Sentimental attachment to a fishing rod

Hi all,

Yesterday someone stole my favorite spin fishing rod.  It was always my dad's second favorite, and became my favorite when he passed it to me.  It was straight, flexible, and the tip was just sensitive enough to feel any hit.  I've caught trout on it that would have won the Riverton Derby if I caught them in the Farmington.  I thought it would be safe at the Colebrook River Lake in the back of my truck, with a few trucks of fellow fishermen and walkers. 

It was an antique (I think) of unknown origin, so I can't even replace it.  It's the brown and white one in the picture below, with steel ferrules and two metal cylinders to hold the reel to the cork handle.  I always wanted to have that part replaced so the reel couldn't come off so easily.  I'm irrationally attached to the rod.  It's not better than a new one in any way that I can think of, but it's gone with my father and I to countless opening days, and caught even more trout.  Those memories seem imbued in the cork of the handle, the frozen fingers trying to clamp the two reel holder cylinders together.  I've cared for it for at least 10 years now, making sure never to shut it in a car door or leave it bent for storage. 

Anyway, if anyone knows more about the rod or how I can try to replace it, please leave a comment.  I'd like the same rod blank to start building new memories with.

Good link for trout fishing CT

I found this to be very informational, so I'm sharing the link here:
http://connecticutoutdoorsman.freeservers.com/RIVERTROUT.html

4/4 and 4/5 Fishing and tying

Good morning all,

Yesterday I had the chance to do some fishing with a friend of mine, Mike.  It's been too long since we hung out and shared our love of coffee, beer, guitars/music and fishing.  We only had the chance to fish because of social distancing, but the other stuff was implied.  We fished the farmington, above the bridge in Riverton, up closer to Hog's back, and finished at People's, where there was a great hatch that had fish rising, but we couldn't match it.  I tried a bead head wooly bugger tied under a deer hair caddis/muddler to no avail, and Mike tried several emergent flies and mayfly patterns to no avail.  It got me motivated to tie something that might have worked, an elk hair caddis/muddler that was weighted with no hackle.  I think the next time we go, I will put this about 18 inches below a deer hair caddis (elk hair but with deer hair because that's what I have), size 18 with some Gink to make it float.  That way I have a #14 emerger that is low, and a #18 that is floating to try to fool the trout. 

Mike had some success above the bridge with a squirmy pink worm fly, and I struck out with my spinning rod, then struck out with my muddler dry fly with a yellow and brown maribou streamer about 18 inches below it.  I wasn't quick enough to get a picture of the rainbow, but I'd guess about 14 inches and not stocked by the coloring. 

4/2/2020 fishing

Good morning all,

I'm grateful this morning to have a place to fish and a governor who recognized that opening day was a bad idea because of Covid-19.  I'm also grateful to my mother for getting licenses for myself and my 18 year old stepson, my dad and Frank for teaching me to fish, and the weather for cooperating.

After no success waking the 18 year old, I tried the 8 year old and she snapped awake excited to fish at about 5:30, an hour before sunrise.  We tried our favorite spot and weren't successful for the first hour or so, with Phoebes or her orange trout balls under a bobber.  Then we switched locations and I took turns casting her rod and mine, while she was able to reel the Phoebes properly.  I got about 2 casts to her one, and finally successfully caught one.  She was nervous about reeling it in (I offered), so I pulled it in and she netted it.

It turned out to be a Brown trout, somewhere between 14 and 16 inches, and not stocked.   You can judge from the pictures, I didn't have a tape.  It was tail hooked and we released it at Abby's behest. I thought it was a stick at the bottom of the river at first!  We caught it at about 7:15 am, while the world was still frozen at about 35 degrees.  It was across a narrow, deep (maybe 6 ft) section of river, 3/4 of the way across and in some riffles.


Have a great day all, and I hope you find something to do outside with your families,
~Mark
Exerpt from:
http://www.eregulations.com/connecticut/fishing/rivers-streams/
Farmington River Regulations, in case anybody's interested:

FARMINGTON RIVER (West Branch and Mainstem), Hartland-Barkhamsted-New Hartford-Canton-Burlington-Farmington-Avon-Simsbury-Bloomfield-East Granby-Windsor (T)

GPHCZ

Intermittent sections from Goodwin Dam to RT 4 (Farmington Center). Then from Tariffville Memorial Park (Simsbury) through the Tariffville Gorge (Bloomfield). Then from mouth of tailrace canal below Rainbow Dam to confluence with Connecticut River.

