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Posts Tagged ‘flashback friday’

This young man is featured in an ad for Louis Vuitton on the back cover of The New Yorker‘s recent “Style Issue”. He can scowl all he wants but I think he looks scared.

LV model

We can’t see what he’s scared of but I imagine that, having shown up for a sailing cruise with a pile of fancy matched luggage and stylish shoulder bag, he might not quite be up to the good-natured ribbing he’s taking from the crew. I know I’d be tempted to throw him overboard. Stylish or not, Thurston Howell VI there just doesn’t fit in, even if (or perhaps because) he has a silly gold anchor charm hanging off his pocket. Personally, I think he should ditch the tie and go with something a little more casual, like an ascot, but thank goodness fly fishers aren’t hung up on style, right? (more…)

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In 1960, when the Outdoor Recreation Resources Review Commission of the United States Forest Service conducted the first U.S. National Recreation Survey, “off-highway motorized recreation” was not included as a recreational activity. A few people were driving into the back country with motorcycles or 4-wheel-drive vehicles but not enough of them to register as a population-wide activity.

Fifty years later, to say things are different almost gets it.

According to the 2008 Forest Service report “Off-Highway Vehicle Recreation in the United States and its Regions and States: An Update National Report from the National Survey on Recreation and the Environment (NSRE)” retail sales of new All-Terrain Vehicles and Off-Highway Motorcycles more than tripled between 1995 and 2006, with 1,034,966 units sold in the last year for which statistics were available. An estimated 8,010,000 ATVs and Off-Highway Motorcycles were in use on back country roads and trails during 2001-2003.

We sure do like our internal combustion engines.

In the spring of 1967, Outdoor Life featured ads for motorcycles aimed specifically at fly fishers, with Suzuki touting them as an environmentally friendly solution to pollution.

suzuki

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It’s easy to get distracted while thumbing through my old magazines, looking for something in particular. Mixed in with the mundane and everyday aspects of the outdoor life are exciting stories filled with danger and daring, told by those who survived them, offering a glimpse of rugged days gone by. Like these 1950′s Russian tiger catchers, restraining a wild beast with not much more than stout wooden poles!

tiger catchers

Brought to bay by dogs, this tiger was destined for a zoo or a circus and had to be taken alive. One man has a line around a paw and, according to the article, the tiger was in a bag and headed for the truck within minutes. I hope these guys made good money, because I can’t imagine grabbing tigers for fun, although I guess you never know. (more…)

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I sometimes carry a pipe in the evening, puffing on some Captain Black when the mosquitoes are particularly aggressive. Some evenings are just not complete without a nice cigar but smoking no longer holds the allure it once did. There was a time, though, when (male) anglers were almost expected to smoke and the image of an angler with a pipe in his mouth became darn near iconic.

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(A couple of weeks ago I came across a blog post, complete with pictures, in which a rather lovely snake lost its life. I have a thing for reptiles with pretty patterns and I am a real early morning grouch so, of course, I left a sarcastic comment. I regret it now, not because I’ve changed my mind about killing snakes, but because the author of that post turns out to be a very nice woman with a wicked sense of humor who just happened to freak out and started swinging a shovel.

I understand now, having gone back to re-read that post several times, and I offer up this public apology to Mary, the owner of the blog OINKtales. The image of her protecting her brood, wildly swinging a shovel is kind of funny, but she lives not too far from Fish in a Barrel Pond and the last thing I need is for her to come after me. I’m sorry, Mary. Please don’t hit me with a shovel.)

To hear some people tell it, trout could not possibly survive without human intervention on their behalf. Unless something is done right now — according to these folks, anyway — Fish in a Barrel Pond will become a sterile, barren place, devoid of trout. Eagles, loons, osprey, mink, otters and who knows what else are bound to eat every fish in the pond, and not a day goes by that someone doesn’t suggest I “go out there and shoot them” before it’s too late.

