The Kate – fly and photo by Glista, still the maddest doctor at a vise.
Hat tip to Moldy Chum, this brought a smile today-
Today, Congressman Peter DeFazio introduced a bill that would protect roughly 100,000 acres in Douglas County, Oregon. The legislation was introduced by Senators Ron Wyden and Jeff Merkley in the Senate in May, 2015, and passed out of the U.S. Senate Committee on Energy and Natural Resources in July, 2016.
The Frank Moore Wild Steelhead Sanctuary Act (H.R. 6129) would permanently safeguard a tributary of the North Umpqua River that contains some of the best wild steelhead spawning areas in the Pacific Northwest. Named in honor of Frank Moore, a World War II veteran and a legendary steward of the North Umpqua River, the act would protect drinking water, critical wildlife habitat, and cultural resources in the Steamboat Creek watershed, identified as one of the most important ecological areas in the Pacific Northwest. The area provides more than 50 miles of high-quality river and stream habitat for summer and winter steelhead, Chinook and coho salmon, rainbow trout, and other native species.
If you fish flies and surf the web, you might have noticed a lot of recent focus on protecting our public lands. Buster’s done a bit of mouthing off about it too, and we know it’s easy to let the bastardos get you all down in the chops.
So pick your ass up, get your Muir on, and celebrate the addition of 400 acres to Yosemite’s western boundary.
via Luke Hunt, Ph.D. for American Rivers:
Through this addition to Yosemite National Park, Ackerson Creek – which flows through the property before flowing into the Wild and Scenic South Fork of the Tuolumne River and the greater San Joaquin River – will have its water quality protected from threats for years to come.
Aw hellz yeah!
Buster has some cool pals. You can find Agua Fria Alchemy in the blogroll.
Ann’s Emerald – fly and photo by Glista
Since it’s some sort of unofficial last hurrah for summer’s mad knees-bent running about behavior, and also because part of the joy of this weird pursuit is in the characters you meet.
“We had just been invited to join an all day golf scramble and drinking bash hosted by a whole medly of fraternal lodge organizations. Elks, Moose, and Eagles strolled about the first tee. Most of the people were meeting for the first time; our identities seemed secure, but since you can’t be too careful we traded our fishing hats for the fezzes of three staggering-drunk Shriners from Anaconda, then filled out our name cards as Methyl, Ethyl, and Nitrate Blitz.
Not all of the Blitz Brothers were strangers to a golf course. One of them had even played in college. Ethyl had the distance, Methyl the hot irons, and Nitrate, to his bemused delight, found that he could putt. Just like lining up the eight ball for a bank shot, he said. The Brothers for as long as they could maintain their momentum atop the bell curve of enhanced perception were like besotted Jedi knights: the force was with them. The tournament was a scramble, a format ideally suited to their condition.
On the holes that ran with the wind the Brothers were absolutely splendid. They birdied the first and third, then Nitrate drained a thirty-foot putt for eagle from the fringe on the par five sixth. First prize was two hundred dollars, and the Blitz Brothers had already decided to spend it all in one place – like maybe Idaho. Then, on the eighth, Methyl was driving the cart in the rough searching for a hooked ball and lighting a cigar when he should have been watching where he was going. All three brothers hiked the tall weeds to the car, then stopped at a drug store, bought a postcard, drew a map to the cart and signed it with a sketch of a scuba diver, then continued fishing toward the Big Hole River, where it was deemed by popular acclaim to be cocktail hour, and time to switch to gin.”
-from True Love and the Woolly Bugger by Dave Ames, 1996
Mover – Fly & photo by Glista
Tyson Spey – from the fevered mind of Buster stalwart (Obi-) Jon, and the vise and lens of Brother Glista.
For the second time in a year, it’s been sighted. Buster recommends that you find your own copy.
Each and every one of you mutts that even dawdles with thee angle had best head over to Finspot’s Fat of the Land and read All Hail the Lunch Brookie.
“The next morning, operating under the theory that our lure-stealing fish had retreated to the opposite shore to sulk, we tried the far end of the pond, a mosquito-infested corner with tall reeds known as the “Back Bay.”
Watch the vid and let Riley remind you of what’s whut. Then go fishing.
Field & Stream really did get out of control with those covers in the 1940s.
HA! Is joke! This is called Bad Day on the High Sea, by Brandon Bird. Here’s what he has to say:
“Here, raw sexual aggression is symbolized by the sperm whale, while the squid acts as a thinly-disguised metaphor for the multi-armed oligarchies of Rockefeller, Hearst, and Morgan. Their battle plays against the backdrop of the sea, standing in for–what else?–the vastness of the unconscious mind.”
“Captain Nemo remained motionless, as if petrified in mute ecstacy.”
Jules Verne. Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea. New York: Scribner’s, 1946
Illustration by W.J. Aylward