Steelhead Slam 2015

 Steelhead Slam 2015
11/07/15

 

 This past Saturday I attended the Steelhead Slam in Erie Pa. I was a volunteer that guided Veterans for steelhead fishing through Project Healing Waters. There were 30 veterans and around 30 some volunteers who guided the Vets or helped out during the event.
 The water was low and clear so catching wasn’t at its best. There weren’t many steelhead near the event locations so some of the volunteers drove some of the Vets to more productive waters on the creek. The get together was held along Elk Creek at a pavilion free of charge by the private owner. The event was catered for free by a local caterer. There were plenty of prizes and gifts for the Veterans donated by local businesses and groups. It was a wonderful time and get together.
 This was the second time this year I had the opportunity to help out. I also had guided Veterans trout fishing and steelhead fishing during other events in the past couple of years.
 Here are a few pictures I was able to obtain during the event.

 

 

 

 

All Veterans got a gift bag filled with goodies.

~doubletaper

 

A Vet helping his son catch his first steelhead

 

 

 

 

 

These following photo's were taken and donated to this sight by Zach Wilczynski

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chilly October

Chilly October
10/18/15

 

 When I woke up and looked out the French doors there was snow covering the back deck. I had planned on meeting a friend on Oil Creek around 9:00am. If it wasn’t for that I might have stayed home but I’m pretty reliable. At 8:00am I gave him a call to make sure that he was still planning to go fishing. He was just eating breakfast and said he’d be there in an hour. I had already eaten breakfast and the van was packed. I headed out, brushed the snow off the van and headed west alone the back roads.

Jeff had been up archery and squirrel hunting for the weekend. He lives in Pittsburgh and his plan was to fish Oil Creek before heading home. We’ve fished in some inclement weather before but not that I remember cold and snow in October.
 There wasn’t as much snow about when I got closer to the state park but there was enough in the higher elevations to question my sanity.
I mean we are only fishing for trout and I’m sure there will be warmer days ahead. The leaves weren’t even off the trees yet.

 

 When I got to the park I of course was the only vehicle in the parking lot. The snow feel in small wet clumps rather than the fine flakes of winter. It was cold, very cold.

 

 I walked down to the creek to check out the water conditions. The water had risen some since Tuesday but was still low. There weren’t as many rocks showing in the riffling water though. The water was a tinch stained but nothing drastic. It appeared to me to be in perfect condition.
 When I got back to the van Jeff was pulling in. after a brief conversation, mentioning the weather, we got our extra warm clothes on and waders.
 I selected my all purpose SAS Scott rod in these kinds of wet conditions. Not that my more expensive rods couldn’t handle it but the SAS does everything well whether I’m casting nymphs or streamers. It is a medium fast action and a little on the stiffer side. It does take a little more effort to get a long cast out but it doesn’t look like I’ll be doing any dry fly long distance fishing.
 We put our tossle caps on and headed down to the water. As soon as I got to the bank I knotted on a dry caddis anyhow. Even though it was cold, cold and the sun was behind the blue/grayish clouds, I thought just maybe. Believe it or not I did make a trout rise but it was just a swirl without a take. The wind picked up so I switched to a bugger. For about an hour Jeff and I couldn’t get a hit. I moved up in the shallower riffling water. It had some decent flow and there were some deeper runs about mid stream. Jeff was up creek some so I kept some distance between us and worked it over.
 I knotted on a San Juan worm to attract attention and a Hares Ear as my dropper. Within three casts I managed a take and a frisky rainbow fought through the riffles towards me.
 

 

 That one broke the ice. I stuck with the Hares Ear dropper and picked up a few more trout but there were long dry intervals between the catches.

 

 The air stayed cold throughout the day and there were times I thought about quitting. The cold wind was fierce and blew through my whiskers like wind through a lace veil. At times there were snowflakes that fell from the sky as well as small frozen raindrops. I was catching trout though and Jeff wasn’t giving up so I stuck it out. Occasionally the sun peeked through the cloud cover but not for very long. It was like when your mom would spy on you just long enough, because everything got too quiet, and make sure you weren’t getting into trouble. There was no warmth in the sun but it did feel good as the day brightened at the time. When the wind blew hard enough it was interesting to watch the water surface, from one side of the creek to the other, wrinkle like a shimmering cloth being unrolled on a table top.   

