Salmon used to be plentiful in the Rhine, until a combination of pollution and hydroelectric plants made it impossible for the Salmon to continue spawning leading to their virtual extinction in Switzerland. Recently, a fisherman in Basel accidentally caught a salmon, inspiring a movement to bring them back.
Here's a great video (in English) about efforts to make the Rhine attractive to Salmon once again, and the obstacles standing in the way.
And here is a link to the WWF petition that will be presented to the French government in October. It's in German, but trust me and sign it anyway!
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
The International Rodsmith?
I've always been fascinated with bamboo rods, but scared away by the
steep price tag. A decade or so ago, John Geirach's "Fishing Bamboo"
inspired an impulse purchase of a (relatively) cheap little 2 weight
rod on ebay, sight unseen, but never got around to really trying it
out until last year. It cast like a broomstick with a 2 weight line,
eventually I'll get around to trying a 3 weight and maybe I'll see an
improvement. Later that same season, I met a guy fishing on our beat
who was invited by one of our members. He had three bamboo rods with
him, and after speaking with him for a bit, he gave me a chance to
cast all three. I think they were all 5 weights, and I loved the
action, one in particular. It took a little getting used to, but when
I was done I had a huge grin on my face and he had a leader full of
wind knots. He handed me his card and told me he'd be happy to show me
how to be build a rod from scratch. After over a year or so of back
and forth and conflicting schedules. we made an appointment for a
couple of days at his workshop in a small town near the entrance of
the Gotthard Tunnel, picturesquely and fittingly situated a short cast
away from the milky blue Reuss river.
The rod shop itself met my expectations. Culms of bamboo lay
everywhere, and dozens of bamboo rods in various states of completion
were leaning in every corner. The smell of heated bamboo permeated the
room, a heady, warm, comforting smell that couldn't possibly rub
anyone the wrong way. A window in front of one of the workbenches
offered a direct view of the chalky freestone river. Walls of cork
rings, drawers full of guides, reel seats, a veritable rainbow of
hundreds of spools of wrapping thread, a lathe, drill press, saws, a
tubular bamboo oven, and countless other things I overlooked or simply
didn't recognize. This was a man obsessed. I want to be this man.
First things first. We spoke about bamboo for an hour or two, he
showed me the culms and explained the desirable and less desirable
aspects of each individual one, introducing me to concepts like power fibers and node spacing. He showed me some of his countless
finished rods, many of which I held and inexpertly waggled while
listening to him tell a story behind each and every one. Over the next
few days I would see the beautiful matching pair of swelled butt rods
he made for his wife and himself. His whippy one piece seven foot five
weight and his hefty salmon rod. His quadrate and octagonal rods, and
his bamboo ferrules. It was a substantial amount of information for an
absolute beginner to digest.
He wanted to know if I wanted to do everything from scratch and fully
by hand, or did I want to use "shortcuts" like Tom Morgan's handmill,
and send some of the straightened strips through a machine to do some
of the rough planing. I'm pretty impatient, and while I have a very
understanding wife when it comes to fly fishing, I also have a young
daughter I hate being away from, another kid on the way, and a full time
job from which I have to take days off of in order to drive two
hours each way to come do this in the first place, so the choice was
easy. Get this rod as finished as possible in the next few days, or
end up spending another year juggling schedules to arrange a few extra days of planing. I want a
fishable, functional rod, I don't need a work of art. There's plenty
of time to build one of those when the pace of life slows a bit.
He handed me a culm, and I got to splitting. I made my strips, and then I straightened them as best as I could while gently warming them over a heat gun, bending them, and repeating the process. I also used to the heat gun to flatten the nodes in a vise. After a few hours of this, the straightened and flat strips were fed into a power beveler which gave them a roughly triangular shape, but still no taper. We wrapped the pieces in twine and put them in the oven while we had lunch. The afternoon was consumed with planing. Twelve strips, six for each rod section, had to planed down to an exact taper. Tom Morgan's beautiful hand mill beckoned, and once the proper measurements were set, I got to work.
After I finished the butt section, my hands had blisters, and we epoxied the strips together, wrapped them again, and put them in the oven one more time.
When it came it out, it was a lumpy, gluey mess. I removed the twine, scraped the epoxy away, and realized for the first time that I was making something that was pretty nice. The sanded, cleaned butt section, straight and six sided, was more precise than anything I had made before.
