Forgotten pleasures

For the past two years, ever since we moved from the duplex into a house, I
didn't bother to unpack (let alone organize) my fly tying gear because I
still had enough bugs to get me through what little fishing I've managed to
squeeze in. Not so, this time around. With the promise of nine days of
intensive angling staring me in the face, it was time to do something. I've
never been exactly anal about neatness, but a quick search through drawers,
tubs, boxes, bags and various other containers left even me a bit
disconcerted. All my hooks (and a lot of other junk) were stored in one of
those upright metal cabinets with the clear plastic drawers.....the ones
that never slide properly in the first place and, given that they are always
over-filled, often won't open at all. The cabinet has been lying on it's
back for two years. Icky!

A couple of hours (and $50 at the fly shop buying things that, as I found
out later, after a more careful search, I didn't need anyway) I was ready to
rock. Hooks, thread, chenille, calf tail, mallard flank, brown hackle, nail
polish......yep, all there. Pinch down a barb, chuck the hook in the vise
and.......ACK!......some evil ******* has stolen all my fingers and replaced
them with poorly disguised thumbs!

Some observations:

1. Even the strongest nylon thread weakens considerably after two years on
the shelf.
2. Hooks shrink.
3. There is considerably less light in the world than there used to be.
4. The labels on containers lie.
5. Materials in general have become unruly and disrespectful.
6. Hook eyes (and hackles) have developed an extraordinary affinity for
head cement.
7. Having magically absorbed a vast quantity of head cement from a
distance, hook eyes disappear entirely when approached by a bodkin.
8. Fingers (or thumbs, as the case may be) do not.

Nevertheless, perseverance pays off. After a mere day and a half of intense
labor leavened liberally with blood, sweat, tears, and occasional reference
to foreign language dictionaries in search of new profanities with which
relieve the tedium of repetition, I am the proud owner of 30 new pass lakes
and 18 equally virginal woolly buggers.

When all is said and done, it is good to know that I haven't lost any of my
blinding speed and that the detritus left on the floor still doesn't
outweigh the finished product by all that much.

Wolfgang

On Wed, 7 Sep 2005 09:35:34 -0500, "Wolfgang"
wrote:

For the past two years, ever since we moved from the duplex into a house, I
didn't bother to unpack (let alone organize) my fly tying gear because I
still had enough bugs to get me through what little fishing I've managed to
squeeze in. Not so, this time around. With the promise of nine days of
intensive angling staring me in the face, it was time to do something. I've
never been exactly anal about neatness, but a quick search through drawers,
tubs, boxes, bags and various other containers left even me a bit
disconcerted. All my hooks (and a lot of other junk) were stored in one of
those upright metal cabinets with the clear plastic drawers.....the ones
that never slide properly in the first place and, given that they are always
over-filled, often won't open at all. The cabinet has been lying on it's
back for two years. Icky!

A couple of hours (and $50 at the fly shop buying things that, as I found
out later, after a more careful search, I didn't need anyway) I was ready to
rock. Hooks, thread, chenille, calf tail, mallard flank, brown hackle, nail
polish......yep, all there. Pinch down a barb, chuck the hook in the vise
and.......ACK!......some evil ******* has stolen all my fingers and replaced
them with poorly disguised thumbs!

Some observations:

1. Even the strongest nylon thread weakens considerably after two years on
the shelf.
2. Hooks shrink.
3. There is considerably less light in the world than there used to be.
4. The labels on containers lie.
5. Materials in general have become unruly and disrespectful.
6. Hook eyes (and hackles) have developed an extraordinary affinity for
head cement.
7. Having magically absorbed a vast quantity of head cement from a
distance, hook eyes disappear entirely when approached by a bodkin.
8. Fingers (or thumbs, as the case may be) do not.

Nevertheless, perseverance pays off. After a mere day and a half of intense
labor leavened liberally with blood, sweat, tears, and occasional reference
to foreign language dictionaries in search of new profanities with which
relieve the tedium of repetition, I am the proud owner of 30 new pass lakes
and 18 equally virginal woolly buggers.

When all is said and done, it is good to know that I haven't lost any of my
blinding speed and that the detritus left on the floor still doesn't
outweigh the finished product by all that much.

Wolfgang



It's like riding a bike...once you remember where you left it

Wolfgang wrote:

[little snip]

All my hooks (and a lot of other junk) were stored in one of
those upright metal cabinets with the clear plastic drawers.....the ones
that never slide properly in the first place and, given that they are always
over-filled, often won't open at all. The cabinet has been lying on it's
back for two years. Icky!

A couple of hours (and $50 at the fly shop buying things that, as I found
out later, after a more careful search, I didn't need anyway)

I believe that is Big Dale's first law of tying. (I.e., the things
you *need* to buy are usually just sitting under a pile of the things
you wonder why you bought in the first place.)

I was ready to
rock. Hooks, thread, chenille, calf tail, mallard flank, brown hackle, nail
polish......yep, all there. Pinch down a barb, chuck the hook in the vise
and.......ACK!......some evil ******* has stolen all my fingers and replaced
them with poorly disguised thumbs!

Some observations:

1. Even the strongest nylon thread weakens considerably after two years on
the shelf.
2. Hooks shrink.
3. There is considerably less light in the world than there used to be.
4. The labels on containers lie.
5. Materials in general have become unruly and disrespectful.
6. Hook eyes (and hackles) have developed an extraordinary affinity for
head cement.
7. Having magically absorbed a vast quantity of head cement from a
distance, hook eyes disappear entirely when approached by a bodkin.
8. Fingers (or thumbs, as the case may be) do not.

