Washington

Not D.C., the other one. There’s a story about that. In 1858, when Congress separated the Washington Territory from Oregon, the locals wanted to name the new territory Columbia. Congress wanted more done to honor President Washington, and so now we have both a state and a district. Laudible, and he is certainly worthy of honor, but my guess is whoever chose Washington had never done a Google search.

If friendly and delightful sea otters hadn’t been trapped and clubbed into oblivion, Washington State might be Canadian. The British wanted the Canadian border south at Oregon, at the Columbia River. We wanted the border considerably north, at 54°40′ north, well into British Columbia. In his 1844 presidential campaign James K. Polk made 54-40 or Fight the Make America Great Again of its day. Along with beaver, sea otter fur was the economic pile driver of the Pacific Northwest, but without that economic spur the British weren’t going to fight over a bunch of trees, and Polk got distracted by the Mexican-American War. In 1846 both sides compromised on the 49th Parallel. Meanwhile the sea otter population has recovered to about 100,000 animals.

“Mike” Michael L. Baird, Sea otter mother with nursing pup, 2008, Creative Commons License, Wikimedia Commons.

Washington is our 13th largest state by population, with an estimated population of 7,535,591, not including sea otters. It is more diverse than predominately white Oregon, with Asians, 9.3%, the largest group after Anglos, 68%, and Hispanic whites, 10.9%. Blacks are 4.3%. Washington ranks 11th in household income. Its economy is driven by technology and engineering, trade with Asia, by my purchases at REI, and by all those lines at all those Starbucks. Big names, Boeing, Microsoft, Amazon, Starbucks, and REI, are based in Seattle.

It is a liberal state, or at least a Democratic state. In 2016, Hillary Clinton received 54.3% of the vote. There are states where she did better, but there are states where she did much worse. Washington tends Democratic, but not overwhelmingly so. In the 2018 senate election, the Democratic incumbent, Maria Cantwell, received 58.4% of the vote, but the increased percentage over 2016 may only mean that Senator Cantwell was a popular incumbent.

In 2016, the Libertarian candidate, Gary Johnson, got 5% of the Washington vote. Nationally he received only 3.8% of the vote. One suspects that in Washington there isn’t so much a deep well of Libertarian notions as there is a bunch of traditional Republicans who couldn’t bring themselves to vote for President Trump, nor Hillary. That 5% was likely driven as much by protest as conviction.

Ali Zifan, 2016 Washington election map, Wikipedia.

Rural areas voted for President Trump, urban areas, the area around Puget Sound and the southern Portland suburbs at Vancouver, voted for Clinton. Only one rural western county, Whitman County, voted Democratic. Pullman, its largest city, is a university town, home of Washington State. It’s also directly across the border from Moscow, Idaho, an outlier Democratic area in Idaho’s 2016 election and home of the University of Idaho. Like begets like.

The other rural area to vote Democratic, that dark blue bar on the left that bisects the Olympic Peninsula, roughly corresponds to Olympic National Park. Not many votes, but I figure the rangers knew on which side their bread was buttered.

User:Symi81, Annual Precipitation of Washington State 1961-1990, 2007, public domain, Wikipedia.

Geographically Washington divides into six regions, and the regions correspond to (1) annual precipitation (no surprise there) and (2) voting patterns (I guess there should be no surprise either). With one exception it’s also the geography of our Northwest Coast, not confined peculiarly to Washington State, but running south to Northern California and north all the way to Alaska. It just goes to show how arbitrary our borders can be.

In the far west is the Coast Range, which, not surprisingly, is along the Pacific coast. Who knew? It’s a relatively temperate zone, with rare snowfall but plenty of rain. East of the Coast Range are the Puget Sound Lowlands, the Cascade Range, the arid Columbia Plateau, and in the far northeast a tiny sliver of the Rockies.

