sporting art, and his works represent some of the very best depictions of fly fishing to come out of North America (though he also traveled and painted extensively in Europe).

You can read more about the exhibit on the Museum Web site, and even purchase an exhibit catalog. Better yet, take a trip to Manchester and see the exhibit and the Museum in person.

Yesterday reader Steve Piper sent us this link to a long thread exploring the history of fly fishing for corbina in the California surf. We don't normally spend time perusing fly fishing boards, but this discussion caught our eye, if only for the detailed contributions. As always, the question of who "first" caught a corbina on fly -- like the question of who "created" a fly pattern -- has a lot to do with who kept the first records, but there is plenty to chew on here, including this quote from author and saltwater expert Nick Curcione:

"I'm always hesitant to use the word 'first' because even the most thorough research (I was a sociology prof in my other life) may not uncover all the facts. I caught my first corbina on the fly sight casting in the surf about 100 yards south of Hermosa Beach pier back in the fall of 1973. There were fish cruising back and forth on a sand bar and I finally got one to take an early version of my beach Bug. I remember I was using a fiberglass Fenwick 8-weight and an a Medalist reel with a lead core shooting head."

If anyone else has information that would help these folks answer the question of where fly fishing for corbina originated, they can contact Steve Piper via email at scpiper2@gmail.com.

This seems to be the year of the Lefty Kreh book, with the arrival of at least three titles by or about the most recognizable name in fly fishing. The first, All the Best (Collector's Cover, July 2008, 215 pages), which just arrived in the mail, is a voluminous tribute in words and photographs written and compiled by Flip Pallot. The images themselves provide a history lesson on the many notable anglers Kreh has fished with, and personal written contributions by Lefty's many friends make up almost a third of the book. In the Washington Times, Gene Mueller mentions one error in the book but readily gives the title two thumbs up: "The many color plates alone are worth the price of the book and Pallot's text is thoughtful, alive, interesting and a well-deserved salute to one of the great names in sport fishing."

All The Best - Celebrating Lefty Kreh ** Signed ** Brand New on Amazon.

The state-owned Mount Whitney Fish Hatchery, which supplies fish to much of southern California, was severely damaged by a mudslide that also closed California Highway 395 for several hours Sunday.

If you didn't know already, Bill Schaadt was an icon in northwest U.S. steelheading long before fly fishing for steelhead became a cult itself. He was, according to everyone who fished near him (not many fished "with" him, since he fished so hard and so expertly), one of the most talented anglers ever to hold a fly rod. As an example, in a recent interview I conducted with Guy de la Valdene, he described Schaadt fishing in Key West harbor in the early 1970s while Valdene and the "Tarpon" film crew partied away the evening on the Key West waterfront:

"He had some sort of a funny little rowboat and we were all having some drinks at the Chart Room or at the hotel that sticks out on the water there and you'd see him out there, at night, just dredging, and jumping the %@!#& out of tarpon. Like a lot of them. Like every 8 or 10 minutes Kaboom!, you know, something would happen. He was just a magnificent fly caster, and I'm sure there are people nowadays who are as good or better, and probably hundreds of them, but in our days, Bill Schaadt was something."

Some nominal digging turned up this piece from the archives of Sports Illustrated, in which Russell Chatham -- who probably sat there with de la Valdene and watched Schaadt dredging tarpon in Key West -- describes the legendary demeanor: "Transported, he would turn to follow the progress of his line downstream until a salmon took, then he would outline the peculiarities of the struggle as he battled the lunging monster to a standstill near the sink. Once again I was under the spell of the only man I know whose every thought, action and possession is a cohesive, unified extension of himself, like the spokes of a wheel coming into contact with the encompassing rim."

While Karl Lagerfeld and Chanel continue to market the preposterous -- in this case a £9,170 Chanel rod and set of Chanel flies, "complete with the famous 'double C' logo on the gossamer wings" -- The Guardian's Simon Mills uncovers this bit of advice given to Coco Chanel on Norway's Alta by a fishing buddy of her then-current beau, the Duke of Westminster: "Coco explained her problems to him and received the soundest possible advice suggesting that she should draw inspiration from the sky. 'When it's clear and bright, tie on a Silver Doctor. When dark and overcast, use a Black Doctor' ... As a result, on several occasions she landed more salmon than His Grace."

We're guessing that a wise choice of flies -- with or without logos -- still produces more fish than the world's most expensive fly rod.

One of the truisms about fly fishing is that it provides fodder for endless debate, self-limitation being inherent in the sport. Often the focus of disagreement is whether or not a particular piece of gear, technique, or fly is legitimate. Since there is no central governing body of all things fly fishing, no rules committee or international court of appeals, and since fly fishers are probably more inventive than most other sorts of anglers, every so often the classicists rise up in anger over the introduction of a "new way." And that, many would say, is how it should be.

