March 2020 Skinny Water Charters Newsletter

Gentlemen and Ladies... Start your engines! Well, not quite yet, but we are getting closer to the northeast fishing season reopening. The weather has been very cooperative, lots of sunny days and warm temperatures are warming our ocean and bay waters. I am predicting a solid influx of striped bass in early April, perhaps as much as a couple of weeks earlier than the norm.

My boats are still covered but I expect to open them up in another week to ten days and start the process of cleaning, polishing, and waxing the hulls, installing and recharging starter and trolling motor batteries, greasing trailer wheel bearings... the list goes on and I'm getting tired just thinking about the prep work ahead.

This month's newsletter includes the following articles:
  • Worm Hatch Update
  • Striped bass arrival prediction and water temperature charts
  • SpeyRI Scandi Two-Hand fly casting clinic
  • My new association with Temple Fork Outfitters
  • Overview of the Newport area waters Sand Eel emergence
  • A brush I had with a Taliban fighter
  • This month's featured fly pattern, and lastly
  • A "not so" short story on Mayflies and Ghosts

I'm writing this newsletter in the Newport Public Library because their internet speed is very fast and I don't have to suffer from lousy broadband service at the house. We had the technicians from Verizon out a couple of weeks ago trying to improve our speed but you can only push so much water through a narrow hose... pretty bad, but fortunately the library is close by and it provides a comfortable environment tin which to write. Being in a public place like the library isn't without risk now that the Coronavirus is ramping up all over the country, however I do bring my trusty bottle of Purell, and it's very obvious that the library staff is taking extra precautions in sanitizing the environment. As soon as someone leaves a work table or chair, the maintenance folks are all over those areas spraying disinfectant and wiping down surfaces in an effort to stay ahead of this pandemic.
** An announcement worth mentioning is a revised striped bass fishing regulation adopted by Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut and New York. The 2020 recreational fishing regulation for striped bass will be 1 fish per person/day measuring between 28" to <35". This new regulation is designed to help preserve the larger female brood stock in an effort to continue rebuilding the fishery. Prior to this regulation, recreational anglers were allowed 1 fish per person/day as long as that fish was 28" and longer.
The prior and revised regulation does not affect Skinny Water Charters as I have been Catch & Release for all striped bass for six years, now entering my seventh.

Also of note are new regulations affecting the harvest of Bluefish. Beginning this season anglers fishing from shore or a private boat are allowed only 3 Bluefish per day. Anglers fishing from charter boats are permitted to harvest 5 fish per day. There is no minimum size for Bluefish. Regulations prior to 2020 allowed anglers to harvest 15 Bluefish per day! So after too many years of essentially no management of the Bluefish stock, fisheries regulators have finally realized that Bluefish are also in peril from overfishing now requiring drastic conservation efforts.

I hope you enjoy the newsletter. Tight Lines!

Capt. Jim Barr
2020 Cinder Worm Hatch Booked
This is a record year in terms of booking my spring charters. As of last week I had booked every May and June date from May 13 to June 9. We've had a very easy winter and although technically not yet spring, we have lots of flowers popping up all over Newport and the grass is greening up quickly. On my daily (well almost daily) long distance walks I have to be careful not to inhale clouds of Chironomids that are standing fresh water. Chironomids (or midges) are a favorite trout insect. So in preparation for completing 27 charters in a row I have been out most days pounding the pavement, fast walking about 6 miles at a clip trying to drop some winter weight, improve my cardio profile and run down loose dogs, squirrels and early season tourists.

Water temperatures are key to the migration of striped bass, both in the spring and in the fall. The start of the northerly striper migration varies from year to year in part predicated on water temperature. Typically in Rhode Island we will see the first of the migrating fish in early April, these will be the small fish and in short order we start to see bigger schools of larger fish arriving in our near shore waters and in our salt ponds.

The winter of 2012 was a very warm winter, much like 2019/2020 is proving to be, but it was a bit warmer in each month. In April of 2012 we had very warm water in our salt ponds producing excellent worm emergences beginning mid-month and by the end of the third week we were seeing big blooms of cinder worms and nice size bass taking them.

