When I first saw Nick Mayer’s work at his Escape Studio, one of the first things I was drawn to was his small sketchbook pages (look at the bottom) he included. Now, I imagine Nick didn’t think these little sketchbook images were all that important when he was designing his website (maybe he did), but they are fascinating to me. I could look at those type of sketchbooks all day, especially the ones with technical notes worked around the sketches.

However, the “real” artwork is some pretty amazing stuff. Nick’s pieces have that “technical” feel to them, with a clean, precise look, but the watercoloring softens them, bringing a warmth and aliveness to each piece. Of most interest, I imagine, to you, would be his collection of fish. He has both saltwater and freshwater fish collections.

Here’s a sneak peek at his latest piece, rainbow trout:

Rainbow Trout - Nick Mayer

and here’s a close-up (click on it to check out the detail, then click on the little green arrow that points down and to the right for an even closer look – wow!):

Rainbow Detail - Nick Mayer

It looks like the majority of his originals are sold, but they do have a note saying “available for commission $1500.” There are some nice looking unframed giclee prints running in size from about 14″ wide ($50) to 40″ wide ($250). They can also be purchased framed. For those with a smaller budget, he has notecards for purchasing.

There are also some great pieces on insects, but I didn’t see any that would be of special interest to the fly fisher with maybe the exception of the dragonfly. I could definitely see some mayflies lending themselves to his style (Nick: hint, hint).

A very cool side note here, something that I think is unique is his Faux Moths Project. This is a collection of moths that he watercolors, then cuts out and mounts in boxes to look like real moths. You can read his detailed description on that page of how he started the project.

He runs Escape Studio apparel store selling shirts, mugs, hats, bags, etc.

You can follow Nick on his Fresh Art Blog.

Topo Map

I have been lacking motivation to write for the last couple of weeks. I’m just dying to get on the river, but the weather and prospects for local fishing in the winter is pretty low. And, I’m just not as interested in fishing in sub-freezing temperatures anymore. This has all brought on a lethargy. A little SAD maybe. I don’t know, but I’m ready to hit the river soon.

I bring you something a little different: a two minute reading of this post. Click on the link below to listen.

A New Season’s Topography

Let me know if there was a problem with the audio (other than my voice—I already know that’s a problem, I’m talking technical issues here).

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For those of you who can’t stand listening to me, don’t want to drive your workmates crazy listening to me, or just prefer to read instead of listen, here is the hardcopy:

Speeding along the twisting canyon road, my eyes rarely leave the river—watching, and waiting for a rise. A dimple and ripple expanding in rings. Emanating ever outward—like the map I spread over the kitchen table last week, and the week before, and the week before that—it’s rings expanding over the earth and right off the table’s wooden edge.

Not really rings, but ragged lines. Lines stepping their way up the smooth pate of a hill. Lines that push and pinch together veeing up a canyon: a thin blue strand wefting through the warp of brown.

Snow dusts the gravel where the truck rolls to a crunchy stop at the top of a canyon. In the alpenglow, and by the glow of the cab light, the map is unfolded and consulted. A finger follows the route down. The sun suddenly thrusts itself above a far ridge, and we follow its diffused edge down, as the snow melts before us.

A month ago we traced the contours of the map. Then, there, hunched over paper, tracing the contours of the map, it was all possibilities and anticipation. The giddiness of a new fishing season building as lines were checked. Flies, feathers and a vice packed. Waders rolled and stowed. The Thermos readied in the early morning darkness as the soft hum of the furnace pulsed through the preparations.

But here, now, down in the crease of the canyon… My line lassos realities, cuts an arc out of the sky. Water bunches and folds around my legs: hard edges fore, soften aft, and spread, following the river. Taking a piece of me until those wakes merge and flatten—all a part of the flow. These lines in the sky and water mirror the topography surrounding me. They shadow me through the day and into the season.

My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Sometime within the past ten years or so I became interested in native fish. I have nothing against any species, I just like to see fish that are “supposed” to be in a watershed, in that watershed, not some other species occupying that water. This desire to find native species in their native range has taken my fishing buddy and me to some out-of-the-way little creeks—we’re talking about places in the middle of the desert 100 miles from the nearest town. Creeks whose widths are measured in inches, not feet. But it doesn’t seem to matter where we go, how far away from “civilization” we get, we still come across water stocked with non-native species. Many of these places were stocked long before motorized travel was possible. And I’ve wondered what possessed people to stock fish in such places.

Anders Halverson’s new book, An Entirely Synthetic Fish: How Rainbow Trout Beguiled America and Overran the World, answers that question for me. In a fascinating look at the social and political maneuverings of the late nineteenth century through the present, Anders’ meticulous research lays bare some interesting tidbits of the stocking policies of the United States.