So it is with the latest fashion in England, which involves the use of "blobs," balls of fiber that are stripped through the water and have upped the catch rate considerably on English lakes. (You can see blob fly examples here and here.) "England fly-fisherman Jeremy Lucas said while the use of the blob and the booby - a brightly coloured lure with polystyrene 'eyes' - could encourage novices, it was 'repulsive' to see them used by experienced fishermen. He said: 'Most of us would wash our hands of it. It reflects fly-fishing in a very bad light.'" Keith Perry in the U.K. Telegraph.

"The Lost World of Mr. Hardy" (TrufflePig Films, DVD, 97 minutes), by Andy Heathcote and Heike Bachelier, documents the remarkable history of the people and inspiration behind the hand-made rods and reels that established Hardy's as the first high-end fly tackle manufacturer in the world. As founder J.J. Hardy said at the end of the 19th century, "Only the best is good enough for fishermen." You can watch several out-takes and the trailer on MidCurrent.

Gordon Wickstrom asks which are more essential in fly fishing: lyrical (feminine) or epic (masculine) skills? Perhaps if you are a steelheader, the epic wins, but for dry flies, finesse takes the prize. "That doyen of American fly-fishing, Sparse Grey Hackle, insisted that women are better equipped physically for fly-fishing. They have a finer sense of the delicacy needed, especially in dry fly-fishing. They are apt to be more skillful in approaching a fish, and then to cast more delicately to it."

Just a couple of weeks ago Wickstrom wrote the first part of this essay on women and water.

For almost 100 years, the Flathead Lake Salmon Hatchery near Somers, Montana (just southwest of Glacier National Park) has been doing things the old fashioned way: collecting eggs from wild kokanee salmon and maintaining as pure a strain of fish as can be found anywhere. "The troughs and baskets holding fingerling kokanee salmon are exactly the same, and the incubation methods basically are as well. The manager, now Mark Kornick, still lives in a nearby bungalow also built in 1912. [Brian] Strohschein, who has worked at the hatchery for 24 years, is proud to still collect eggs from the wild, as opposed to using eggs from domesticated fish 'brewed in ponds or concrete raceways.'" Article by the Associated Press.

Virtual Angler blogger Nick Mills tells an interesting story about an abortive attempt to catch trout in Afghanistan and his subsequent research, which turned up some history on the country's brown trout, which were first mentioned in the writings of Herodotus and Marco Polo. "As for the origin of the brown trout, Jean-José wrote a book, La pêche à la truite en Afghanistan, in which he theorizes that the trout migrated from Europe in meltwater streams at the end of the last Ice Age." In Maine Today.

If there is a "classic" largemouth bass fly, the Gerbubble Bug -- originally a square-bodied cork or balsa-wood fly developed by Tom Loving for fly fishing bass in the tidal waters of the Chesapeake -- would get many votes for the top position. But writer Amy Hotz is stymied in her search for the Bartlett's version, which is mentioned by Lefty Kreh in his 2004 book Fly Fishing for Bass. "My search for the elusive Bartlett's Gerbubble Bug continues. So far, I've visited every outfitter in Wilmington. I've traveled to Myrtle Beach and given the Bass Pro Shop the third degree. I've searched the library and the Internet and enlisted others to do the same. Still, no Gerbubble. Not even a recipe to make one." In North Carolina's Star News Online.

Well, Amy, we suggest noting William Tapply's description of the original Gerbubble's features -- hackle feathers inserted into slits cut along both sides of the cork body so that the fibers stuck out perpendicular to the hook shank, creating the effect of dozens of legs kicking at the water’s surface -- and substituting marabou for the hackle feathers. Then take the recipe to a handy fly tier who should be able to whip one up in about 5 minutes. It doesn't answer the question of why you can't find a commercially tied Bartlett's Gerbubble, but it's guaranteed to feed your addiction.

For more on the history of bass bugs, see "From Bobs to Bugs" on MidCurrent.

This week on MidCurrent Paul Schullery looks at the strange history of streamer flies and their authorship in "A Dreadful Scourge." If anything, it seems, streamer patterns have excited what Thomas McGuane calls the "self-aggrandizing ardor" of fly fishers to take credit for various patterns, something only a good history can sort out.

"The development of what became known as the gaudy salmon fly is attributed to Irish fly tyers who were pioneers in the development of bright and complicated salmon patterns. These Irish tyers took advantage of silk, silver and gold tinsel and rare feathers imported for the millinery trade." Don MacLean gives short history lesson on the origins of the Atlantic salmon fly in Canada's Cape Breton Post.

