If you haven’t taken a river tour with Jenny Price, consider it. My wife and I toured with her several months ago, and it was an eye opener. Example: Think we live in a desert? Nine out of 10 would answer, “Of course,” but not if they’d taken this marvelous tour. Details below:
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Dear prospective L.A. River boater,
Why is it every Friday I could be fishing — at least for a few hours — it’s raining in L.A.? Tomorrow, snow is in the forecast!
Anyway, while housebound, surfing for carp stories, I found this interesting piece from Cape Town, South Africa, on the blog paracaddis.
It’s worth a read for several reasons:
First, it’s a heroic tale about a skunk.
Second, the weather is frickin’ hot.
Third, the fishers talk about Czech nymphing, or short-distance nymphing, akin to “high sticking,” but with more flies (OK, that’s really an oversimplification. For more, read the link.)
In my short experience, I’ve found that on our river, if you don’t see them, you won’t catch them. And, well, even when you do see them, you need a stealthy approach. They are some spooky fish.
Enough of this. Sunday morning, I’m going to try out my theories — unless, of course, it’s still snowing.
See you on the river, Jim Burns
Browsing through the latest copy of Richard Anderson’s marvelous mag, “California Fly Fisher,” I recently spied an advertisement for the 2011 Fly Fishing Show in Pasadena, Calif. (Full disclosure. I’ve written a couple of pieces for him.)
Wow, I thought, what a great place to corral a bunch of stories for this ol’ hungry blog! Especially of interest, two seminars, “Sight Casting to Carp, the Golden Ghost of Southern California,” and “Fly Fishing Warm Water — Bass, Like, Carp.”
Because, as my industrialist daddy used to say, “time is money,” I went to the show’s site, only to find out that it’s a road show, with the next stop in Stockton later this month. But, unfortunately, there was no schedule of what was going on, and when.
So, I procrastinated and found myself asking the ticket lady inside her little portable booth outside the Pasadena Convention Center if, at 3:15 p.m. on a chilly Sunday afternoon, I could get a discount. Fifteen bucks is pretty dear these recessionary days.
Oh, and did I mention that the show closed at 4:30?
“No,” she said bluntly, and even in the dim light reminding of a confessional, I could see she wasn’t going to budge on the budget.
I ask you, isn’t $5 better than nothing?
So … my report on the show is zippo, nada, not a note taken, nor a voice recorded.
I guess that’s the beautiful thing about blogging and not getting paid for it. If you blow it, well, there’s always tomorrow.
One thing I did notice during my time peering in the picture windows and watching a newbie casting demo, the demographic for the show is basically mine — and older. Lots older. When our lot gets to pounding on tables at the bar and other likely spots, we like to opine on the lack of youthfulness in the sport. And by youthfulness, I don’t mean the bad-ass contingent that looks to be refugees from snowboarding. (Don’t get indignant … Anyone for a snowboarding/ice fishing combo?)
Anyway, getting “the youth” involved means getting off our older behinds, going to schools, casting ponds, derbies, whatever, to turn on the truly young to the wonders of nature. Neal Taylor was genius in doing it, and his obit ran today in the Los Angeles Times, paleolithic edition. Four thousand children a year come to Lake Cachuma, near Santa Barbara, and possibly many heard a tale spun by Taylor. Among his more notable students, presidents Carter, Reagan and Eisenhower.
After all, how can you miss with a spiel that begins, “”At Lake Cachuma, we have seeds that walk, spiders that fly, plants that catch fish and trees that predict rain.”
See you on the river, Jim Burns
Thanks to Ron Dudley and Feathered Photography for this amazing sequence of our national bird getting a tasty meal of common carp. Wow, worth a look.
See you on the river, Jim Burns
UPDATE: Under “the snowball is rolling” category (with apologies to my home town, Chicago, worst storm since 1967 …), the Calabasas city council heard an ordinance at its last session about “regulating the use of plastic carryout bags and recyclable paper bags and promote the use of reusable bags in the City,” according to a memo from the city attorney. Next step, slated for Feb. 9, is to formally adopt the ordinance by adding it to the city’s municipal code.