Using a combination of questionable statistics, reckless extrapolation, hyperbole, smoke, and mirrors, they will make their case for the destruction of any potential threat to the trout that comes within half a mile of the place and I must, as politely as possible, remind them I will not go to jail for them and request that they immediately cease blowing smoke up my skirt. (more…)

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A tree fell last week (see “If a Tree Falls …”) and I showed that I can still stick a saw with the best of them. Ken G (from Waterdog Journal) wondered what it is about men that makes them continue an action, even when they can clearly see it’s not a good idea.

Mike (from Mike’s Gone Fishin’ … Again) could relate and expressed his love of power equipment.

Paul Cowell (from Paul’s Angling Journal) reminded me to keep plenty of gas in the saw, in case of zombies, and my post began take on a rather masculine air — at least until a comment appeared from a girl.

Girls who like chainsaws are okay by me, especially when they also fish and can write like Erin Block does on her blog Mysteries Internal. She has a way with words I … I … well, you know. After you’re done with this you really ought to go read her piece “The Dancing Cast“.

I am not surprised when I see a woman with a chainsaw but there was a time when such a thing was unheard of.

Homelite started marketing their saws to sportsmen, back in the days when clearing campsites and building log shelters were still acceptable practices. Even at only 19 pounds, I can’t imagine wanting to lug a chainsaw along on a camping trip, unless I was heading into zombie habitat, and I’m not so sure that anyone — man or woman — would actually look forward to running the thing.

That was more than half a century ago. Women didn’t run chainsaws. That was work for a man. An outdoors man. The kind of man girls really go for.

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(Knowing which day of the week it is has a different significance to me than it does to most other working stiffs. I must keep track, somewhere in the back of my tiny mind, but other than to check which camps need to be made ready by 4:00 p.m. I don’t really need to know. As far as most members of the Neverwas Nonesuch Angling Society are concerned, my work week begins the moment of their arrival, no matter the day, so I labor while they recreate and what everyone else knows as Friday has become just another day of making beds.) 

Five light fixtures, a rake, a broom, a 5-foot chunk of 4x4, some rope, some stove wood, trash and laundry.

That is just my way of saying that, with the season underway at Fish in a Barrel Pond, Flashbacks can occur at any time.)

I must point out, now and then, that the Neverwas Nonesuch Angling Society and Fish in a Barrel Pond are figments of Quill Gordon’s imagination. I should further point out that Quill Gordon is also a figment. In other words, with the exception of gear reviews and nature writing, most of what appears in this blog is (mostly) fiction. The thing about fiction is that it must be believable and, with the good folks I associate with as an ever-flowing source of material and inspiration, if I were to share the stories of what I really see and hear you would think I was just making stuff up.

There are elements to certain stories we all can relate to. True or not, tales of young boys and large fish are near universal.

Even the goofiest anglers among us get lucky sometimes.

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The season is in full swing, here at Fish in a Barrel Pond, and lots of folks are up, celebrating Memorial Day by doing a little fishing. There was a time, though, when we were at war and there wasn’t a whole lot of fishing going on. In an effort to keep our hopes up during World War II, the state of Pennsylvania continued with its stocking programs, looking ahead to the promise of peace.

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My friend Owl Jones wrote a post the other day about fishing with barbed vs. non-barbed hooks. Actually, it wasn’t much of a vs. since the title was “Why you should fish with barbs”.

Personally, I pinch down the barbs on my flies because 98% of the trout I catch are released and the hook comes out much easier if there is no barb. The less time spent removing the hook, the better. A barbless hook is also much easier to remove from an ear lobe but we won’t get into that again. It was an accident and I said I was sorry, okay? (more…)

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Opening Day 1947

Opening Day 2011 dawned a tad bit cool and more than just a little breezy, and the members and guests of the Neverwas Nonesuch Angling Society reacted accordingly. Some searched out sheltered spots to cast while others trolled streamers, slapping their way through the chop on the upwind leg of their circuit. By breakfast, most had touched enough trout to have no problem not going back out but a few anglers, suffering from the delusion that nothing matters but numbers, couldn’t be bothered to come in even for coffee.  (more…)

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