"Though his friend Carrie Stevens won wide acclaim for her streamer flies, it was Welch who virtually invented the streamer for catching trout and salmon in the Rangeley watershed. Herbie Welch came to the Rangeley area in 1903, according to Graydon and Leslie Hilyard's wonderful book Carrie Stevens, and established himself as the region's premier guide, fly-tyer and taxidermist, the latter skill enhanced by his training as an artist in Paris (France)." Blogger Nick Mills gives a short history lesson inspired by a visit to the Fly Caster's Club of Boston.

In the early nineties, Sears was throwing out its spinning gear and dealers were taking down their "live bait" signs, while the Orvis store in Manhattan was cheek-to-cheek with women in soft-brimmed Brad Pitt hats. Only 15 years ago Barry Maier was writing exuberantly about "The Growing Lure and Profits of Fly-Fishing" in The New York Times. In retrospect, one has to question how long a sport defined by its "upper-class allure" could hold its own without redefining itself as a populist sport, complete with Korean-made rod blanks and Pakistani forceps. "This year, mail orders for fly-fishing equipment sold by the Orvis Company surged 40 percent. Some rod makers, like the Sage Manufacturing Corporation, have had to run double shifts to keep up with demand. And enrollments at fishing schools run by L. L. Bean Inc. and others also reached record highs this season."

Andrew Stiles, while visiting the IGFA headquarters in Florida, uncovered an episode of ABC's "Wide World of Sports" that featured Joe Brooks and Curty Gowdy testing their skills against two Argentinian anglers in the 1960s. Stiles, the head of the Virginia Capital Chapter of Trout Unlimited, had a particular interest in the program because Brooks lived in Richmond, Virginia for a period of 14 years before his death. "The footage is a treasure. The rugged peaks of Patagonia soar in majestic beauty. Curt Gowdy banters like a buddy as much as a polished sportscaster. And Brooks shines as a regular guy with a brilliant gift. The show pits Gowdy and Brooks, as the U.S. team, against Erick Gornick and Tito Hosman of Argentina. Their quarry: Eastern brook trout." Lee Graves in the Richmond Times-Dispatch.

Here's a fascinating story about the discovery of "organic pollution" created by the harvesting of watercress on the famous Bourne tributary of the River Test. Discovering that mustard oil released by watercress reduced biodiversity in part of the stream, the company cultivating the plant changed its process for filtering released water. "The Bourne Rivulet, a tributary of the River Test near Andover in Hampshire, is the idyllic spot which inspired Harry Plunket Greene to write Where the Bright Waters Meet. The Victorian opera singer and key figure in English music, was also a keen fisherman who caught three fat, wild brown trout in the crystal-clear waters of the little chalk stream on August 29 1904." Paul Eccleston in the U.K. Telegraph.

During my first few weeks of fishing in Montana in the late 1980s, I developed a bad habit. The problem was that every time I rigged my leader with a fly, I had a hard time not reaching for a size 16 or 18 parachute Adams. This was all well and good except for the fact that some of the places we were fishing -- Nelson's spring creek, Buffalo Ford, the upper Missouri, and Slough Creek -- deserved more attention than that. There were specific hatches coming off, and I usually caught fish when I tied on a close imitation.

Still, my guides invariably responded, when I dared to suggest trying an Adams, "Yeah, that'll prolly work." "Prolly work" from an experienced guide carries about the same weight as any do-or-die command, so I happily tied on a highly visible, high-floating and all-around pleasant-to-fish Adams at every opportunity. I didn't learn as much as I could have about the hatches specific to those streams and rivers. But I sure had fun.

In "A Great Salesman," Paul Schullery ponders those things that make the Adams such an important fly: its versatility, its simplicity, its irresistibility. But its pedigree, Schullery finds out, is what makes it really interesting. New on MidCurrent.

It's all about the wiggle, glug, and burble. This week we're happy to feature William Tapply's extensive look at the history of bass flies. "From Bobs to Bugs" is from his newest book, Trout Eyes, just out from Skyhorse Publishing (Tony Lyons's new company) and it traces the history of bass bug development from deer tails and cork to finely crafted works of art.

Trout Eyes on Amazon.

On the theory of larger hooks catch larger fish, archaeologists are somewhat amazed at the size of the hook artifact hunter Eric Henley found in a gravel bar on the Missouri river recently. Some guess the quarry hook users were after was either the now-endangered pallid sturgeon -- which can grow up to 85 pounds -- or a giant catfish. "The hook is made of bone and covers his entire palm, making it much larger than most bone hooks. Joe Harl, of the Archaeological Research Center of St. Louis, said the size of the hook suggests the fisherman who used it was after a larger fish." Well, I guess so. On Yahoo.com from the Columbia [Missouri] Daily Tribune.

