Monthly Archives: October 2010

A Call To Pens

The headwaters of the E. Fork of the French Broad River outside of Rosman, NC ,is an 8,000 acre tract of land that has miles of brook trout water in the tributaries and 8 miles of river that is prime to become the newest North Carolina delayed harvest trout water adding to the existing delayed harvest section of the East Fork. The Carolina Mountain Land Conservancy and the Conservation Fund have ponied up to purchase the property and have all funding in place. ” Sounds ideal,” you say. Well, it would be except for one minor problem. The NC Wildlife Commission has shown no interest in acquiring the property as an NC Gameland. This happens to be the largest privately owned undeveloped tract of land left in Western North Carolina and the commission has waved it on by like a bad piece of fish at an eastern european restaurant. I am not proposing that the Commissioners have an easy job working with a painfully small budget and managing an insane amount of land, but when an opportunity of this magnitude falls into your lap you jump on it like a Twinkie at fat camp. There will be a Commissioners’ meeting on November 4th, and we as anglers need to bring the brunt of our letter writing prowess to bear. This is a no-brainer as no money needs to be raised, just our voices heard. Click on the logo below to get information on what to write and who to send it to (Letters have to be in by November 3rd). I have already written mine, and I included the head of a brook trout in the envelope just to make sure my point gets across…Corleone style.

Click the Logo To Tell The NC Wildlife Commission What You Think

- Dave

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West By God Virginia

I have one more float trip before Steve and I head down to the low country, Thelma and Louise style, to shoot the redfish feature for the first issue. Should be interesting as we are taking Steve’s boat (never been in the salt), Ryan’s push pole (also never tasted the salt), and my cooler (to strap to the backseat for a poling platform).  There’s really only two ways for this scenario to play out, but both involve SEATOW…although only one involves Steve making it out of this without a puncture wound (I get stabby when I’m nervous). Needless to say I got redfish on the brain but the fall trout fishing has officially gotten stupid. Ryan made a little foray into wild and wooly West Virginia looking for some brown trout that hadn’t quite hit full copulation but were stuck somewhere around foreplay. Ryan being the ultimate cock blocker, kicked in the bedroom door and found exactly what he was looking for.

Tis the season to put on your big boy pants and chase some tail.

- Dave

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A Minor Announcement Of Major Importance

Just so people don’t think we here at SCOF are sitting around on our collective asses, I am happy to announce that through  a little bit of bribery, strong arming, and  a whole lot of spooning we can introduce J.E.B. Hall as our newest feature contributor. You might recognize J.E.B. from such educational films as, Walleye Fishing Tips From The Walleye Experts

or, Filling the Tip Pool

We think he might have written a book or something as well, but that is all just rumor and conjecture. Welcome aboard J.E.B. try to keep the professionalism to a minimum.

- dave

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I’m Old and Things Are Starting To Get Wrinkly

I am on day two of my birthday hangover. I turned 32 this weekend and despite my best efforts to the contrary I am still around.  Forty is looking a lot closer than 20 now and I have decided I might benefit from taking stock in where I am these days…kind of like a self-help seminar, but without all the crying…well maybe a little crying:

  • I live within  a double haul of my all time favorite southern trout water with my wife and son who neither of which know how to double haul…yet. (The boy is only one but I still don’t think that’s a good enough excuse…laziness if you ask me.)
  • I used to make a lot of money doing something I really didn’t like that much.  Now I make very little money doing something I love.
  • I am about to start a magazine with no experience other than reading them on the crapper.
  • I have a bunch of good friends both fly and not so fly.
  • I have all my hair…but I have more hair in weird places.
  • I don’t smell old…but I often smell bad.
  • I can still tie a size 26 midge…but I can no longer tie on a weeklong bender.
  • I am not as old as Steve (Art Director Steve…you know the one I’m talking about…the really old one)
  • I am on the water more now than in all my twenties combined…but I have to pee a lot more.

Till now I never realized how much I needed a hug.

