Southern Tier Fly Fisher

Fat Nancy’s Philosophy…

August 26, 2026 / stflyfisher / 0 Comments

““My biggest worry is that my wife, when I’m dead, will sell my fishing gear for what I said I paid for it.”

Koos Brandt

This past weekend son #2 and I took a trip to the great white north. I’m not talking Albany, Syracuse, or Rochester; I’m talking PULASKI, which, in Polish should translate to “the place where the snow flies” (the village was actually named after General Casimir Pulaski of revolutionary war fame). Son #2 is a hockey player, and his Bantam Travel “B” Team was to face off against the Salmon River Storm at 11:30 am that day. We met only mild weather resistance on the trip north, which is a rarity. In fact, once we passed snowy Syracuse, the skies cleared up but the bright sunshine did little to lift the frigid cold. Indeed, when we left the Southern Tier the temp was an invigorating -1-degree F.

The village of Pulaski is famous for two things; fishing and snowmobiling. Situated on the western edge of Lake Ontario, it receives an average of 175 inches (over 14 feet) of snow every winter, but of more interest is the village’s location on the Salmon River. This geographical blessing makes it one of the best places, arguably THE best place in the lower 48, to catch big steelhead, monster king and coho salmon, and huge lake-run browns.

We arrived in Pulaski, took the exit off Rt 81 North, and at the top of the exit ramp, ran smack dab into Fat Nancy’s on our way to the rink, and with just one look at the interesting name (followed by “tackle shop”), I knew I had to check it out after the game.

We drove through the sleepy village and immediately got a sense for how much snow this part of upstate New York receives. The roofs of houses and stores were steeped high with the stuff, and the icicles were enough to make one think twice about passing under any roof overhang. The rink in Pulaski was colder inside than it was outside, but it made for fast ice and a great game, as the Binghamton Senators filleted the Salmon River Storm 12-5.

After the game, we were to head south to Cortland for a 5:30 pm game and lunch en route, but I took a little detour to Fat Nancy’s under the fatherly auspices of picking up a candy bar for my exhausted hockey player and filling the car up with gas in case we ever got stuck in some abominable snow drift.

“Many of the women that have worked for us over the years got tired of people coming in the store and asking them if they were Nancy,” Rob said. “The fish is now called Fat Nancy.”

Upon first entering Fat Nancy’s, you’re greeted by one hell of a king salmon (87 lbs. to be exact), although legend has it that “Fat Nancy’ is not the mother of all king salmon, nor is she some gargantuan female tackle shop owner, burly and beard-growing, complete with camel cigarette hanging out of her yap, but instead, a huge sturgeon in Lake Ontario that has eluded anglers for years. Regardless, this big king, hanging in all its glory for all to dream wistfully of bent fly rods and backing on the reel, is just one of many Salmon River trophies mounted as testament to how truly great the fishing is on the Salmon River. For the record, none other than the Salmon River is home to New York state’s record King salmon – a 47 lb. 13-ounce brute caught in 1991. To catch one the size of Fat Nancy, you’d have to head west to Alaska, home of the US record of 97 lbs. 4 ounces.

There’s also an older piece of Pulaski lore: Fat Nancy Rock, a famous boulder on the Salmon River named after a local woman in the 1800s. It predates the tackle shop by more than a century. The shop’s name is a playful nod to that history.

What happens after entry into this fly fisherman’s house of pleasure is sensory overload, as this tackle shop is more like a convenience store version of Cabela’s than a Citgo Mini-Mart. While the shop does cater to the hardware guys, ice fishermen, and trollers, there is a nice stand of G Loomis, Scott, TFO, and some lesser-known brands of fly rods to piqué one’s interest. Fat Nancy’s offers a broad steelhead / salmon fly selection along with a bountiful stock of line, terminal tackle, reels, waders, and clothing. Browsing around, I quickly spied the ultimate big river steelhead rod – a 10′ / 7 weight Scott ARC for sale at half price. I practically had to buy a hat just to catch the slobber that drooled from my mouth.

I picked up a chocolate bar for my very patient hockey player and stood at the counter while a big upstate good-ole-boy sidled up behind the cash register. “Is that it?”, he bellowed, jowls swaying. “Yes”, I responded, “although I sure would like to add that Scott ARC you have on sale, but the wife wouldn’t take too kindly to that”. I chuckled a little, thinking some sympathetic comment would soon follow. Instead I got a brash and baritone “tough shit”, followed by a lambasting that chastised my manhood and, would have put my tail between my legs if I had one. “You work for that money, don’t you?”, he scowled, “you can do whatever the hell you want with it, that’s what I say”. I grimaced and shriveled in the face of this dress-down and soon felt like I was looking up at the counter. “If you want the rod, buy it, and if she don’t like it, tough shit”.

I slithered out of the store, my little hockey player in tow, and thought long and hard about “the philosophy” as we sped down Rt 81 to Cortland. And the more I thought, the more I realized this guy had a point. The counter-guy’s “pep” talk had truly given me a lift. Carpe diem, seize the day, strike while the iron’s hot, go for it – the “talk” had convinced me, if nothing else, that Fat Nancy’s was far more than a tackle shop. Later that week I had a new fly reel on order, with no apologies and nary a second thought, thank you very much.

Fishing with the ladies…

August 24, 2026 / stflyfisher / 0 Comments

My connection with Destin, Florida is now over 10 years in the making. My wife and I have owned a townhouse there ever since being introduced to the place while visiting our son, Chris, who worked as a PGA Pro at Regatta Bay Golf and Yacht Club. Chris has since moved on to a far different career but our connection to this Florida panhandle city and the beautiful “Emerald Coast” remains.

Destin sits on a long peninsula of land between the Gulf of Mexico and Choctawhatchee Bay – a large saltwater bay, 129 square miles in size, that is fed by the gulf tides to the south and estuary rivers to the north.

In addition to an abundance of places to fish saltwater, the area is dotted with ponds and lakes that hold largemouth bass and panfish. Depending on the weather and sea conditions, an angler always has a choice of bay fishing, surf fishing, and pond/lake fishing. There’s rarely a time when a line has to sit dry for long.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA — Miles and miles of white sandy beach await the early morning fly fisher…

We are now waning out of August as I write this and memories of the terrific fall fly-fishing here in New York that awaits fills my fly-fishing mind with great anticipation, but maybe because of a spate of hot, humid, weather, I can’t help but think of a late summer visit to Destin years ago and a very special introduction to a “gamefish” of another sort.