George Hommel recalls a classic moment when guiding Don Hawley: "Bonefish! Don would take his time and empty his pipe by tapping it on the side of the boat. That did it! The bonefish were history. My following comments were not positive and Hawley responded by saying, ‘Well, I can’t put a hot pipe in my pocket!’" This from an biography of Hawley on the Don Hawley Foundation Web site. Written by Capt. Bob Johnson for the Free Press in June 1995, the piece summarizes Hawley's adventures in World War I and subsequent involvement in professional life and finally his retirement to the Keys, where he fished with many of the early guides and with Ted Williams and Lynette Simon started the Gold Cup Tournament in 1964 -- the first tarpon tournament to recognize the importance of releasing fish. The Hawley Foundation, as most Keys anglers know, has provided financial support to sick guides and their families for many years. (Thanks to reader David Dalu for this link.)

"The Pflueger reel company had a full page ad featuring the Medalist reel. In 1980 if you were not fishing with a Fenwick rod and a Medalist reel you were out of the loop." In preparation for the future mother-in-law, Bill Thompson peruses the pages of thousands of old fly fishing magazines and discovers how very different the product offerings were in 1980. This is quite an interesting picture, reminding us that not so long ago there was no such thing as breathable waders and that overseas manufacturing is not a new idea -- Marryat was already outsourcing reel production to East Asia. In the Conway Daily Sun.

A wonderful analogy emerges from this interview with Hoagy B. Carmichael, son of the legendary composer and author of the recently released first volume of a history of the Grand Cascapedia. It ties together qualities that mark both great writers and accomplished anglers: optimism and a willingness to see patterns where others hardly look. "Hoagy's father had always told him that if you look at a piano; there all kinds of new songs waiting there right on the keys ... you just have to find them." Living on Earth producer Bob Carty talks with the author about the river that has produced three quarters of North America's largest Atlantic salmon.

"In a tradition dating back to William Howard Taft's presidency nearly a century ago, the first fish taken from the Bangor Salmon Pool each spring was delivered to the White House. Over the years, dam construction, pollution and fishing took their toll. As the number of salmon counted at the Veazie Dam fell from about 3,100 in 1990 to 535 a decade later, the fishery adopted a catch-and-release rule before closing altogether in 1999." Jerry Harkavy of the Associated Press writes about the history behind the closing and recent re-opening of Maine's Penobscot River Atlantic salmon fishery to fly fishing.

Here's an interesting historical piece in the London Times on how stocked fisheries changed the angling landscape of England in the 1960s. "Up to the mid-1960s, most trout fishing was where God had made it. The chalk streams of the South were beyond most anglers’ financial reach. The teeming waters of Wales, the West Country and the North were, like the lochs and the loughs, far removed from the centres of population." Brian Clarke writes about Grafham Water.

"When explorer Jacques Cartier visited Labrador in 1534, he called it 'the land God gave to Cain...fit only for wild beasts.' While I doubt he was referring to the native brook trout that thrived in Labrador's nearly countless lakes, he may as well have been." Dave Sherwood writes about the enormous brook trout that populate Labrador's many lakes, ponds and waterways on MaineToday.com.

Bronzeworker Jim Brothers noted an interesting fact about his sculpture of Dwight Eisenhower, who made the final decision about when to send troops into the maelstrom of D-Day. Deciding that he must talk with the individual troops first, Eisenhower touched on an unlikely subject. "At one point, Brothers said, Eisenhower and the men 'were talking about fishing in Michigan. So that's an invisible fly rod he's holding.'" Neil Harvey in the Roanoke (Virginia) Times.

In these days of ultra-rigid composite materials, there's something quite pleasant about a softer, quieter ride in wood. Some Grayling, Michigan students recently built a cedar-strip craft based on decades-old blueprints. "AuSable riverboats historically were made from pine planks and used for fly-fishing on Michigan's AuSable and Manistee rivers. The boats were first crafted in the 1800s during the lumber boom and used to move supplies along shallow inland rivers." Sheri McWhirter in the Travis City, Michigan Record Eagle.

"The earliest fish hooks were probably carved out of wood more than 30,000 years ago by Cro-Magnon man. Other cultures throughout history have used animal bone, horns, shells, steel and even the thorns of hawthorn bushes." Oh, and did we forget to mention deceased anglers' thigh bones? Forbes editors name the fish hook one of the top 20 human inventions of all time.

"Gordon was something of a recluse. He moved from the big city to escape the cacophony of modern life to a small cabin on the Neversink River where he lived until succumbing to tuberculosis." Gregory Rummo talks about Theodore Gordon, the American Civil War's impact on Catskills brook trout, and how modern "water lords" are determining the fate of rivers. On NorthJersey.com.