- dave

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Something Is Rotten In The State of Georgia…And It’s Not Ted Turner

SCOF’s Georgia ambassador Capt. Kent Klewein (Reel Job Fishing)  has brought to our attention a situation on the Toccoa River that proves once again the folks that run our tailwaters don’t give two shits about the fish in those rivers or the men and women that rely on those rivers for their livelihood. Blue Ridge Lake (which feeds the Toccoa) has been drawn down to levels that are better suited for mud hut building than fishing. As you might have guessed, the trout and those that chase them will be the real losers in this whole deal because as of right now, the TVA and the Georgia DNR will not make any promises for recovery efforts or guarantee special harvest regulations to support the recovery when needed.  The Toccoa has always been a good river to my friends and I, but with responsible harvest policies, the river could truly be one of the finest trophy trout tailwaters in the South.    If you live or fish in Georgia and care about the Toccoa, the time for action is now. As for me, I have just been waiting for a good reason to throw a hissy fit at the TVA’s expense. Here is a link to Kent’s Blog Post about the most recent meeting and what you can do to make a difference in changing the Georgia DNR’s antiquated harvest policies for the Toccoa.

 

Railing Against The Man Starts Here (Click the Fishy)

 

Power to The Fish, and vive la resistance,

Dave

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Just Because It’s Cheap Beer Doesn’t Mean It’s Good Beer

Southern Culture on the Fly will feature local brews and food in each issue, so I decided to get a head start on the magazine and write up an homage to my favorite cheap beers imbibed while fishing.  To qualify for this list, the beer must be under 10 bucks a 12 pack and bottles need not apply…this is can country.

Busch Heavy (Realtree Camo Can Edition): It’s cheap, tastes better than my Grandfathers feet, and it’s camo…enough said.

Tecate: My boy John St. John at Hog Island Boatworks turned me onto this stuff a few years ago.  Think Mexican Budweiser here folks.  I love a beer I can drink while wearing a Sombrero and not have to feel weird about it.

Old Milwaukee: Lovingly referred to as Old Mud on my boat.  I wouldn’t say it tastes like mud but it does taste like beer that has been filtered through mud, so I guess the name fits.

Coors: The banquet beer…if you bring Coors to a banquet you should start reconsidering your definition of a banquet.

Pabst Blue Ribbon: The Grandfather of cheap beer and my personal favorite. PBR won America’s best beer in 1893 at the World Expo in Chicago…must have been a lot of really shitty beer in 1893.

Any one of these fine brews will enhance your day of fishing while leaving some cash in your wallet for more important things…like hiring little people to toss at you next social gathering.  Oh yeah, remember kids extra points are awarded for the tall boy versions.

- Dave

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The French Broad Is A Filthy Whore

The French Broad I am referring to is not that piece of strange you picked up on your vacation after graduating college (although judging from the laundry list of STD’s my buddies came back with, those girls aren’t exactly church going folk). The French Broad I refer to is our local urban smallmouth fishery, which has remained filthy in terms of garbage and water color for going on the whole season now. Guiding smallmouth on the French Broad this season was like taking repeated kicks to the groin from my one-year-old. Not something I enjoy, but inevitably it happens over and over again.  In commemoration of our  last trip of the year on the Broad, SCOF’s inappropriate T-shirt designer, Steve, came up with this gem of a tee to sum up most folks’ feelings on the Broad this year.

Unfortunately, this sentiment seems work all the way around for the French Broad, from the people who abuse it to the people who try to make a living on it. Now I know this bullshit is not limited to our urban fishery, as the words “urban fishery” have become synonymous with water that is just as likely to dole out a staff infection as it is an enjoyable day of fishing, but you gotta start somewhere. At this point, I am left with a decision to make: keep on pissing and moaning about how much the Broad sucks for another season, or to do my small part in trying to salvage what we can from the fishery. I usually go the pissing and moaning route as it involves less actual work on my part, but things have gone too far. I am now an official French Broad whistle-blower.

Beware developers who don’t implement proper erosion controls…your ass is, as they say, grass. Be warned hillbilly depositing your tires in the river to avoid the ten-dollar disposal fee…I see you. Armed with nothing more than my trusty camera phone and a list of environmental nazi contacts, I plan to fight crime from very far away and without actually confronting you. What I will do is get your license plate number, and like an old lady, phone it in to the authorities. My brand of justice may not be swift or painful, but what it lacks in these areas it more than makes up for in girlishness. Think the Monkey Wrench Gang meets Murder She Wrote…Wrongdoers, your day has come.

- Dave

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Did A Cat Piss In My Mouth?

Had  two fishing buddies from college come in town last weekend for a couple days on the local tailwater.  I have hung out with these boys on various occasions over the past few years, but this is the first time we have all gotten to fish together since our ass paddling fraternity years.  There is nothing like a couple of good days of fishing to remind you why your friends are your friends and why you are too old to drink like that ever again…at least till next time the boys come to town.

- Dave

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