El Paskador hosts the Trout Bums and the Roll Cast crew and lives to tell about it....barely.
Just a bonfire. Yea right!!!!!!!
So the Fish Bums and me are fishing a stretch on the upper (Secrete River), when out of nowhere Steve Apple (Roll Cast Productions) and his crew including Dave, Eric, and Randy, come ripping up the river. Loads of WTF?, what are you doing here, some paranoia from both camps as they are all wondering who is following who and a bunch “have you got any?” (with each of us hoping the others hand been skunked).
After a few minutes Dave decides we need to pick up some beer (loads), and build a fire along the river. Cool right????
A few hour later finds a motley crew of 10 loon-a-ticks, 3 cases of beer, 2 bottles of whiskey and some other stuff I’ll not discuss at the moment. Hey what could happen?
Since the Bums have arrived I have had to relearn a few lessons that I had long forgot, but none more then drinking masses amounts of whiskey will get you seriously phucked up in a hurry (Like 5 minutes). But at least we decided to shotgun a few beers and then build a FIRE.
Well if you are crazy drunk and being screamed at by another 9 drunks, you do whatever it takes to get the fire going quick. My solutions was 5 gallons of gas!
I know what you are thinking, and I’ll admit you are dead right. Even with gas and matches we had a tough time getting it lit. Eventually it ignited and came close to blowing the windows out of my house. People not even near ran towards the area screaming in panic. I was just happy I wasn’t on fire and looking back on it, I’d say I had a 50/50 chance of going up like a straw house. Another lesson? Depends on how much I drink, because the simple truth was, it was crazy fun throwing gas bombs from a safe distance (3 feet).
As bad luck would have it the damn fire went out and soon 5 gallons of fuel was gone ($20.00 Canadian). Brian and Jay seem to have a ton of dexterity while hammered (practice I figure), so they built a small fire in one corner and grew it to a HUGE fire (and while standing in puddles of gas,, no shit) and the fact that we didn’t burn down my house is still a mystery to me. I guess you would have had to see it to completely understand, but trust me when I tell you the flames were 25 feet high and embers were flying off in all directions reached well over 100 feet before blowing out of sight (towards Ted’s house next door).
Well you can’t have a ass kicking bonfire without music, so out came the IPOD boom-box and up went the volume. FULL BLAST....
An argument of the music selection soon erupted and shouts were fired in all directions. Being old, slow, fat, ugly, and incredibly drunk, I did what came natural and went to the garage for another jug of gas (FIRE IS COOL). No sooner had I returned when a crazed Luchador appeared from the shadows and challenged Dave to a wrestling match (really more of a drunkin brawl).
The fight erupted within seconds as the crafty Luchador focused on his pray. Being old, slow, fat, ugly, and incredibly drunk, I did what came natural and drank some more whiskey and tried not to fall in the fire (FIRE IS HOT)
What happened next was a blur (drunken vision), but the villain seemed to have been dispatched and Dave the victor not only wasn’t killed, but he held the head of the Luchador. It was crazy creepy when he decided to wear the Luchador’s face and dance around the fire (mostly naked by this time).
I am not sure what really happened after that, as I was on a mission of survival. You see I was at least 100 feet from my bed, and that 100 feet seemed more like 100 miles. I tried to retreat unnoticed, but was quickly spotted by Jay, who seems much more in tuned with his surroundings when he has consumed massive amounts of sin. None the less I made it on to the deck and past Jay’s watchful gaze. If I could just make it to the door I’d have a chance (slim, but a chance). I quickly realized my chances of making it on two legs were limited at best. Hell for all I know I was going to be tackled by the Luchador and thrown in to the fire (Man on Fire). So I decided crawling would at least double my chances. My Patagonia Guide pants served me well as I scrambled up the stairs, across the living room, down the hall, (needed to pee, but knew there was no chance) and in to my bedroom.
I honestly don’t remember anything past that point, but know there was more wrestling, some puking, more drinking, more gasoline, loud music and loads of stories (all lies). But at the end of the day my house didn’t burn down, the fire department did NOT show up, Ted didn’t walk over and punch me in the face for catching his hay on fire, and nobody called the cops because of the music. Hell I even got to see my first Luchador and partied with the man to both dethroned and nows wears his mask. I could have done without the naked man scene, but hey he’s actually somewhat handsome in a rugged film bum fashion..