The exception, the peculiar feature and the area where we’re scheduled to fish for winter steelhead in February, is the temperate rain forest in the upper left on the Olympic Peninsula. It’s annual temperatures in low elevations occasionally dip to freezing, but are generally mild, if someone from Houston could ever consider 40 degrees mild. What it does have is rain. Constant rain. A drip drip drip of up to 140 inches in the lowlands during the winter season, while at elevation there may be up to 35 feet of snow.

R. Hoffman, National Park Service, Olympic National Park Annual Rainfall.

One of my doctors went to the University of Washington for medical school, across Puget Sound from the Peninsula. He tells me that it is so spooky and dense that it’s no wonder all those teen vampire movies are filmed there. I came home after we talked and watched the first Twilight, and while I wouldn’t recommend the movie, the landscape may be the best character.

Meanwhile we’ll be fishing for winter steelhead in and around Olympic National Park, fishing with extra-long two-handed Spey rods with Jack Mitchell’s The Evening Hatch, swinging flies out and across big rivers. I understand that temperatures will be cold, but likely not freezing. It will be wet. Winter is the rainier season, and the rainfall is measured in 10s of inches only after you clear the first 100. The fish are theoretically bigger than the summer steelhead we fished for last year in Oregon. Summer steelhead might be six pounds, winter up to 20, but the winter steelhead are even harder to catch. The winter fish are sexually mature when they come into the rivers and focused on the spawn and less likely to take a fly. They are the totem fish of the strange cult of Northwest Pacific steelheading. Maybe Kris and I have joined the cult. Kris didn’t hesitate when I asked if she wanted to try it.

So we will go to Seattle, maybe take a day or so to look around, maybe even cross to Victoria so Kris can finally say she’s been to Canada, but mostly we’ll stand around in a river in the rain and dodge the vampires while the steelhead dodge us. There’s always next winter.

Michael Gäbler, Hoh Rain Forest, Olympic National Park, 1992, Creative Commons License, Wikimedia Commons.

I Got Speyed

So in our last episode, Mark Marmon had asked me what was I going to do on the Deschutes for a rod and I’d said that the outfitter had rods we could use and Mark said that was smart and we should use them and I said it surely was smart and that we would and I knew, even as I said it, that I was lyin’ like a big dog. I was going to buy a Spey rod. This wasn’t about smart. This was about fly fishing.

I don’t remember whether it was the next day exactly that I started looking. It  might have been two days. The problem with buying a Spey rod in Houston is that there aren’t any.  While there are five or six places I could go for strong and excellent opinions on rods for redfish or bonefish or tarpon, the number of places where I could get credible Spey rod advice is pretty limited.  I like our local shops, and that includes Orvis, but there’s not a lot of demand for Spey rods here in Harris County.  We don’t have steelhead. We don’t have salmon. The River Spey don’t run through it.

I could have mail-ordered a rod, but that seemed wrong. I owe a duty to my local merchants, I don’t want to see them Amazon’d or WalMart’d, and if I am going to buy a rod I should seek local advice, even if that advice was from a local shop in Oregon.  Here’s the problem though. On the internet it seems that about 9/10ths of the Oregon economy is fly shops. It’s amazing that with all those fly shops they can find pinot vintners, or marijuana confectioners, or indie musicians.

So I finally turned to Yelp*. I don’t usually find Yelp* useful.  You will never convince me that, notwithstanding the excellence of its burgers, a place called Pop’s Seafood is the best high-dollar restaurant in Houston. But I was desperate, and when I searched for Portland fly-fishing shops, the place with the best Yelp* rating was The Portland Fly Shop. I didn’t care that there aren’t many reviews and that the place is pretty new. Drowning man. Rope.

