I’ve been tying with some StreamWorks tools for about 6 months now and must say I am pleasantly surprised. Before receiving the StreamWorks tools I was skeptical because of their lower price point. In this review, I am going to highlight a couple of my favorite tools: the “Bead It Tool” and the Tungsten Carbide Arrow-Point Scissors.
First, when I got the Bead It Tool, it sat in the package for a while as I did not see the use for it…until I started tying midges in tiny size #20 and smaller. See, I’ve got what some people call sausage fingers, and they are not great for handling sub 2mm beads (my vacuum finds a handful every time I vacuum in my tying room). The Bead It Tool makes it easy for me to pick the bead I want out of the bin and holds it until I bead the hook. The great thing is that I can set the tool down and it will still hold the bead as the spring action keeps it closed as opposed to normal tweezers where the spring action keeps it open. And for eight bucks, it’s a solid purchase. It also has a great secondary function as a fly or hook holder if you want to prop one up for a picture or as an example while you’re tying.
Next, the Tungsten Carbide Arrow-point scissors are just plain awesome. I have several pair of far more expensive scissors, but the StreamWorks Arrow-points are my go-to when I am tying anything that I want to trim with precision. They have the finest point of any scissors on my desk so they work perfect for trimming wing cases on nymphs when I don’t want excess sticking out beyond the thread wraps or trimming individual hackle fibers when they go astray. They are small enough that they are easy to tie with in-hand and the little bump in the blades works great for cutting wire without feeling like you’re damaging the precision part of the blades. I would not recommend them for cutting thick clumps of hair or lots of streamer work, but if you are tying small nymphs and dries, I don’t think you can go wrong, especially for the price.
On top of the product quality and “bang for your buck,” StreamWorks customer service is fantastic and the company is run by some top-notch guys.
I know this has been said before, but this is a topic that has been weighing on my mind heavily lately. Why do some people take fly fishing to such a serious level that it starts to impact the reasons we do it; fun, enjoyment, relaxation, stress relief, entertainment, etc.? I realize that many of us commit a lot of time, money, and energy to this sport we so dearly love, but we should never escalate fishing to the point of verbal or physical altercation as that (in my opinion) only reduces the fun.
Now, this does not mean you should not protect your watersheds if you see somebody being destructive or let somebody barge their way into a run you’re fishing. But, maybe try the tactful approach. Try to educate rather than degrade, or if it’s not worth the battle, just move on down the river. Hopefully karma and the fish gods recognize the right and wrong and give awards and demerits accordingly (you know, in the form of finned trophies or broken tippets). I am by no means an expert, but I do know that when I get pissed off it tends to have a negative effect on my day and my outlook on a day as I reflect back.
I’d say Tim and I are fortunate in the fact when we go fishing it’s an entirely self-serving endeavor. We both work our nine to five and when the Friday whistle sounds, it’s not long before we’re hitting the road and chasin’ again. Trout water is an hour drive, and better trout water is half that further. Nine times of ten we opt for the longer drive. Beers are cracked once rubber meets dirt, the sun sets, and sounds of flowing water come within earshot. We set camp and realize we’ve made it, made it back.
Most mornings begin somewhat blurry with a side of hangover. “Hair of the dog,” Tim explains as he tosses me a beer after “breakfast,” and on the water it begins. The inevitable ribbing of who is going to catch the biggest fish or who ties flies that don’t work. The first cast that snags a bush or tree branch inevitably gets the response “there’s no fish in there” or the ol’ “damnit, you horsed it again” after coming unbuttoned or missing a hook set. You know, “catching up” like only fishing buddies do.
Life never seems to go quite as planned but if you’re prepared for the unexpected, sometimes things can turn out better than you could’ve hoped for. One weekend this past April was a perfect example of that. Chet and I had made a plan early in the week to do some ice off fishing on a quality stillwater with hopes of catching a big Tiger Trout.
Everything started as planned, we arrived at the lake, started fishing a spot that we’ve had success in previously. We gave up on that spot after less than an hour of dragging in weeds and numbing our feet and went for a drive to check out another spot we had in mind. We crested the hill that overlooks the cove we intended on fishing and it had to be every bait fisherman in Southern Utah lined along a 100 yard stretch of shoreline.
Fall has been particularly good to us in Southern Utah and it has highlighted the fact that I have a problem. An addiction. I am addicted to Brook Trout. Looking at them, admiring them, catching them, but maybe most of all…photographing them. It’s something about their disgusting appearance, the radiant orange bellies, vivid red spots with blue halos, white tipped red fins, and the contrasting worm like markings that encompass their backs. Also, its hard not to mention that those horrid creatures live in the worst places like high mountain lakes and cold, clear streams. Enjoy a few photos of the ugliest trout (yes, I know they are actually char, not trout) from our recent ventures.