Think about this the next time you rig up a Zara Spook on a spinning rod for a youngster: the name derives from the behavior of Panamanian women practicing the oldest profession in the world. "The original wood version, the Zaragossa, was made in the 1920s for fishing in Florida. After watching a prototype lure zigzag across the water in a test tank, a Heddon worker remarked that it wiggled its butt just like the hookers on Zaragoza Street in Panama City." Eric Sharp in The Detroit Free Press.

A story in the Houston Chronicle today reminds me of when as a boy Phil Gonzalez, later one of the first lodge owners on Montana's Bighorn River, wanted to go fish Yellowstone Park for the first time. He walked into Dan Bailey's shop in downtown Livingston, Montana and told Dan what he wanted to do. Dan gave him a rigged fly rod and box full of flies and said, "Just bring it back when you're done."

In the Chronicle, Joe Dogget describes how learning to fly fish has changed in fifty years. "The concept of a tapered leader was awfully sophisticated. Angling greats Joe Brooks and A.J. McClain recommended a '60-20-20' system graduating from butt to tippet, but such refinements seemed unnecessary on the duck pond."

Moc Morgan talks about the recovery of The River Ebbw in southern England, Jimmy Carter, and how the Cabinet Beat of the Itchen got its name. "It happened apparently during World War I - in the summer of l917. The then Foreign Secretary (Lord Grey of Falden, I believe) invited the Prime Minister, Lloyd George, and his Cabinet to Itchen Abbas for a Cabinet meeting - because the mayfly was hatching on the river and he did not wish to be away from his fishing for too long!" On icWales.com.

John Leonard wrote this well-researched, photo-illustrated retrospective on the use of railroad cars in the late 19th century to transport fish across the U.S. "In 1879, for example, [Dr. Livingston] Stone successfully shepherded a shipment of striped bass from New Jersey to California. During the lengthy train journey, the milk cans containing the fry were cooled by ice." From CatskillArchive.com.

Of course at that time the prevailing opinion was "more species in more places is better." (We now know that non-native fish displaced huge populations of other less-vigorous, now-endangered species.)

Turns out Hoover's famed camp in Virginia's Shenandoah National Park got started with a publicity stunt: "In a nutshell, William Carson, then a Virginia official, lured Hoover by raving about the land, building a road, buying fishing rights and stocking the river with trout." Lee Graves talks about the former president's approval rating and the camp that sits where the Laurel Prong and Mill Prong form the Rapidan River. In the Richmond Times-Dispatch.

Jennings Culley recalls his own tutelage under Joe Brooks and the many contributions Brooks made to the sport of fly fishing. "The superstars of the sports world worshipped him. Ted Williams was a neighbor and fishing pupil of Brooks in the Florida Keys. Jack Nicklaus said he read every book the guy wrote. Sam Snead admired his deftness with a fly rod. But it was the average angler who marveled at his technique on TV shows and clung to his every tip. A kind, gentle soul, he would stoop to help anyone." In the Richmond, Virginia Times-Dispatch.

"The westslope cutthroat is an uncommon beauty, silver-green in the flanks and spotted like a cheetah, with its namesake slashes of red under its chin. Its name makes it sound ruthless, but in fact the fish is a mild-mannered soul, content to nibble on the larvae of water bugs and snatch the occasional mosquito from the air." On the bicentennial of the Lewis and Clarke expedition, Ben Long writes about the "discovery" of cutthroat trout and why special protections are needed for special fish. On Tidepool.org.

"Benny Goodman's Paul Young rod is here; also Babe Ruth's Payne. And there's a Shakespeare glass rod that belonged to Ted Williams, who was as skilled and single-minded on a bonefish flat or salmon pool as he was on the baseball diamond. Williams, according his plaque, liked to tie flies after a game. 'It releases me,' he said, ' . . . Come in after a game, all taut and nervous, tie a few flies and, boom, right to sleep.'" Geoffrey Norman describes the restful charm of the American Museum of Fly Fishing in Manchester, Vermont. In the Wall Street Journal.

Emilio Gino Segrè, who shared the Nobel Prize in 1959 with Owen Chamberlain for the discovery of the antiproton, was also with the Manhattan Project team in Los Alamos in 1944. There, his preference for taking Sundays off to fly fish puzzled his mentor, Enrico Fermi. "'Fermi asked Segre why,' Rosen said. Segre said he sometimes went fishing. Fermi asked him what was so satisfying about fishing that it took precedence over the extremely important problems they must solve at the lab. Segre replied with a detailed explanation of the technology required for fly fishing in order to outsmart the fish. Rosen said Fermi concluded, 'Finally, I understand and, it is a battle of wits.'" Carol Clark on LAMonitor.com.

