Make your own stuff

I just got done building sink tips for the first time. The last two years I have been fishing three tips, a type 3, 7 and 8 and thats it. Usually this will suffice, but when the water is up it is going to be damn nice to have some t14 tips in the wallet. I even got grimy and built some with intermediate cheaters. What really initiated the event was the acquisition of a new stick. Neighbor Nate (from now on N^2) built Kari and I a sweet St. Croix Avid 7/8 (really probably a 7), a real spicy rod. As soon as we figure out the right line for it, Kari and I will finally be able to fish two handers together and not fight over one rod, this should decrease rock throwing and splashing each other when posturing for the rod.

On an unrelated (mostly) note, I dirty mcdirted a hatchery rat on saturday. I had never fished corkies and yarn and since the water was high, there were dudes everywhere, it was cold, and we only had a couple hours to fish (read: I am turning into a lazy hick), I figured I would try to put some meat on the table with the gear. When we walked up to the run Kari said, "Alright, we are going to get one here.", very matter of fact like. About 15 minutes later the fish was on the bank. Tasty tablefare, indeed.

Comatose, but walking still

The holidays are shitty, in that you miss out on fishing. But they are good, in that you get to fish more. This paradox has shown itself through recent circumstances. Now, I must say, I use the term "holidays" here rather loosely. It doesn't necessarily mean Christmas or Kwanza or Thanksgiving (it could though), but more precisely means a cause for celebration. So my friends want to celebrate, but I unfortunately am stricken with this condition that requires me to drink just enough to not fish the next day when friends want to celebrate, now I don't get plastered, but drunk enough that I shouldn't be driving until at least 8 or 9 the next morning and also drunk enough so that I will probably sleep til 10 anyways. This is a shitty condition for a fishermanperson. On the other hand, if I can somehow manage to avoid anymore of these celebratory affairs, I have two consecutive four day weekends coming up (thanks to the "holidays") that could very well fill themselves right up with fishing. However, to avoid the celebrations means to alienate ones friends, quite the conundrum really. I have been partially contemplating not having friends except for fishing friends, though this would rapidly wittle my total number of friends down to about 2 (another condition I have is not wanting to fish with a solid 98.7% of the fishermanpeople I meet). I can't decide if this is good or bad.

Anyways, I guess the point is I got too drunk on friday and saturday last weekend to fish (I feel like I should maybe whip myself for saying "too drunk to fish", it somehow goes against previous statements I have made, I just can't figure out how). So maybe the real point is that this has nothing to do with friends or celebrations or holidays, but solely with my own ability to balance activities, although it feels really 90's to blame myself for my problems, this is the 2000's, I should assuredly be blaming this on the government or more aptly on someone else's government. So there you have it, I think I will retract blaming the "holidays" and instead blame the government of South Africa (or wherever the Miller brewing company moved to). See, I think the kegs of shitty Miller would have been cheaper than the PBR if they hadn't relocated, thus the party would have had a keg of shitty beer instead of the sweet PBR nectar and therefore I wouldn't have drank so much and I could have fished. This seems perfectly reasonable to me.

Side bar: Brothers, sorry we can't make it back for the "holidays", have fun and do some fishing (target species unimportant) cause we will be for sure!

Side bar 2: I swear the permit story is coming. I have a lot to say about it, but haven't really felt like typing it all yet, maybe I will just type a little and let the pics talk more...time will tell I guess.

Side bar 3: Nate sucks. He hooked two winters on the swung fly yesterday and locations fully disclosed (to me, bitches!), if my skills ever make it to such a level you can't count on much more pertinent posting!

For those of you that get them, enjoy the long weekends!

On second thought

So, I no longer blame the cat. I am pretty damned sure it was a coon, due to the scratch marks themselves and a piece of hair. When a cat scratches shit it does it like its on speed or something, taking several passes at the scratching surface with both paws. This didn't look like that, it was about five or six total scratch marks, and they line up perfectly if one were to imagine a big fat coon trying to climb up the tube, slipping a little, and digging in such that one or two claws from each paw scratched the tube. I asked myself what the hell a coon would want to climb up on my boat for, then remembered it was right around the time of the whole salmon, gear, dirty mcdirt, egg goo escapade. I think that fucker smelled the egg goo and wanted a go at it....I also found a piece of hair, suspiciously gray turning to brown with a black bar near the top and a lighter brown on the other side of that. The boat has now paid me back in all possible ways, inflicting pain upon itself even. Point taken, again...and until further notice there shall never be bait in or around that boat again.

Most pertinent Harry quote: "Let's blame the racoons." - this was said right after I told him about the boat, damned guy is like the Nostradamus of the Carribean.

Cat Scratch Fever

So as most of you know I recently acquired a new used skookum cat from my good friend bacon. I have only had er out one time, which, again, most of you know about. Well she was sittin there in my carport, lookin real good, when one day I squeezed her right tube and it was a little low. "Hmm" I say, a bit flustered, "what the fuck?", I see the cat scratches and get a fever that no amount of cow bells could touch. It was a sad day on the homefront, but only about two days before I left for Belize so I had to forget about, it was a potential trip downer which needed to be put out of mind. A day or two before we came back, I let it start creeping in the back of mind, to sort of prepare for remembering and reliving the sadness. It wasn't as bad the second time around. Anyways, when I pumped it back up yesterday and lathered some soap on the firm tube, I saw no bubbles, smiled and applied aquaseal hoping to avoid a full on patch job. We went bowling (kingpin right here bitches), came back and and the fucker had leaked. I let some air out and tried one more fresh dab of aquaseal but it leaked again. I tried one more time with the aquaseal on a flat tube tonight, I have a penchant for trying things half ass at least 5-10 times before I do it right, I can't seem to shake this. If this attempt doesn't work the patch will be on by tomorrow night, the boat must float with confidence by the weekend.