So, I like to use 2012 as a benchmark and typically record water temps beginning in February and throughout March and April, comparing them to the benchmark year. It may be a bit difficult to see the Excel spreadsheets to the left (you may have to pinch-widen the spreadsheet if you reading this on your handheld), but it documents water temps at similar points in time since 2012 through the current year-to-date. The lower chart compares 2020 (yellow) to 2012 (green) for the key ocean and Narragansett Bay weather buoys with the 2012 temperatures approximately two weeks later than 2020.

So what does all this mean you ask?
I'd like to think we are on-track for another 2012 if we continue to get lots of sunny days. Again, the key water temp for the cinder worm hatch is the water inside our salt ponds, I like 55F. These ponds, principally Pt. Judith (it's north end), Ninigret, Quonochontaug and Potter do not have huge tidal exchanges so therefore experience only minor cooling from ocean waters. Because they are shallow, many with muddy bottom structure, they heat up quickly and hold their temperatures.

So, we'll see. I will start frequent reconnaissance of Ninigret Pond beginning in late April in prep for my May charters.
Ideally we want the migrating stripers to arrive as the cinder worms start to emerge, and with very few anglers on the pond in the early weeks of May... we can have some spectacular sight fishing for striped bass.

Nerdy I know, but fun stuff just the same!
Scandi 101
Two- Handed (Spey) Fly Casting Clinic
In the January issue of this newsletter I announced that SpeyRI would be holding a two-hand casting clinic in April. Typically we hold two of these classes each season (beginner to low intermediate, and intermediate to advanced) and we limit attendance to ten, thereby keeping the instructor to student ratio about right. I team-up with Craig Buckbee and John Bilotta, two of the very best two-hand fly casting instructors in the country. All of us are certified fly casting instructors with Fly Fishers International. Craig and John are Master Casting Instructors and John is certified in two-hand casting instruction (THCI), and Craig is preparing to take the THCI certification exam. I don't get into the instruction part but rather administer the school, make the food (note cooler above stocked with goodies), and generally serve as the sherpa for the day.

Our April 18th class has one opening, and we would love to fill it. All rods, reels and fly lines are provided, however students are encouraged to bring their own two-hand rods that are 12.5 feet and longer. Please also bring long leaders (traditional Nylon or floating Poly leaders)
** Please do not bring Switch rods

The following casts will be taught (in addition to angle changes, D-loops size and shapes, and handling running line for the more advanced casters.)
  • Basics/ Roll Cast
  • Snake Roll
  • Single Spey
Craig Buckbee
Master Casting Instructor
Craig is a licensed guide in NY and PA. He enjoys the dichotomy between upstate and city - teaching year round, in NY's Central Park and on Catskill waters. He is a National tournament medal winner with the American Casting Association, and a Pennsylvania Fly Casting champion and is an instructor at the Wulff School of Fly Fishing. Recently he has been spending time abroad, interviewing fish in Argentina, Kiribati and Greenland. Craig is on the HMH Vise Pro team, and on Industry Guide programs of several other fine gear manufacturers.

John Bilotta
Master Casting Instructor, and
Certified Two-Hand Casting Instructor
John hosts domestic and international trips through his Georgetown Fly Fishing Company
and teaches throughout the year, mentoring and examining other instructors.

Temple Fork Outfitters- Pro Staff Addition
On a budget but need to upgrade? The Pro ll series of fly rods are the work horses of many guides and professionals - not only because they are a pleasure to fish, but also for their exceptional price. This medium-fast action series spans from a delicate 2 weight for high mountain streams all the way up to a 10 wt for saltwater flats. Cast one at your local TFO dealer, and find out more using the following link:

I am pleased to announce that I have recently joined the Pro Staff of Temple Fork Outfitters of Dallas, TX.

TFO manufactures a wide array of conventional, single and two-hand fly rods, reels and accessories, all at excellent price points and with very high quality.

I own a number of their older/vintage fly rods and they have been some of my favorites. I'm excited to now be part of their Pro Staff so that I can add a few of their newest rods (fly and light tackle) to my inventory for my charter guests.

For my 2020 charters I will have on-board two of TFO's newest flagship fly rods, the Axiom II-X in an 8 and 9 weight. If you cast these rods and like them TFO has a very large dealer network where you can purchase them and try others in both fly, spin and conventional casting formats.