"'After playing the fish for several minutes he worked him as near the shore as possible and holding his rifle in one hand and the rod in the other, by a rather difficult feat of contortion, got a bead...and fired,' reported the newspaper." Surely careless harvesting, typified by the behavior of famed sculptor Charles E. Tefft, contributed to the near-disappearance of Penobscot salmon. But as this article by Wayne E. Reilly points out, many factors lead to the cycle of decline and recovery. In the Bangor Daily News.

There is a class of modern writers who not only recognize literature (which at MidCurrent we like to think of as "news that remains news"), but revel in it. Fortunately fly fishing "owns" one of those authors: Paul Schullery.

This week Paul takes us on a journey along the path of reading trout "rises." Even if you're not a devotee of angling literature, "Reading the Rise" makes an excellent case for becoming a bookworm. And teaches a bunch about riseforms to boot.

John Merwin offers this extended look at the famed rivers and streams of New York's Catskills, where American fly fishing found its birth. "People come here as much for tradition as for trout, and both are abundant. The fishing can be exceptional, especially in the spring along less traveled sections of the various rivers. Then, too, there’s the parade of famous anglers. Fishing where Theodore Gordon or Lee Wulff or A.J. McClane wet their lines in decades past is part of the appeal." In Field & Stream.

Here's some fascinating stuff hidden in this unpretentious site about fly casting, including this history of the double haul.

Wonder if Aelius or his progenitors got the idea of fly fishing by watching herons use insects to lure an unsuspecting fish? Turns out there are records of herons doing just this, as reported by Dr. Louis Lefebvre at the American Association for the Advancement of Science in Washington DC. Stephen White in the Scottish Daily Herald.

Vic Dunaway offers this comprehensive look at the origins and development of fly fishing for billfish, which demanded outsized creativity from its pioneers. The most interesting parts of the story have to do with Helen and Webster Robinson, who almost single-handedly gave the sport its momentum. "The caster's impulse would be to throw his fly ahead of the fish, but trial and error proved to Robinson that this wasn't the thing to do. A billfish which follows the fly is less likely to hit it, and if he does take it, the straight-on strike seldom results in a good hookup. [Webster] Robinson would throw his fly behind the irritated fish and pop it noisily. His aim was to make the fish wheel suddenly and crash the fly at a right angle. Almost invariably, when this was accomplished, the hook locked up tight." In Florida Sportsman.

One wouldn't normally make the connection, but no doubt the advent of railroads in Britain changed the angling landscape forever and probably helped turn fly fishing into a "popular" sport. Andrew Herd says as much on his wonderful Fly Fishing History site: "Leisure travel was becoming possible for ordinary people, and the railway was to play a crucial role in the development of fishing in the UK. The first track was laid in Britain in 1825, and by 1870, the country had 13,500 miles of railway open." (Thanks to reader Zach Matthews for this link.)

Buried in an article about the rising prices of real estate in the Florida Keys is the interesting story behind Cheeca Lodge, which is undergoing a major transformation/renovation. "The lodge, now managed by RockResorts, was built in the early 1960's after a hurricane destroyed its predecessor, the Olney Inn, where Harry S. Truman was once a guest. The name was derived from a merger of the names of the two new owners, Cynthia (better known as Che-Che) and her husband, Carl Twitchell (an heir to the A.& P. supermarket fortune). The resort soon took on something of a celebrity cachet. Frequent guests included Sam Snead, Ted Williams and Bing Crosby. More recently, former President George Bush has often been a guest — so much so that the resort holds an annual bonefish tournament in his honor." Charles Passy in The New York Times. (Thanks to reader David Dalu for this link.)

If you're lucky enough to own a house in the town of Hungerford in Berkshire, England, you also own rights to fish for trout in the River Kinnet. "'This is the best chalk-stream fishing in the country,' says Jon Roots, who is this year's Constable of Hungerford, and whose own house has fishing rights. 'Records are kept of all fish taken and 5lb trout are regularly caught.'" In the U.K. Telegraph.

A pre-World War I reel -- a Roller Back Coxon Aerial made by John Forrest of London -- was purchased in Britain for £6,600 at a November auction, apparently setting a record for antique reel prices. On FishingMagic.com.

Bob Saile describes the disease and the cure in this piece about fly fishing for mountain whitefish. "Whitefish are the ugly ducklings of Western fishing, except they never turn into piscatorial swans. Ray Bergman, a famous fishing writer in the mid-1900s, visited Colorado's Elk River and came back home to write about catching 'grayling.' (That's what the locals called whitefish.) He received a deluge of letters telling him he wouldn't know a guppy from a great white shark." In the Denver Post.

