Things You Should Check Out; Pain Management

     It happens to all of us at one time or another, for one reason or another, sometimes without warning, and others a long slow build up. I'm talking about pain. I've recently been suffering from a bit of tendinitis in my ankle, courtesy of a little weekend rugby and steady effort at trail running. Whether your pain is exertion related, or age related it needs to be treated before it ruins a day afield or on the water. A product I recently discovered, and have been using for relief is KT Tape.

     KT Tape is an elastic tape designed to be applied to various injuries in ways to provide either relief, or support to the area. I've been using KT Tape to take the pressure off of my peroneal tendon in my ankle. Having suffered from a bit of tennis elbow during hunting season in the past I wish I had known about KT tape then, as it made carrying a shotgun all day a bit troublesome. The people at KT have a YouTube channel that explains all the applications of the tape, eliminating you having to guess what to do with it. It's good stuff. Check it out.

Ever Fallen In Love?

     Like many sportsmen around the globe I identify myself more or less by the species I prefer to hunt. I'm not a hunter, I'm a grouse hunter. Sure I hunt other species, ducks, geese, deer, and rabbit, but it's the pursuit of Ruffed grouse, and Woodcock that make me tick. Yes. I've fallen in love with grouse hunting. I can't really put my finger on what it is about grouse hunting that raises my pulse rate, however, there are a couple of things that quickly come to mind. The wild nature of the game is one of the draws to Ruffed Grouse. Unlike other places in this country, the only truly wild upland species around here are grouse and woodcock. Put and take pheasant and quail hunting just don't stand up to it in my book.

     I've dabbled in other sporting pursuits over the years, and I've wondered what it'd be in love with if I lived someplace with no Ruffies. Would I have the same affection for another species of game bird? Probably I would.  As any working dog owner will tell you, the relationship between man and dog is equally as important as any game you seek. I don't think it matters if we're talking pointers after quail, hounds after bear, beagles after hare, or labs after ducks; the bond one feels when their pooch rests it's head on your knee after a hard day hunting is second to none. So, I guess if I lived in the Dakotas surrounded by wild ringnecks, on a Georgia quail plantation, or in the rocky chukar habitat of Oregon, as long as I had a bird dog I'd probably have a love.

     Not everyplace has wild uplands,  nor everyone an affinity for walking miles and miles behind a dog. Some would much rather sit over decoys next to a statuesque Lab watching the sky for flocks of ducks. I've often wondered if this might one day be my fate. After all, knees don't last forever, and I haven't been kind to mine. I suppose if I lived in the flooded timbers of Arkansas, or the pothole region of Nebraska I could keep my self occupied with Lab training, blind building, and decoy carving. I imagine I'd have to relearn a little about shooting, too. The snap shooting, instinctual methods commonly used in the grouse woods being less of a necessity.

     Hunting of big game has had a place in my life, too. I cut my teeth bow hunting deer, and while I still greatly enjoy bow hunting it takes a back seat to anything I can hunt with my dog. I could, under the right circumstances, probably fall in love with a form or two of big game hunting, however. For several years I tested my hunting skills in early September by chasing bears. With bow in hand I attempted to take a bear from both treestands and ground blinds. It was never to be, but I still consider my attempts to be successful having seen bears on two occasions.Should I have connected, I might be writing a different story right now. I also become enthralled with the idea of one day tagging a nice bull moose. These majestic animals are in my opinion the kings of the outdoors, and it's by that standard that they make it on my wish list. Nothing less than a king causes one as much work, and turmoil after the shot. Again, should this dream ever become a reality, I could see myself in a whole new light, with a whole new identity.

     While my love remains with the Ruffed Grouse, and Woodcock, I might well be easily swayed, though I don't see it happening in the near future.