 

 This dropped leaves upon the water surface. There weren’t as many as the past Tuesday but it made casting between the leaves a little more precise. Every so often a trout would grab the imitation nymph and I’d forget about the cold, wind and snow fall.

 

 

   Getting late after noon the coldness was taking its toll on us. We weren’t catching a whole lot of trout and the day was wearing thin. Jeff finally suggested he was ready to quit and head back towards Pittsburgh. After a few more casts I decided to join him and we headed to the vehicles.
 We drank a beer and discussed next weekend plans while changing out of our waders. It was good getting together again on these rare occasions and I always look forward to sharing a drift or a hunt with Jeff. 

 ~doubletaper

Out of Place

Out of Place
10/20/15

 The only person with a fly rod I felt out of place. It was like bringing the lever action Winchester 30-30 to a long range shooting contest. I was lined up with a bunch of bait fishermen. I wasn’t hard to spot; I was the only one with a faded black cowboy hat at the tossle and ball cap convention. 

 It’s early steelhead fishing and without much rain the steelhead aren’t very far up the creeks. This means the fishermen are near the mouth or not too far up creek to where the majority of steelhead are concentrated. This creates crowds and lines of fishermen along the creek banks. I was one of those on Tuesday the 20th.

 I got to the creek early enough to get a spot between the few anglers along the bank. We were lined up but space between us that if one fell sideways it wouldn’t knock the next one over. In the tunnel it was a different story. They were crammed in there like a box of graham crackers.
 Come daylight it wasn’t very long before the yelps of happy fishermen and splashing steelhead was the morning norm. The bait fishermen were having a field day. They were catching fish to the left of me and to the right. Often I heard the muffled sound of a splashing steelhead coming out of the tunnel. I watched skein and egg sacs being reloaded on hooks. Every once in a while I saw someone picking single eggs out of a plastic medicine bottle container. I heard southern drawls as a group of guys from West Virginia were ribbing each other while catching fish. I learned a few fishermen were from Kentucky and even a guy from the Philadelphia area who is a Philly fan and proud of it. What was nice is they all knew what they were doing. There wasn’t anyone like I’ve seen at the wall at Walnut whereas the spinning reel is on top of the rod seat with left hander’s reeling the open face reel clockwise and right hander’s counterclockwise. They weren’t using baseball size or wooden bobbers. These guys were pretty good and considerate of each other also.
 There I was the only fly guy in the bunch flinging a fly line. To them I probably resembled some gray bearded old cowboy with a long buggy whip. I looked down stream and it also was lined with fishermen so I decided to just stay put and wait it out.
 I was tying on every combination and color streamer trying to muster a strike. As long as the others were using scented bait I felt I really didn’t have a chance on these fresh steelhead. As the morning wore on there were these unethical thoughts that ran through my brain. Since a fly fisherman can’t imitate smell on his ties these unethical thoughts kept suggesting to ask a single egg user if I can dip my sucker spawn in their container. I lit up a good cigar instead and those evil thoughts vanished.
 I watched time and again as steelhead were caught than strung on rope along the bank secured to heavy rocks. The guys and gals in the tunnel had their own hitching post. They carried fresh caught steelhead out of the tunnel and roped them on long ropes tied to a heavy tree branch on the bank. Once these master bait fishermen roped their limit of three steelhead they sat back and coaxed their pardoners on. This gave me more room to move around.
 After a long time I found a few steelhead whom were tired of the smell of fish eggs and wanted a real fish diet. I even found room to park myself on the ledge outside the tunnel for some time.
 I laid the Triple Threat streamer nicely against the blocks across creek. It drifted slowly with the current just out from the wall. The take was subtle. When I seen the floating fly line drop slightly I yanked back on the rod. There was a quick scuffle where the water surface began to churn when the line tightened. The steelhead circled down creek as the other fishermen brought in their lines. The steelhead didn’t force itself down creek too far and didn’t head into the tunnel. He had the upper hand for sometime as I held onto the grip tightly and waited for him to tire. It got to be a standoff bout for a time being in the imaginary box in front of me. I eventually got him to the bank and than released him.

