The Big Picture

For some it’s still Indian Summer, for others, the snow started to fall, for a lot of us, fishing season is going to be over and the morning frost tells us: Where is your winter gear? You cannot walk in an outdoor store without having winter jumping on you, down jackets, fleece, gloves…and skis. Skis? OMG just watch this film, it’s a BOMB! Get ready, winter’s right at the corner.

Cedar Point

Where are you going to fish next Spring? I’m sure you already have penty of ideas for 2016, but here’s a destination you might want to look at, and it won’t be to break a fishing record (what do we care about fishing records anyways) but just head to Cedar Point and be with the first ones to sit in this  6 record breaking roller, The Valravn!

1. Tallest dive coaster (223 feet)
2. Fastest dive coaster (75 mph)
3. Longest dive coaster (3,415 feet)
4. Most inversions on a dive coaster (three)
5. Longest drop on a dive coaster (214 feet)
6. Highest inversion on a dive coaster (165 feet)

Here’s just a sample, maybe you don’t want to have to many tacos before? Watch FULL SCREEN!

Chili Klaus

Chili KlausHave you ever heard about Chili Klaus? He’s a Danish super gourmet, and he is specialized in chili peppers, his thing is not to eat chilis on his own, but to share the fantastic adventure of eating chilis with his friends and film the whole scene! You thought it was hot today? Check those videos from Chili Klaus, first you’ll see Klaus  sharing a chili, always the world’s hottest one with his friend Truls Svendsen, check what happens! Than he is sharing the hottest chili pepper on earth with singer Michael Charoe who tries to sing “My Way” as Klaus plays  the piano. And last, but not least, the whole Danish National Chamber Orchestra with soloist Erik Heide, conducted by CHili Klaus himself, playing Jacob Gade”s Tango Jalousie, well trying to play! So you thought Denmark had only seatrout and you thought the first heatwave was hot? WHat about trying to eat the hottest chili pepper yourself ?

Kick Out the Jams !

I don’t know what happened, sometimes I wake up and I really need something to set me on a good mood for the day, so I went through my record collection and today I’ve found that! I beleive it is a song full of energy the kind of thing I needed to here to have a nice day. This recording from Kick Out the Jams by MC5 is the Sinclair editing from Detroit’s concert in 1969, I hope you’ll like it, it is dedicated to our friends from Detroit, This is Fly. Paris, Tim, we miss you!  

Summer film: Expencive Porno Movie

Hey hey hey! Summer’s here, the rivers are dry? Here’s to have fun, go surfing! It’s good for the mind and the body, it attracks new friendships and you’ll smell good! If you have any doubt, just watch : Expencive Porno Movie! Shall we shoot the same film for flyfishing to see if it brings more fishermen to our favorit sport?


Soon summer holidays will be knocking at your door, be sure to be ready to take the whole family fihsing! Nothing can stop us on our quest for comfort by the waters.


Le mouching, Fly fishing, toreroThat particular day, fishing was of a deplorable mediocrity.  So I decided to pack my bags and with my usual elegance, climb the little hillock where I had parked my motorcycle.

A couple of tourists were picnicking there. The man, nice looking, was napping on an air mattress that had no air (his snoring drowned out the song of the cicadas), from his left hand dangled an empty bottle of a doctored alcohol.

The woman was posing and taking photos, that annoying habit called taking “selfies”.  She was pouting like the copycat Bridget Bardots of the 60’s and posturing, her stout stature rendered her ridiculous and silly. Read more…

Love for animals.

Le mouching, fly fishing, elevageWe just received the following letter and we couldn’t not publish it.

Dear Mouching,

I take my pen today to write you about my  recent, singular adventure and to humbly ask your advice.

Three years ago today, from an adventurous uncle, I inherited a Trout farm; said trout destined to be consumed by my contemporaries.

I quickly learned the profession which, as you certainly know, is quite simple. Every morning after my breakfast I feed them: I toss buckets of grain of the brand (censured), which are supposed to grow them to a size of: “a portion of trout”. I repeat the operation before the evening aperitif and everyone is content.