August in Destin, oddly enough, is considered “off-season” in terms of tourism. By late July visitors from as far away as Michigan and the upper Midwest, but primarily from the southeast, are leaving. School starts early in the south and the heat and humidity in the panhandle turns downright oppressive. The beaches slowly turn quiet with the ebb of vacationers.

For most of this August visit I chose to fish the surf. I had previously fished Destin in the spring and fall, focusing on the bay. I’d heard summertime had a significant “trash fish” bite, but among that rubble was a gem of a fish that had a reputation as a great adversary on the long rod: the ladyfish…

The ladyfish is a ray-finned fish also referred to as skipjacks, jack-rashes, or tenpounders. They are coastal-dwelling and found throughout the tropical and subtropical regions of the world but occasionally venture into more temperate waters. Ladyfish prey on smaller fish and shrimp. They can grow to over 3 feet in length and may reach 20 pounds in weight. More commonly, they are found to range from 12″ to over 20″. The body of the ladyfish is a tapered spindle shape with an oval cross-section. Their eyes are very large as are their mouths. Their incredible aerial acrobatics in combination with a hard mouth allows them to throw a poorly set hook quite easily. They are largely silver and white in color, but their backs are a light olive to sand color with a beautiful band of light pink where their color transitions to silver.

After arriving at our place and settling in, I rigged my 9 weight fly rod with a full intermediate line and took a quick golf cart ride to the beach. I walked east beyond the swimming area and began casting a size 2 chartreuse and white clouser minnow. It wasn’t long before I was hooked up and witnessing first-hand, the incredible high-jumps of the ladyfish.

ladyfish.jumping.olander.doug — Ladyfish are known as the “poor man’s tarpon” due to their incessant aerobatics, as captured here in this picture courtesy of Doug Olander.

I fished the surf for several days and found varied fishing conditions for these surf-side torpedoes. One day the surf was flat as a mill-pond and I spent much of the day running up and down the beach chasing ladies crashing the beach. Their devastating attacks on glass minnows in the shallows reminded me of bluefish blitzes. On other days the surf was up and the ladies were still biting but were spread out and cruising resulting in a slow but steady bite. One hot afternoon I found them on almost every other cast, though they were not showing themselves as they were on the calmer days.

One group of Mississippi fly fishermen respectfully refer to the ladyfish as the Mississippi tarbone and point out that local anglers can experience much of the thrill of catching tarpon and bonefish without having to leave Mississippi waters.

I found the “ladies” to feed very aggressively and take almost any fly I threw at them. While I didn’t try topwater, I’m sure a large popper thrown into their blitzes would have resulted in regular hook-ups. At times they would feed actively in large schools and could be seen porpoising as they chased bait in the shallows. The most effective flies were shiny, silver, or white. A white clouser with some flash combined with a fast retrieve that imparts plenty of action to the fly is all that is needed to catch these lightening bolts of the salt.

While sometimes difficult to hook, ladyfish will strike again and again on the retrieve. Their mouth is hard and very abrasive; leaders should be checked frequently for fraying. On the advice of the local Orvis fly shop, I used a small bite guard of 30 lb. mono as ladyfish are not at all leader shy. And I’d also recommend not using expensive or intricate flies because they will get chewed up and stripped to a bare hook in no time! A 1/0 stainless hook tied with a lot of flash and some white hackle, or deer hair will do the trick. Don’t spare the glue or epoxy! Simple and bullet-proof will work well.

The fish I caught ranged in size from 12″ to over 24″. Any ladyfish will fight hard but when they get over 18″ you will quickly be grinning ear to ear with their blistering runs and spastic leaps. I caught several larger ones that put a serious bend in my 9 weight and made long reel-screaming runs followed by tarpon-like leaps.

Noreen Galaba ladyfish — A nice-sized ladyfish caught while wading. Photo by Captain Baz Yelverton.

I fished my 9 weight rod because one never knows what will show up in the surf, including redfish, jacks, and sharks, but I could have gone lighter. A 6 – 8 weight rod would work just as well and reduce arm fatigue from casting. A floating line can be used when the fish are in close but I prefer an intermediate or intermediate sink tip to get down in the water column. A simple 30 lb. mono leader transitioning to 20 lb. of 5 to 8 feet in length is all that is needed on the business end. Flies do not need to be big, but I found that a larger hook helps increase hook-ups.

Ladyfish are often cursed by anglers because they can aggressively interfere with fishing for other species. Redfish anglers, for example, will stalk a flat only to hook up with a ladyfish and spook every red on the flat. But I welcome the opportunity to waltz with the “ladies”. I can count on them to join me on the dance floor with every cast. Their high leaps from the emerald waters of the Gulf straight up to the bright blue Florida sky are a delight to behold and I hope to be back to ask for another dance with them come next summer.

Is that a golf ball in your pocket, or are you just happy to be fishing…

August 13, 2026 / stflyfisher / 1 Comment

“The only reason I played golf was so that I could afford to go hunting and fishing.”

Sam Snead

I tried my best to interest my son in fly fishing, thinking it was something we could enjoy together, an avocation I could pass down the family line. When Chris showed some interest and eagerness early on, I bought him an Orvis 6 weight fly rod and reel outfit, a vest, waders, and took him on a few trips but after only a few ventures out, I could tell he just didn’t have the passion, or perhaps “my passion”. My wife contends I pushed him too hard, which is fair. But all of the die-hard fish heads out there know what I’m talking about: the mojo, moxie, and absolute drive to excel in something so much that time itself stands still. Chris does, thankfully, fish with me at the shore on the party boats out of Barnegat Inlet for blues, fluke, and stripers. It’s a tradition thing mostly, a father-son “bonding” event, if you will. But back in my youth, if I had a backyard pond stocked with hungry bass, as once existed just 100 yards out the back door of our home on Grippen Hill, I’d be bankside every chance I got. Chris never wet a line there.

My wife and I stood by Chris in his search for a hobby that would capture his mind and heart, one that would make use of his abundant talents, and possibly turn into a labor of love. There were guitar, lacrosse, paintball, biking, and wrestling, but all of these things were not much more than tossing gas on a baseless fire, producing white-hot flames that burned bright at first but left no enduring embers.

