The academic presentation I mentioned in my last post went very well yesterday. I think a lot of people in the academic world and sociology specifically are curious about the world of recreational fishing. They show up like "What could this possibly be about that would interest me?" and then they smile and nod as I show them how important fishing is to so many people--fishermen as well as those in jobs supported by angling. And they seem to share some of my own intrigue in how fishing is also ripe with internal debates, conflicts, and meanings that are often parallel to those in other segments of society but sometimes unique to fishing. In general, it seems that the effect that my research on fishing has had on academics has been to raise awareness and interest among non-anglers. And I think that's a good thing.
I also had the opportunity to talk with an esteemed professor from a prestigious university about my research. He had attended my talk and later sought me out to tell me how much he enjoyed it. He doesn't fish, but he has made his career studying a wide variety of subcultures in the US. Needless to say, this was a cool moment and a big boost to my self-esteem.
Thanks to troutbirder for wishing me luck.
-I.A.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
Academic Presentation Tomorrow
I'm giving an academic talk on white and Asian relations in fishing tomorrow at an urban ethnography conference. It's kind of odd at times being in both the academic and fishing worlds, and being one of the very few who are trying to combine these spheres. Some anglers might misinterpret my argument, but fortunately tomorrow there will be few if any anglers among the sociologists in attendance. Perhaps I'll talk about it differently when I talk to a room full of anglers.
Wish me luck.
Wish me luck.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Dam it, or More Road than Water
I had a tough weekend. No, I wasn't working. I wasn't volunteering or helping people in need. I was selfish, in fact. I left town and visited a friend in Ohio where I knew we'd fish some of my favorite locations. Despite being out on the water all weekend, all day Saturday and Sunday, it was tough. Such are things when the fish don't show up no matter how far you drive to meet them.
This time of year is typically primetime for walleye, sauger, and hybrid striped bass behind the dams of Ohio River and its tributaries. In other words, my favorite species should just be waiting for me to feed them. It isn't unheard of to have 30-50 fish days in April in these tailwaters, with a mixed bag of species that goes beyond the big three listed above. So needless to say, in the days before I left my apartment in Chicago for border of Ohio and West Virginia, I was doing half-ass work and full-ass flytying, packing, and repacking of my gear. I even shipped some gear and base layers to my destination for the cold nights I anticipated spending in the car.
My friend and I had 2 main fishing locations in our sights given the flow rates. Well, one of the spots we didn't care about the flow rate because we had never been there--we had only heard amazing stories about this place. Now, we have a million spots to fish along the big O, but the flow was appropriate for basically bouncing lures off the dam since the fish would be so close. The 2 locations were about 2.5 hours apart; one of them was 1.5 hours East of my friends house, and other was 2 hours South. So we needed a game plan.
I checked the wind direction and spent late the night before our early morning departure. I decided to change our plans and hit our confidence spot first--in low wind--rather than scope out an unknown place in the middle of a dark morning. We didn't have the time to waste. When we awoke at 4:30 and slipped into our fleece and wool, I told my friend I wanted to change up the plan. He was cool with it. That's why I love fishing with this guy. He is low-key and game for whatever.
Coffee and donut in hand and gas in the tank, we were off for the 1.5 hour trek. We'd actually be going to the West Virginia side of the river, but fortunately they honor the Ohio fishing license, because I am going broke on non-resident licenses these days. Back to the ride...I can't tell you how much I'm glad we have to travel to fish sometimes. It's cliche, but in fishing it's true that getting there is half the fun...the drive home is the other half. Fishing, as this weekend was an example, is often work. It's a mere reason to get in the car with a good friend and just drive, not knowing what the road or day will bring, and then forces you to spend an equal amount of time reflecting upon it during the voyage home. But a disclaimer should fit here: make sure the person you share the car with is someone you like.