The next day, the process was repeated for the delicate rod tip. I was particularly careful while planing when it came to these ridiculously thin strips of bamboo.
The next day, we finished up the tip section, added and shaped the cork handle, turned the reel seat on a lathe, mounted the ferrules, and prepared the guides for wrapping. It was coming together and I could hardly wait to fish with it.
I started wrapping and made some hideous wraps, finally getting the hang of it after an hour or so, at which time we called it a day. The rodmaker kindly finished up the rod for me and I picked up it a few weeks later when the varnish was dry. He offered me the use of his shop whenever I wanted to make another one, and I know I'll do it again sooner rather than later. I can split the culm and straighten some bamboo strips in my workshop at home, and bring them down to his workshop to fire them up in the oven, and then finish up the blank at home, where I'm planning on making a homemade wrapping jig and cork lathe from a drill. The whole experience was great, and for someone who has to spend the majority of his time in front of a screen, working with my hands and really creating something precise is cathartic, so much so that I'm planning on wrapping some rods over the winter, along with fly tying and making furled leaders. Anything to stay busy in the off season!
I've had the rod for about a month now, and am learning how to cast it. It'll never win any beauty contests. It's not particularly straight, the finishing is utilitarian, there's no second rod tip, the rod tube is a scratched, grey PVC tube, and the rod sock, as soon as I either get around to sewing it or successfully pester my wife to do so, will be a green and white scrap of Ikea fabric. But it's fishable, eminently fishable.
The rod shop itself met my expectations. Culms of bamboo lay
everywhere, and dozens of bamboo rods in various states of completion
were leaning in every corner. The smell of heated bamboo permeated the
room, a heady, warm, comforting smell that couldn't possibly rub
anyone the wrong way. A window in front of one of the workbenches
offered a direct view of the chalky freestone river. Walls of cork
rings, drawers full of guides, reel seats, a veritable rainbow of
hundreds of spools of wrapping thread, a lathe, drill press, saws, a
tubular bamboo oven, and countless other things I overlooked or simply
didn't recognize. This was a man obsessed. I want to be this man.
First things first. We spoke about bamboo for an hour or two, he
showed me the culms and explained the desirable and less desirable
aspects of each individual one, introducing me to concepts like power fibers and node spacing. He showed me some of his countless
finished rods, many of which I held and inexpertly waggled while
listening to him tell a story behind each and every one. Over the next
few days I would see the beautiful matching pair of swelled butt rods
he made for his wife and himself. His whippy one piece seven foot five
weight and his hefty salmon rod. His quadrate and octagonal rods, and
his bamboo ferrules. It was a substantial amount of information for an
absolute beginner to digest.
He wanted to know if I wanted to do everything from scratch and fully
by hand, or did I want to use "shortcuts" like Tom Morgan's handmill,
and send some of the straightened strips through a machine to do some
of the rough planing. I'm pretty impatient, and while I have a very
understanding wife when it comes to fly fishing, I also have a young
daughter I hate being away from, another kid on the way, and a full time
job from which I have to take days off of in order to drive two
hours each way to come do this in the first place, so the choice was
easy. Get this rod as finished as possible in the next few days, or
end up spending another year juggling schedules to arrange a few extra days of planing. I want a
fishable, functional rod, I don't need a work of art. There's plenty
of time to build one of those when the pace of life slows a bit.He handed me a culm, and I got to splitting. I made my strips, and then I straightened them as best as I could while gently warming them over a heat gun, bending them, and repeating the process. I also used to the heat gun to flatten the nodes in a vise. After a few hours of this, the straightened and flat strips were fed into a power beveler which gave them a roughly triangular shape, but still no taper. We wrapped the pieces in twine and put them in the oven while we had lunch. The afternoon was consumed with planing. Twelve strips, six for each rod section, had to planed down to an exact taper. Tom Morgan's beautiful hand mill beckoned, and once the proper measurements were set, I got to work.
 |
| Tom Morgan's hand mill, top down view. |
After I finished the butt section, my hands had blisters, and we epoxied the strips together, wrapped them again, and put them in the oven one more time.