But then along came golf…

Chris picked up a driver like he did a fly rod, and in no time was clipping balls 225 yards. He has natural talent of which most of us can only dream. He also has the build conducive to the physics of golf – long arms, long torso, and decent height. I remember once casting a new fly rod on the lawn of a local fly shop with him, back when I was trying to cuddle him up to the sport. The owner bluntly told me that my son, at 13, cast better than I did, 10+ years into the game. As is often said, youth is often wasted on the young.

The hills of Apalachin - from the front 9... — Apalachin Golf Course

So, one April day years ago when he was in high school, we bought him a junior membership at a public course just a few hills over from where we lived at the time and ever since he started that “good walk spoiled”, a funny thing happened – I found golf balls wherever I fished. It began with our pond, which wasn’t too surprising since Chris was constantly practicing on the lawn under our #1 ground rule, “away from the house – toward the pond”. I’d paddle out on the pond and in the shallows, WAY down from where he’d tee off, see these white things on the pond bottom. Once I was fishing in the stillness of the evening, casting poppers, and nearly jumped out of the kayak when what appeared to be a big bass exploded from the water only feet away. Later, having returned from my back-yard expedition, a smiling Chris asked me how I liked his driving.

He could have been a fly fishing contenda...

But soon after that, more golf balls appeared in remote and very un-golf like places. I found one in the upper Susquehanna River near Windsor where the river is secluded in deep woods and vast tracts of farmland. I found another in the Chemung, downstream from the towering dikes that shoulder the river from the town of Athens. I found still more in the Tioughnioga and the lower Susquehanna, and even, of all places, remote Cayuta Creek.

And I would bring them back, every one of them, as proof…

Fresh from the cool mountain springs of Cayuta Creek...

Serendipity? Chance? Divine intervention? Could it be the Big Man’s way of tying the seemingly disparate fires burning deep within us together? I’ve pondered this at length, concluding that, whether chance discovery or breadcrumbs from above, it was indeed a sign that these two great avocations could be shared over the years and vowed I’d someday throw my 8-weight in the back of the golf cart. There had to be some real hawg bass in some of those beautiful water obstacles…

The All-Rounder

August 8, 2026 / stflyfisher / 2 Comments

You might have heard it as you worked your way up through high school, preparing for college, a profession, or work: “you should go out for track (or band, or the debating club, or…) to be more ‘well-rounded’. Whether that worked out for you or not, there is some merit to the strategy of being a “renaissance man”, so to speak – so much so that a version of the term even eked its way into fly fishing.

The Orvis Company, a giant in fly fishing, began a transition to graphite rods in the early 70’s, thanks to Howard Steere, the superintendent of the Orvis fly rod shop. Steere loved bamboo but had the vision to recognize the potential of graphite as a fly rod blank material. During this era, no company had built a satisfactory graphite fly rod. Orvis eventually came out with their own and these rods included the Orvis 8’3” All Rounder 7wt. The name of the rod recently caught my eye, especially in light of my parent’s well-meaning lectures to be ‘well-rounded’ in life…

41753 — The Orvis All-Rounder – 8’3″ of versatility…

While there is truly no all-around fly rod, the Orvis All-Rounder is considered by some to be a good attempt at a noteworthy objective in rod design. It is a full-flex rod with great butt strength and a soft tip and because of its design, it has the ability to cast a lot of line or cast short. The rod handles small flies fairly well yet due to its line rating, can throw streamers in the salt. Its short length allows its use in small streams that have close alder growth and cover.

OldCatalogs018 — A description of the All-Rounder found in an old Dan Bailey’s fly fishing catalog…

As I researched the All Rounder, I started to realize how specialized fly fishing product has become. These days one can buy a myriad of fly lines with tapers targeted to specific fish species, casting taper (WF, DT, Intermediate, Sink Tip, etc.,) and even fishing conditions. A recent scan of one online fly fishing store’s inventory showed a Mastery Redfish Warm and Mastery Redfish Cold fly line. Talk about niche fly lines! The same applies to fly rods where the choices must be absolutely bewildering and intimidating for beginners. Material choices have expanded and now include bamboo, fiberglass, and graphite, as well as composite blends. The lengths of fly rods range from diminutive 5-foot creek rods to 14-foot Spey rods, all offering different cork grip options, reel seats, guide types, ferrule types, and sections, including a return to one-piece rods. Actions vary from slow to ultra-fast and then there are rods built for specific species or types of fishing, switch rods and nymph rods being examples of recently marketed niches.

And yet, many of the old timers and the greats of fly fishing did just fine without the specialization. Lee Wulff, for example, spent a lifetime pursuing larger fish on lighter tackle and frequently used a one-piece, six foot bamboo rod to catch fish ranging from small stream trout to Atlantic salmon up to 26 lbs!

I happen to own a Scott G706/3 (7′ 6 weight 3 piece) that is a replica of the fly rod that Scott’s founder, Harry Wilson, first built for Lee Wulff. It supposedly became Lee’s favorite fly rod, and he used it to catch everything from trout to Atlantic salmon to permit.

None other than Lefty Kreh was once interviewed in an excellent video about his fly-fishing biography during which he bemoaned the fly-fishing industry’s over-pricing of product so that many people – particularly the working class – have not been able to afford to enter the sport of fly fishing. Lefty also discusses fly rods during this video and has an intriguing take on their classification. He breaks down fly rods into 3 categories as follows:

Presentation weight – up to 6 weight. These are generally used for trout fishing where tippet protection is of upmost importance.
Distance weight – 8 to 10 weight. These are used where distance casting and the use of large / heavy flies is common such as with smallmouth and largemouth bass, pike, and carp and lighter saltwater gamefish.
Lifting weight – 12 – 14+ weight. Lifting weight rods are almost exclusively used in saltwater fly fishing where the rod’s primary function is to fight and land big fish.

Lefty’s approach would definitely help any beginner angler slim down their choices to a few, rather than pursuing a stuffed quiver of specialized rods such as I now own, filling up an entire corner of my study. And while Lefty doesn’t see much use for transition weight rods (7 and 11 weight), it’s interesting that the All Rounder happens to fall squarely in the gap between presentation and distance categories.

My own start in fly fishing began with the purchase of a St Croix Pro-Ultra 9-foot 5/6 weight 2-piece fly rod. I bought it at a Dick’s Sporting Goods store for $99. This rod served me well until I began to read fly fishing magazines and then fell under the product trance they sometimes cast. It wasn’t long before I started purchasing higher end specialty rods under the auspices that they would somehow make me a better angler. It’s ironic that even now, with some very good, yet high-priced rods in my stable, I’ll pull out the St Croix.