Fishing In The Land Of The Rising Sun

                The sounds of Japan's JR East Sobu line rumbling by, and the digitized screams of the near by arcade hardly seem the beginnings of an outdoor adventure of any type. On a recent trip to the Tokyo area it's exactly how a trout fishing venture started. In Japan to take care of a little business I decide after many trips to the country that is was time to get a little outdoors time. I'd gotten a taste of Japan's countryside many years ago when I'd made frequent trips to Nagano prefecture's Matsumoto city, but most of these trips mearly involved driving country roads, and snapping pics of scenic views, save a short hike into an onsen nessecitated by a recent snow closing the main road. A hunter first and foremost I erased any ideas of doing any type of hunting based on the strict gun, and hunting laws, and the fact that I was visiting in May. I'd thought of maybe trying to meet up with an area field trial club, but they dont exactly advertise in mainstream cirlces, making them hard to find. This made fishing the next logical choice. And so it was to be. That said, I now know I've got a lot more research, a lot more travel, and a lot more fishing to do to fully experience fishing in Japan.

                My fishing guide would be my good friend Hiroaki whom I met some years ago when he was living, and studying in Boston. Hiroaki and I frequently fished the trout streams of western and central Massachusetts to various effect. While Tenkara might be the newest fishing craze to captivate the American angler, 15 years ago Hiroaki used this technique with a devastating effect on the local trout population. While I would cast with relative ease on streams allowing a modicum of space, Hiroaki excelled on streams where I was restricted to roll casts, and picking spots selectively.

                Unfortunately, and unfortunate in so many ways, the earthquake, tsunami, and ensuing radiation emergency that devastated much of north eastern Japan has also effected Hiroaki's sporting, and his family's livelihood. A year ago we would have made the drive to Fukushima to fish a now off limits trout stream that ran directly through his brother's dairy farm. The farm is now destroyed in so many ways, as is the stream, the cows all having been destroyed later. A last act of kindness one could reason. I'd rather have happy cows watching me drift flies, but I didn't have a say in the matter. This series of events meant we'd have to fish elsewhere, and appropriately Hiroaki chose a local trout stream in the Tokyo area where he'd sneak off to when he was in high school  Once again we would meet in the city at on ungodly hour of the morning, drive out to a stream, fish all day, and return exhausted. What more could I ask for?

                I arrived in Tokyo  a few days before Hiroaki had a free day, so I decided to investigate a few fishing shops, and any outfitter I could find. I was quick to find that fishing equipment is in no short supply in the Tokyo area. Within ten minutes walking distance from where I was staying in Ichikawa city's Motoyawata neighborhood I found two vastly different, yet well stocked fishing shops. The first I visited was Tackle Berrys, a used fishing equipment shop. The shop carried a small supply of just about everything, from every style of fishing with just a bit more of an emphasis on salt water fishing. Organized by type of tackle, rods and reels of various quality were displayed. As would be expected the shop also had a bargain bin, and the ever entertaining bragging wall. I doubt Tackle Berrys will ever be a shop I frequent, but for a neophyte looking to get started on a budget, this is the place.

                Next I stumbled upon Fly Shop Rocks. Rocks is a small, but obviously serious fly fishing shop. The shop held the usual name brands, plus a selection of home grown gear. Rods, reels, line, tippet, flies, and fly tying materials were all on hand as well as the various accessories that make a day on the water less painful. Rocks also boasted a small selection of fishing fashion, as it wouldn't be right to be seen on the river without the proper herringbone cap. The owner, whose name I foolishly neglected to take note of, was quite cheery, and seemed to genuinely enjoy talking with me about my upcoming fishing trip. Rocks is a shop I will be sure to visit in the future.

                When it comes to fishing in Japan, San Sui is a Tokyo institution. If you've ever been to a serious fishing outfitter anywhere in the states or Canada then you've been to San Sui. So impressive is this shop that I have to admit I felt a little intimidated just browsing its 4 floors of top quality merchandise. But adding to the intimidation factor is the fact that San Sui has not one location, but three all in 200 meter radius, each dedicated to a different type of fishing. The first, and biggest location is dedicated to the freshwater fishing traditions of Japan. This is where one will find a Tenkara rod, as well as various floats and specialty lures. Leave the store, and walk up the street to the left, and you'll find their next location within 50 meters. This location is where they sell their traditional saltwater gear, and boat fishing gear. It was here that I saw the most unique, and beautiful fishing reel ever. Looking like a fly reel, but made of grainy, dark wood, these  reels are used with a regular monofilament line. While I didn't engage in lenghtly discussion about these reels, I did discover that though they would undoubtably look fantastic on a split cane flyrod, their lack of any drag mechanism makes them impractical. Like Rocks, San Sui's third location was cut from the same cloth as our homegrown shops. This locale was where San Sui sold their flyfishing and bass fishing gear. The two story shop was as equipped and comfortable as nay shop geared towards the serious angler. Here, too, was a bragging board with pictures of customers with a variety of huge fish. The pictures over flowed the bragging board and were tacked up in a trail stretching around the store. Surprisingly, most of the photos were of big fish caught in Japan. The employees here were younger than their counterparts in the other location, yet we're enthusiastic about fishing, and I enjoyed talking shop with them.

