I’m off…

… to Heidelberg for a couple of days, to do philosopher’s shit, the kind which requires formal semantics, abstract argumentation frameworks and Ratnakīrti, but probably no fly rod.

Unfortunately.

Anyway, Heidelberg is nice, philosophers go there to do their stuff since forever, and there will be plenty of very good people, so I’m looking forward to it.

William Turner, Heidelberg, watercolor (1846).

Meanwhile men of the lake and wood and other friends are going to fish the Salamandre for big rainbows. I should have been there. I hate it when work and fishing interfere. A better man than I am would wish them good luck. I just wish they had chosen another day.

The bastards. ^_^

Candy

Fantastic series of pictures for the New-York Times Magazine, by Seth Casteel. Go see the rest!

Caught on the Moldy Chum.

7 miles

It’s been more than a month since the last fishporn. Fact is: my pain threshold is going down fast. Watching series of fish hooked and released just bore me to death. And don’t get me started on the retarded choices of music.

Well then, why another one? asks the astute reader. I’m not sure. This one got me at the campfire with the deer. But turn the volume down, or be prepared for a brainfuck.

Or you can cut the sound of the video and power-klezmerize it with Yom and the Wonder Rabbis:

All of a sudden, the life and death games of fly fishing take deeper shadows and an interesting edge.

g0nefishin9: saving fishporn from its own bad taste since 2011.

Swell

Mutiny, Samantha Keely Smith (2011).

Excellent work, incredibly delicate light. Go see the rest.

I need to get down the bayou,

Doug thought. Tonight, I’ll feed the gators.

It’s been a while

I haven’t posted a vid. I found this one appealing, probably because of the book+coffee+cigarette porn it begins with. When you get to the river part, the music switches to the kind of obsessively repeated chords that for some reason film editors use so much. Cheezy a best, in this instance unbearable crap. Still, the images are good.

(from the MoldyChum)

Sunfish

[...] and we covered the last two hundred yards to the truck marveling, for the hundredth time, at the god-awful beauty of sunfish. They’re one of the things in the world that are so much prettier than they’d have to be, you have to think it means something.

J. Gierach, At the grave of the Unknown Fisherman (2003).

The boys

at Jazz and Fly Fishing are doing it in B&W now. Check it out, these guys have talent.

So often closer than you’d think

Line

As the saying goes, there’s a fine line between fishing and just standing on the shore like an idiot. Actually it’s not a saying but a Steven Wright one-liner, but I think it’s good enough to pass as a saying.

Anyway, yesterday with Julien I guess we’ve been on the wrong side of the proverbial line. It was literally pouring on us, and we caught so close to bugger all that I’m not going to further the humiliation by describing the absurdly small roach each of us got as a reward for his pains.

Except mine was a good half inch bigger.

Rather unrelatedly, google image’s sense of à-propos never ceases to amaze me. Ask it for anything not too obvious, like “absurdly small roach”, and you get a world of visual poetry. Like this picture, that I find quite appalling, even though I’d be hard pressed to say what’s in it.

gross.

All work and no play

makes g0ne a very dull place.