The Right Gear: A Shirt for Your Activities

I’m a sucker for technical shirts.  You know what I mean, the ones made for fishing, with all sorts of pockets and gadgets.  I need that rod loop, those big pockets, and preferably an additional hidden pocket to keep everything secure.

I wear such a shirt every day that I’m not in a client’s office or speaking to a group of bankers.  Long sleeve, or short sleeve, depending on the season.  They are great around the house . . . I always have a project going, and need a pocket for those screws I just took out of the back of that appliance.  A proper shirt will help me with organization . . . I’m always awash in a sea of LSP’s (little slips of paper).  I can put notes to myself in one pocket, receipts from the other, then empty my shirt onto my desk and get organized!  And Dad always needs a place to “hold this” so I try to never disappoint.

Such shirts are perfect for travel, too.  A place for my cell phone, tickets (if I have paper ones,) ear buds, a phone charger, and more LSP’s related to my travel.  I seem to accumulate things.  I also do a lot of “catch up” reading on the plane, so I’m often tearing out articles or entire pages of ideas I want to keep.  Need pockets for those.  

And of course, the intended use . . . in the field.  Especially fishing, when I needs lots of places to keep things.  A fly box, a camera, assorted handy items, even a spare reel, depending on how light I am traveling that particular day.  Full cut arms for casting or wingshooting, and ventilation.

Recently, a new shirt manufacturer popped up in my social media feed, and I decided to try one of their shirts . . . I ordered the sea foam green as that is not a color I currently have.  The shirt came, and I immediately liked it.  The material is light weight, comfortable, and includes sun protection.  There are two large chest pockets, plus a zippered pocket behind the left one.  And a sturdy rod loop.

I chose this shirt for a recent float on the White River, along the Beaver Dam tailwater.  The shoulder/sleeve area provides a full range of motion.  The shirt looks great, and feels even better.  I found the pockets easy to get into, yet I felt that my cell phone was secure until I intentionally reached for it.  The zippered pocket is also solid, with a  top down action that keeps things from falling out.

When you are looking for your next field shirt, please give Habit Outdoors a try.  You can find them on the web at www.habitoutdoors.com 

F. A. Ashby - Pioneering Outdoorsman

Note:  This is transcribed from a (Memphis) Commercial Appeal article from early 1930s.  The clippings I have do not have a year, although the date was August 26.  So based on F.A.'s age I'm going to guess 1931 or 32. I have maintained the language and sub headings as much as possible from the original article.  

F. A. is my paternal Great Grandfather.  In his lineage, which I've been able to trace back to London in the 1500s, are Captain Thomas Ashby (my 8th Great Grandfather) who was a revolutionary war hero, and was given land near Winchester, Virginia for his service (the area is still called Ashby's Gap today.)  One of his sons, Robert Ashby rode with Washington during that war, as well.  Finally, Turner Ashby a great great uncle of F.A. served under Stonewall Jackson in the War of Northern Aggression.  But F.A. was vitally important to the founding of my home town, Marked Tree, Arkansas, and that is what this story is about.  He came to the area in 1888.  Today, my Aunt, who is the widow of my father's brother, is the only one from the Ashby/Fleming family left in Marked Tree.    The clippings I have are too weak in quality for the picture to show up, so I'm including a formal photo I have of F. A. -

River Still Becons Veteran Arkansas Woodsman, Now 76

“F.A. Ashby, who began logging career at the age of 10, never had any trouble because he let ‘em know who was boss”

Written by Esther Bindursky, Special to the Commercial Appeal

Article Begins:

Marked Tree, Ar. Aug 26

The unfathomable lure of the river - and after 65 years of work running logs and around timber camps. F. A. Ashby, 76, veteran woodsman of Marked Tree, finds it still enthralling.  He has just rounded out 35 years for Chapman-Dewey, as river foreman.

“I never had any trouble with ‘timber-jacks’ on the river; I just always let them know first who was boss,” and his blue eyes twinkled.

Ashby began his logging career at the age of 10 around Dewitt, MO; at the age when most lads were still being coddled, Ashby was running to the logging camps with his father, “laying chains” for the loggers.

SAW JAMES BROTHERS

“It was many a time that Jessie or Frank James would ride up to our home in Carroll County, Missouri.  They lived only a short distance from us.  They would stop for a glass of water, chat a while, and be on their way.  Their reputation wasn’t so bad then.  I remember the last time I saw them and Tom Ford.  I was in the woods and heard some galloping horses.  Pretty soon they came into view.  There were three men on horseback, Jessie and Frank James, and Tom Ford.  They plunged their horses into the Missouri River and swam across, quickly disappearing into the woods.”

His love for river work has led him into many strange tracts of land.  In 1885, he “run” logs to Jefferson City for Sullivan and Hays.  Later he worked for Chapman and Dewey as its foreman in Missouri, running logs down the Missouri River, east of Kansas City, a distance of three hundred miles to Horse Creek, on the edge of Broadway, into St. Louis.  For a while he succumbed to the lure of the huge Washington forests, and trekked out to Seattle to run logs down the Snohomish River, but soon “chucked” it and turned eastward again, arriving in Marked Tree about 1888.

