A well-stocked fly box, coupled with lunacy...

...sheer, unadulterated lunacy.  In retrospect, I'm not sure how it happened.

A couple of months ago, a really cool and persuasive lady asked me if I'd like to play on a co-ed soccer team.  Having grown up playing the game and turning into a pretty respectable player by the time I reached high school, I've toyed with the game on a love/hate basis throughout adulthood.  About six years ago, my career came to a screeching halt thanks to a torn achilles tendon.  I rehabbed the heck out of it, but never made it back to the pitch, short of casual playing with a bunch of 10 year-olds I coached last year.

First of all, since this is primarily a fly fishing blog, I thought I'd share a quick shot of my recent holiday tying experiment.  By the standards of most of my readers, the fly box probably looks a little rough.  I tried to make it neat and tidy like the boxes full of beautiful flies I see on other blogs.  It just doesn't look the same, which is OK by me, since putting it together was a labor of love.  Doc really appreciated it, and he should be more than sufficiently stocked for a spring/summer on the Poudre:

Which brings me to the lunacy.

As if trying to tie a box full of effective, or at least passable flies, isn't crazy enough, I couldn't keep my crazy, lunatic mouth shut.

The words came out of my mouth without any serious consideration, and with little opportunity to grab them back out of the comic-strip bubble that seemed to hang in the air above my head.  "Sure!  Sounds fun."

It starts tonight.  Instant panic attack.  Given that my primary exercise in the past year has been hiking in the hills and wading rivers, I'm far from "match fit."  I've been riding my bike a lot, trying to get my lungs back in some semblance of form, but I guarantee you that it hasn't been enough.  I held up OK - somewhat - doing some two on two with my nephew, sister, and brother in-law.  So, throwing sanity to the wind, I've loaded up my bag with an old, well-worn pair of turf shoes, Tiger Balm, Ace wraps, $4 shin guards, and a sense of optimism.  My plan is simply to survive, and then start running again; that, by the way, excites me very, very little.

See you in rehab!

JEG

Family Fun

Another rough day on the Poudre yesterday, despite the gorgeous weather and my declaration of war on the fish.  Another day, another skunking.  Starting to get a complex.

Our pre-Halloween festivities compensated for the lack of fishing productivity.  I decided to honor Halloween with a well-constructed scarecrow, and the rest of the clan put their artistic abilities into play during our annual jack-o-lantern contest.

Maybe he'll have better luck than I have lately.

Happy Halloween from the Flywriter.

Falling stock, taking stock, and stocking up...

I've had an excess of free time today - normally the perfect excuse to throw the waders on and do some trout stalking.  On days like this, however, I decided to take some time to simply breathe.  Samantha (the cat) has been acting up lately and doesn't seem to be feeling all that well, and with Arnie still somewhat on the mend from an unpleasant procedure on his backside, I decided to stay close.

I watched - using the term loosely - some news coverage earlier and saw something I'd never seen before - a complete Wall Street panic, with the Dow dropping so rapidly that commentators speculated about a potential temporary stop in trading.  It was dramatic - irrelevant to me, but I imagine pretty harrowing for the tycoons in the financial world.  At one point the index was down by over 1000 points, and finished at -347 or so.  It's mostly Greek to me, and as it turns out was mostly Greek to everyone.  The Greeks are rioting in the streets at the idea of having to tighten their spending belts a bit in order to qualify for a loan from the EU and avoid bankruptcy, and the working folks didn't like the government's legislative response.  It was fascinating to watch the ticker drop by the second.

Mostly though, I took stock of my rapidly declining fly boxes and decided to do some tying.  I've made a commitment this season to fish only what I tie myself.  That's almost as scary as watching the Dow drop 1000 points.

I'm not terribly worried about catching trout - at this point I can tie a few patterns that are prevalent on the Poudre and the Thompson with enough proficiency to catch fish.  I'm more worried about being able to tie bugs for the other waters that I plan to visit this summer.

I worked on a bunch today.  I re-stocked some BWOs and tied some more cream-colored pale duns.  That will take care of the local waters, but my hope is to branch out and fish some streams in North Park (South Platte, Illinois, Michigan rivers), and return to the White River near Meeker.  I'll have to get into tying Tricos and some different nymphs.  Fortunately, YouTube has some great tutorials.

I'm happier with today's results - I think I'm getting the hang of some basic patterns, but the proof will be on the water.

Crazy surface action

The Poudre is treating me right this year!

I actually hadn't planned on fishing today. It was supposed to be cold, and I had dozens of other things I've been neglecting. By 1 p.m., it wasn't all that cold anymore and the sun was shining. I could hear the trout calling my name.

Did I mention that I never claimed to be sane? I thought so.

I got to the river just as a trio of fly fisherman were finishing up at my favorite spot. I asked if they had any success. "No - they're rising all over the place, but not hitting our flies." When I got to the water I saw a heavy hatch underway with trout coming to the surface in spades. If I hadn't known better I'd have thought it was raining. I promptly hooked up with a beauty of a trout - such a beauty that it snapped the tip of my rod (which had admittedly been snapped previously and was repaired by yours truly with super glue and fly tying material).