Farmington River Trout
Management Area X

From Goodwin dam (Hartland) downstream tothe intersection of Hogback Road and Route 20 in Hartland, as indicated by signs posted by DEEP.

• Season: Open year-round.
• Trout & salmon stamp required to fish.
• Trout:
  • Catch and Release Only from September 1 to 6:00 a.m. 2nd Saturday in April.
  • Daily creel limit—2, 12″ minimum length from 6:00 a.m. 2nd Saturday in April to August 31.

From the intersection of Hogback Road and Route 20 in Hartland, as indicated by signs posted by DEEP downstream to the gas pipeline crossing approximately four-tenths miles downstream of the confluence with the Still River in Barkhamsted, as indicated by signs posted by DEEP. THIS AREA IS CLOSED TO ALL FISHING FROM THE FIRST DAY OF APRIL TO 6:00 AM 2ND SATURDAY IN APRIL:

• Season: Open 6:00 a.m. 2nd Saturday April–last day March.
• Trout:
  • Catch and Release Only from September 1 to 6:00 a.m. last day March.
  • Daily creel limit—2, 12″ minimum length from 6:00 a.m. 2nd Saturday in April to August 31.

From the gas pipeline crossing approximately four-tenths miles downstream of the confluence with the Still River in Barkhamsted, as indicated by signs posted by DEEP, to the old footbridge abutments approximately 1.4 miles downstream of the confluence with the Still River (Barkhamsted):

• Season: Open year-round.
• Trout & salmon stamp required to fish.
• Trout:
  • Catch and Release Only from September 1 to 6:00 a.m. 2nd Saturday in April.
  • Daily creel limit—2, 12″ minimum length from 6:00 a.m. 2nd Saturday in April to August 31.

From the old footbridge abutments (Barkhamsted) downstream to the Route 219 bridge (New Hartford). This area includes all of the former West Branch Farmington River Trout Management Area:

• Season: Open year-round.
• Methods: Barbless hooks only
• Trout: Catch and Release Only.

From the Route 219 bridge (New Hartford) downstream to the route 177 Bridge (Unionville):

• Season: Open year-round.
• Trout & salmon stamp required to fish.
• Trout:
  • Catch and Release Only from September 1 to 6:00 a.m. 2nd Saturday in April.
  • Daily creel limit—2, 12″ minimum length from 6:00 a.m. 2nd Saturday in April to August 31.

Lower Farmington River

Farmington to Windsor; From Route 177 bridge in Unionville Center downstream to Rainbow Reservoir.

• Trout: Daily creel limit—5, 9″ Minimum length.

Opening Day

Good morning all,

I've gone to opening day of fishing with my father since as far back as I can remember.  No matter the weather - sometimes cold enough to frost the windows of our truck - sometimes warm and sunny - we go.  I have tangled countless lines in the river, lost countless fish, and caught a few.  One was even big enough to win the Hitchcock chair, if I had reported where I caught it a little differently.  I remember vividly tangling my line almost every cast, and my father patiently interrupting his fishing so that he could help me fix my rig.

We don't usually fly fish on opening day.  All the same, I bring my fly rod just in case.  There's waiting for the Riverton siren at 6 am, breathless with anticipation, and watching the sun rise as the first few casts plunk into the river.  There's the sound of the river rushing, trying to keep warm, and hoping a trout will take the bait.  There's untangling the lines of my stepson, and hoping that fishing with him will give him some of what I got from my dad.  There's seeing our breath, watching others catch fish, and being at peace with the beauty of the moment.  The mist slowly burns off the river, the birds start chirping, and sometimes we see a heron.  I always bring some pieces of trash home with me, leaving my little section of river a bit better than we found it.

Then, there's breakfast at my parents' house.  It used to be my grandma's house, until she passed.  Somehow, all that food tastes better after a chilly morning on the river.  The time spent with my dad in this way always rejuvenates me.  Then, there's time with my mom and sometimes my Aunt, telling stories of the fish we caught (or didn't).  There's a guy that makes it, most years, to the same spot we fish in.  Tradition drives us, even if we don't have much luck there.  Even though my mom and aunt don't fish, they still enjoy that morning with us as a family, hearing about the morning.  These days, it's about the only time I can get my dad to come fishing.  But we do it every year, like clockwork.  For a moment, I feel like a kid - learning from my dad and hearing him tell stories and give advice.

At any rate, good luck to all you fishermen and women out there.  I wish you good luck, some beauty in nature, and the chance to see a fish or two!