I’ve often thought of the challenging goal of fly-fishing for a year with some sort of “All Rounder”. I’m certainly no Lee Wulff or Lefty Kreh but maybe fly fishing with one rod could be a good thing for me at one point in my fly-fishing life. It might force me to focus on improving my skills, rather than relying on new fly rod design and technology to bolster me up. And it just might halt my ever-expanding inventory of fly rods, putting a smile on my wife, reducing credit card debt, and even making for a seller’s presence on eBay. We’ve all heard of the one fly challenge – now introducing the one rod challenge, courtesy of the All-Rounder…

Old fly rods

July 13, 2026 / stflyfisher

“Fish sense, applied in the field, is what the old Zen masters would call enlightenment: simply the ability to see what’s right there in front of you without having to sift through a lot of thoughts and theories and, yes, expensive fishing tackle.”

John Gierach

I owe the idea for this piece to Mike Hogue, whose recent Facebook post evoked a thought on the value of old fly rods…

Several years ago, I helped someone sell a fishing estate. For helping I was gifted a new rod that was never fished. Ironically, it’s a cousin of one of my favorite rods I’ve fished for years. My original is a St Croix Legend Elite, 8’6” 4 wt. I was gifted a 9’ 6 wt. St. Croix Legend Elite 2 piece. St. Croix reintroduced the same rod but updated. I set this one aside for some odd reason and the other day I cast it out in the yard. Ironically my wife has a completely identical rod. I forgot how cool this is. Not sure if it’s bad luck to fish a new old rod but what the heck, I’m going to give it a shot. I’ve got a few cool new flies to fish with the new old rod.

My first two fly rods were St. Croix’s – Pro Graphite models in a 7’6″ 4/5 and a 9′ 5/6 – both 2-piece rods of moderate to moderate-fast action, their blanks and wraps finished in dark blue. These rods are devoid of bling: even the reel seats are plain black aluminum, adorned with “Made in the USA” stickers that are now somewhat faded and worn. Both rods feature Fenwick cork grips, an old design that is very comfortable for casting, but one you rarely see anymore. The Pro was St. Croix’s entry level rod and the softest action in their line-up. It was described on the St Croix website back in the day as follows:

“St. Croix Pro Graphite fly rods are the definitive benchmark in fly rod value. Crafted from the same premium SCII graphite as our Imperial series rods, they deliver a smooth transition of power that delivers a level of feel and forgiveness that is unmatched by any other comparable fly rod.“

Indeed, one fly angler had this to say on a fly-fishing forum about the St Croix Pro Graphite:

Unbelievable rod, I would take this rod over my $500 Scott rod any day. I like that the rod has a little weight to it, its perfect for almost all situations, and you won’t find a better price. I wouldn’t waste your money on orvis clearwater or anything like that. This rod is worth its weight in gold, and even after abusing the hell out of it for years, it’s never broken or been damaged, and it still performs to a standard far surpassing any other rod. If you’re a beginner, or someone who’s been fishing for a while, I’d recommend this rod, it’s caught me more fish than I could count.

The Pro was discontinued and eventually replaced with the Premier.

The Fenwick grip – very comfortable for great rod control. Pic courtesy of Proof Fly Fishing.

I still fish my St. Croix’s, solid blue-collar rods unpretentiously dressed in overalls, getting the job done without much fuss. I’ve caught a lot of fish on both of these rods. The 4/5 has been used for early season stockie fishing and for the trout creeks of the Southern Tier.

A nice 2 year old stockie brown and my St Croix 4/5 weight

I also used this rod for bass in the pond behind our house on Grippen Hill. I used the 5/6 for bigger trout waters as well as the warmwater ponds, lakes, and rivers of the Southern Tier.

A Spring largemouth from Grippen Pond landed with my 5/6 weight St Croix

At the time I bought these rods, Dick’s Sporting Goods in Vestal had a fairly decent fly shop – I believe I paid $99 for each. I liked the multi-line rating of each of these rods and figured they could cover most of my fly-fishing needs. At the time of purchase, I was a late-to-the-game newbie, but in retrospect, this purchase was one of uncanny fly-fishing wisdom. The only other rod I could have added would be a 7/8 version, which I’m not sure they even offered. But if it were the case, for less than $300, I’d never need to buy a fly rod again, much to my wife’s delight. The trio would have covered 90% of my fly-fishing needs, save big game / heavy saltwater.

A large grass carp caught using my 5/6 weight St Croix. This fish sipped a chartreuse popper meant for largemouth bass.

While I own a bunch of high-end rods, mainly Scott’s which I particularly love, along with my own hand-built custom rods – over twenty in total – I still like to pull these old St Croix’s out on occasion, to take me back to my beginnings as a fly fisherman. They help to humble me to the years it took for me to get where I am as a dedicated fly angler. Sometimes one feels like they deserve high-end gear – they’ve earned the right to carry it as if their talents and skill are at such a level that these old rods are not up to task, not on par. But weather-worn, their epoxy coated wraps now somewhat yellowed and dull, showing stress cracks in places, and their cork grips mottled where the filler is gone, these old rods deserve a place in every fly fisherman’s quiver, if only to remind us of our beginnings. Back then I knew nothing about fly fishing, but that didn’t stop me from trying, and my St. Croix’s were with me every step of the way.

A fly rod all my own

July 12, 2026 / stflyfisher

Fly fishers are blessed with opportunity and not only with all the fly fishing that’s available throughout our great country. This wonderful sport offers participants so many other ways to be involved beyond wetting a line, and these niches, in and of themselves, can become full time fly fishing activities. One look at the fly tying greats and it’s readily apparent that some spend more time fly tying than actually using their flies to fool fish.

Beyond fly tying, fly fishermen can learn how to tie custom leaders and how to make nets, wading staffs, and other wading accessories. They can pursue the art of fly casting or focus on the conservation side of the sport. Entomology is yet another area that can be mastered for those anglers with a scientific bent. And finally, there is the craft of fly rod building.