See you on the river, Jim Burns
Take a look at the new trailer for the upcoming doc, “Rock the Boat.” It’s so inspiring to see what George Wolfe of L.A. River Expeditions and other activists have done in a short period of time.
See you on the river, Jim Burns
I’ve railed against plastic bags before in this space, so it was with glee that I read the Los Angeles Times today (legacy edition with black coffee and oatmeal) to find the Santa Monica City Council voted to ban them, beginning in September. Oh, and that vote was unanimous.
How many plastic bags do the good citizens of this beach city use in a year, you rightly ask? The advocacy group Heal the Bay estimates the number in excess of 25 million.
According to the piece, Heal the Bay began pushing the issue two years ago, which stalled amid industry threats of a lawsuit. After the city’s environmental review of the proposed ordinance, the language was softened to include reusable polyethylene bags. These bags, according to an L.A. County environmental study, are stronger than single-use bags, and can be wiped clean, a good start for using them over again, instead of tossing in the garbage.
That pleased the Save the Plastic Bag Coalition, which praised the changes.
And, stores will now be able to charge a dime per paper bag within city limits. To avoid fees, just bring your own.
So far, single-use bag bans have been approved in :
— Los Angeles County
— Marin County
— San Jose
Next week, Calabasas considers whether it wants to join the growing movement.
Anyway, if you’re reading this at work, take a peek at a preview for “Plastic Planet,” a new doc from Europe. I’m wary of “shock-jock docs,” which seem so evenly reported, but many times stack the deck a la the later works of Michael Moore. Admittedly, I’ve only watched the trailer, but will rent it.
See you on the (cleaner) river, Jim Burns
Once of the best reasons to get down to the river is stories … most of the offerings from this blog come from hanging out along its walkways and shoreline, and listening. It’s wonderful, really, to have a place in L.A. where people want to talk and share experiences. Here’s the latest, which fits into the “accident with a happy ending” category:
I’m standing on a rock in the middle of the river, the temp hovered in the middle-80s, not bad for January. I had on wading boots and shorts. It had been relatively peaceful when all of a sudden two kids, about 6 years old, broke from their parents on the tree-lined trail above and made quick for the flowing water. They laughed and yelled, leaping their way incautiously down the riprap slope.
And … what’s a dog — in this case a black-and-brown pug — to do, but follow the kids down the incline, then overshoot the bank, bellyflopping into the water.
Most winters, isolated TV reports show the L.A.F.D. rescuing all manner of things that shouldn’t be in the river, from adults, to kids, to horses, to dogs, and, yes, I think there was a mannequin pulled from the water within these past few weeks. Luckily, the Glendale Narrows section flows only briskly along its mostly natural bottom, a far cry from the dangerous concrete sluiceways created by the Army Corps of Engineers both above and below.
“He can’t swim,” Dad’s friend cried, as he hustled down the slope. The kids thought the dog was playing around. The dog looked as if he thought otherwise, little paws unsuccessfully trying to find purchase on the bank.
Unfortunately, Dad’s friend couldn’t put the brakes on his Keds fast enough and dunked, feet first, into the same still hole as the pug, ripping the backside of his shorts in the bargain.
Happy result: pug rescued, shaking off the chilly water; Dad’s friend, feeling a bit foolish as he looked at me, but triumphant none the less, hoisted himself to the bank; and the kids, well, they got a talking to:
“Let me tell you about the water down here,” Dad said as they walked away uphill, a grim sermon about to take place. I’m sure the rest of the sentence wasn’t about river safety, but about unclean water.
If you have kids, you’d say the same thing today.
But some day, if everyone who loves the river continues to insist on change, parents won’t have to scold their children about water quality, and can get back to basic training: water safety; how to swim; how to kayak; how to fly fish.
See you on the river, Jim Burns
I wanted to highlight this terrific thread from our Kernville brethren in the golden bonefish.
If you’ve been wondering if the GloBug is really the only fly to use to entice a carp, this primer will be very enlightening. By the looks of these many patterns, they aren’t too discriminating!
See you on the river,
Jim Burns
lariverflyfishing 