The local dealer to Newport is The Saltwater Edge
and in Taunton, MA, the Bears Den Fly Fishing Company ( / )

For more information on TFO follow this link:

Sand Eel Emergence- Newport Harbor- June
June is sand eel month in Newport area waters and in particular the waters inside Newport Harbor. It's a little known fishery (except by the locals) but it's nearly as much fun as fishing the cinder worm hatch in our salt ponds. It doesn't draw much notoriety because it's an evening and night time venue and a lot of anglers just don't like to fish in darkness. That's really a shame because during the low and no light hours is when striped bass prefer to feed.

I won't go into the details on the wade fishing options (of which there are many) because the areas that provide the best access for the wading angler are fairly restricted in terms of space.

We don't have restricted access issues when fishing from a boat however, we basically can fish the entire harbor and have it to ourselves. But, like I say, it's nighttime angling and most anglers prefer to fish in daylight and be with friends and family in the dark hours.

Let me describe how a typical evening of sand eel fishing plays out.

It starts with me meeting my charter guests at the boat ramp in Ft. Adams State Park in Newport Harbor just as it's getting dark, say about 8pm. I tour areas of the harbor very slowly in my Mako 2201 Bay Boat and orient my guests to those areas we will fish, what fly patterns we will use on our floating fly lines (or light tackle zip guns). We get our head lamps secured and await the sunset.

Typically there is plenty of ambient light in the sky, particularly if it's a clear night and better still if we have a moon showing, and even better still on those evenings closer to a full moon. What little boat traffic there is in the harbor amounts to small dinghy's motoring slowly to moored sailboats, or the harbor shuttle ferrying people to and from their boats from the waterfront bars and restaurants.

Once it's dark, we will begin to see the rise forms of striped bass breaking the surface taking sand eels. (They really aren't eels, they are very thin elongated baitfish. See the photo to the left of the natural and several of the fly patterns I use to imitate the natural.)

The frequency of rising fish very near the boat and all the way into the shoreline is amazing. The typical casts are 20 to 40 feet. We use floating fly lines with a slow retrieve and we hook into stripers from trout size to 40 inch fish with the average in the low 20 inch range.

This is pretty much a nightly event and continues through the evening irrespective of tide and breeze, and as an added feature, we are fishing to pretty good music coming from the outdoor patios of the bars on Thames Street. What's not to like about all of this?.... well, for some, it's the fact that it's dark. A normal charter will run about four hours, say from 8 pm to midnight (or shorter if you desire). If you haven't experienced an evening sand eel emergence you should consider adding it to your bucket list.
My Brush with the Taliban
In 2010 I was trekking in Pakistan in the foothills of the Karakoram, in search of a particularly rare strain of native trout. I know, I know... a dumb and very dangerous part of the world, but hey- I Iike to catch other varieties of trout.

Suddenly and without warning I was surrounded by mountain tribesmen brandishing Kalishnikov rifles and long curved knives. One particularly nasty looking guy dressed in dirty bed sheets, and wearing a black hoody, grabbed me by the hair, pulled my head back and held a knife to my throat.

In hardly discernible English he asked: "Fly or Spin?" ...

Naturally I responded: "Fly!" , and showed him my fly box.

He responded: "OK, have a nice day!" Whew!
I thank Allah that I was packing my Osama Bin Landen Crease Fly, which at the time didn't have the rifle scope bull's eye painted on his forehead!
 Featured Fly Pattern
 Burrowing Sand Eel
Some of the best places to flyfish in the saltwater are spots that are not far from where I live. A couple of my favorite spots are two salt ponds each with large flats areas on the inside corners adjacent to breachways. These locations have significant sand eel activity, and as darkness falls, become active shallow water striper haunts.

What is revolutionary about the Burrowing Sand Eel fly pattern is the use of a dumbbell weight that positions the fly on the sandy bottom at a 45-degree. Henry Cowen, the developer remarks...“ This is the moment when sand eels are most vulnerable, and stripers love to take advantage of it by either sucking the sand eels out as they begin to burrow, or by shoveling them out with their snout just as a redfish uproots crabs .”