My own foray into rod building started when my local fly fishing club, the BC Flyfishers chapter of FFI, offered a class on the subject. For $125, the class offered participants a fly rod kit. Most kits were 9 foot, 6 weight, 2 piece kits, but a participant could substitute another rod kit of their choosing, as I did. I purchased a 2 piece, 8 weight, medium fast action PacBay blank in a rich forest green finish. The kit was reasonably priced and with the right components could serve duty as a heavy warmwater river rod, lake rod, and light saltwater rod with saltwater grade components. Rod building materials such as epoxy and varnish, tools such as a basic wrapping station, files, and other items, and free instruction given by a master rod maker over three, 4 hour classes, were also included in the price of the class. The class ended up being one of the best “investments” of money I’ve ever made in the realm of fly fishing, much of it attributed to the outstanding instruction of Joe Swam, BCFF member and professional rod maker.

As an overview, I’ll list the basic rod building process:

Finding the spline – a critical step used to determine guide orientation.
Installing the grips – this step consists of prep work to allow the cork to seat into position on the rod and then the application of 2 part epoxy to secure the grip in place. Additionally, the reel seat is shimmed for gluing later in the process.
Ferrule wrapping – this was just the beginning of a lot of rod wrapping. The ferrules (where rod sections are joined) are a stress point and would break eventually if they are not reinforced by wrapping.
Prepping the guides – filing and sanding the guide feet is critical for secure guide placement on the rod blank.
Wrapping the winding check and the hook keeper.
Spacing, aligning and wrapping the guides. Lining guides up true can be challenging.
Prepping and epoxying the reel seat in place and gluing the cap.
Setting and expoxying the tip-top guide in place.
Wrapping the tip-top guide.
Treating the wraps with color preservative (optional) and then finishing the wraps with varnish or epoxy.
Adding cosmetic touches such as a decal, measuring wraps, etc.

While the steps don’t look difficult on paper, the “hands-on” of fly rod building takes a bit of doing. It’s easy to say, for example, “ream the cork grip, glue the rod blank, and slide into place”, but a seasoned rod maker like Joe Swam made all the difference by providing the nuances of the process, like the proper fit of the cork grip, how to mix the 2 part epoxy, and how to ream out a little extra flare at the butt end of the cork grip to give the excess glue a place to collect. I cannot imagine doing this the first few times on my own, and I’d highly recommend that anyone interested in building a fly rod take a class in the art of rod making – even a very basic one – before trying it on one’s own.

Building a graphite or glass fly rod is a matter of assembly. The blank is already fabricated and finished, unlike bamboo where a rod maker truly builds the entire fly rod, blank included. And while a master rod maker can build a bamboo fly rod in 40 hours, beginning graphite or fiberglass rod makers will require this amount of time and quite possibly more.

I found that the building process literally “built” upon itself, excuse the pun. Tying that first wrap and doing it well was motivation to repeat the step with the same or better quality.

Certain components, like the cork grip, and stripper guides, spur one on to complete the project as a blank starts to look more like a fly rod.

Raw materials slowly add character. One can feel the rod evolving. And then at last, the beautiful wraps cry out for varnish or epoxy – the rod blank asks for adornment.

I followed the advice of Joe Swam who recommended the use of McCloskey’s marine spar varnish for coating of the wraps. The other option was the use of a two-part epoxy, which is common in the industry, but Joe prefers varnish for his bamboo rods and feels it is easier and more forgiving for a beginner yet still makes a great finish for even an expert rod maker such as himself.

With each coat of varnish, the wraps filled and smoothed with glossy goodness. After the final and fifth coat was applied, all that was left to do was to add a custom decal. I kept my inscription pretty simple: my name, “rod maker”, and the length, weight, and action of the rod. After securing the decal, a very simple process, I applied two coats of varnish over the decal and let the rod dry adequately over a few more days.

The finished rod impressed me after a lawn casting session. Naturally, I have some bias, for what father isn’t proud of their “child”, real or otherwise. The rod handled a floating WF line just fine, but it was the way it threw an intermediate sink-tip line and a sinking tip fly line with relative ease that really caught my attention. I noted that my addition of two stripper guides (for a total of four) in place of snake guides may have given it a bit more backbone. After casting, thoughts of fishing big flies on the Susquehanna and even casting for blues and stripers in New Jersey’s Barnegat Bay, swirled in my head.

On May 24th I took my rod to the water for its baptism. Nicknamed “The Golden Bear” for its Vestal school colors of green and gold, I strung it up with an 8 weight intermediate sink tip line and waded downriver. The rod balanced perfectly in my hand.

I cast a #6 streamer across a shallow bay and loved how well I could bomb out long casts. Later I set it up with the sink tip line and worked some deeper water. I caught a number of very nice 18″+ bass that evening and returned a few days later to land a best-of-the-year fish.

Rod building has bitten me hard. While I truly cherish my production fly rods, in particular my Scott, TFO, and JP Ross fly rods, among others, the feeling of building and customizing the rod as you truly want, adding touches that identify the rod as wholly your own, and then casting it, fishing it, and finally, feeling the head shake of a good fish – well no fly rod company can sell that…

Toothy Critters

July 6, 2026 / stflyfisher

With a sag belly and the grin it was born with.
And indeed they spare nobody.
Two, six pounds each, over two foot long.
High and dry in the willow-herb –

One jammed past its gills down the other’s gullet:
The outside eye stared: as a vice locks –
The same iron in his eye
Though its film shrank in death.

From the poem, “Pike” by Ted Hughes

We were finally on the cusp of blissfully warm summer days, the severe winter of 2026 all but forgotten. The month of May was now behind us, though some cool nights still lingered in the wings. In this new land of mine I am much like a young boy hiking to unexplored fishing waters. There is nothing but delight in the savor of discovery.

While still in the throes of early spring I booked a fly-fishing trip with Jay Peck, a very fishy guide in my new home waters. Jay’s many YouTube fishing reports often offer up openings for future trips, and I learned that after spring steelhead, he guides for pike on the fly. I had not smelled their distinct slime odor, nor deftly admired their fanged grin in years, the last time being a rare encounter with a decent one that ambushed a crayfish fly in a side eddy on the Tioughnioga River. I very much longed for a date with a toothy critter.

Jay responded quickly to my request, suggesting I ping him in late May. He’d set something up after scouting and once water temps warmed. Sure enough, we set the trip for June 2nd. As the date approached, the weather gods were in a good mood and provided a perfect forecast – a cool morning, abundant sun, and warmth by mid-morning.

I had assumed all this time that this trip would be local. There are, after all, expansive weedy bays and ponds just minutes from my house, but no, we’d be fishing a place just north of Pulaski that Jay described as being “infested” with pike.