“My wife and I are going to fish the Deschutes with an outfitter in September. We are accomplished flyfishers, particularly when it comes to fishing bluegill on stock tanks, but don’t know nothin’ about (1) two-handed rods, (2) skagit-skandi lines or polyleaders or sinktips, or (3) steelhead. . . . You know what? None of our local flyshops know much either, except for one guy who sometimes fishes the surf at Galveston with a backcast. . . . We need (1) some suggestions on rods, spey not switch, reasonably fast and light . . . I’m guessing around a 7 wt; (2) lines; and (3) to book a guided trip September 8 to actually fish the rods on moving water.”

Ok, I admit it. It was the next day. It took Jason Osborn nigh on forever, at least an hour, to answer.

“First off, you have made a great decision, and you have chosen the perfect time to chase Steelhead. The biggest factor in Steelheading is fishing when there are the most fish in the system, and September is prime time. . . . “

Well. That’s going to make me feel great when I catch no fish. Jason goes on to explain how hard the Deschutes is to wade, and how we needed barred wading boots and wading staffs.  Kris has now added wading the Deschutes to her standing list of horrors, right next to grizzly bears and alligators. She’s convinced that for it’s length and breadth it is bank to bank slightly deeper than 5-foot-4.

Back to Jason:

Rods. It’s almost harder to find a bad rod than a good rod these days, but there are some great rods in each price range, and a few to really avoid. Here’s my suggestion

  • Top End:

  • Sage X 13′ 7 WT

  • Winston BIII-TH 12’9″ 7WT

  • Burkheimer 13’4″ 7 WT”

Ok, skip the top end. I want to retain some dignity.

 

  • “Mid Range:

  • Sage Pulse 13′ 7 WT

  • Winston Nimbus Spey 12’9″ 7 wt

  • Beulah Platinum 13’4″ 7 WT

  • Echo 3 13′ 7WT”

No reason to go further. I’m usually a Winston guy for trout rods, but I’m also a Southern Protestant kid of a certain age. He had me with Beulah. I had never heard of Beulah rods, but I know heaven when I hear it. “Beulah Land, I’m longing for you/And some day, on thee I’ll stand . . . “

“The lines will match the rod, skagit just means sink tip, scandi means full floating. Fancy words for basic stuff. You will want one of each, but wait until after the rod to buy them, to make sure they match correctly.”

Isn’t that lovely, clear prose about a difficult subject? I am so jealous. “Where my home shall be eternal/Beulah Land, sweet Beulah Land.”

So Jason and I go back and forth for a bit: there’s a whole string of emails. I tell him I’m going to buy two rods, not realizing that Kris is going to find it impossible to commit to a rod without seeing it. Then fairly late in the day, after Jason has found me a guide and done all sorts of retail calisthenics to explain spey rods I get this:

“Great. I’ll email you in a bit, we’re closed today and I have some running around to do. I’ll get you all the info this evening.”

Well. Damn. I’ve been ruining Jason’s day off. This is not my finest moment. Damn. I ordered the Beulah Platinum because, well, Beulah Land, I’m longing for you, and a Hardy click and pawl Salmon 2 reel because, well, Hardy. I can not catch fish on a Hardy English-manufactured reel so much better than I can not catch fish on anything else.  The rod arrived a few days later with the reel lined with a skandi head. It’s a lovely thing, and I can almost roll cast with it. I even caught a fish.

Thanks Jason.

Speycasting for Grass Carp

Last August we booked a Spey casting lesson with a local TFF instructor, but it was canceled because of Hurricane Harvey.  Meanwhile our friend Mark Marmon said that he’d learned to Spey cast for Salmon in Iceland and that he’d give us a lesson. We had to have a lesson because when we go to Oregon we have to Spey cast, it’s like a law or something, and we don’t want to break any laws. Everything else is legal in Oregon, but they’re serious about Spey casting.

That’s Mark in the photo above. I stole that photo off his website, so he can sue if he wants. I’m not certain but it doesn’t look like the photo was taken in Houston. He’s sans pony-tail these days, but I always liked that photo of Mark. I don’t know if he lost the pony-tail when he became an Episcopal priest, but it’s a better story that way, sort of an Episcopalian version of God’s Wrath.