So my nine-foot rod is now more like eight-five.

Still, the hatch continued unabated. I made a quick call to Dad, who joined me a few minutes later, just in time to watch me pull in yet another outstanding Poudre rainbow:

The BWO on the line was pretty beaten up after this fish, so I tied on a fresh cream-colored pale dun, which is nice and easy to see on the surface. Turns out the fish like this one too, as I swiftly landed another nice rainbow:

Shortly thereafter, the rises ceased, save for an occasional flash. Made it home just in time to see the Jayhawks fall to Northern Iowa.

The unexpected all around today!

New Look

In the off season, we tie flies and read about success stories from more accomplished anglers in more temperate locales.

When both have been exhausted, we change things up a bit. Hence, the new look for the website, which I decided upon out of sheer boredom. I hope my 2 - 3 regular readers like it!

To honor the occasion, I've posted this video of my nephew and good friend breaking some boards. I'll be forced to stop messing with him pretty soon.

Cam, Fishing, and Playstation Baseball

I'm not really sure where this is going to go, but I had to write about it.

Some days are just better than others. I slept in until 8:00 a.m. this morning. I had a cup of coffee. I watched as a Blue Jay plucked seeds from the birdfeeder in the backyard. There's something about a late autumn morning in northern Colorado that's sinister, but exciting. Gray, yet blue. Calm, but stormy. I can't explain it effectively, but today was one of those mornings.

A quick drive up the Poudre canyon led me to more of the above. I had the good sense to borrow a pair of neoprene waders from my Dad to fend off the cold water flowing down the Poudre. I looked a bit goofy, I suppose. Dad's feet are about 25,000 times bigger than mine. My old-school Norwegian stocking cap, complete with ear flaps and a missing tassle on top, adorned my thinning hair, mainly because the cap has brought me good luck on the river.

No exception today. The hat worked. I caught six trout on a day when I figured I'd catch nothing but pneumonia. All small. None "picture-worthy." Just fun.

The miracle for today, however, came in my victory over my 10 year-old nephew Cameron in a heated Playstation baseball game. Cameron routinely kicks my butt in all varieties of Playstation games. And the cool thing about the kid is that he always pays me a compliment. "You're getting a lot better, Uncle John," he'll say after handing me a 7-0 shutout in Playstation soccer. "I just got lucky, Uncle John," he'll say after thrashing me 35-7 in Playstation football.

I don't know how I did it, but tonight, some of the fur/lint from my lucky Norwegian cap must have stuck to my hair. It was the bottom of the 9th. The Playstation scoreboard read 8-8. Cameron had Dontrelle Willis on the mound, while I had Alfonso Soriano at the plate. Crack! Single!

Mark DeRosa fanned two fastballs from Willis. The third pitch came in on the lower right corner of the strike zone. Boom. Over the ivy fence at Wrigley Field.

As I leapt from the couch to do my geeky Uncle victory dance, Cameron calmly placed his controller on the floor and stretched out his hand in a conciliatory, gentlemanly gesture, waiting for me to give him "five."

Kids are cool. That's why most of my best friends are kids.

Like tits on a boar...

It was my Granddad's saying, but I felt the brunt force of it today.

Some things make you feel old and useless, even if they bring you joy at the same time.

Like when you realize that your nephew is turning into a better shot than you with a gun - paintball, .22, or otherwise. I guess youth and good eyes will beat age and "wisdom" every time. Watch the pumpkin head at the lower left:



So...the kid outclassed me with a paintball gun today. I'm halfway tempted to yank him out of school tomorrow and drag him down to the stream to see if he can outfish me.

Don't count your chickens just yet, you little turd. I'll concede the throne when you beat me on the river.

Kids are cool. None more so than my nephew.

So much for my summer vacation plans...

Well, doggone it! Those pesky Swiss are at it again! Just as I was about to book my ticket to Switzerland for a fun-filled, clothing-optional trek through the Alps, the Swiss tell me to keep my clothes on! Where's the ACLU when you really need it?

APPENZELL, Switzerland (AP) — Voters in the heart of the Swiss Alps on Sunday passed legislation banning naked hiking after dozens of mostly German nudists started rambling through their picturesque region.

The cantonal government recommended the ban after citizens objected to encountering walkers wearing nothing but hiking boots and socks.

I like this kind of news, because it helps me to realize that there is, in fact, still some common sense in the world. There are very few things that most people should do while naked. I'm reminded of a Seinfeld episode that enlightened all of us on the merits of "good naked" v. "bad naked." Some of the "beautiful" people might be able to pull it off (no pun intended), but most of us don't qualify. Personally, I blindfold myself before I step into the shower. Nothing strikes me as more goofy than donning some wool socks and hiking boots - and nothing else - and then scrambling up a bunch of rocks. Where does one carry a water bottle or snacks? Wait...PLEASE don't answer that.

God bless the Germans, but I'd rather they stick to brewing beer. At the very least, lederhosen should be worn at all times on all trails.

Might I add a suggestion for the Swiss? Why stop the ban at complete nudity? Let's push forward and ban the ever popular European beach Speedo while we're at it.

Happy (and clothed) trails!