(At) The End Of The World

Patagonia's new Spring Journal is a few days late, but read on...

The Patagonia Journal, Spring 2012

Eat More Salmon

For hundreds of years the ability to use and continue to use has been the motive behind conservation.  Hunters, anglers (who until recently killed what they caught), farmers, ranchers, even loggers concerned themselves with their resources, their interests, their livelihoods.  Today it's rare to see an environmental organization, such as the Sierra Club, ally with Ducks Unlimited, or Colorado Cattleman's Association, but now and then it does happen. (TU is more of a "green group" when it comes to use.)  Green groups , NRDC, Earthjustice, Sierra Club, Alaska Wilderness League, have their ideological anchor fast in the rocks of righteousness - I mean no harm, however, time and again it would behoove those groups to partner with Pheasants Unlimited to help save the Greater Sage Grouse from being listed as Endangered, or to back the RESTORE Act and give millions of dollars to rehabilitating gulf estuaries and coastlines (despite 35% going to 5 shitty Governors who hate clean water). It's great that they throw their weight behind national causes such as Keystone XL, Pebble Mine, National Monuments, student activism, but teamwork, even in compromise, lightens the load.

These middle-ground platforms are not unheard of in conservation; they've been around for decades. Conservation was a republican ideal, Theodore Roosevelt, designator of the Grand Canyon, hunted around the world, Ducks Unlimited actually likes ducks, and now Patagonia has established another middle-ground, use-based platform this time for salmon production.  As they've done with clothing, they hope to take a big enough share of the market, by selling to smart and caring consumers, to pressure other manufacturers to adopt some of their ideals and practices.  This is conservation based in use.

Saving Salmon by Eating Them

Fish Porn is for Humans

Fly Fishing Film Tour has been making its way around the country promoting nearly a dozen fly fishing films.  Last night the crew was in Arlington, VA at the Draft House Cinema showing their lineup.  A few were underwhelming and a few were great.
Standouts:

Fly fishing and fly fishers can be so damn righteous, this small  mob of middle-aged punk rockers get their fix yelling angry lyrics at angrier teenagers, and occasionally at stubborn trout.  They're not hog tiers when it comes to fishing but you don't have to be to feel the love.


"Doc of the Drakes" has two messages it shares with the world; do what you love and you can do it forever, and any fish can be a trophy... but it helps if it's 25".  Doc is an old man by his own account, and Parkinson's  has left him with a shaky hand.  Of course, that doesn't matter as long as you can set the hook right.  The trout make him work for his catch, but he finds his trophy.


This one takes me out of DC and puts me back in "the land of giants."  Nothing's more exhilarating than chasing steelhead in Alaska.  These guys do it in true dirt bag style.

Now there were some mentionables, Fly a Legacy, The Arctic, and Riding High: A Season on the Fly.
The night was great, with tons of give-a-ways, good food and drink, good people.
Check it out. FlyFishingFilmTour

Don't Be Shy

With the price of fly rods you would hope that you're getting a quality machine that will do whatever you ask it to.  That being said, how many people do you know who have broken a rod, how'd they do it?  I would bet that it was either in a car door, stepping on it, or that it was compromised heavily before being stressed and broken.

Of course, some rods break easier than others.  I have reports of 10# Helios rods wilting under heavy power, were as my 8# BII MX  has taken beatings on gravel and still fishes like a trabucco.  Assuming that you haven't thrown your meatwhistle into the tip section of your 6# half a dozen times, what exactly does it take to break a rod?

Also, do you have any idea what kind of pressure you're actually exerting?  The most common problem I find with seasoned fly fishers is that they play it too nice.

I say seasoned because a lot of clients I take out aren't and are not afraid to manhandle their rod, and only very rarely is it too much.

If you pull you damn hardest on your rod, do you know what that translates to in pounds exerted on the tippet - not a lot.

Check this video out, listen to the amount of  pounds Tim calls out and watch what it take to snap these sticks.

If you're not impressed with this factory test, here's Andy Mill (you might know him for his olympic skiing bids and Vail native) trying his best to break a Hardy 12# over a Florida shark:

How have you broken a rod?

I'M SELLING EVERYTHING

No.

I'm not about to sell all my gear and buy a helicopter, but if I did this is what I'd do:

News to Me

Apparently P:T got some press on OBN a while back that I was unaware of...

Check it out: OBN

And if you haven't had your fill of blogs there are a lot more here.

Thanksgiving in the tropics

Complete with oven roasted chicken, in lieu of a turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing and good company, last weekend we celebrated American Thanksgiving in the Philippines.  The iconic stuffing and cranberry sauce came in a gracious package sent state-side, while the rest of it, potatoes, veggies, 2 chickens, plenty of beer and rum, we found around the island.