An article by Tom Hundley in the Chicago Tribune mentions something interesting about the hallowed River Test, where Isaac Walton once fished: that it wasn't truly a river until the various feeder streams were restructured by local farmers, 100 years after Walton. So Walton was probably doing his worm fishing in tiny rivulets, not the "classic" beats that are among the most prized in modern fly fishing.

Alastair Robertson of the Scotsman.com comments on the progenitor of dry fly fishing. "FM Halford was by all accounts a bit of a pain but he is credited with, if not inventing dry fly fishing then at least working out and writing down what you had to do to catch a fish. First you spot a fish eating winged insects. Then you cast a fly at him which looks like one of the insects, making sure it lands the right way up and the right way round. At the same time you have to drop it neatly on the water so that it floats over the fish without creating a terrible kerfuffle."

Paul Schullery -- author of American Fly Fishing and the classic Mountain Time -- shares his insight and elegant commentary on the origins of fly fishing in "Aelian Lives." Though he admits to sifting skills from hundreds of how-to books, he distills the best knowledge out of an obsession with history. New on Midcurrent.

It's easy to forget the role fly fishing for bass played in the development of fly fishing in the U.S. Dr. James Henshall, considered the "Dean of American Bass Fishing" in the 1870s, was also the first to claim catching a tarpon on a fly rod, using a Vom Hoffe reel, a cane rod, and an Atlantic Salmon fly.

This article by Eric Sharpe recounts both Henshall's and Edson Leonard's role in shaping the sport of fly fishing for bass and discusses opportunity for warm-water fly fishers in Michigan . (Thanks to readers Sid Wales for reminding me of the Henshall-tarpon connection.)

A pilgrimage to Roscoe, New York still weighs in the minds of some as more than pleasant duty. As one resident (Joan Wulff) says in this New York Times piece by James Prosek, "You see what tradition provides for people; it's like an anchor."

Jonathan Ledgard transports us to hidden geographic anomaly in the Hindu Kush, a valley called the Ajar, the hunting grounds of the Afghan king. This is a place where armies feared to go, but where the king once hunted snow leopards and steppe eagles. That Mr. Ledgard took along his fly rod to a land where 3 walnuts is a fine gift is pretty remarkable. In the Atlantic Monthly online.

Bill Sargeant touts Long Key in the Florida Keys as one of the greatest bonefish wading locations. One thing he doesn't mention is that Long Key was also home to the original Long Key Fishing Camp, frequented by Zane Grey and many angling notables of the era before being destroyed in the 1935 hurricane.

Just when I finish shrugging off Sports Illustrated's use of bikini-clad fly fishers to sell magazines, I find out that "In 1946, every ad for fly lines had a girl in the bathing suit," that Hemingway was encouraged to take Castro fishing at gunpoint, and that the Ashaway Company used the same symbol to sell fly lines as the one co-opted and corrupted by the Nazis from an ancient Native American good luck sign.

Vic Johnson's self-published book titled "America's Fly Lines: The Evolution of the Modern Fly Line From Its Horsehair and Silk Beginnings," seems to contain many interesting nuggets like this. According to the author's Web site, the book "profiles ... over 40 of the major firms selling fly lines in America from 1816 to date. It also explains the technology advances in fly line technology over the same period. This book is a valuable resource for anyone purchasing a new fly line as well as classic tackle collectors. It contains a price guide for antique and vintage fly lines."

Leon Chandler wrote the Foreward to the book. With 166 pages and 260 illustrations, looks like a must-read for anyone interested in the history of fly lines and fly line engineering.

Bill Barker relates a fascinating oral history of the Umpqua and his family's experience -- as fly fishermen and ranchers of land on one of its tributaries -- in catching the river's once-abundant rainbows, salmon and steelhead. It truly points to the value of "the unheralded actions of ordinary people."

A PBS segment this evening points to the role of Flagler in "stitching" the last piece of the U.S. to the mainland in the first part of the last century. I say civilizing tongue in cheek, of course, because the Calusa indians had settled the keys long before European Americans got there.

In fact 'Key West' is an anglicanization of 'Cayo Hueso,' "Island of Bones" in Spanish, presumably because of the horrific battles fought there by the Calusa.

But my great- great-grandfather, who was mayor of Key West in the 1890s, wanted to raise a family, start a bank and open a candy store, while navigating the turmoil aroused by the movement for Cuban independence from Spain. He sent his family regularly to New York by steamship, to visit relatives who had immigrated from Catalonia, Spain. In those days, steamships were notoriously vulnerable to explosion but the only choice -- which along with the advent of the automobile probably hastened Flagler's venture.