Hilarious, and oh so true. :-) In my case, I was away from fly
tying for almost twenty years. I was truly amazed at how much smaller
hooks had gotten since the eighties.

Nevertheless, perseverance pays off. After a mere day and a half of intense
labor leavened liberally with blood, sweat, tears, and occasional reference
to foreign language dictionaries in search of new profanities with which
relieve the tedium of repetition, I am the proud owner of 30 new pass lakes
and 18 equally virginal woolly buggers.

No doubt soon to be used to decorate the rocks and trees of your
favorite fishing destination.

When all is said and done, it is good to know that I haven't lost any of my
blinding speed and that the detritus left on the floor still doesn't
outweigh the finished product by all that much.

Ah, and that's why I do my tying in my "shop". That way the
detritus mingles with the plane shavings and doesn't look nearly so
obvious. :-)


Chuck Vance (laughing *with* you, not at you)

Wolfgang typed:
snip
2. Hooks shrink.

Amen, Brother Wolfgang. When I went fishing with Stan last Thursday, I spent
an otherwise useful 20-30 minutes just threading the bastids on the tippet.
I had two enemies: the shrunken hook eye, brand new eye glasses, and a
fanatical devotion to the Pope (...three enemies.)

Freakin' hooks.

Freakin' tippet.

Freakin' Stan (but that's another story...)
--
TL,
Tim
------------------------
http://css.sbcma.com/timj/

"Amen, Brother Wolfgang. When I went fishing with Stan last Thursday, I
spent
an otherwise useful 20-30 minutes just threading the bastids on the
tippet.
I had two enemies: the shrunken hook eye, brand new eye glasses, and a
fanatical devotion to the Pope (...three enemies.) "

Actually, I've had this creeping anxiety that my FF days might be
numbered because my close-up vision is becoming so difficult. I know
that I can get lenses for that, but I don't normally wear glasses, so
having some just to tie on a fly would be very inconvient. Or one of
those things that clips on to your visor....its not like I don't
already have enough crap hanging off me to snag a line on.

Well, maybe the days aren't numbered, but certainly tying on #16 and
on up flies is by far the most strenuous thing I do with my eyes. If I
don't get it right within a minute or two, my eyeballs feel like they
are being crushed in a vise.

--riverman

riverman typed:
"Amen, Brother Wolfgang. When I went fishing with Stan last Thursday,
I spent
an otherwise useful 20-30 minutes just threading the bastids on the
tippet.
I had two enemies: the shrunken hook eye, brand new eye glasses, and a
fanatical devotion to the Pope (...three enemies.) "

Actually, I've had this creeping anxiety that my FF days might be
numbered because my close-up vision is becoming so difficult. I know
that I can get lenses for that, but I don't normally wear glasses, so
having some just to tie on a fly would be very inconvient. Or one of
those things that clips on to your visor....its not like I don't
already have enough crap hanging off me to snag a line on.

I'm getting another set of those for sure. I got a pair from a Penns raffle
a few years ago and they were great until I scratched 'em badly. They really
helped, and I need them now more than ever.

If you're snagging your line on things you are wearing, the eye specs are
the least of your worries. I just hope you're not using any of those Rotten
Bananas from Frank - you'd be out like a light!
--
TL,
Tim
------------------------
http://css.sbcma.com/timj/

"riverman" wrote in message
ups.com...
Actually, I've had this creeping anxiety that my FF days might be
numbered because my close-up vision is becoming so difficult. I know
that I can get lenses for that, but I don't normally wear glasses, so
having some just to tie on a fly would be very inconvient. Or one of
those things that clips on to your visor....its not like I don't
already have enough crap hanging off me to snag a line on.

Well, maybe the days aren't numbered, but certainly tying on #16 and
on up flies is by far the most strenuous thing I do with my eyes. If I
don't get it right within a minute or two, my eyeballs feel like they
are being crushed in a vise.

--riverman

I'm not at this point yet, but probably not too far off....

Use the bifocals at home with these threaders and then you don't have to
worry about it streamside...

http://www.3m.com/us/home_leisure/sc...threader.jhtml

HTH,
JT

"Conan The Librarian" wrote in message
...
Wolfgang wrote:

...I am the proud owner of 30 new pass lakes and 18 equally virginal
woolly buggers.

No doubt soon to be used to decorate the rocks and trees of your
favorite fishing destination.

Nah......I'm gonna be using John as a backstop.

Chuck Vance (laughing *with* you, not at you)

Works for me.....either way.

Wolfgang

1. Even the strongest nylon thread weakens considerably after two years on
the shelf.

Geez, I hope not, Wolfgang. More likely, you have grown stronger
since you've been coming to Penns and drinking Yuengling instead of
that namby-pamby Wisconsin beer like Milwaukees' Worst, etc.....

Think of all the poor Skydivers, using chutes with nylon shroud lines
that are much more than two years old!

vince

1. Even the strongest nylon thread weakens considerably after two years on
the shelf.

Geez, I hope not, Wolfgang. .....

Think of all the poor Skydivers, using chutes with nylon shroud lines
that are much more than two years old!

A Postscript: I had lunch today with a skydiving friend. He said
ultraviolet light does degrade nylon, and there have been cases of
partial failure (none fatal that he knew of) for that reason.

So keep your thread in a drawer, guys.

vince