 I got up on the tunnel ledge after a few guys left. My cast was down and across creek. The take was sharp as if the fish was making sure no other fish was going to grab the last minnow in the sea of fish eggs. It took off with a jar and I was able to feel its weighty mass as I tried to hold the rod upright. It continued to tug and jar the line as it darted up and down the waterway. In the tunnel it surfaced with head thrashes splashing water in all directions. Once I got the steelhead out of the tunnel I consciously stepped off the ledge into the water out from the stony bank. From there, while still fighting the husky steelhead, I carefully stepped over the roped steelhead lying around my feet. I backed up as I was getting the steelhead nearer to the bank. The rod arced under its weight as I circled around and landed it on the bank. It wasn’t till about a quarter to 10 that I caught my first steelhead but it was a big one. Its chrome sides shined like new silver spurs.

 

 I landed another smaller steelhead a little later on. When it got to the point the crowd thinned out and not too many fish were being caught I decided it was time for me to go elsewhere. I looked down stream and the line of fishermen had thinned out so I hooked the streamer in the rod hook and headed down yonder.

 There were a few guys fishing deeper runs along the bank. There were also few guys fishing a deeper hole about mid creek. One had just hooked up while the others watched from the stony bank. I took it as they were together and fishing there for some time. They at least had fly rods so I felt a little more accepted with this bunch. The guy who caught the fish followed the catch through the shallower water and they both headed down creek. I asked one of the on lookers if it was ok if I fished the area and they didn’t seem to mind. When the guy who caught the fish returned they all went down creek and I had the big pool to myself. I was able to see dark outlines of the steelhead in a few areas inside the pool and every once in a while I would see one swimming about. I checked over the situation and lit another cigar.
 I came to the conclusion, after showing them many streamers and buggers, that they weren’t interested. I started to show them many colors of sucker spawn and different nymphs and still no takes. I felt like an old time traveling salesman trying to get someone to buy one of my wares. I came to another conclusion those band of fly guys worked those steelhead over real good and they were afraid to bite on anything. I was at a disadvantage again like being at a hoedown without aftershave on and offering artificial flowers to the ladies. I couldn’t convince any to dance. 

 There was a guy with a fly rod up creek fishing a faster run along the bank. He caught three or four steelhead in the fast water. Before he got there I watched one other fly guy fish the same run for about a half hour or so and only caught one that appeared to be foul hooked. I wondered what this guy was using but kept to myself and didn’t ask. I felt I could figure it out for myself. After he left the area and fished down below me I casually waded up creek to the faster run. I was able to see fish moving to and fro in the oncoming current. There appeared to be quite a few and that was only the ones I was able to make out. I heavily weighted a streamer and swam it in front of them but they didn’t want anything to do with it. I finally got to the side and started drifting sucker spawn. I knew using an indicator would move the sucker spawn through the run too fast so I tried without one. Even mending the line upstream as it hit the water didn’t appear to be too impressive. Remembering some tactics, which a friend of mine used in Alaska, I decided to try it out. I knotted on, what I call, a Golden Nugget sucker spawn to the end of my 6lb tippet. Above that a ways I twisted on a lead strip with a small split shot to make sure the unweighted sucker spawn didn’t rise up too far in the current.
 I cast the sucker spawn in the soft spot right behind an exposed boulder breaking the fast current of water. As the sucker spawn tumbled in the current I continued to mend line up creek with the rod high trying to keep the weight from dragging on the bottom to long and possibly getting hung up. I thought I noticed the line not traveling out of the tumbling water as it should have and lifted the rod upward with hook setting force. I felt the rod arc and line tighten and than all hell broke loose. The steelhead tugged like a heavy weight at the sound of a gun that marked the start of a tug of war against an opponent. Than it took off like a wild mustang with a force of a steam engine down stream. All I could do is hold on as the large arbor reel spun and line shot off the spool. I gripped the cork handle tightly with my forearms locked trying to keep the rod shaft up as the tip bowed down creek. The steelhead had lots of room to roam around and took full advantage of the wide section of stream. As I fought the steelhead I slowly backed up towards the bank behind me which was about 40 feet away. After a hesitant stop and go headshake it turned and shot up creek. I reeled in line onto the large arbor while the rod flexed wildly with my winding and the steelhead fighting while swimming. Once it got into the swifter current again it jolted the line in quick intervals before turning right at me from the force of the rod tension. I had it coming towards me reluctantly. When it got to the shallow water and seen me it turned away with force. I couldn’t hold back any longer and palmed the spool as water flung off the wet fly line as the spool spun.
 This is when I start thinking about whether my knots were going to hold up or if the hook is going to let loose. Occasionally I’d glance behind me to make sure I wasn’t going to trip over any big rocks about. I kept the pressure on and never tried to hurry the big fellow in. He began to fight in quick tugs and pulls than fast runs so I was able to get him to cooperate more easily. I got him into the shallows where I was able to grab a hold of him and get him to the bank.