I met Jay at the Byrne Dairy right off 81 in Pulaski, then drove with him, drift boat in tow, to the Lakeview Wildlife Management Area (WMA). This WMA is part of the largest natural freshwater barrier beach system in New York State – a 3,461-acre expanse of diverse habitat including open fields, shrub lands, woodlands, wetlands, and a natural barrier beach. There are 5 ponds in the WMA, but we fished South Colwell Pond, farthest south.

South Colwell Pond has a maximum depth of 8 feet, with an average depth of 4.5 – 5 feet. It covers 102 acres and kisses over 2 miles of mostly marshy shoreline. At the time we fished it, the pond was clear and just starting to weed up. Jay indicated that come summer, it gets pretty weedy but can still be fished topwater. While I did see some small bass near the launch, Jay added that he rarely catches them – they are, besides the sunfish and yellow perch, on the pike’s dinner menu.

South Colwell Pond is accessed via a long gravel road that transitions from open pasture to deep deciduous woods, ending in a clearing overlooking the expanse of the pond. We pulled in and set up, Jay loading two 9 weight fly rods into their tubes in the boat, adding a gear bag, and finally adding two spinning outfits, “in case we need to go to the dark side”. Jay backed his drift boat down the ramp with precision and a few minutes later, was rowing us across the pond to a spot just inside a sandy break to Lake Ontario.

It took a few casts for me to dial in my casting stroke using a fast action 9 weight and as Jay would say, throwing a chicken for a fly. He had me rigged with an intermediate sink tip, a 4-foot leader of equal sections of 40 and 30 lb. leader material and a foot of tie-able wire for a bite guard. On the business end was one of Jay’s articulated streamers in white with flash, a fly similar to Mike Schulz’s Swinging D or a Drunk and Disorderly. We would later switch up to the same fly in yellow perch colors. Both seemed to work equally well.

The pike, it turned out, were a no-show – Jay thought water temps may have still been a little cool for them – but pickerel were happy to play, and these were not the hammer-handle variety, but truly large. Steady strips produced with the pickerel inhaling the fly mid-retrieve – other times they followed right up to the boat and needed just a bit of teasing for an eat. Jay surmised that we were probably getting even more follows than we realized.

The bite was fairly steady all morning but began to fade by early afternoon, as did my casting arm. I hadn’t used a 9 weight since the fall, after all, and the casting was continuous. We called it a day before 2 pm.

On the drive home, I reflected on a great day of fly fishing. While I had wished the pike did show – Jay has caught some in South Colwell Pond that taped out over 40″ – I had never caught a pickerel on the fly. It’s always a good day with the long rod when a species is added to the “firsts” list.

This fishing was, dare I say, “simple”. The pickerel were virtually everywhere and eager to eat. They took on the first few strips, followed the fly and ate, and even hovered about the boat waiting for a tease that triggered their primordial instinct to kill. Even sloppy or errant casts would be just as likely to induce a take as perfect ones. Fly selection didn’t seem to matter – any streamer with movement would have worked – articulated streamers, clousers, deceivers, even big buggers – and color didn’t seem to make a difference.

There are plenty of times on the water when an angler must be on point, where tactics, location, and skill make or break the day. The pay-off can be huge but the cost is intense focus, constant attention to detail, and often times frustration with the ways of fish. As Jay would say, “I’ve never had any luck telling the fish what to eat”.

I think us anglers all need a day with pickerel – if only for a break from the hunt and a day on the water of pure enjoyment.

The Last Studs

June 24, 2026 / stflyfisher

Mama always said there’s an awful lot you can tell about a person by their shoes. Where they’ going, where they been. I’ve worn lots of shoes. I bet if I think about it real hard, I could remember my first pair of shoes. Mama said they’d take me anywhere. She said they was my magic shoes.

Forrest Gump

I got out of the river that evening, happily tired, and made my way back to my car with an 18″ smallmouth and channel cats that pushed the 30″ mark fresh in memory. The wading had been precarious in the run I had chosen to fish, but it was all well worth it. My boots had taken me there, as they had so many other beautiful and productive places and safely got me out.

I had been wading wet for the last few weeks now that summer was in the fore and I liked the fact that I didn’t have to mess with waders. As I pulled my boots off, I noticed for the first time that I had finally broken through the toe of my left boot. These old Simms boots had taken me fishing for 7 years and were finally about done. I had enjoyed them as much as I did the places they carried me and I didn’t want to say goodbye to a pair of old friends just yet. Then I remembered the cobbler down on Main Street. Perhaps he could work the magic he once did for me on an old pair of Hodgeman’s.

I hadn’t visited the cobbler for a long while. One of the great quality conundrums is that exceptional quality can sometimes backfire on a business, particularly a small one. Long lasting shoes, for one, are a thing of the past in today’s throw-away society. My last pair of boots were brought back from extinction thanks to true craftsmanship and those visits to my cobbler saved me the cost or replacement several times over for a very small sum of cash handed, almost with guilt, over the counter.

So one fall evening I drove down to Main Street in Vestal, another Main Street largely bypassed and forgotten and mostly barren now save a nail salon, an antiques dealer, a Chinese food takeout, and what I thought would be my cobbler. But sadly, it wasn’t so. The old shoe-shaped sign was now worn, weathered, and somberly saying “out of business”. The door still listed the hours but taped to it was a sign stating, “thanks for your business, it’s time to move on.”

I left the place disappointed. My boots were truly gonners unless I could find another cobbler. I searched online over the next few days to no avail, leaving me no choice but to purchase new.

I settled on Korkers, which in general I liked, but they didn’t quite feel the same. Oh, they were certainly innovative and I wondered what the cobbler would have said about the technology they offered – the Boa “no lace” system, the quick-change soles, the modern look and use of plastics, and even the rear-entry style of their most advanced offering. There were others too, offering soles of high-tech rubber made by Michelin, no less. And then I stumbled on a new joint offering by Patagonia – their line of boots made by Danner. Danner’s take?