PICNIC BIG EVENT

Down in Ashby Grove on the outskirts of Marked Tree, where the Little River with its inveigling crooks and bends flows to the left, and the turbulent St. Francis runs to the right, his home sits with a “stones throw” of the two rivers. (local folks will recognize this area as Pumpkin Bend, alongside and across the highway from the old Federal Compress)

Each year the folks around Marked Tree look forward to Ashby’s picnic.  On little tables piled high with fried fish, delectable corn pones, onions, black coffee and the various garnishments to go well with “such eatin’” his friends revel. Nearly 300 folks attended last summer, when he and Mrs. Ashby celebrated their golden wedding anniversary.  

His reputation as an expert hunter has led many a sportsman to his door for directions to the right place to kill ducks and geese, the right nook to catch the elusive bass and crappie.

In a little pen on the bank of the St. Francis he has a bunch of wild geese that he is raising for decoys.  A cabin motor boat that he built himself is moored to the landing on the St. Francis, was dexterously set adrift and a ride up and down the St. Francis revealed his skill as a pilot.

KNOWS LOTS OF PERSONS

Past houseboats and fishermen shacks he sped, callout out a cheery greeting to everyone “Hi! Mr. Ashby! How’s the olde river, is she falling? Fish biting pretty good this morning, you better try your luck!” shouted friends along the river.

"A feller gets to know a lot of people after so many years of this kind of work.  I’ve come in contact with all kinds of them, from the lowest greaser, to the highest type timber man, but they’re all alike nearly in one respect, treat ‘em square and nine times out of out ten they’ll play square.”

"The tightest spot I ever got into was on Right Hand Chute one day.  I heard about a feller stealing our timber up there.  I got in my boat and went up there, but found out I had left my gun and didn’t’ even have a pocket knife with me.  I crept up to where I heard the chopping and laid in wait.”  

"Pretty soon I spoke up: you’re on the wrong side of the line, bud, in your chopping, but Chapman-Dewey appreciates the work you’ve done for them; you’ve done quite a nice little job.  Now, if you’ll just drop that ax and be on your way, we’ll call it a day”

He marched away with his hands up.

A Little Light Reading to Prepare you for the Season

By and large, southern fly fishers are tailwater fishers.  In a region with few spring fed streams, and virtually no glacier or snow melt, it takes a dam to create water conditions that help trout to thrive.  Hydroelectric power has been a boon to many areas, providing abundant and inexpensive power, while producing cold, clear, oxygenated water with many food sources.  Hard to believe they weren’t built solely for the benefit of we trout bums.

I wanted to share two books with you that will increase your pleasure of fishing tailwaters in general, and southern tailwaters in particular.   The first is “Ozark Trout Tales” by Steve Wright.  I’ve read this one over and over, having originally stumbled on an autographed copy at Dale Fulton’s Blue Ribbon Fly Shop near Mountain Home, Arkansas.  Wright’s book, written in a flowing, easy to read style, sets the stage by providing a history of fishing on the White River System,  and discussing the impact of the dams built for hydroelectric power.  Starting with Beaver (one of my favorite tailwaters) and continuing downstream through Table Rock, Bull Shoals, North Fork, and finally the Little Red, the author takes us on a survey of key spots for trout fishing in the Ozarks.

More than a book for your favorite reading chair, Wright has given us a stream side companion, a book that will spend as much time in your vehicle as on your coffee table.  Each destination is treated with care, including river access details, local history, and attractions.  While purists (guilty) may recoil at the idea of fishing with worms or live sculpin, these are included, as are key fly patterns for each area.  This book is a treasure for the beginner and seasoned Ozark angler, alike.

Wright’s eye for unique individuals in the region adds a special flavor to the book with insights into fishing methods, the character of the river, and the impact on the region of these “man-made” trout streams.  An example is Charlie Vincent, a transplant from the high plains of western Kansas, who has perfected the art of luring big trout with nightcrawler in the White River near Branson, Missouri.

 If you think you know everything about trout fishing in the Ozarks, this book will gently prove you wrong, while encouraging you to revisit favorite spots and try new ones.  While the book is, sadly, out of print, an online search revealed several sources of used copies in good condition.

A newer book, “50 Best Tailwaters to Fly Fish” seeks to provide national coverage of tailwater fishing opportunities, and (you’ve been warned) may create serious wanderlust, mapping, and planning activities for the more adventuresome.  Seriously, the book is a virtual national compendium of tail water fishing opportunities, and provides great detail for each fishery it covers, from fishing methods to guides to lodging and food.  Generally written by locals, and curated by Terry and Wendy Gunn, this book takes a bit of a chance with such a wide range of streams, and pulls it off well.

Fittingly, a section on our beloved south is included, with specific coverage of Ozark streams including the North Fork, White, and Little Red.  On those streams in particular I was able to vouch for the integrity of the included material.  I also noted that the section on Tennessee’s Caney Fork River was well done, including information about access to the river from the Interstate 40 westbound rest area near Lebanon.  