                 The fact that Hiroaki and I were going to be fishing an area he hadn't fished for many years, and me not having a fishing license led to the decision to fish at a tsuri bori. Not having a fishing license  doesn't disallow one from fishing, but does limit where you can fish, so it would have to be a tsuri bori, or one of a few select ponds.  What is a tsuri bori you ask. I actually wondered the same thing. I knew it was someplaced with stocked fish, and I had an image of a large pool with multiple docks extending out from which people chucked bait. It is, however, nothing more than a privately held section of river which is stocked with fish. One pays a daily fee to fish, and goes to it. Fishing a tsuri bori is not a quiet affair. Tsuri bori are good healthy family entertainment, and offer a variety of Streamside amenities. The one we fished had a section of the river where canopies were set up to provide a bit of shelter, seating and campfire pits. Families picnicked beside fires while their children fished. Being a stocked river several time during my day there I observed buckets of rainbow trout being dumped into the river, spurring a renewed interest in many of the children who'd grown bored.  I had to wonder how many times a trout would go from a bucket, to the river, then directly to the grill. The river itself was stunningly beautiful with small deep pools interspersed among the many boulder strewn rapid sections. Steep cliff like hills, with tall slender pines and rocky outcrops lined the banks of the narrow river, and upstream a waterfall filled a prehistoric cliff lined pool forcing the water around in a circular motion before draining into the river.

                Despite not having been Streamside with Hiroaki for about five years, the inevitable pattern of success still held true. Hiroaki excelled at fishing rivers such as this where the fish would be caught right under your nose, while I preferred casting to their distant hides. This river had no such distant hides, many sections barely wider than the length of (a good long) fishing rod. Like always we quickly slipped into serious mode and got to it, cruising the banks, and casting or dabbing promising looking spots. Not knowing what to use I cast a variety of small Mepps spinners about while Hiroaki alternated between his spinner, and Tenkara rod. Before too long success was to be had by Hiroaki, a wild Iwashi, native to Japan and not a stocked fish was brought to hand. His luck did not stop there. While I experimented with color changes, and streamer fly droppers Hiroaki continued to fill the fish cooler with two wild Yamame, brook trout like fish also native to Japan. Like many anglers, I enjoy all the time I spend on the river, and despite not catching any fish this day was no different. The anticipation of what the next pool held, or the results a different color spinner would achieve was exciting and enjoyable in itself. While I brought nothing to hand I felt comfortable knowing that I was slowly learning the language of the Japanese trout, twice having been hit and shaken off.

                I've always believed that things go smooth if one adheres to the principles of the six P's; Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. I dropped the ball somewhat in this respect, as I threw the fishing segment of this trip together rather haphazardly. My first mistake was bringing new equipment I was unfamiliar with along on the trip. I ran into a few snags, and knots while getting used to the new light weight travel set up. I also forgot my Furidashizou, which is a collapsible/extendable Tenkara rod. When collapsed it fits easily into most luggage. The river we fished begged to be probed in the tenkara fashion. While I'm on the subject of tenkara, which is quickly making its way into the American anglers vocabulary, I can't help but note that Tenkara is quite a standard method of fishing in Japan. While the angler stateside has adjusted the rod, and some of the method to better facilitate the use of a fly, in Japan it is usually used to dab some type of bait, rigged with a float or some type of strike indicator. The license issue too, was a bit of a problem, mostly because Hiroaki just couldn't figure out a licensing station that would be open on a Sunday. Though having a license would have been nice, it wasn't nearly the problem it would have been stateside, as Hiroaki explained that a license isn't necessary on some bodies of water. Without a license we could still legally fish a number of places. Having one would have widened our choice of destinations. While packing excessive amounts of fishing gear for a flight around the globe can be problematic, no doubt I will sacrifice some convenience, and a bit of cash to see to it that a pair of waders and a flyrod make the trip, as well as my Furidashizou.

