Brick

Twelve months. 

That's how long I've waited to be here again.  To stand on the platform, look into these waters and see them:  tarpon.



You will find them in a handful of different types of water and types of ways.  No matter how the shots come, they're all awesome, but the laid-up tarpon is especially exciting.  You'll sometimes stare for hours at a time at brown-green water; you'll stare so long it seems like you've forgotten what to look for, or what they look like.  Then, all of a sudden, there's one.  From afar, they're light-brown-tannish against the murky, backcountry Everglades water.  You inch closer and closer and slowly the shape appears.  Then it's glowing at you.  You can barely make out its head and its tail, but you know which is which.  It's just sitting there. 

It can be a battle just to find one, but when you do, another battle begins; this time with yourself.  Present the fly properly.  Drop it two feet in front of the fish's nose.  Maybe a hair across it too.  Not too hard. 

In a basketball game, when you shoot a foul shot, you have ten seconds.  You do your routine, and shoot.  Mine goes like this:  line up my right foot with the nail, hold the ball in my left hand, look at the front of the rim, and breath.  Two dribbles, then look again at the rim.  Breath twice.  Shoot.

The time from spotting a laid-up fish to making your shot can be a minute or less than ten seconds, but the procedure is somewhat similar in that there's a definite success or failure.  The fish eats (you make the shot), or it doesn't (you miss the shot). 

Two times today I was blessed with the quintessential laid-up tarpon shot.  Two times today I was polled closer and closer while I stared at the glowing fish, just sitting there.  I know where I want the fly to go (the ball to go through the rim), I can see it landing there (the ball hits nothing but net).  I know what I want the fish to do, I've watched them do it before.  Two times today I watched as my cast landed feet away from where I wanted it to.  Two times today I watched as the glowing tarpon disappeared before my eyes, never to be seen again.  Blown shot.  Brick.  Fail.

When you land the fly where you want it, this is what it looks like:

 

Swish.

 

Four Corners (part deux) plus the Middle

this time, the story goes in reverse.

Easter weekend on Puget Sound was incredible.  the weather was about perfect for me; i don't need it to be too hot to be happy.  what do you get when you combine a couple days off, sun, good friends, a beach, a bonfire, some fishing, good food, good drinks, a jump in the ocean, some bocce and lots of laughs?  a big shot of Washington life.  can't wait for the next round.

in the opposite corner, where "you have to go north to get to the South," i found lots of love.  Mum and Dad picked me up at the airport and we headed to Choko to meet up with the lovely Lee's.  in my search for "home," it's funny (but perhaps not surprising) that the people you're with can make any place feel like home.  more on that later, maybe.  did some tarpon fishing too. you're due, Dad. thanks Boss. 



 

 

weekend before that, i went to the homeland, aka Vacationland, aka The Way Life Should Be.  any weekend is a good weekend to visit Portland, but one really good one is St. Patty's Day weekend.  jump in the ocean just because.  have a Guinness at 6 am just because.  drink four car bombs before dinner just because.  see the people you know and love.

California sun before that.  a long overdue reunion with Biddy.  Hear Ye, Hear She!  that cali sun sure feels good.  good food, good friends, good bocce.  good views.  some new, different, good fishing.  thanks Peter!  all.  real.  good.



and before that, the middle.  friends meeting friends meeting friends of friends who are now friends.  i love it.  thanks for the bed, Kerr!  (Drew says thanks, too.)

 

 all for now.  more to come!  c'mon spring!

 

 

 

Four Corners Fishing

i've been fortunate to do quite a bit of fishing lately. the following took place between mid-may and yesterday. 

southeast.

i can't think of an analogy for tarpon fishing.  you usually get three shots and then it's your buddy's turn.  an hour can go by before you get one shot sometimes.  and more often than not, the shot's over in five seconds.  sometimes you get two casts at a fish or a pod, but it's definitely the first one that is your best chance at hooking a fish.  if you're unsuccesful, you are then faced with one to sixty minutes before your next shot to think about what you did wrong, or why the fish simply didn't eat the fly.  you feel like you've failed an exam that counted for three quarters of your grade or if you got rejected on a date from your crush.  but as soon as you get your eyes on the next fish approaching, all that just happened is forgotten.  i am not good at tarpon fishing.  i wonder if i should be more pissed off at all the shots i missed.  i mean, it's not everyday i get to go tarpon fishing.  it takes time and money to get there and more time and money to get a guide to get on the water.  if you really wanted to, you could put a dollar amount to each shot, each cast.  i don't know what good that would do, but i guess you could do it.  so maybe i should be more upset i didn't hook more tarpon this season.  but what would good would that do? 

northeast.

also known as 'home'.  while washington's feeling more and more like home, i think maine will always be home.  i get excited when the plane touches down in any place, but it's tough to beat touching down at portland international.  it's literally 10 minutes away from friends and fun.  tough to beat that.  portland's still awesome.  everyone that lives there still is too.  camp is north of there though.  and what a camp it is.  a six year work in progress, this place is amazing.  parts of it are 100% done, while others are 10%.  i want to show all my friends this place.  oh, and there's a trout pond 100 yards away.  and man, did it go off that night.  it had been quite a while since i found myself on a pond with native brookies gulping hatching bugs.  there were five of us across three boats that evening and wouldn't you know it, the only two fellars who had rods bent all night were the old man and me!  ha! 

southwest.

what a place colorado is.  mountains, trees, cold streams, a ton of hungry trout and sun.  tough to beat i reckon.  the fishing in colorado was really good.  how this will effect late-, and even mid-season fishing is to be determined, but it was pretty damn good a couple weeks ago.  ranch life is pretty much the same.  which means, awesome.  really good to see the guys at the 4UR.  and the girls too.  i'm really glad that i got to get back to the ranch.  it's been a really big part of my life the last few years and i'm thankful to have the opportunity to visit.  i tied on one nymph rig in a full day's fishing.  it promptly hooked what was most likely the largest fish in the entire creek.  i landed the largest rainbow in my life in my last evening.  thanks goose creek.  see ya in a bit.

northwest.

also, also known as 'home'.  it's been 10 months now.  the more i see, the more i like.  had a ball last winter on the peninsula, and now it's time to get dialed in on the cuttys in the sound.  here's what i've figured out so far:  if you find them, you catch them.  if you don't find them, you maybe get one, usually none.  so that's fine - i just gotta find 'em.  found a couple yesterday though, which was nice.  got lucky to be a guest on a friend's beach on the west side of hood canal.  sea run cutthroat trout are fantastic fish.  they crush flies, fight like the dickens and shoot back like bullets into the water when you let them go.  and they sure are pretty too.  i caught three fish on three different flies yesterday.  not sure if i just happened to get my flies in front of three fish, coincidentally after i changed flies, or what was happening exactly.