One such gem is that the government was worried about the strength of the nation’s men: that they had “notoriously less hardihood and endurance than the generation which preceded [their:] own” (George Perkins Marsh, congressman and diplomat from the mid-1800’s). This description was given in a report by Marsh under the auspices of the Legislature of Vermont on the Artificial Propagation of Fish. He further stated that “the sports of the chase” (angling being one of them) was a way to increase the hardiness of the Americans. At this time, many waterways were already seeing a decline in fish numbers and the artificial propagation of fish was seen as a way to increase those numbers. With the urge to increase the robustness of its men, and the decline fish population the underpinnings were there for the introduction of non-native species.

Last year Eccles (from the Turning Over Small Stones blog) and I had a discussion about the terms “Fish and Game” and “Fish and Wildlife” as used in various agencies: Why were the terms “fish” and “game” separate? Shouldn’t it just be Game or Wildlife, as in “Utah Game” or “US Wildlife Service” since fish are a type of game and fish are a type of wildlife? Anders informs us that by the 1870s congress formed the United States Fish Commission to help tackle the problem of declining fish stocks, thus becoming the first governmental agency involved with animal husbandry in the US. At a later time, the “game” and “wildlife” were added as the agency expanded. So, in my mind at least, this solves the mystery.

How the rainbow trout became the darling of the US Fish Commission, and just about every other angling agency in the world, is an interesting tale that Anders starts in San Francisco in 1872 with Livingston Stone looking for spawning salmon. He eventually found the McCloud River and began propagating salmon. By 1879 they were looking for a place on the McCloud to begin propagating trout as well. And they did, with astounding success.

Besides the historical ventures Anders skillfully and delightfully takes the reader on, he also dissects the biology of the stocking programs, covering the hardiness of a stock that is constantly used for breeding to whirling disease. He discusses the loss of native species and the response (or lack of it) of individual state fish and game departments, how some of them have switched from stocking to conservation.

This brings up an interesting problem that many fish and game departments need to tackle: what is their responsibility when sportsmen (who pay for licenses whose money is then possibly used to bankroll conservation and restoration instead of stocking), clamor for more catchable fish?

Through all of these topics Anders uses a reporters zeal for facts (there are approximately 475 sources listed in the bibliography) and detachment, thereby keeping an even keel on reporting the facts and not stepping on a soapbox to expound one particular side over another. Even with this professional detachment, there is a keen sense of understanding and compassion shown for the stories he tells. For, if nothing else (but there is a lot of “else”), the book is full of stories told with the storyteller’s art.

Full Disclosure: I have corresponded with Anders a few times by email. I was one of the first couple of anglers to join his new website (*). And when he said he had a book available to be reviewed, I asked for a copy. I don’t have anything to profit from this review except getting a free book. Which I already have.

Purchase the book (links from Anders’ website).

Check out the “Additional Materials” on Anders’ website.

Here is a review from Dave B at Native Trout Angler.

Another review, this one from Sam Snyder and posted on MidCurrent.

Newspaper piece from ColoradoDaily.com.

Information from Yale University Press (publishers of the book).

* This website is Angler’s Life List and Native Fish Network (ALLNFN). A big congratulations to the site for making it into the March 2010 edition of Outside Magazine’s Editors’ Choice top 51 things to do (“For our inaugural list, we’ve gathered 51 of our favorite things into a rollicking compendium of capital ideas, sublime destinations, brilliant equipment, and more.”). ALLNFN came in at #42!

View all my reviews at Goodreads >>

Cutthroat Stalker Ezine - February 2010

The long awaited (okay, nobody actually knew I was tinkering with this, so obviously they weren’t waiting for it) ezine version of Cutthroat Stalker is hitting the virtual stands today. Just click here to view the ezine where I have three new (and short) pieces of writing (I’ve found viewing full screen (f11 in Firefox) and clicking on the magnifying glass on the top makes it a bit easier to read). I am mostly just playing with the software that can produce this kind of ezine, I don’t think I have any real desire to do something like this on a continual basis. Maybe to archive each month’s content?

Come back and post a comment to let me know what you think. I am specifically interested in the following:

• Do people really like this “magazine” format (for any content out their, not just mine)?
  • Why?
• Do you personally prefer to read fly fishing content as a daily/semi-daily fix like most blogs, or do you prefer to get a big chunk in one fell swoop (like an ezine)?

For those of you who would prefer the ezine as a pdf file, here you go.

I’m also playing around with making this as an epub file for ereaders (including Kindle).

And check out this flash version from Prezi (after you click on the play button, click on the “more” to the right and choose “fullscreen”):