                While I would have liked to have landed my first Japanese fish, I've no hesitation saying that my first fishing adventure in Japan was enjoyable, and successful. A day on the river with a good friend, beautiful scenery, the sights and sounds of a beautiful river are all things one should enjoy, as well as the efforts put forth to catch some fish. I'd do it all over again. In fact I will. I know now that I'll need to be a bit more prepared, and having gotten a taste, I know it can only get more exciting and enjoyable.

Streamside With GW; Benevolence

     I have a river that I love very much.  She got her teeth adjusted by the cruel master of drought a couple of years back.  On a slow day at work when I have a case of the fuck-its, limited time, shitloads of time that carry the price of a spontaneous drunk, or just some affection for the river, I’ll take a quickie from Boston to check up on the old girl as she meanders her way around the  leafy outskirts of Worcester. In those lean months what I saw made me sadder every time I did it.  The usual freestone had synched her girth down to something about the width of a car.  Where there used to be a river, there was a heartbreaking trickle surrounded by bleached rocks and the song of the water was no longer there to lift the soul of anybody. I feared that the breeding population of brown, rainbow, and brook trout  had joined a desolation of caddis flies, mayflies, crayfish, surprisingly territorial kingfishers, herons, ospreys,  and everything else whose cafeteria had gone the way of the dinosaur, US manufacturing, my hairline, etc…  On a day when I fished knowing I wouldn’t catch a thing I had a family of mink trail behind my wading bark playfully at me and pick prey out of the swirl of mud behind me in the current.   I have seriously had sleepless nights wondering about the fate of those mischievous little thieves who barked at me so playfully, somehow knew I would not harm them, proved to me again that humans are not the only conscious beings on planet Earth, and came so close to being banished from nature by commerce more than once.  I haven’t seen them since.  My soul will be nourished when I cooperate with them again.

     I can remember coming across another fisherman at the time.  Cresting a ridge, I saw him casting into a hole… What I will never forget is the dead fish floating at the end of his stringer which was barely four inches long and bore through its deathly pallor the par marks of an immature brook trout.   When a river is clearly having a hard time, and McDonalds has a 99-cent cheeseburger, how hungry do you have to be to justify such an inappropriate kill?  In my mind, and I hope everybody will agree, a baby like that isn’t going extend your life by much, but its loss will kill the shit out of a river.  An honorable man would just go ahead and orchestrate his own death if he can’t find a better way to keep his mortal coil.

      As sportsmen we juggle an ethic that only we truly understand, yet not without argument among ourselves.  We want to preserve/manage an environment so that it is rich with game.  We want to adventure into said environment to harvest said game, take it home, and dine in the glory of wholeness. The trophy-hunting issue is something to discuss another day, but my rule of thumb is “if a population is being exhausted, you are an immoral person if you keep killing shit”.  I carry something called a “Jungle Primitive” in my pack because I don’t want to be the guy that didn’t have a giant, honking, survival-knife, machete-looking monstrosity on the ONE day he needed it to hack off his own extremity in order to survive.  The possible incarceration of my person is the only thing that kept my seriously fucking carbon-steel, aggressively notched, serrated, fuck-your-ass-up-ten-different-ways-from-Sunday knife from finding a home in that dude’s dome. Seriously, what the fuck?  There are less brook trout in that river than there are assholes in Worcester.