There are no ovens to speak of in the Philippines, cooking is done on charcoal stoves, so preparing the bird was set to be the culinary adventure of the holiday.  We devised and successfully carried out our plan to roast our chicken in a beach oven.  None of us had done it before, but we figured it couldn't be all that hard.

Our setting was an abandoned beach front resort.  We had a charcoal grill, a table to eat at, plenty of room for our tents, and no one to speak of but ourselves.

 Here's how it went:

Dig a big, deep hole

Line the hole with rocks and dried coconut husks, they make great coals. Collect plenty of wood preferably not bamboo, but it will suffice.  Build a big fire.

Prepare the chicken(s) with salt, pepper, potatoes, carrots, onion, garlic, and a bit of the brine.  Use a pot that doesn't have any plastic on it.

Cover the pot with aluminum foil and then the lid (to keep sand out) and place on a hot bed of coals and rocks.

Build up the fire again, bamboo burns quickly so you have to keep it going.

Make sure the pot is surrounded by hot coals, then partly cover it with sand.  Do not completely smother the fire.

At this point we settle down on the beach with a half dozen San Miguels a piece, a bottle of rhum, and some red wine to watch the sun set.

After three hours, carefully remove as much wood and coals as possible.  Be careful of the sand, and remove the pot from the beach oven.

Let it sit for a few minutes, then peal back the foil to reveal the most wonderful, fall-off-the-bone chicken you'll ever eat.

Behold, Thanksgiving dinner...

and the company to share it with.

Sea's Bounty

There are some strange fish in the markets.  These are from the biggest market on the island. In smaller towns you find more reef fish and less blue water species, but it appears that around here all fish are created equal.

An Entirely Synthetic Fish

A tremendous undertaking by Anders has resulted in a tremendous read and transfer of knowledge.  This book details the history, politics, biology and chance that have established the Rainbow Trout as the premier catch around the world, with the Rocky Mountain west as it's epicenter.  The likes of only corn and livestock have benefited so much from human involvement in their biology, and whether it's for the better has yet to be determined.

This book puts into perspective a seemingly simply activity as an immense layer-cake of reason, ignorance, zeal, and happenstance.  It is well worth your time off the water.  You are less ignorant and perhaps less blissful after.

 

From the Philippines

It is hot and humid here in the Philippines.  I've been up since 5:30, for a few days now, as that's when the roosters begin.  That, and I'm sleeping on a cot 6 inches too short and about the width of my shoulders, with a mosquito net that covers me waist up and provides little relief.  That aside, things are good.  Work is a daily sauna and goes slowly but it's only just started.

A briefing on the travel:

I left New York's Kennedy airport at 1  :45am arriving in Hong Kong a little over 14 hours later.  The man sitting next to me on the flight was from Pennsylvania and on his way to find a wife in the Philippines.  As far as I can tell the Philippines' top two exports are semi-conductor metals and wives.  Anyhow,  I watched the sun rise over hazy Hong Kong and then left for Manila, Philippines.  From there it was out into the city to catch a bus to the domestic terminal and a flight to the Island of Busuanga.  From there it was another bus to Coron and two nights spent in a PADI Dive hotel on the water, complete with good food and brew.

On first impressions, I've never seen such dramatic coastlines.  I took a boat out and went snorkeling, explored the beaches and checked out the fish market.  Limestone cliffs giving way to perfect beaches. Lagoons and estuaries with crystal water.  And warm water, salty and calm.  Often I can't see the horizon for all the islands.  Over 7,100 in the country and 1,700 in the western archipelago where I'm located.

After a short recovery in Coron it was another bus to Salvacion, where the field station is located.  The bus was scheduled to leave at 10:00 am, it didn't show until an hour later and left around 2:30.  I was sitting off the back between someone's legs with all my gear on the roof and my rods in hand.  Just over half way the engine erupted and steam and the already compromised radiator had fallen to pieces.  It had previously been jerry rigged with a water delivery system from the roof of the bus and constantly drained water out the bottom.   Three hours later another bus arrived to take us to Salvacion, with the first bus in tow.  The rest of the trip was slow and we stopped every five minutes or so for this or that.  Eventually we arrived at 12:30 am.

I've tried to find some information on fishing, we've eaten fish every day but none of them have been bigger than my palm.  The market in Coron had some jack tuna and other larger species and some people said marlin can be found off shore.  It's going to take something special to wet my lines and a miracle to catch any sort of game fish, but there's time for that.