~Mark

Rivers and life

Good morning all,

I hope you're all ready for your Monday.  I had a pretty rough weekend, with a bunch of personal stuff that I won't share here.  However, I happened to be awake for a sunrise, and I chose to spend it by a river.  I brought my fly rod, and didn't even assemble it.  I didn't have to.  I got what I needed from the river and the sunrise without ever trying to catch a fish with a fly rod.

What I needed, in this case, was the ability to think and enjoy nature.  I didn't need to catch a fish.  I just needed to be outside and have a few minutes of meditation.  I didn't consciously set out to find meditation, or calm down in the river.  However, I had to face the feelings I was having, and the best way to do so was by being there, enjoying a sunrise and listening to the water. 

I wonder if this effect is similar to "tree bathing" I know that I benefited from this, and so did my significant other.  We calmed down, because beauty and nature doesn't allow for you to be angry.  Well, maybe it does, but it calmed us down.  I know that the issues we were dealing with were serious and pretty crappy, but in the face of all that beauty, they faded in importance.  We gained perspective, and were able to have a better conversation and make progress.

Anyhow, here's wishing y'all a great monday,

~Mark

Zen and the art of fly fishing

Hi all,

I'm preparing to fly fish the Farmington River this morning.  As you might imagine, this brings me back to my boyhood and the first time I fly fished.  My dad's cousin Frank Arrigoni was my teacher in this regard.  I remember going to his house, being shown how to cast, and the whole while thinking what a redneck he was.  He was smoking a cigarette and dressed all in camouflage.  He was an older guy, maybe 60, and he showed me ten and two, and how to wait for the line to get loaded before you flicked it forward.  I was just out of D.A.R.E. and had been indoctrinated to believe that anyone who smoked was stupid or backwards.  So I let my childhood assumptions guide me, judging before I gave him a chance.  

As I got to know Frank better, I realized that he wore camo because he was a veteran.  He had grown used to the military gear and thought it to be good quality, so he kept it for his wilderness exploits, and bought some at military surplus stores.  I came to recognize that he smoked not because he was addicted, but because it kept the mosquitos and noseeums away when we were in the woods of Maine.  I used citronella, which both Frank and my father thought was intolerable, but that I didn't mind much.  They complained that it stunk up the old car we'd drive to the river, which already was redolent with smoke, age, and a hound named Duke.  We saw moose, I gained nicknames (One-Cast Willie and Chief Fall-in the Creek) and I caught the first fish I ever caught with a fly of my own creation.  Frank had showed me how to make a deer hair muddler with my grandma's quilting thread and some deer hair from an animal he'd shot.  He made sure nothing was wasted, either in the fish we caught and then fried in bacon grease, or in the deer he'd taken during the previous hunting season.  He picked up his cigarette filters, and we took trash from the riverside home to bring to the dump.  

He also taught me to help his aging mother, who was afflicted with Alzheimer's, navigate the logging roads of his camp.  She would take off walking, often without notice, and go several miles, sometimes getting confused as to where she was or who I was.  My job was to keep Elsie safe, and make sure she got back home.  

At any rate, through all this, I learned to fish, became a better young man, and tie some flies.  I also learned to stop judging folks so easily, or so harshly.  In fact, my English SAT II question was "describe a situation where someone turned out to be far different than you originally assumed."  My lessons learned from Frank allowed me to get a perfect score, because my story about him was the best way I could respond to that question.

Ok, back to today.  I decided to bring Mike to a spot I knew above the dam in Colebrook, because I knew it was sparsely fished and there were fish there.  Unfortunately, though we saw 3 bald eagles, we had trouble getting through the mud to the river, then had trouble locating the fish.  So back to the Farmington we went, to Mike's favorite spot.  

As we got closer to the Farmington, we saw many more fishermen,  as well as many herons and ducks.  We saw many rises, and my friend had a few hits, but nobody caught a fish.  That was ok though . . . we chatted about gender nonconforming folks, trout and why we love catching them, and told a few fish stories.  We also caught up about the past 8 years and life, and I rediscovered something I forgot that I loved.  The more we talked, the more I realized what a great friendship we'd been ignoring.  Mike knows more about guitar than me, and I know a great deal about fishing and tying my own flies.  I'll bet we can figure out how to teach each other both.

All in all, a great day of fishing, though we didn't do any catching.  I hope you all have had a great Sunday, and you can think about some things you're @gr8fullyfeclub for.