     The good news is that I still fish there.  The rivers that bolster our spirits were there a long time before greed came along to dam them up, harvest the shit out them, and cease to understand their importance, our interdependence, and all of that stuff.  Despite an almost universal indifference a beneficial pattern of weather has come along to restore my baby just like it has through feast and famine since we were all chimpanzees.  Today I fished the nymph forms of your classic Spring mayflies through the calm meanderings of a river who sings anew.  In between the big, fat stocked fish, I grabbed a few brookies with fins so sharp and straight they could never have known the deadening sameness of a hatchery.  I caught and released a few rainbows small enough, with healthy color, and beautifully intact fins that they could only have been born wild and survived the drought as fry.  The jury is still out on the brown trout, but if I catch any of them, I’ll put them back in the river so you behold their glory for yourself, but they will be a little smarter now, so hone your skills. I haven’t seen any minks, yet.

ASO Pro-Staffer G.W. is a passionate, and outspoken trout bum. He calls it like he sees it, and that's why he's my friend.

Waterfowl On The Mind. Long Island P.E.

     The dog days of summer hardly seem the time to be thinking of waterfowling. But with the early goose season just three months off, now is the time to start preparing. Here is a quick photo essay of the Long Island shore, some ingenuity, and a bit of sucess.

If you want to get here,... 

You'll need one of these.

It's a two mile paddle, mixed with a little bit of hiking.

Toss out a few of these,...

and wait for these.

But the marsh holds some surprises.

Sometimes lots of surprises.

ASO Pro-Staffer S. Shea lives and works in NYC. He is a dedicated small game, and waterfowl hunter. He routinely hunts sun up, to sun down, and has outlasted many a bird dog.

Networks

     Regular readers Of All Seasons Outdoors would have noticed a lack of content over the last month. I was away. I had an opportunity to spend several weeks in Japan, so ASO sat idle for a spell while I spent some time investigating other interests in the Tokyo area. The trip did provide some material which will be shared here in the near future, but it also revealed, unfortunately, the need to have a good sporting network in place. A network that you can rely on should things go bad at home while you're away. A network that can handle dog emergencies should they occur, as my wife and Ginger discovered.

     Prior to leaving for Japan I assembled a phone list of reliable people who could be counted on should help be require on the home front. One of these numbers was that of my good friend Bruce, a kennel owner, and dog trainer. Should a dog issue arise Bruce would be the go to guy in my absence. Unfortunately, Bruce would need to be called upon, but for little more than a phone call, and some Q&A at my request. A few days into my trip I recieved word from my wife that Ginger had badly cut a pad while out on an excersize run, and required an overnight stay at the animal hospital. Several stitches, antibiotics, pain relieves, and a cone of shame was in her future.

     As emergencies go, my wife handled this one perfectly, recognizing the severity of the cut, the change in the dogs behavior, and the need for expert care. So it was off to the hospital. I on the other hand, being half way around the globe was quite worried, and wanted to know exactly what I was dealing with.Two things helped greatly in this reguard. The first was the ability to e-mail pictures from one smart phone to another. This allowed me to see the damage to the foot. The other was having put together a network. I activated Bruce to check in, and get a report on Ginger's condition and let me know if anything more, or extreme had to be done. The network allowed me to relax for the remainder of my trip knowing Ginger had recieved the proper care, and was in good hands.

     Assembling a small, but reliable network can pay off big if needed. It's something all dog owners should have. Knowing that proper care can be just a phone call away is what it takes to be able to fully relax when travelling, and I'm sure glad I had a network for me, my wife, and Ginger.

Off We Go; New Adventures

As I write this I sit in the airport wait to board my flight to Tokyo. A new adventure for me, my wife and Ginger. While I'm away in Tokyo fishing and hiking my wife, Junko, is in charge of dog training here in the states. While she's done a fair share of the training it's never been for such a long period of time. It will be an adventure for her and Ginger. Fortunately she's taken it upon herself to teach Ginger Rock, Paper, Scissors. I don't know how this will translate to a hunting skill, but I'm sure they'll enjoy themselves while I'm away. As for how much mobile blogging I'll be able to do, that's any bodies guess. But you can still get an installment while I'm away. if you pick up a copy of the summer edition of RGS magazine, you can read my article on Gundogs. Hopefully in the future you'll see my name in RGS magazine at least somewhat frequently.