I knew Mark first through local fly shops, Angler’s Edge I think but it’s been a long time. Mark chose and sold Kris one of my favorite Christmas presents ever: a 5-weight Winston matched to an Abel click-and-pawl reel. About the time Kris bought that rod I ran into our friend Shelley.  I’d known Shelley since law school, and Kris and Shelley were even better friends than Shelley and me. Shelley said she had taken up fly fishing and that also oh-by-the-way she and Mark were getting married. Houston is a big city, and the chance that Shelley would know Mark, much less marry him, was pretty remote. I figured whether they knew it or not we were the common thread. They might see it differently, but I’m a firm believer that coincidences never happen, except by accident.

There were entire years when you couldn’t open a Houston Chronicle on any given day without reading a story about Mark. Every other guide in Houston (and that was pretty much Chris Phillips) was obsessed with saltwater, but Mark fished fresh. He fly fished the inner city bayous, and the Chronicle couldn’t get enough of it. Still can’t. Mark fished in the bayous mostly for grass carp, but he was also fishing for trout on the Guadalupe and for local bass: Mark introduced us to Damon’s Seven Lakes. Mark says his largest grass carp out of Braes Bayou was 48 pounds, which would be a state all-tackle record. Braes Bayou is less than a mile from our house.  He had found big fun fish that he could sight cast to, even if the fishery was decorated with abandoned grocery carts.

Mark met us at Meyer Park Duck Pond to teach us what he could on stillwater about Spey casting, and it turned out that it’s the place to be on a Sunday evening.  Stacy was there from Bayou City Anglers giving casting lessons to a family.  Gretchen from Orvis (who ties the best doubled Bimini twists I’ve ever seen) showed up to meet Stacy and go for Margaritas and Tex-Mex.  I’m pretty sure they looked at us and the Spey rods and laughed and laughed and laughed.

It was nice of Mark to give us the lesson, but Mark is a really nice guy. I once mentioned to Mark that my second-ever fly rod was a Shakespeare Wonderod that my mother bought when I was 14 with S&H Green Stamps, and that while I had the Pflueger Medalist reel I’d long ago lost the rod and wished I still had it. The next week Mark brought me a circa 1970s fiberglass Shakespeare Wonderod.  I’ve fished with it some too. It’s heavy as a horse and casts like a slug, but it’s great fun in small doses, as most memories are. My 12-weight is lighter than that Shakespeare. Modern spey rods are lighter than that Shakespeare.

 

Mark’s only flaw, really, is that he doesn’t like the Beatles. Personally I think he’s enjoying some mild perversity, which after all I know a good bit about. I’m the one learning how to Spey cast.

When we went to the pond, Mark had three Spey rods of various weights, two Thomas & Thomas and one Echo. Mark also had some great second-hand reels for his rods that he’d apparently found the same place that he’d found that Shakespeare Wonderod. We fooled around for a while, and I got to where I could do a roll cast that didn’t always end in a puddle 30 feet out.  The rods were heavier than I expected, in part because of the need for a heavy reel to balance the rod, plus the surprisingly heavy lines.  They were also really, really long.  They’re magnitudes longer than 9-foot rods, nearly half again as long.  Kris of course was a natural, though Mark was giving her workout advice for upper body strength by the end of the lesson. I offered to loan her my Shakespeare Wonderod.

Mark pointed out that you could in fact overhand cast with Spey rods, just like you would normally cast a single-handed rod. Since that lesson it’s been easy for me to shoot 100-feet of line casting overhand, though where it lands is not real precise. They never tell you about overhand casting in the online videos, but that’s because overhand casts are also illegal in Oregon. They’re serious about Spey casting.

Mark asked what rods we were going to use in Oregon, and I said that the outfitter had rods. He said that was smart and did I want to borrow his to practice with? I said maybe.

The next day I went rod shopping. This has nothing to do with smart.