“What lasts a lifetime? The best wading boots need to be ultra-comfortable and supportive for long days in heavy water. They should grip subsurface terrain, muddy trails and the occasional cross-stream log. They must drain quickly and avoid holding excess water. And on top of being tough as nails, they need a lifetime measured in decades. When Patagonia approached us to partner on the Foot Tractor and River Salt wading boots, we knew it was the start to something good.“

Launched in 2019, this was to be Patagonia’s first-ever brand collaboration with Portland, Oregon-based Danner, producing two wading boots built in the USA: the Foot Tractor designed with a heavy-duty aluminum bar sole for big rocky rivers, and the much lighter River Salt, designed for saltwater flats. Both featured stitch-down construction, full-grain leather, a number of small holes to drain water from inside, a variable lacing system with traditional eyelets on the forefoot and an additional quick lacing system in the ankle area, and best of all, they were resole-able — a rare, sustainability-focused feature in wading boots.

They are widely considered among the best wading boots ever made for durability and repairability. Fly fishing forums note these boots were still holding up after 5–6 seasons of hard use for owners who bought them. They were not cheap, however, fetching a price of $450 to $500.

Apparently, the price was too much for most anglers and Patagonia quietly moved on from the Danner partnership and launched a new collaboration in 2023 — the Forra wading boot, built with Italian bootmaker Fitwell. The Forra is lighter, more hike-oriented, and runs $299, signaling Patagonia shifted focus toward a more versatile, less expensive lighter-weight boot.

So, in my own nonsensical way to honor the cobbler, I researched whether any of these Danner boots were still available. To my surprise and delight, I found some at Backcountry.com. There were a few “foot tractors” in my size discounted 30% from the original price of $499. Most would still cringe at the discounted price, but I thought, what the heck for a boot that could last me the rest of my wading days on this good earth.

And so, with the ease of a click that is our modern-day buying experience, I purchased a pair with a nod to the Main Street cobbler. They’ll arrive soon enough and ooze the aroma of genuine leather and fresh Vibram rubber. I think a baptism in the Salmon River this fall is fitting, hopefully the first of many, many more to come…

Thanks, Dad…

June 21, 2026 / stflyfisher

A father is a man who expects his son to be as good a man as he meant to be.
Frank A. Clark

In a touching scene from my favorite movie, Forrest Gump, Forrest learns that his mother is sick and in characteristic fashion, runs home from his work as a shrimp fisherman to be with her. Sitting bedside, his mother tells him that she is dying. When Forrest asks why, she reassures the simple-minded Gump that death is just a part of life, something we are all destined to do. At the end of the scene, she poignantly adds, “I didn’t know it Forrest, but I was destined to be your Mama. I did the best I could…”

And so it is with fathers. Flawed as they often are, fathers show up to work, bring home the bacon, and love in their own quiet way. Fathers are that stern voice that makes children take notice, the very bedrock on which order in the family rests. They are like a feather of destiny, floating on a breeze, just doing the best job possible to land softly on a few great moments in life.

For me, those greatest of moments were when my Dad spent time with me and took me fishing, a sport in which he never participated on his own, but nonetheless made the time for because he loved me. He bought me gifts for fishing, took me on fishing trips, and most of all, gave me life and tucked into it a marvelous little gene that has always drawn me to water…

Fathers of yore often take a bad wrap for old-fashioned values, but I grow more fearful with every Father’s Day that these same values are being lost to us and have been diluted to the point that Father’s Day itself is on its own bad course with destiny.

I look at my own two sons, standing so close to the line that separates man and boy and hope I have given them what my Dad gave me; that sense that being a father is doing the best you can do with what you have, and hoping they can be as good a man as you meant to be…

Fish Hound

June 8, 2026 / stflyfisher

“If I fished only to capture fish, my fishing trips would have ended long ago.“

Zane Grey

He sat upright in the back of the pick-up truck, like a tall, dome-headed, and very dignified old man. Adam, owner of FishHound Expeditions, opened the back door of his truck and there he was, “Hatch”, a blue-tick coonhound of massive scale and the namesake for Adam’s growing guiding business. I let Hatch sniff my open hand, then pet him. He lightly pawed at me when I stopped. He had those droopy eyes, lazy ears, and goofy charm only a hound-lover could appreciate. I was smitten…

“Rado”, left, along with the original FishHound, “Hatch”… (picture courtesy of FishHound Expeditions)

Hatch would not be accommodating my wife and I on our fly fishing float, unfortunately, but there was another “guide dog” in the offing. Adam asked if I was OK fishing with “Little Bear”. After meeting the Malamute/Australian Shepherd mix, I was all aboard.

Little Bear checks out one of many rainbow trout netted by Jay, our guide.

Before launching our raft, our guide, Jay, told me he needed to take his truck and trailer down to the takeout. My wife followed him in our rental car and Adam drove his truck, already occupied by FishHound Expedition’s two official canines, the honorable Hatch and his sidekick, Rado. Before leaving, Jay set me up with a nymphing rig to fish the beautiful riffle and run at the access while he was gone. One of the many nice offerings FishHound Expeditions provides to customers is tackle and waders. In this case I fished a Redington 9 foot 6 weight rod with WF floating line. The rig was a classic indicator set-up. On the business end Jay had an Alaskan favorite – the bead. I fished the indicator rig at the head of the run and worked it from the top to the tail-out. After just a few casts, I landed a 14″ rainbow that spent more time airborne than in the water. A little later I hooked a 18’ish+ rainbow – another acrobat – but this one threw the hook after a few fantastic sky-borne jumps. Then just in time for the return of Jay, Adam, and my wife to the access, I was into my third rainbow.

20180906_101805 — Early success! This third rainbow really made my day and we hadn’t even started the float!

Jay netted my fish and Adam high-five’d me. Shortly after, as we readied the raft for our float, Jay commented that he could see I didn’t need “Fly Fishing 101”, a before-float class he gives to newbie and beginning anglers. It’s always nice to get a compliment from a guide!

Willow Creek is full of wild rainbows. These fish feast on an abundance of salmon eggs in late summer along with the flesh of dead spawned-out salmon. As we began the float, Jay explained that despite the presence of October caddis, midges, and a few mayflies, the rainbows key in on both salmon eggs and salmon flesh as these food sources provide “more bang for the buck” in terms of nutritional value.

Jay at the oars with Little Bear, ever-present at my side, on lookout…

We launched onto Willow Creek with me in the bow, Jay at the oars, and my wife in the stern seat. My wife was not fishing, but it was a first for me to; 1) have her on a float trip, and 2) have her floating IN waders!