The Burrowing Sand Eel is a ticket to great fishing in these shallow water environments, when the stripers are feeding on sand eels that have not yet gathered at the higher levels of the water column. I just wish that Henry Cowen of Gainesville, Georgia, had published it earlier. Henry is a professional guide and fly tyer, and sells his saltwater flies to Umpqua and Orvis.
Hook: Size 1 Gamakatsu SC15
Thread: Clear monofilament .006 (fine)
Wing: Olive Polar Fibre
Belly: White Polar Fibre
Flash: Silver prismatic
Head: White E-Z-Body braid, size small
Eyes: Size 1.5 silver-and-black prismatic stick-on
Weight: Size 6/32 black-nickel dumbbells
Epoxy: Devcon 5 minute
Note: If you wish to cover the exposed hook shank,
         use a layer of white flat waxed thread between
         the hook eye and the lead dumbbell
Ghosts and Mayflies
Long before becoming a fishing guide I used to fish freshwater, almost exclusively. Mostly for trout, but for largemouth bass and other warm water species, and mostly with a fly rod. I preferred to fish by myself, not because I was antisocial but because I enjoyed the solitude, probably not unlike many other fly anglers. There was just something about being in the woods by myself as I often bushwacked to remote waters in search of not only the peace these environs offered but also because I liked to fish water that didn't get much angling pressure. It was always an adventure, I loved adventure and still do.

As a kid we lived in the country, often near a stream or lake, and in the 50's and 60's my parents thought nothing of letting me go off for the day to fish, hunt woodchucks with my .22 caliber rifle, trap muskrats and search for arrowheads. Things were a lot different then than today. These days it seems there are just so many wackos that steal children, molest them, or the kids themselves find getting into trouble way too easy. Trust has been compromised.

My childhood days of ranging far and wide from the house on these sometimes day-long excursions carried forward into my 40's and 50's. On the backside of business trips I would often solo backpack with my flyrod into some prettty wild-ass places, most often in the mountains of northern and southern California, Colorado, Wyoming and New Mexico.
I thought nothing of being in the backcountry and solo for upwards of a week at a time.

I often encountered some weird things when alone for days on end. Let's not call them ghosts, instead I'll call them apparitions or spirits. At times they were clearly visible, other encounters were more like a "presence". No, I wasn't dehydrated and experiencing hallucinations (the halluncinations were mostly in my college days, and I'm not going there.) These were different and left an other worldly kind of impression. Never were they scarey per se, but all of them stopped me dead in my tracks, sent chills up my spine and caused the hair on my arms and neck to spring up.

My very first encounter:
My mother's family owned a ranch in the foothills of the Bighorn Mountains in Wyoming. My family would travel there every summer. My father would return to Ohio after two weeks to return to work. My mother, brother and me would stay for a couple of months until my father returned to bring us all home in time for the start of school. The McCormack's were a big family, my mother being the oldest of five children, the youngest being my aunt Jeanne, who at the time of this story had just graduated from high school. Jeanne loved to fish and she often took me with her during that summer of 1955. There was a small stream that wound through my grandfather's property that he used to pull water from with a pump tractor to irrigate his alfalfa fields. That muddy stream which was not much more than an irrigation ditch was loaded with trout- rainbows and browns. We used worms that aunt Jeanne would dig from the cutbank at the streams edge and we would use broken sticks tied onto fishing line as bobbers to keep the hook from snagging on sunken brush, barbed wire and pieces of discarded farm equipment that created a peculiar kind of cover (almost urban) for trout. The rods we used were $5 fiberglass specials bought at the feed store in Story, the next town over from Banner where the ranch was. It was pretty basic fishing but we caught big trout! Jeanne knew that stream like the back of her hand. When not doing chores, riding fences and taming horses, she was fishing, and always by herself.

Later that summer after my family returned to our home in Ohio my aunt was competing for the rodeo queen title in Sheridan, Wyoming when she was thrown off her horse and killed, as my grandparents watched from the grandstand. I was seven years old when I watched my mother melt after she took that fateful phone call from her father who broke the news.

The following summer my family again vacationed on the ranch. In the interim from when Jeanne died and when we arrved that following summer, my grandfather had built a small shrine in the backyard of the ranch house where he and my grandmother would often sit and reflect on their lost daughter. It was all very sad.

One day I asked my mother if I could go down to the creek to fish. She was apparently confident that I knew how to get around down there so she let me go off by myself. It was while I was on that stream that day that I saw my aunt, as clear as day, just upstream from me, fishing by herself. I ran back to the house and told my mother what had happened and as you might guess, she didn't believe me.