Once a year I go the Supermarket U to sell my beasts, pocket my check and pass the evening with Irma, the little whore at Montelimar. Read more…

The Maisonneuve carp.

Le mouching, fly fishing, carpeI was just about to stick my fork into a wing of the Garlic Chicken that my adorable wife had cooked up for me when the telephone rang, it stopped my salivating which had reached the point of escaping my mouth.

“Hello Flèche, it’s your neighbor, Pierre… can you come over in a hurry? It’s a matter of life or death!”

“Be generous with your neighbor, one never knows!”, so goes the Finnish proverb. I quickly put aside the chicken wing not having the courage to battle, at day’s end, with nordic proverbs. Read more…

Anti-nazi catfish.

Le mouching, fly fishing, OderI would bet my right hand that few of you have passed your fishing vacations at Krosno Odrzanskie.

Never the less, if there’s one place in the world of barbares where I would like to wet my line, it is certainly Krosno Odrzanskie and the reason is quite simple.

A river runs through the middle of this charming village, the Oder, to be exact; the river also serves as the border between Germany and Poland. Well that’s nothing to laugh about you might say with a note of impatience in your voice. Just wait a minute my friends, I’m getting there.

Frolicking in this river, besides the charming native blondes, are Catfish that, in terms of size and weight, would make the most obese citizens of Oklahoma seem like anorexic mosquitos. Read more…

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Le mouching, fly fishing, guerreWe live in a period that some already call the “Tragedy of Modern History” and of that, my friends, there is no doubt.

The climate of violence with which we are confronted every day is without equal and borders on absolute horror.

Only a week ago, a convoy of “spoon” fishermen (coming from a country which prudence prevents me from naming) descended the banks of certain rivers and in front of everyone, infants included (who will remain traumatized all their lives!), fished and filled their baskets with an important number of Abelettes, Gardon and Chubs and even Trout (planted, but still…), innocent victims of these monsters. Read more…

Gang war.

Le Mouching, fly fishing, la bataille de San romanoThe night had just started to fall (PAF…BOUM!). A few weak reflections blinked like the bedridden old folks when the priest enters their rooms. And me, I returned with a happy heart after hours of benediction in my dear river.

The fish? Oh… A few, not very fat, but so what. Every minute spent in the water is a minute less spent at the office of le Mouching, far from it’s infernal rhythms.

At the corner of the rue du Marechat Petain and the impasse Maurice Thorez I ran nose to nose, into four shady characters, whom I immediately recognized, thanks to the insignias on their caps: The head of a lion (in very bad taste). Read more…

Fishing for old folks.

Le mouching, fly fishing, mémé“Hello my little Fleche?… It’s me, your Grandma… Listen my little Fleche… I always read your stories in the Mouching… Yes, I really enjoy them… especially the ones that are a little risque’… yes… very well. Listen, you seem to love it so much that I would like that you teach me how to fish with flies… It sounds like a lot of fun… What?… What’s my age got to do with it? Hold on… let’s be polite my little one… Tomorrow? OK, that will be fine, after my siesta I’ll be at your house!”

Well, my dear readers, I have to tell you that the Grandma in question celebrated her 96th birthday last month and that she ignores such numbers, spits on them and that Solange (that’s her name) continues to act like she was 30 years old. Read more…


Le Mouching, fly fishing, SolitaireUsually when I leave my studio to go fishing I’m not very talkative. I’m not exactly a bear, but to clear my head there’s nothing better than to concentrate on casting my fly without making tons of knots and, if you’re half blind like me, to strive to see fish when there are practically none and, finally, to maintain my balance on those dumb rocks that are as slippery as soap from Marseille.

On that day, in the middle of MY river, in MY favorite spot, there was a guy installed; he looked rather amiable, not the kind of show off thinking “look at me, I am the perfectly attired fisherman!”.

I approached the character and discovered that he was using a fly that gave him slim chances of attracting a fish, even a drunk one. Read more…