Angling Companions

I have fished with many companions. Old ones, tired ones, blind, fat, thin, smart, smart-ass, dumb ones, and yet today was still a first. Having failed at my attempt of bribery to pawn off my small children to another caregiver, I was left with the only solution; to bring them along. The only rule I gave them, well two rules: Don't drown and Don't throw rocks in front of Dad. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men. I must say, the stream was wonderful, a bit high, but clear as gin. Ah...gin..that's a story for another day. I had picked the perfect location, one not too far inside the gate (still locked, bless the DWR) and along a nice patch of grass in which the kids could graze.

As I approached the first hole, I false cast to get my line out, and was fast into a fish! Wow, thought I, to the joyous screams and applaud of my seed, I am a pro. Then the wheels fell off.

It was one stumbling, slipping, tree hooking mess after another. All this amid ducking of rocks, and my own feeble curses of, "RULE #2, throw the rocks the BEHIND ME!" I managed to hook just one more trout. I firmly place blame on a lack of concentration. Who can concentrate under the scrutiny of "Dad, how long before you catch a fish", or "Dad, is this poison?" as the 6 yr old places a colored berry in her brothers mouth. My thoughts turned to explaining to their stricken mother of how the drownings were indeed an accident.

Then came my redemption. As I came upon two rising trout, under a labyrinth of branches, I knew this was my time to shine. After breaking off two flies in said branches, and hushing the peanut gallery, I tied on a faithful para-adams, and sneaked within 10 feet of the trout. With the precision of a neuro-surgeon, I placed the fly a full three feet to the right and behind the trout. No matter, he zigged as I held steady, and struck him as he submerged, to the cheers and squeals of my onlookers, Dad, was the hero of the day.

Finography!

Yah, pick your chin up from off the ground. Can you believe this? 29", 17 lbs. Caught up in the Nipigon River system, Labrador. Plane tickets anyone?

Of no moral character/work ethic..

In other words....a damn fine piscator! Thank you boys, I'll take that compliment. Ti's a sad time in a man's life when he crosses out a fishing trip for a meeting, and it's not even December. Things are out of whack.
Twas a good day. As you can see, the stream was a bit high and cloudy, but not enough to stop a good bushy dry from doing it's job. I'll spare you the mercy boys, and tell you straight, it was a damn fine day. Not even a nip from the ole flask would have improved this outing. I fished about 200 yards, gathered in many a trout, even hit the proverbial triple play, if only for the lack of Brookies, she'd had let me score a home run!

The fish gods smiled heartily upon my journey that day. Even the Mrs. gave her parting blessing. (Usually a sure sign of disaster) The type of day that may come but once a year, but more often than not, every other year; when the planets align, bait flingers stay home, and solitudes reigns supreme and every cast is a winner. Of this you will know...I can die a satisfied man, until next time that is.

East meets West

Since both you boys were out here this weekend....no need to wax poetic on what the happenings were, but I still thought I'd post the trips photos and welcome any insight or words you may wish to add. The "on the water days" have been updated for each as well. So enjoy, and dream on till next time.

Tight lines.

I had to post this one of Hans-in-ator sitting in the found lawn chair, reminds me of the Yellowstone days...ahhh.

Hans-i-nator's first time out!

Ok, I’m finally participating. Yes, I may not be the best at words or even the best at anything, but I’ll have the most fishing days in the year of 2007. Mark my words my brothers, Laman and Lemuel, I will lead you to the promised land.
My fishing year begins in the tiny stream of the Big Cotton Wood Canyon. It’s probably the most beautiful stream you will ever fish although the fishing isn’t that great…yet, but it will be as the year progresses. John can attest to its beauty since he has been there with me. And while on the subject of John, I don’t think I’ll take him again since he so easily out fished me that past day. Well, on Saturday 3/17, the water was crystal clear and extremely cold. It was 70 degrees, sunny and calm winds when I got put my waders on at 10AM, just beautiful. I found it very strange to see many people wearing winter attire getting ready to go snow shoeing at the very spot I started fishing. Maybe they thought the same as they gazed at me, with my short sleeve shirt, fishing vest, and speedos. Yes, I had to cross several feet of snow just to get into it water.
I only caught one 11 inch brown trout about half way through my three hour fishing time, so in other words, the fishing was fantastic. I caught him on the first cast after replacing my favorite fly, the Orange Stimulator, with a Pheasant tail nymph. I’m still paying my debt to the fish gods for stealing flies from Wal-Mart so many years ago. As John pointed out to me when we talked later that afternoon on the phone, I have no evidence of my fishing excursion. So, you’ll have to rely on my word alone. I’m an honest man, honest.
Please understand why I’ll have the most fishing days this year. This little fishing spot is only a short 15 minutes from my office cubicle, and since it’s in the heart of skiing territory, I get great cell reception. I can just work right from the stream boys. On top of that, I don’t have to do any “honey-do’s” to make up for it. So don’t feel taken aback if I eventually lead you all on this year’s journey although I know you both will catch more fish than I.

St. Patty's day fishing

OK, OK, I admit I was not thinking the other day....but no harm done..it was correctable. But just think...some "kiss and tell" fool has given us many nice streams..ie..gooseberry (not that great anymore, so I will mention it) and of course our beloved "BS". So I ask, where would we be without a few kiss and tellers? Right O.
I took off on Saturday..up left hand fork..I knew there would be many "heathens" running around flinging bait to and fro, but knowing the gate was still locked, I brought the old bicycle along. I rode in a few miles..passing all the lesser and bi-peddle fisherman en route to clear virgin water. I tell ya brothers..there's nothing like fishing "new" water that has yet to be sullied by the hoards that descend upon water that has a road running stream side. I caught many, many fish...they were rising here and there, all browns. Had an excellent day, minus the fact that I stumbled miserably due to having no felt on the bottom of my wading boots. Tis time to replace that 15 year old pair. Cabelas here I come.

DO YOU HAVE A PERSCRIPTION OF IDIOT PILLS

OK, little brother who has repeatedly chided me for my spousal fauxpas.. do you realize that you have just become the worse of all fisherman- the kiss and tell- worse, the kiss and publish fisherman. From your last post, any reasonably intelligent piscator (granted, there are precious few who fit that description) can now deduce the location of the beloved cane based sweeter stream we are so fond of (some more fond than others). I can certainly understand your horror and subsequent relief and that such a poignant episode my cause you temporary insanity, but you have made the GREATEST BLUNDER OF ALL! Poisoning would be a welcome relief compared to standing shoulder to shoulder with worm throwing plunkers intent on pilaging and robbing the virtue of your dainty delight!