 

 Taking a break from the strenuous battle I took out my last cigar and lit it up. I relaxed and looked around as I puffed on the stogie. 

 

  The sun was out and the air was warm. There were very few people up by the tunnel and down creek I only seen one other fisherman. I checked the sucker spawn to make sure the hook wasn’t bent and went back to fishing. With the same technique I caught two more steelhead and got myself into another couple of good fighting battles with them.
 The bigger steelhead kept me on my toes as it swam nearer to the rocky bank and some of the downed tree branches. I had to keep the line from rubbing against exposed rocks and keep him away from the tangle of limbs. I succeeded and got him to the bank out of harms way.

 

 One of the other steelhead I caught had some jewelry attached in its lips. There was a guy that watched me get it to shore and we double teamed the fish for the operation of removing the extra hardware. After a little coaxing the fish swam off with good energy back across the creek to the deeper water.
 The guy that was catching fish before, in the spot I was now fishing, returned and fished up stream from me. He caught one more fish before he decided to call it quits. He asked me if I wanted the minnows he had left. I was puzzled because he was using a fly rod and I hadn’t noticed the minnows he had. When I asked him if that was what he was catching the steelhead on all that time he said he hooked the minnow on a Woolly Bugger. I told him no thanks and he was about to release the minnows just up creek from where I was fishing. I asked him not to as they would surely swim into the hole I was fishing. He said something about chumming and I tried to politely go along and said if I was fishing streamers I wouldn’t care. He went up creek a piece before he let the minnows go. You just never know!
 I told myself when I finished the cigar I’d quit. As the sun started to cast a shadow over the fast run I was fishing the fish didn’t appear to want to bite anymore. I did find one that took the sucker spawn. We battled it out for a bit and I began to force him towards me from down stream. He had a little more spunk than I anticipated and he ended up getting free. My sucker spawn was still on so I fished a bit longer till my cigar went out.

 On the way back to the van I felt a slight pain in my upper back I’m sure from standing in the water for so long. It was good to exercise my legs as I walked up the path instead of the short steps I take while wading. At the van I took a long drink of cold water and took out a few whole grain snack bars for the way home. I changed clothes and put the rod and reel away before getting into the drivers seat. I had about a two hour drive home and was trying to relax and condition myself for the drive. I had gotten up at 4:15 in the morning and it was now just after 6:00pm. I got to Erie and had been out fishing since about 7:00am. It was a long day indeed.
 After filling up with fuel I headed toward the interstate. I got on I79 and headed south. I found an AM station that had the penguin’s pre game show on. I tilted the captain’s chair back a bit, put down the arm rests and put the van on cruise control. It had been a fun day.

~doubletaper.  

 

Seldom Seen

Seldom Seen
10/13/15

 It’s very seldom I can go to the project area on Oil Creek and be the only one there. Not sure why but when I arrived in the parking area, about 9:00am, the only other vehicle in the lot was a state maintenance truck and he was working on the kids playground area.
 The sky was bright but cloudy and there was a gust of wind now and then. Because of the wind I decided to use my 9’ 4 weight fast action fly rod with weight forward line. While I was putting my waders on the sun was peering out and it looked like it was going to be a fairly nice day so I didn’t wear anything too warm.
 When I got down to the creek I found the water level was lower than I ever seen it. I like fishing the faster riffles but the conditions looked so rocky and shallow I figured I’d be snagging bottom more than fishing.