“50 Best” is a great way to become acquainted with great fishing opportunities across our great land, and is an excellent resource for both travelers who look for local fishing opportunities, and those seeking to plan an expedition solely for fishing one or more of these great locations.  I’ve already dog-eared page 7, on the San Juan River in New Mexico.  Stay tuned. 

I hope you will find time to enjoy one or both of these books on a rainy or snowy day, and then take them afield with you.  Tight Lines!

What I'm Reading, Part 1

This week, across 6 flight segments, I read "Lord Grizzly" by Fredrick Manfred. It is a novelized account, drawing on many sources, of Hugh Glass' ordeal in South Dakota territory after having been mauled by a grizzly. Some of you may have seen the movie, The Revenant, which is based on the same story. 

Manfred's style is engaging, and carries the reader along. His research, detailed in his daughter's introduction to the book, greatly adds to the authenticity of his writing. As one of five tomes in Manfred's "Buckskin Tales" series, Lord Grizzly captures the spirt of the American west in the early 1800s, and also speaks to human experiences of struggle, suffering, redemption, and forgiveness. Highly recommended.

Spring Creek

A sun-dappled run at Fisherman's Paradise

University Park airport is typical of many smaller airports from the past, offering quick ingress and egress to the traveler, while conveniently located to its primary constituency - in this case, Penn State University.  Prior to making my annual trek to lecture at a banking school, I investigated local fly fishing options, and via the wonders of the Internet - namely, Reddit, I was pointed to Spring Creek, by all counts the best wild Brown trout stream in Pennsylvania, certainly in the area.  

Not more than 15 minutes after my plane landed, I was carefully following Siri's directions to a place called "Fisherman's Paradise"  After a couple of false starts, I stopped at what appeared to be a public access area, and quickly assembled my gear. I brought along my 6wt St Croix Imperial, a Ross C-4, and a small box of flies.  In the interest of space, I left my waders at home, having been told that bank fishing was actually required at Fisherman's Paradise.  I found sturdy footing at the stream's edge and began casting across the stream with a bead-head Sow Bug, allowing it to drift.  I did see a fish or two, but for the most part the speed of the flow made a realistic drift very difficult, as structure to my left, upstream, created a converging tongue of current moving much faster than the surrounding water.  That belly was too big and persistent to mend.  Allowing the line to unfold further downstream, I was successful in getting a couple of strikes, and briefly hooking a fish.  Not much to write home about, however.

After 15 minutes or so, I heard a car pull up and someone get out.   A voice called "what's going on down there" to which I turned and answered "not much."  A friendly, bearded fellow made his way down the bank and I told him of my search for Fisherman's Paradise.  "Oh, this is not it - but you can follow me there, its just down the road.  You didn't go far enough."  We made introductions and he told me of his evening the day before at this little spot, where some blues were hatching.  He also told me of the locals' tolerance of fly fisherman, in spite of much of the creek's banks being private land.  I had noticed a number of homes along the creek as I drove in.

Breaking down my rod, I loaded it in my rental car and prepared to follow my new friend to Fisherman's Paradise.  As on the drive in, the route along Spring Creek rivaled text messages for driving distractions.  This is a beautiful, free flowing stream with lots of structure and varied water, shining in the afternoon sun.  Only a mile down the road, we reached Fisherman's Paradise, which appeared exactly as described by fellow Reddit fly fishers.  An ample parking area, and roughly 200 yards of stream easily accessible from the bank.  My “guide" had come prepared to fish deeper up the canyon, and I left him to gear up while I sought a suitable spot to cast from.  Having been waist deep in the middle of Arkansas' North Fork River only a week earlier, casting into a tree and weed lined stream only 10 yards across was quite the change of pace.  The afternoon sun was high in the sky, and doubly bright due to the reflection from the water.  Nothing in the way of a hatch was visible, so I continued to ply the water with my Sow Bug, before switching to an olive Woolly Bugger.

Challenging casting conditions!

I encountered a novice fly fisher from Texas, who, like me had found Spring Creek and Fisherman’s Paradise via the Internet prior to his business travel.  We discussed the stream conditions, and watched a small water snake make his way around a brush pile extending from the far bank, before parting ways to continue our efforts to fool a fish.

The weather this week in Pennsylvania was unusually warm, even for late July, and this was clearly impacting the fish. None of the half dozen anglers visible up and down the bank were landing any fish.  I moved further upstream, and found a small clear pool where a number of fish could be seen holding in the depths.  In spite of my best efforts,  including skimming a mouse pattern across the surface, I was not able to get a rise out of any of them.  As darkness fell, footsteps across the stream carried a whitetail to the stream to drink, and I paused casting to simply enjoy the proximity to the magnificent creature.   I resigned myself to having fished in a new state,  and having identified a great location.  I’m already looking forward to a return visit this summer, and will hopefully be better prepared.

Tight Lines!

/TF