Fly Fishing

See that grin. Totally Andrews fault...

I blame Andrew Bennett of course.

Him and his Deneki Lodge in the Bahamas. Since the March FIBFEST, all I’ve had is bonefish on the brain.

Lesson learned: If you start your fin follower season off on an extremely high note, the rest of the year is bound to make you feel like an unaccomplished angler.

I spent the whole of the summer chucking line and chasing tail while driving several thousand miles looking for mystic waters that weren’t flooded or blown out. I was on the hunt for flowing waters that were gin clear.

Mostly I just saw a lot of un-fishable waters and beat up road signs.

Word of advice: If you take the time to visit the Campbell River on Vancouver Island...bring a boat. That sh*t isn't wade-able...

I’ll be honest here and admit, for awhile this summer I wasn’t feeling exactly fly fishilicious. As a rainbow chaser, I was having trouble locating the bigerrfish and more often then I’d like to admit, I was battling  windknots & tangled lines. I had a bad backcast and an empty net. It was one of those kinds of summers…

Frustrations made it difficult to put fly to water and my thoughts started drifting to new locations, like fishing the rockies or heading south for some Arizona wanderings.

The radical idea of switching pursuits surfaced from time to time, things like,  ‘ Fly-Carpin! I should try carp on the fly because Michael Gracie likes it and if Mikey likes it everyone will like it”…

Of course, other not so compleat thoughts would surface. The mind is a mysteries internal after all and nothing brings forth the good stuff faster then a slow day on the river.

For example:

Fish Not Present: Well this gives a whole new meaning to The Trout Underground

Questions: I wonder if there is an actual  fiberglass manifesto  that one could read.

Agreement: I hear you mike’s gone fishin’…again, me too.

Possibilities: If I could send my own dispatches from the middle river, it would be a form of S.O.S

Wonder:: Owl Jones is in Montana today. I wonder if he’s going to sing for all the guys around the campfire.

Career Choices: I could be a Fishing Poet:  There once was a fish named trout. He filled my mind with doubt…

Deals: I hereby swear, if I catch a fish in the next hour, I pledge to Eat More Brook Trout.

After thoughts: If only I could find a salvelinus fontinalis rising that is…

Thinking of....Trout? Confectioness Candy Canes?

I know, you don’t even have to say it…the above makes me one of those slightly functioning fishaholics with a good dose of fly fishing crazy.

Anyway, some good things have happened this year. For one, I finally replaced my leaky waders with new ones.

So I’ve been dry while frothing around in the water. A legit upgrade if I may so say myself.

And then late August finally came and I went back home to toss a few dream cast Idaho flies. They say home is where the heart is and I finally found my groove. There’s nothing like finding fish leisurely sipping emergers or seeing a river damsel fly floating by and the fish grabbing the fly patterns you’ve picked.

Troutrageous!

By the way: I think there should be a new mantra that replaces the old saying, Fish On!

I tested out the shouting of troutrageous!  a couple of times and let me tell you. It totally works on an excitement level.

I’ve got lots of fodder for the catching chronicles of my personal blogging here. I just need to work on my time management.

You have to admit, floggin’ water and participating in the lunker hunt takes the priority when one has a few spare moments. I guess I could also put a little blame on the OBN. You know, that other site I blog 5 times a week in ~

A good day on the river...

P.S. I forgive Andrew, of course

P.P.S. For the two poetic confectioners, this ball of cotton candy is dedicated to YOU.

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