 I walked the path to where the riffles emptied into the deeper stretch and strung up my rod before entering the water. I knotted on a Woolly Bugger and fished my way as I waded out further in the shin deep to knee deep water. I was about one third across the wide section of the stream when I felt comfortable that the last two thirds looked deep enough to hold a lot of fish. I also felt that, if need be, I could single haul the weight forward line pretty close to the far bank.
 I received a tip a couple of days before that there was a small hatch of Blue Wing Olives and some caddis in the early morning that fish were rising to. I didn’t see any BWO’s anywhere but I did notice a few, very few, caddis about. The current flow was slow and the water was clear enough that a trout wanting a top water meal shouldn’t have any problem seeing it if it could distinguish it from the drifting leaves and such.
 It wasn’t long before I noticed a rise across creek and then another. I didn’t waste any time or have any second thoughts about tying on a dry. The sun was shining at the time so I figured a dark body Elk Hair Caddis would be good to start out with. Though the few caddis I did see were small and a shade darker in the wings I decided to go with a size #14 instead mostly because it would be easier for me to see and I already was fishing with 5x tippet. Also without anyone else being around I figured the trout would be pretty calm and not wary of any fishermen.
 I missed my first trout while I was rolling up my sleeves. I had cast out a short distance and felt warm so I decided to roll up my sleeves. I left the caddis out there drifting and sure enough a trout rose for it. I missed my second trout also. It was my 4th cast near a previous riser. I looked away when I heard another splashing rise down creek a short ways. When I turned back to my dry there was an opening spiral where my fly should have been. I pulled back the line but I knew there was little chance of hooking him. My third miss I had him dead to rights but ended up empty handed. I began to think I would be counting missed trout instead of estimating the caught ones.
 For the first hour the wind was tolerable with only a few gusts. The surface current I was fishing was slow going and further towards the far bank it was slower yet but there appeared to be more risers over there. The sun was out briefly until the gray clouds moved in and the air began to turn colder. I dropped my sleeves and wished I would have put more layers on but I stuck it out. With the breeze and the sun gone I didn’t see any caddis about but a few trout would rise sporadically here and there. With the wind came more leaves on the water. With the clarity of the water and leaves my strategy was to drop my dry within seeing distance, maybe a foot or so, of any risers I spotted. I figured trout should be able to see it fall and be better able to distinguish it from the floating leaves and small debris. Long leader/tippet is a must in low and clear conditions to feeding trout. The trout will look at the first thing that hit’s the water within sight. A fly line smacking the water too close is more apt to scare the fish or distract it from seeing the small offering.
 Taking the wind in consideration I got a good straight line cast out and my caddis fell within a trout’s feeding zone. He took no time at all to swim right up to it and suck it in. I wrist back the rod and the trout jarred on the surface before scurrying about below. There wasn’t any current to speak of for him to take advantage of so I brought him in pretty easily without much of a risky skirmish. My first trout was netted at 9:45am. I lit up a cigar as a just reward.

That’s the way it went for a couple of hours. If I seen a rise I was on it. More than not I got him to rise to my dry and more than not he was fighting a tight line.

 

 

 If I did miss him I’d cast elsewhere and return to pick him off later.

The fights were pretty much the same. They would scurry about for a good running battle. Some more energetic trout would break the water surface in an acrobatic twit and tumble back down with an audible splash.
 Throughout the rest of the day other fishermen would come and go. They left me alone with plenty of room to cast without interfering. I only seen a couple trout the other fishermen caught but even with that no one stuck around long and most of the time I was by myself.

 Nearing noon the sky actually lightened up but brought with it a fine mist of rain. Any splashing rises ceased but I noticed a few trout sipping in the softer water just out from the far bank.
 I had switched to smaller darker winged caddis and was using 6x tippet when the trout were refusing my bigger caddis on 5x. It was a bit harder to see but I was getting less refusals.
 I was keying on the sippers in the slow pool across creek. I figured, by the different spots they were sipping, that there was maybe three different trout.
 I single hauled a long line out towards the sippers. The caddis fell to the water and dimpled the surface. It took patients watching the dry moving slowly atop the water; it was if it wasn’t moving at all. It was in a very visible spot without a leaf around it that a trout surely could see it. My fly line, out in front of me, was beginning to arc with the slightly quicker current. I held onto the cork grip with anticipation and watched the dry intensely not wanting to miss a take. The subtle swirl came without any notice and I pulled back the length of line and felt the line tighten and a wild tug on the other end. The calmer water beyond was now an agitated pool as the trout struggled with the line. With the rod tip flexed outward I brought him towards me alternating the line through my fingers. Nearer to me I took out my net and raised it beneath the struggling trout

 