 |
| The 6 pieces of the butt section, ready for the epoxy. |
 |
| The 6 pieces of the tip. |
The next day, we finished up the tip section, added and shaped the cork handle, turned the reel seat on a lathe, mounted the ferrules, and prepared the guides for wrapping. It was coming together and I could hardly wait to fish with it.
 |
| The partially completed rod with the Reuss river in the background |
 |
| The stripping guide, with honey wraps. |
 |
| The completed rod along with a nice handcrafted lanyard that I won recently. It matches pretty well, and I find myself reaching for it along with the bamboo when I head out the door to fish my home river. |
I've had the rod for about a month now, and am learning how to cast it. It'll never win any beauty contests. It's not particularly straight, the finishing is utilitarian, there's no second rod tip, the rod tube is a scratched, grey PVC tube, and the rod sock, as soon as I either get around to sewing it or successfully pester my wife to do so, will be a green and white scrap of Ikea fabric. But it's fishable, eminently fishable.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Fishing in Austria, St. Michel im Lungau style, the Reckoning.
This year Mark and I decided to try our luck on the Mur again, despite being rained out last year. We saw so much promise, and liked the area so much, that not giving it another shot was unthinkable. Needless to say, we got lucky. The weather was perfect, the bite was on, the food was plentiful and good, and we just generally had a damn good time. For me, this trip was even better than the last few, as Mark moved to Asia earlier in the year and a good fishing buddy isn't an easy thing to replace. We were off in style early Wednesday in a Merc station wagon that we put to good use on the stretch of Autobahn between Switzerland and Austria. After quick stop for lunch in gorgeous Innsbruck, we made it to St. Michel in record time and were able to fish the evening rise close to our B&B before stuffing ourselves with a massive Austrian dinner.
The next day we got up, had breakfast, and spent the entire day fishing the varied stretches of the Mur. From headwaters full of pocket water to deep pools in oxbows, there was a huge amount of variety in this beat and we took advantage. We caught mostly browns in two different color schemes, along with the occasional rainbow and grayling, with the largest trout caught at 15 inches or so.
Mark with a gorgeous Brown that fell for a streamer. Look at those spots!
And a fat rainbow that I pulled from the same deep channel.
Fish on!
Typical Austrian meadows...
and healthy, lively fish
in varied terrain..
make for hungry fishermen.
The next day we decided to go up and visit the same alpine lake we went to last year, but this time we got a key for the gate and were able to drive up the steep, rocky road, but not after being warned about falling rocks, warnings which we pretty much ignored because, hey, rental car.
I brought my float tube in case the lake was as high as it was last year, but it ended up being about 70 feet lower, so ended up walking way down into the lake bed to cast to the cruising grayling. Mark caught a few, I caught a few, and then we got bored and decided to head back down to the river, where we fished for a few more hours despite the heavier afternoon flows from the snowmelt. After another big dinner and many Austrian beers, we retired, and drove back early the next morning. All in all, a great trip, and amazingly, the first trip in 4 years where we didn't have to deal with midsummer snow. We're already hard at work on 2014 planning.
The next day we got up, had breakfast, and spent the entire day fishing the varied stretches of the Mur. From headwaters full of pocket water to deep pools in oxbows, there was a huge amount of variety in this beat and we took advantage. We caught mostly browns in two different color schemes, along with the occasional rainbow and grayling, with the largest trout caught at 15 inches or so.
Mark with a gorgeous Brown that fell for a streamer. Look at those spots!
And a fat rainbow that I pulled from the same deep channel.
Fish on!
Typical Austrian meadows...
and healthy, lively fish
in varied terrain..
make for hungry fishermen.
The next day we decided to go up and visit the same alpine lake we went to last year, but this time we got a key for the gate and were able to drive up the steep, rocky road, but not after being warned about falling rocks, warnings which we pretty much ignored because, hey, rental car.
I brought my float tube in case the lake was as high as it was last year, but it ended up being about 70 feet lower, so ended up walking way down into the lake bed to cast to the cruising grayling. Mark caught a few, I caught a few, and then we got bored and decided to head back down to the river, where we fished for a few more hours despite the heavier afternoon flows from the snowmelt. After another big dinner and many Austrian beers, we retired, and drove back early the next morning. All in all, a great trip, and amazingly, the first trip in 4 years where we didn't have to deal with midsummer snow. We're already hard at work on 2014 planning.