My wife in waders, and not any low-budget waders, but top-of-the-line Patagonia…

From the access we drifted the clear, cold waters of Willow Creek, a tributary to the Susitna River. We were fishing the lower half of the river. FishHound Expeditions guides the upper and lower Willow, and considers this gem of a tributary to be their home water, and for good reason. The Willow turns out to be one of the most popular fisheries in South Central Alaska, although on the day we fished it, with the salmon run essentially over, it was as if we had the Willow all to ourselves. Located about 60 miles north of Anchorage on the Parks Highway, Willow Creek offers excellent fishing for four of the major salmon species: kings, silvers, chums and pinks. In addition to big rainbows (up to 30 inches), the Willow also holds Dolly Varden, Arctic Grayling, and even small numbers of burbot and whitefish.

Willow Creek gets a strong run of salmon each year because of the excellent spawning habitat it holds. The creek’s bottom is a majority composition of pebbles, cobble, and small rocks. And it is full of snags, the result of downfalls of the white spruce that dominate the land. The creek is named for the presence of of the ubiquitous Alaska willow – not the willow of the Eastern US that Southern Tier fly fishers may be so familiar with – but a shrub-like willow that is the preferred forage for the abundant moose. Indeed, during a bio-break to the bush I saw numerous moose tracks and dung.

Since we were nymphing with an indicator, the key to “bead” success was a true dead-drift presentation. Fishing from a drift boat – in this case a spacious raft – made a dead drift that much easier, but I had no problem hooking up when we stopped and waded a bit as well.

Willow’s wild rainbows are beautiful, strong, and egg-crazy…

The snags made fishing a little more challenging. The Willow is definitely a “woody” creek and anglers would be advised to have a lot of flies, shot, and rigging materials on hand to do well here. As much as I tried to pull my rig out of potential snags, I still lost flies with some regularity. The saying goes, if you’re not hanging up, you’re not fishing effectively, but I started feeling bad with the number of times Jay had to re-rig me. Nonetheless, Jay always had an alternate rod rigged for the inevitable quick change-out. That alternate rod was rigged the same way but instead of a bead, had a flesh fly on the business end.

As with the bead, I’d never fished a flesh fly. Jay instructed me to fish it dead drift like the bead, but to give it some time to tail out before picking up and casting again. There were dead salmon hung up here and there in the snags, and Jay was able to demonstrate, “in the flesh” (pun intended) what the real thing looks like in the water by nudging a dead salmon. Sure enough, a chunk the size of my fly came loose with Jay’s prod of the oar and it drifted seductively downstream. The flesh fly I was using was tied by Jay, and looked just like the real thing in the water. My first “flesh” drift proved just so as I hooked up with another nice rainbow.

flesh_fly_tan_large — A flesh fly similar to the one Jay tied and had me use.

Partway through our float Jay decided to change things up. At four different times, smaller rainbows rose to the pink indicator I was using. They were beautiful with their plentiful spots, emerging from the clear green of the creek, pausing a millisecond to study the indicator and then trying to take it with a swirl. I laughed at their vigor and Jay added, “can you imagine what they’re thinking?” “That’s gotta be the biggest salmon egg I’ve ever seen…” But that display gave Jay an idea. He tied on a slightly larger bead with a stronger pink color to it. After our shore lunch he showed me a real salmon egg he had found among the pebbles of the creek’s bottom. The bead egg was pretty close to the size and color (very pale white/orange) of the actual egg, but he wanted to see if the size and color change might further improve our results. First cast with the new bead and I was immediately into a rainbow, followed by many more. We continued to use that new color bead along with the flesh fly.

This rainbow had a faint lime color to its lower sides…

Midway through the float, Jay pulled us over to a long gravel bar. There he set up shore lunch – a small portable grill and cooler – reindeer brats, chips, apples, beer, water. We stood and talked as Jay cooked the brats. Little Bear laid on the gravel, very content. And the Willow washed by.

iPhone Pics 203 — Guide-turned-chef, Jay, sets up a nice shore lunch…

After shore lunch, we continued our float down the Willow. The Willow often appeared as creek, stream, and river. Wide sweeping stretches with deep holes made me think more of the West Branch of the Delaware, mid-sized riffles – the Beaverkill, and then narrow choke points had a bit of lower Owego Creek flavor.

As we worked farther downstream, we began to see a few silver salmon in the deeper holes. At one nice run Jay pulled ashore and rigged an 8 weight rod with a streamer. He said it might be possible to rouse one of the silvers if they were holding in the deeper holes and backwaters.

We gave it a shot, casting the Dolly Llama, a favorite streamer for salmon in Alaska…

Dolly_Llama_Tandem_Gold_Cone_Pink_White_large — The Dolly Llama

With no one apparently home in the salmon hole, we continued our float, slipping easily down the Willow.

IMG_E2280 — Jay deftly maneuvers our raft through a choke point and downfall…

I’ll never tire of indicator fishing. And on the Willow, it was all the more exciting, casting to its deep snaggy holes and imagining what egg-crazy rainbow might be laying in wait. This was new water, truly wild, and a frontier farther west than I’d ever fished.

We hauled out where the Willow met the Susitna River – a big brawling glacial river, slate-grey in color, braided like a pretzel across a wide river valley. Born of Denali, the Susitna flowed to Anchorage and emptied into the Pacific.

Before hauling out, Jay paused long enough to let me get a few more drifts in. I fished the seam where the Willow’s clear flows met the silty flows of the Susitna, and quickly caught three more rainbows – a wonderful send-off to a trip that went way too fast.

For those who have never fished Alaska, my experience with FishHound Expeditions had me immediately planning a return trip. I cannot recommend them enough! There are a lot of choices of quality outfitters in Alaska, and on top of that, myriad fishing possibilities from fly fishing small creeks for grayling to fishing the big salmon runs. Locations are another choice with overwhelming possibilities, given the size of the state. But I would definitely consider a trip or trips with FishHound Expeditions, particularly if you are in the Anchorage area. In addition to floats of their homewater, FishHound offers trips to the back country via plane or helicopter. These trips expand opportunities in fly fishing to big fish days and luxury back-country glamping.

As I write this, I am at once missing the good country, great fishing, and the hardy people that make Alaska. This wonderful day on Willow Creek offered a fine taste of a place that beckons me back. One day I’ll return, and maybe, just maybe, spend an extended trip in the backcountry with fishhounds…

Fat Nancy’s Philosophy…

Fishing with the ladies…

Is that a golf ball in your pocket, or are you just happy to be fishing…

The All-Rounder

Old fly rods

A fly rod all my own

Toothy Critters

The Last Studs

Thanks, Dad…

Fish Hound

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