 My cast was across and down creek a little further but still within the same area as the last. The Caddis fell with a little stronger landing as I had to use a little more force behind my cast to have my line cut through the cross wind. It fell near some fallen leaves but away far enough to be noticed. This time the swirl was unmistakable with a center slurp that I’m sure if I was close enough I would have heard it. I yanked back on this one and the long length of fly line rose out of the water, tightened and I felt a strong tug on the other end. This trout took no time in driving down creek in a hurry. He leaped out of the water in acrobatic fashion and returned with a hearty splash. From there he somehow turned quickly upstream and bolted through the water with the line cutting the surface just behind him. I took in line quickly keeping tension. We battled back and forth and when I had him near he would turn away with enough energy I had to let out some line. He was stubborn and determined to get loose but I wasn’t doing anything forceful that I felt was going to pull the hook from his grip. I finally got him turned towards me and he reluctantly came close enough to the net.

 

After that fight I didn’t notice any more risers for some time. I tried to nymph fish but the wind played havoc on trying to cast tandem nymphs and I kept getting snagged up in the shallow slow current. I decided to try streamer fishing for the time being.

 With a long cast towards the opposite bank the Woolly Bugger plopped through the surface. I was bringing in the slack in the arced line, caused by the wind, when I felt the line tighten after I got the line straightened. I jerked back the rod slightly hoping to dislodge the bugger. When the bugger jerked back it surprised me, for it wasn’t a snag after all. The weighty fish pulled line down creek with force but not with as much speed as the other trout I had caught. It never rose up to the surface but continued to battle beneath. I thought maybe it was a brown trout but I’d been catching enough trout that I felt this wasn’t one. With his strength it was becoming a contest as who was going to win out. I couldn’t remember if I still had 6x for a tippet or 5x at the time so I didn’t force him to me too strenuously. Within eyesight I seen his girthy body and knew I was fighting with a smallmouth. He finally got close enough after a couple of small back and forth skirmishes and I was able to net him.

 

 I stripped buggers and streamers for a while until I seen some risers down creek. I slowly moved from my spot and now I started to chase rising trout as there was no one around to get in my way.

 

 The wind had died down and the water surface got calm. The trout weren’t coming to the surface as often and when they did they didn’t appear to be interested in my caddis offering any more. I switched to a King River Caddis. It was harder to see with its down wing so I had to play vicinity if I didn’t actually see it touch down. I missed a couple of takes but did manage one before I gave up not being able to see it clearly all the time.

 

 The air began to chill a little more as the brightness of the sun, behind the gray clouds, was moving closer towards the hillside. There were still some risers but they wanted nothing to do with my surface caddis any more. The way they were rising was if they were taking emergers but I didn’t see anything coming up out of the water.
 I had a dark bodied elk hair caddis on when I figured I’d try to fish it like a wet fly. I added a small piece of lead strip up from the caddis and went back to fishing.
 I shot the line out across creek and found the caddis still wanted to float. I tip jerked the line towards me and the caddis went under. As the fly line started to arc I took in line trying not to let it get too much slack, the whole time I watched my fly line for any pulls. On the first drift through I thought I had a strike but it could have been the bottom. My next cast was more down and across so there wasn’t as much free line out. This time I felt a hard take and set the hook. The trout aggressively fought trying to free itself. I always felt a trout that took a streamer fought harder than those that took a nymph or dry fly, well this fish was carrying on like that. He came out of the water twice before I got him to the net. The caddis was entirely in its mouth so I took my time and surgically removed it without harming the fish. It swam off in pain I imagine but it did swim off in a hurry.
 I caught one more using the caddis as a wet fly before I decided to call it quits, almost.

 

 I hadn’t caught a trout all day on a bugger. Now, I consider myself a pretty good streamer fisherman as well as good nymph fishermen feel about themselves. So before I actually called it quits I knotted on a Woolly Bugger and gave it a shot.
 Last trout caught a 4:24pm

 When I got to the van a truck had just pulled up and a guy was getting ready to go fishing. I changed clothes while the van warmed up. I was pretty chilled by now and couldn’t wait to get in a warm vehicle. I took a big gulp of water and lit a stogie for the way home before I left the parking lot.
 It was quite an experience having the creek to myself most of the time and catching trout on dry flies on an overcast chilly day in October. I have to say that’s pretty seldom seen around these parts!

 ~doubletaper