I don't often write a technical column. It's not the sort of writing I most enjoy reading and there's already enough of that kind of thing in other periodicals. But every now and then certain technical matters become just too important to ignore. The subject of weights and measures involves such topics, and this month's column will address two of them.
Many people mistakenly believe Einstein was the first to observe that the length and mass of an object change with respect to time and motion. The truth of the matter is this phenomenon had already been observed by fishermen.
Here's a typical example: In one of his many books fishing writer, Ernest Schwiebert, wrote about a "twelve-or thirteen pound" trout caught by his guide, George Kelly, in Montana.
"That trout was a damn big one alright," George told me, a short while after the book came out, over a heaping plate of onion rings at Polly's in Fort Smith, "but more like six pounds."
Clearly, the change in weight was a result of the effects we've been discussing.
I've witnessed the same phenomenon with my own fishing clients, many of whom travel a fair distance to get here and often fly home after their fish have been caught and released. Invariably, the trout they've caught put on both weight and length in the process.
"Yep, Steve, that big rainbow we took out of Last Chance last June was a doozey! Twenty-six inches as I recall, musta gone near eight pounds . . ."
Near as I recall, it was closer to 19 inches and maybe a shade over 2 pounds.
Einstein predicted that changes in mass and length would increase with the rate of speed, but data gathered by fishing guides fails to confirm this. Clients' trout grow in roughly equal proportion over time however they travel. Those flying and those driving report similar rates of change.
Clearly, more study is indicated.
Moving on to another matter . . .
It is customary to name a unit of measure after a scientist who has made a significant contribution in the field. This is done whether or not we already have a perfectly good name. Let's take the unit of frequency for example. Up until the middle of the last century, we measured frequency in something called cycles per second. This unit was more than just serviceable, it was descriptive; apparently, serviceable and descriptive are not good enough. The name was changed to Hertz in order to honor the scientist, Heinrich Rudolph Hertz, who was the first to measure the frequency with which traveling anglers rent cars. Another unit, the Avis, measures the proportion of those cars that turn out to be clunkers.
Until now, no scientist's name has been applied to the measure of volume as it pertains to the space occupied by a sportsperson's gear when stowed in a truck or SUV. For years we have been using the perfectly serviceable and descriptive unit, cubic feet. As we have already seen, serviceable and descriptive are not good enough. I would like to propose that we rename this unit of measure the Harrington, after the contemporary researcher, Dr. Roberto Harrington, who has done the most to determine the upper limits of this quantity.
A full description of his extraordinary work in this field would take forever, so I'll limit myself to one experiment - while this particular episode does not relate specifically to angling (the paraphernalia in this incident involve a pheasant and quail hunting trip), the scientific principles remain the same.
Last fall, I drove over to Dr. Harrington's place already loaded up with two bird dogs, all their stuff, plus my own gear. A pre-trip check of the likely weather indicated it would be mild, but I threw in a warm coat, just in case. My equipment, the dogs and all their things occupied about a fourth of the space in my spacious Dodge Durango.
Several years earlier, we'd made the same trip and frozen our asses off. Always one to follow the Boy Scout motto - Be Prepared! - Dr. Harrington had packed enough warm clothing for a trip to the arctic. And, not wanting to be without a gun for any situation, he brought eight shotguns, side-by-sides, over-unders and autoloaders in gauges ranging from 8 to 34, plus a .30/06 with a 3-9X scope.
As he put it, "You never know . . ."
I didn't see how the hell we would ever get it all into the car. Roberto assured me that it was perfectly normal to pack a large stuff sack under the driver's legs - and with gear filling every inch of available space, with duffels stacked to the ceiling, off we went.
Again, in the scientist's own words: "What, you'd waste all that space?"
The temperature during our hunt was in the nineties.
We've already explained that contemporary measurement, especially for hunters and fishermen, conforms to the laws of relativity and the proposed Harrington is no exception. No matter the size of the vehicle, 1 Harrington is always equal to just a little more stuff than you thought you could possibly squeeze in.
I know Roberto will accept this honor with his typical grace and humility, and continue to push the boundaries in this exciting field.
Steve Meyers is the author of On Seeing Nature, Lime Creek Odyssey, Streamside Reflections, The Nature of Flyfishing, Notes from the San Juans and San Juan River Chronicle.