Having not fished together in about 6 months, we mostly bounced our enthusiasm back and forth for the day and even the season to come. What tactics we were going to use, our "confidence" and our "experimental" approaches. It's funny how in between this banter, which all of you who fish know well, we check in with each other about non-fishing things. My friend is going to be a new father of a little boy in less than a month. He is nervous as hell. His house is "baby-proof" (meaning baby-injury-proof, since it will certainly not be without a baby!). In previous years, this conversation would have been about how he never wants kids, how the world is too horrible a place, how he wouldn't have a chance to do what he wants with life, how traditions of marriage and parenthood just aren't his bag. But now things have changed, sort of. He hadn't planned the pregnancy with his girlfriend of 9 years. Now his son is almost breathing fresh air and crying, and he is freaking out but going through the motions. What impresses me most is his commitment to fatherhood and being a good partner to his girlfriend. He tells me that this trip is the last one this year where he'll be in places with limited-to-no cellphone signal, and he'll stay within a reasonable distance in case anything happens with the newborn. But he'll also be spending less time on the water, taking baby-watching shifts with his girlfriend who works the graveyard shift several times a week.
So we arrive to the WV side of the Ohio River, and we are pleased to see we have the entire tailwater (and it is huge) to ourselves. My first cast produces a decent sauger, and though I like taking pictures of all fish on trips, I decide this is a sign of good things to come, and I should keep fishing. Boy did I jinx us there. Other anglers trickled in during the morning, and the fishing slowed. Something changed in the flow, but we could tell it was also just too low. The water was nearly crystal clear, and the sun was getting higher without a cloud in sight or wind to ripple the surface. Five hours later we have about 4 fish a piece--4 sauger for me, and a 4-species mixed bag for my friend. We have a sit down on some boulders to pitch ideas. With about 8 hours of sunlight left, we still have a shot at more distant locales, but will sacrifice fishing time. We decide to check out one spot downstream, then high-tail it to the other spot we had in mind for tomorrow, some 2.5 hours away. What proceeded was fishing a 6-spot hop across 2 rivers and 2 lakes. We fished 3 dams. The good news is that as a duo we didn't get skunked at any place. The bad news is that one tiny crappie or sunfish or even sucker counts against the skunk. And we averaged something like 1 fish per 50 or 60 miles. But so goes the unknown fishing adventure, as I have quickly come to find these years.
Fortunately, we didn't sleep in the car in 30 degree temps as previously planned (there are really no hotels around this part, and the ones slightly out of the way are over $100/night). That's the upside to shitty fishing--no temptation to stay out and freeze to death for some pisces, pescado, fish-a-roonies. We made it back to the town where my buddy lives just before the kitchen closed at the cheap-but-delicious Mexican restaurant near his house. Full of tortillas and grease, we made it home to slept in our respective beds (couch in my case). We agreed to play it by ear the next day.
Getting plenty of rest, the next day started with disputes over the remaining orange juice, a battle which his girlfriend obviously won. We decided to give our first spot from the day before, our confidence-spot, another try today, despite 20 mph winds gusting to 30 blowing enormous bows in our lines and not allowing our jigs to sink (yes, jigs. there is no way I was fly fishing). Totally forgetting this was Easter, we arrived mid day and shared our spot with a few folks. It quickly turned into a huge crowd, and folks were obviously ignoring any ethics regarding claims to space. We were frustrated. We stuck it out all day (after getting there just before lunchtime), snacking on granola bars while inevitably retying jigs and leaders, watching our boxes get clearer as our options thinned out. The debris at the bottom of this river must look like a series of Christmas trees. In the end of day 2, I caught 4 fish and my friend caught 3. Yep. And yes, I released them all alive and well. I even gave some people verbal shit that day for keeping undersized fish and holding fish out of water too long. I am straight up obnoxious about this shit. But I care about our fisheries. I want there to be at least AS MANY fish, if not MORE, especially when I drive about 9 hours to catch 8 fish in 24 hours of real fishing time.
The ride home that night was probably appropriate. We talked about our own mortality, our inevitable finality, and the only other thing you can discuss when death is on the table--astronomy. How big is the universe? How did it begin and will there be any life in other solar systems after the Earth is left cold and humanless by a burnt-out sun? I don't know the answers to these questions. I can only speculate. But one thing's for sure: In this life, I'll keep having the conversation if it means we're going fishing.
-I.A.