But the best news is that the Bums are gone and I can make it at least a few hours alcohol free. I doubt I will fully recover from their stay up here, but at least I lost 18 pounds on my new Giardia diet plan..
The Triple Wammie
Hooks: #18, #16, #10 Heavy Wire Scud Hooks
Articulation: 20# Nylon Backing Colored with Permanent Marker
Thread: Orange #6 Round
Worm Body: Small Red Chenille Burned to a Taper
Egg Body: Orange Egg Yarn
Sort Hackle Body: Pink Sow Bug Dubbing
Hackle: Grey Hen Wrapped Sparsely
Via: Eastgate Anglers LINK
AJ Klott of Fish Wrap fame offers up a unique solution to rising gas costs,
I know this sounds drastic, but if I am to continue my passion for fishing --this may be the only way to make it affordable to do so.
also know that the visual image of a rugged outdoorsman on the back of
a Mo-ped is not exactly the vision Madison Avenue would like to sell to
Orvis or Jeep Cherokee and is more akin to the image of Jim Carrey in
"Dumb and Dumber"--but I don't care!! LINK
These are busy times we live in.
Running a full time business, having a five and a half year old daughter, and becoming the world's most prominent "fish bloggering idiot"--has certainly cut into my fishing time. It seems that the time I spend fishing has slowly been withering away as, more and more responsibility has been shrinking my free time.
I have been wrestling with how to juggle these tasks and like most folks--realize there just isn't enough time in a day.
So, I have decided that there is really only one solution to this dilemma, and have decided in the interest of catching more fish I am going to make a drastic change.
Just one of the many E-zine stories from Two Guys with Flys fishing humorist AJ Klott. LINK
Via: Jack Gartside LINK
Scroll down on Jack's right sidebar to cast your vote.
Like all really worthwhile organizations, the NSNGFFA has no rules, no office, no dues, no membership list, and the only requirement for membership is to recognize you haven't achieved the status of a great or near great flyfisher yet, and aren't all upset about it. LINK
Authorities suspect it may be the missing anglers from the Mandalay Rod and Rod Club.
Indulge your fishing fantasy.
Inspired by dreams of fly fishing trips to exotic waters, "The Emerging Hatch® Fishy Splendor Fly-zier" is what every fisherman dreams of. Sort of. LINK
If you have any doubts about the fly-fishing dexterity of Sandy Frazier, you should see him balancing a coffee and a doughnut, and reading an adult magazine, all the while driving at excessive speeds. VIA Outside LINK
It was a great idea for a bachelor party - fly fishing, golf, cards, nice sights, etc. Of course, since it was a bunch of dudes without our female companions to guide us, we (well mainly just me) had a little too much to drink. After staying out too late on Friday night, I had a 6:30 am wake up call to go fly fishing with a few Orvis guides. VIA Rob Lathan LINK
By F. Cole - VIA Barflyfish
What seemed like an hour later ended with a 15 inch trout being landed, caught on a hand tied "Dirt Dauber" and the boy is now ruined. I don't think rehabilitation will work at this point. He is now a "Fly Fisherman". And you know the old saying, build a hundred bridges and nobody calls you a bridge builder, but catch one fish on a fly-rod, and everyone calls you a ......... LINK
Some very funny stuff from the western fly fishing community.
Notellum Creek- mythical place that only you know, closely guarded secret; associated with the expression, "I'll have to shoot you after I take you there"
Last Saturday morning I got up early, put on my long underwear and dressed quietly.
I made a lunch, grabbed the dog and went to the garage to hook up the drift boat to the truck and down the driveway I went.
Coming out of the garage rain is pouring down. It is like a torrential downpour. There is snow mixed in with the rain, and the wind is blowing 50 mph.
Minutes later, I returned to the garage. I went back into the house and turned on the TV to the weather channel. It's going to be bad weather all day long, so I put the drift boat back in the garage, quietly undressed and slipped back into bed.
There I cuddled up to my wife's back, now with a different anticipation, I whispered, "The weather out there is terrible."
To which she sleepily replies . . ."Can you believe my idiot husband is out fishing in this?"
Better marriage through fly fishing Via Clackamas Review LINK