Flagler completed the railroad link to Key West in 1912. The stock market crash of 1929 left Monroe county, Florida, broke, so there was no attempt made to create an "overseas highway" until 1934. In 1935, just before Labor Day, there was word of a powerful storm in the Atlantic that might raise sea levels 7-10 feet. The result of that category 5 hurricane was a 20-foot wall of water that killed 50% of the population of the middle keys, many of them World War I veterans who were participating the government's work program, none of whom had access to the news until it was too late. The final move to transform the railroad into a highway began in 1936, surely as a response to the hurricane, which had destroyed the Key West link.

I remember clearly my first trip to Key West in 1979, riding a motorcyle across the old Flagler railroad, a road that purloined the original railroad tracks for guardrails. Now some 42,000 cars travel the new Overseas Highway, built next to or in place of the old railroad bed, each day.

But the truly remarkable thing to me is this: despite all the attention to the highway and the beach-bejewelled Keys (hint: beaches iin the Keys are diminished by the presence of a coral reef), despite the crass commercialism and the Hemingway worship and the arrival of cruise ship culture, the water surrounding the Keys remained -- and still remains, thanks to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and some careful individuals -- a wilderness.

If you haven't been there, go. And if you have a chance to stop at Bahia Honda and walk out over the old highway that tops Flagler's original trestle and ends suddenly a hundred feet above the channel, you'll get some sense of the history, guaranteed.

Better yet, wade out from Long Key and stand where Joe Brooks wondered about the possibility of catching his first bonefish on a fly.

(If you care to read a little more about the the role of the Keys in the development of saltwater fly fishing, Dr. Andrew N. Herd has a fairly detailed article here.)

This vignette of Roscoe, New York in the New York Times describes this western Catskills town as a last, best place two hours from Manhattan. Besides being home to respected fly tiers Mary Dette and Poul Jorgensen, it sits astride the Beaverkill and Willowemoc rivers.

Here's a page from Flyfishingconnection.com that gives much more detail on fishing the Willowemoc, including some nice maps.

A very interesting piece about the history of the Letort River in southern Pennsylvania, the river's role in helping shape the thinking of America's fly fishing pioneers (including Charlie Fox, Vince Marinaro and Ernie Schwiebert), and a debate over whether the Letort's trout are disappearing and why. Is it possible that this one difficult river was inspiration for longer leaders, light tippets, thorax-style dry flies (since traditional Catskill dries didn't work), and terrestrial patterns? Obviously the Letort deserves special attention.

I found this link to a rather detailed history on the Powell family and their involvement -- and disinvolvement -- with the Powell Rod company. It's a story marked by strong personalities and by the acrimony over the Schwab assumption of ownership. If you're interested in modern rod-building industry, it's a good read, in part because Powell was there at the "explosion" of fly fishing after WWII.

The Catskill Fly Fishing Center and Museum in Livingston Manor, New York, inducted Ray Bergman, Stanley Bogdan, William "Catskill Bill" Kelly, and Nick Lyons into their Hall of Fame this year. This article in the Times-Herald Record offers short biographies on each.

A terrific essay on the beginnings of tarpon fishing from the Bonefish & Tarpon Unlimited Web site.

An interesting piece on SunSpot.net talks abou how SI turned from a sporting magazine into a sports magazine; appears the turning point was a 3-part series on wet fly fishing.

I remember discussing with Leonard Wright almost 20 years ago how hard it would be to start up a true sporting magazine in the eighties. Of course that's all I wanted to do back then, but no one wanted to put money into it then (for good reason). Somehow my idea, "The Sportsman," ended up at Esquire, who launched a couple of issues in the nineties then as far as I know folded the concept due to lack of advertising support.

Despite (because of?) all of this "fly fishing" continues to be more a lifestyle than a sport in modern media terms. It is coopted by Pottery Barn more often than by Budweiser and defines an almost inscrutable niche in the "Mostly Men's" market. I don't know anyone who fly fishes who didn't at some point wish they could make a great living at it, but those slots are few and the odds are small. Perhaps anyone who tries it will find what I found after just a few years of guiding: I had to truly love what I did -- no matter how much money I made, it was impossible to try to be an excellent guide and think in those terms. It probably is why the merchandising of such unique places as the Marquesas left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Maybe that's one of the reasons fishing exists, to teach us the meaning of an avocation, and to frustrate those who don't seem to get it.

"A scow with horses then came through the pool...." R. Hewitt wrote this fine piece on dry fly fishing for salmon in the 1920s. He uses (coins?) the phrase giving him the butt. Somehow he writes as if he had all the time in the world; compared to some current outdoors journalism, there's genuine immersion happening here.