This time of year is typically primetime for walleye, sauger, and hybrid striped bass behind the dams of Ohio River and its tributaries. In other words, my favorite species should just be waiting for me to feed them. It isn't unheard of to have 30-50 fish days in April in these tailwaters, with a mixed bag of species that goes beyond the big three listed above. So needless to say, in the days before I left my apartment in Chicago for border of Ohio and West Virginia, I was doing half-ass work and full-ass flytying, packing, and repacking of my gear. I even shipped some gear and base layers to my destination for the cold nights I anticipated spending in the car.
My friend and I had 2 main fishing locations in our sights given the flow rates. Well, one of the spots we didn't care about the flow rate because we had never been there--we had only heard amazing stories about this place. Now, we have a million spots to fish along the big O, but the flow was appropriate for basically bouncing lures off the dam since the fish would be so close. The 2 locations were about 2.5 hours apart; one of them was 1.5 hours East of my friends house, and other was 2 hours South. So we needed a game plan.
I checked the wind direction and spent late the night before our early morning departure. I decided to change our plans and hit our confidence spot first--in low wind--rather than scope out an unknown place in the middle of a dark morning. We didn't have the time to waste. When we awoke at 4:30 and slipped into our fleece and wool, I told my friend I wanted to change up the plan. He was cool with it. That's why I love fishing with this guy. He is low-key and game for whatever.
Coffee and donut in hand and gas in the tank, we were off for the 1.5 hour trek. We'd actually be going to the West Virginia side of the river, but fortunately they honor the Ohio fishing license, because I am going broke on non-resident licenses these days. Back to the ride...I can't tell you how much I'm glad we have to travel to fish sometimes. It's cliche, but in fishing it's true that getting there is half the fun...the drive home is the other half. Fishing, as this weekend was an example, is often work. It's a mere reason to get in the car with a good friend and just drive, not knowing what the road or day will bring, and then forces you to spend an equal amount of time reflecting upon it during the voyage home. But a disclaimer should fit here: make sure the person you share the car with is someone you like.
Having not fished together in about 6 months, we mostly bounced our enthusiasm back and forth for the day and even the season to come. What tactics we were going to use, our "confidence" and our "experimental" approaches. It's funny how in between this banter, which all of you who fish know well, we check in with each other about non-fishing things. My friend is going to be a new father of a little boy in less than a month. He is nervous as hell. His house is "baby-proof" (meaning baby-injury-proof, since it will certainly not be without a baby!). In previous years, this conversation would have been about how he never wants kids, how the world is too horrible a place, how he wouldn't have a chance to do what he wants with life, how traditions of marriage and parenthood just aren't his bag. But now things have changed, sort of. He hadn't planned the pregnancy with his girlfriend of 9 years. Now his son is almost breathing fresh air and crying, and he is freaking out but going through the motions. What impresses me most is his commitment to fatherhood and being a good partner to his girlfriend. He tells me that this trip is the last one this year where he'll be in places with limited-to-no cellphone signal, and he'll stay within a reasonable distance in case anything happens with the newborn. But he'll also be spending less time on the water, taking baby-watching shifts with his girlfriend who works the graveyard shift several times a week.
So we arrive to the WV side of the Ohio River, and we are pleased to see we have the entire tailwater (and it is huge) to ourselves. My first cast produces a decent sauger, and though I like taking pictures of all fish on trips, I decide this is a sign of good things to come, and I should keep fishing. Boy did I jinx us there. Other anglers trickled in during the morning, and the fishing slowed. Something changed in the flow, but we could tell it was also just too low. The water was nearly crystal clear, and the sun was getting higher without a cloud in sight or wind to ripple the surface. Five hours later we have about 4 fish a piece--4 sauger for me, and a 4-species mixed bag for my friend. We have a sit down on some boulders to pitch ideas. With about 8 hours of sunlight left, we still have a shot at more distant locales, but will sacrifice fishing time. We decide to check out one spot downstream, then high-tail it to the other spot we had in mind for tomorrow, some 2.5 hours away. What proceeded was fishing a 6-spot hop across 2 rivers and 2 lakes. We fished 3 dams. The good news is that as a duo we didn't get skunked at any place. The bad news is that one tiny crappie or sunfish or even sucker counts against the skunk. And we averaged something like 1 fish per 50 or 60 miles. But so goes the unknown fishing adventure, as I have quickly come to find these years.