My grandfather was a tough son-of-a bitch, a US Army infantry veteran in WW1 who fought in the Argonne Forest). He was a no nonsense guy who by day milked cows by hand, mended wire fences, rolled his own cigarettes while driving his tractor, and irrigated his fields with a shovel. He was the original Marlboro Man. But after dinner he would sit in his overstuffed chair and play his violin, a nightly ritual before bedtime. I could only imagine the things that played through his memory as he sat in that chair most every night deep in thought as he played his music. Although his exterior was rough, battle scarred, plagued by advancing arthritis, and sunburned from hours in the fields, he had a heart of gold I think and was always very good to me, and he was approachable.

I told him about seeing Jeanne down on the stream earlier that day, and I braced myself for his response. He looked me square in the eye, smiled and told me that he and my grandmother saw her all the time.

This was my first encounter, but over my life I have had many others, some with my deceased parents and others with strangers, many times while on my solo adventure s.

Don’t call me crazy, call me blessed.
It's now mid-July of 1994, the peak month for fishing the Hexagenia Limbata mayfly hatch on the Wood River, a gorgeous sixteen-mile serpentine trout stream situated in southwestern Rhode Island. The Hex hatch brings out the biggest trout that make this stream their home, and it also brings out the most diehard Rhode Island and nearby Connecticut fly anglers. The downside (considered by some anglers) is that the emergence of these giant mayflies (also referred to as the Giant Michigan Mayfly) doesn' t get going until about 8:30pm. You can catch the big trout during the nymph stage but the real fun is fishing the hatch as the mayflies emerge onto the surface, and dry their wings in what's called the Dun stage.

The Wood River is relatively small water and it's at the Barberville Dam (see photo) where I would start my adventure. In order to get to one of the prime spots to fish the emergence from a canoe (particularlly on a weekend evening)- one has to get on the water considerably before dark to stake out the water you intend to fish.
Whenever I fish this water from a canoe, I want to do it solo, there just isn't adequate room for two anglers both casting fly rods, particularly on this narrow stream lined with heavy brush and overhanging trees. Casting needs to be accurate and quiet as the trout are very spooky as the hatch begins. They become less so as the evening progresses into complete darkness. During a pitch black night when the mayflies are flying into your eyes, ears and mouth and the trout are smacking the surface, casts need only be 15 feet or less. Leaders on your floating line are only 3 feet long and once darkness falls you don't ever see the take, but when you hear a trout smack the surface and you think that noise is near where you think your fly is floating, you pick up and some of the time there's a connection and you're off to the races.
As I noted in an earlier article most anglers don't like to fish in the dark, they feel intimidated, and when fishing from a canoe, in the woods, in complete darkness where you literally cannot see your hands in front of your face, being comfortable in these environs comes as a result of experience, confidence and time on the water.

It's a weeknight, very muggy, a heavy cloud cover, and there's light rain in the forecast. Perfect. I'll have the river and the trout all to myself. I pack two short fly rods, a box of Hex patterns, a head lamp, a bottle of bug dope, a rain jacket, a life preserver, a small anchor, a length of rope, two paddles and I strap down my canoe on the roof of my 4-Runner and I'm headed for the Barberville Dam. These days there is a parking lot at the dam large enough for a few cars requiring only a short carry across a lawn onto a dock where you drop your canoe and load it with your gear. In 1994 you parked your car down aways from the stream and just off the road. You then hoisted the canoe onto your shouders and carried it 100 yards through heavy woods, dense brush and over a stone wall to finally get to the water's edge just above the dam. Then you returned to the truck to get your gear. You did all of this while it was still light when you were launching, but on the return trip after fishing, it's completely dark and being so close to the dam, the pucker factor sets in as you carefully land the boat, and then haul it up the embankment after which you remove all the gear and start ferrying it back through the woods to the car. A pain in the arse, but typically well worth the effort if you've caught some nice trout.

It was well past midnight when I decided I'd had enough. I had been eaten alive by mosquitoes, and was beat but had caught some memorable rainbows and browns. It was now starting to drizzle, a breeze was picking up scattering the mosquitoes and in the distance I could hear the rumble of thunder, sure signs of a gathering storm. Clearly it was time to go as I had several miles of downstream paddling to get to the takeout at the dam. There were no other boats or people on the river, no lights in any of the remote cabins, just the sound of thunder as a cold front approached from the west.
I strapped on the life preserver, turned off the headlamp to regain what little night vision there was and started to paddle downstream.
Halfway through the return to the dam, the wind picked up significantly and the frequency and proximity of the lightning strikes increased. Clearly I should have left earlier but I was in it now and just needed to be careful to not overturn. I paddled close to the bank so if I did capsize I could probably wade to shore but would likely lose my fly rods in the process. The going was difficult as the wind was gusting and blowing the canoe off course but in time I started hearing the water going over the dam, I was getting close but now my concern was overshooting the takeout and going over the dam.