Fortunately, we didn't sleep in the car in 30 degree temps as previously planned (there are really no hotels around this part, and the ones slightly out of the way are over $100/night). That's the upside to shitty fishing--no temptation to stay out and freeze to death for some pisces, pescado, fish-a-roonies. We made it back to the town where my buddy lives just before the kitchen closed at the cheap-but-delicious Mexican restaurant near his house. Full of tortillas and grease, we made it home to slept in our respective beds (couch in my case). We agreed to play it by ear the next day.
Getting plenty of rest, the next day started with disputes over the remaining orange juice, a battle which his girlfriend obviously won. We decided to give our first spot from the day before, our confidence-spot, another try today, despite 20 mph winds gusting to 30 blowing enormous bows in our lines and not allowing our jigs to sink (yes, jigs. there is no way I was fly fishing). Totally forgetting this was Easter, we arrived mid day and shared our spot with a few folks. It quickly turned into a huge crowd, and folks were obviously ignoring any ethics regarding claims to space. We were frustrated. We stuck it out all day (after getting there just before lunchtime), snacking on granola bars while inevitably retying jigs and leaders, watching our boxes get clearer as our options thinned out. The debris at the bottom of this river must look like a series of Christmas trees. In the end of day 2, I caught 4 fish and my friend caught 3. Yep. And yes, I released them all alive and well. I even gave some people verbal shit that day for keeping undersized fish and holding fish out of water too long. I am straight up obnoxious about this shit. But I care about our fisheries. I want there to be at least AS MANY fish, if not MORE, especially when I drive about 9 hours to catch 8 fish in 24 hours of real fishing time.
The ride home that night was probably appropriate. We talked about our own mortality, our inevitable finality, and the only other thing you can discuss when death is on the table--astronomy. How big is the universe? How did it begin and will there be any life in other solar systems after the Earth is left cold and humanless by a burnt-out sun? I don't know the answers to these questions. I can only speculate. But one thing's for sure: In this life, I'll keep having the conversation if it means we're going fishing.
-I.A.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Why I love birthdays
Yesterday was my birthday, and these were waiting for me when I awoke thanks to my wonderful fiancee:
-I.A.
I am anxious to put them to the test. There is a great smallmouth bass river nearby I've been meaning on checking out. Now I just have to get through the next few weeks of intense non-stop work before I can fling some flies like this:
-I.A.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Really Sad News in Fly Fishing
RIP Jose Wejebe. Wejebe was an amazing angler on both fly gear and traditional gear. He was one of the few TV hosts I could tolerate watching, and one of even fewer that I actually enjoyed. I have been watching his show since the mid 1990's, so I've been a fan for 15 years now. Wejebe's program, Spanish Fly centered on Florida Keys saltwater fly fishing, but also included saltwater fly fishing from all around the globe as well as fishing with traditional gear for offshore species in the Keys region. The show influenced my own addiction to pursuing salty species, and in recent years had been vamped up with more attitude, catchy graphics, improved cinematography, and a more soulful narrative structure. It was a joy to watch, and it remains programmed on my DVR to be saved each week. Will the show disappear now that we mourn the loss of its charismatic host? Whatever happens, Spanish Fly won't be the same, and neither will the flyfishing world. That's for certain. ClickHere for more on this story
Welcome to Critical Angling! This is my fishing blog, where I will post pictures and content related to my fishing endeavors, which include actually going fishing, being frustrated with online fishing communities, a range of observations of the fishing world from anecdotal to systematic, as well as some more creative pieces that attempt to capture some "soul" of the angler--myself. I am not a professional fisherman; I am an academic sociologist who studies fishing and fishermen(and women). From my sociology training, I take on the lens of an acute observer of social processes, including those that reproduce inequalities of race, gender, sexuality, social class, age, and more. Attention to these phenomena will always in some way color my writings. I ask many questions of the social world of fishing, which is a topic often ignored in other sources of outdoor writing. But even my efforts in publishing academic writings on the topic of fishing's social-ness are impeded by the slow process of peer-review and journal editing. So I want to share my unreviewed thoughts with you all, the fishing and internet communities. Now let's get to it.
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