I switched the headlamp on and studied the shoreline for the takeout, as I continued to gently paddle now getting very close to the dam. At last, there was the spot, a three foot apron of sand, just below a muskrat den opening, next to a big oak tree at the water's edge. I put the canoe broadside to the embankment, stepped out and grabbed a low branch with one hand while holding the painter tied to the canoe with the other. Terra Firma!

In short order I pulled the canoe up the embankment being careful to not dip the stern into the water. It was now raining hard but I could have cared less. I might as well been in my living room. It was a successful fishing outing and a great adventure. I packed up all my gear and made my way back though the woods, over wet and exposed tree roots, over the knee high stone wall, through the heavy brush to the truck. Now the canoe.
Back through the jungle to the canoe. I reoriented the 16 foot canoe around some trees and hoisted it onto my shoulders. My headlamp was slightly askew so I didn't see the exposed tree roots. I tripped on a root, but was able to momentarily keep my balance as I was being pitched forward by my momentum. My left shin struck a small boulder, the canoe lurched to the right and as I fell hard to the ground with the canoe on my back, with the carrying yoke pinning my neck and head to ground. My right cheek got jammed into the dirt and gravel, my arms were ahead of my body and wedged between the stern seat and sole of the canoe. Pain coursed through my entire body, I was under the boat and I could not move. My headlamp was now focused on the dirt just ahead of my eyes as I watched a procession of red ants, not five inches from my face carrying leaf matter back to a hole in the ground. (Despite the pain I found that rather interesting actually). I was probably in that position for five minutes which seemed like an eternity. I tried several times to move my arms, to reposition them and try and push the boat off my back, but I could not free them. I felt powerless. The pain still raged in my legs, arms and back. I wasn't paralyzed but I was completely immobile. There was no sense in crying out for help, after all it was probably 1am and it was raining and still thundering and lightning.

I tried a third time to get the boat off my back but it wasn't going to happen. I lay in the dirt for probably another five minutes and tried once more, but this time it was different.
I know that it wasn't my power that allowed me to get free, it was like something magical had just happened. The boat was featherlight, I easilly rolled the canoe away from me and was able to very slowly gather some strength, so I could get onto my knees. Immediately in front of me was a tree, maybe 18" in diameter. While on my knees I hugged the tree to steady myself as I slowly pulled myself up the trunk. As I was almost standing erect, not five inches from my face was a large see-through plastic envelope nailed to the tree that came into view that contained a photograph of two guys smiling at me. It startled me and I pushed away from the tree and as I did so I could see an array of multi-colored plastic flowers that bordered their photograph, along with a cross and an inscription, and with my headlamp now aligned properly I could see that this was a memorial to two guys who died just months before in a canoe drowning accident at the dam.
Chills shot up and down my spine. I wasn't frightened, just taken aback by all that had just occured. I later learned about their accident.

The following is an excerpt from American Whitewater, a non-profit organization that reported what had happened to these fellows, who in the
(not the actual tree)

strange ways of life and death may very well have helped me that fateful night.

Wood River near Acadia, Rhode Island: March 26, 1994
SUMMARY: On Saturday, March 26th tragedy struck a group of paddlers on their annual canoe trip down the Wood River in Rhode Island. Domenic Valleta was killed when he got caught in the hydraulic at the base of Barberville Dam. In the rescue attempt Paul Valliere was also killed and a third man was hospitalized.
DESCRIPTION: The Wood River is a local moving-water stream popular with Rhode Island paddlers. It was swollen from recent snowmelt and rains. this river trip was an annual event for the six men who survived; for the two victims it was their first run. Both men had some paddling experience and were wearing life vests when the incident occurred.

Don’t call me crazy, call me blessed
Fly Fishing Quote
I hope this newsletter was fun and perhaps contained information of interest to you, and again I welcome input for future topics you may be interested in knowing more about.

Sorry for any misspelled words and lousy sentence structure. I try!

Newsletters are produced whenever I can find the time. An archive of prior issues can be found on my website.
My best, and I hope to see you on the water.
Capt. Jim Barr
Skinny Water Charters