Oh and E, the permit story (you know the most of it) will arrive on its own time, much like the permit itself.

Boner

As posted earlier, for the first week of the honeymoon we stayed on Ambergris Caye, at a place called Xaman Ek retreat and spa. They were kinda blowholes, just starting out in the "retreat and spa" business and in need of a little direction. Location was fuckin money though...especially since there were bones tailing about 100 feet from my cabana. The first one I caught (the only one I got pictures of...the smallest one, for real!) was about 40 feet from the "retreat and spa's" pier. I caught four total, but it took me about 4 mornings and 3 evenings to do it...I had a lotta shots. The biggest one a local ate for dinner. He was walking down the beach with a backpack pesticide applicator on, always GREAT to see, and he said "is it a good one?" and that he wanted to eat it, hope it was good.



I don't really know when this happened, but all I did after landing the fish was put it in the hook rest, so I am pretty sure I hooked and landed him with the hook like this. Fuckin genious I tell you.

Hot Damn

Fuck eh. Is it possible to make a vacation "long enough"? Cause that one felt long, but it certainly was not even in the realm of "long enough". I need to manipulate some photos so that they are more comfortable on the page and then I'll start putting them up here. There is a couple good ones, permity little pictures even.

Harry Quote #1 - "The higher the monkey climb, the more he expose his ass to trouble."

A Lesson Learned

So I wanted to tie some crabs in a little lighter color, maybe tan or cream olive. The only fly shop within a half hour has no light sculpin wool, so a friend suggested I try bleach. So I put a half capfull in a cup or so of water and let a little chunk of sculpin wool soak for about an hour. The result was a bleached dark olive, not acceptable. I think, "more bleach, more time". Or maybe not.


The fibers on the little piece used to be as long as on the big piece. Bleach changed all that. And it was just liquid remaining. Don't fuck with bleach.

Righteous Writing: Part 1

As mentioned at the onset of this madness, my writing sucks hairy balls. Thats why it is a damned good thing there are people like Salty, who's writing does certainly not suck hairy balls, in fact reminds me more of scratching a good itch on my own balls...you know that feeling of fulfillment and relief right when you finally hit that itch thats been buried under two layers of capilene, one of fleece and a stout layer of gortex for 13 hours? Well if you don't know it, you should, cause gotdamner its good.

READ IT!

http://busterwantstofish.com/?p=250

Oregon, fuck yeah!

we're gonna save the motherfuckin day,

yeah.

K - the package goes out tomorrow....don't worry E, you may have to wait a month or two, but you too will get a special surprise.

Honeymooning it

T-minus 8 days til departure. Two weeks in Belize, we'll be there over Thanksgiving, but something tells me I won't be missing the turkey. For the first week we will be on Ambergris Caye. It looks pretty frilly but........you can supposedly catch bones right off the dock.
We will be in Placencia for the second part of the stay....more to come before departure next Friday.

A Boats Revenge

Alright, I was trying to figure out how exactly to address this with positivity and joy. This shouldn't have been hard, being that it was a joyous and positive occasion, however I now understand that occasions can be both good and bad, all at once.

The first time out in the new ride took me to a local coastal river relatively full of fall chinook, and even more full per unit volume of water given the lack of rain. We launched at about 9 not being in any rush as we were the only boat on the stretch...the new boat goes places others do not. What I failed to realize is that when there is no water, the bankies can also go just about anywhere. To sum, the float was fucking unbelievably fun and the boat a true master of the waterways.....the fishing, another story.

Which leads me to the following conclusion:

NEVER, I repeat, NEVER, take a boat called "Steelheader" out salmon fishing with dirty gear rods, eggs and fucking shrimp oil scent for your first time together. She deserves more on the first outing and needs to be broken in proper.

If you do attempt such a feat, be prepared for the ramifications....some examples may include:

1) you buy a new gear rod combo, string that dirty thing up, give her a flex in the carport (right over the boat!) and the fuckin thing snaps in half...the day before said outing occured. Boat 1, Me 0

2) you get set up on the prime shit that the dude who knows told you to fish, you work that greasy ass egg gob right over the drop off and no sooner three bankies come in, totally fuckin lowhole you and hook approx. 25 salmon about 20 yards below you while you hook one between two of you in about 3 hours. Boat 26, Me -1

3) you get set up in a little juicy hole in the midst of some shitty water for fish to travel in, and you think, "yeah, finally this is it". and then another banky lowholes you...you leave before you are forced to watch him catch the fish that you will not. Boat 27, Me -1

4) as the day winds down, you think, "jesus, i am in a boat, with gear, fish are everywhere and i have not touched a fish, nor is there one in the boat...its gotta happen in the next pool". so you push and push to find water and next thing you know you've skipped your original take out and your still not to the next one when it starts getting dark...not at 7, like you thought but at about 620. The next thought..."fuck, the dark is not going to make me look like a more inviting hitchhiker". Boat - still kicking my ass

5) finally to take out #2, you grab a rod to make it obvious to the drivers that your a fisherman and not a rapist, and begin to walk down the road. when you've walked for 10 minutes and no cars have gone by, you think about your wife back at the take-out and start running - in simms g3's and studded rivertek boots (not recommended). 10 minutes later, your still running and you hear a car coming...SAVED! NOT!...you watch the cars go by and not pick you up and you think "fuck" as thats about all you can muster. then, up ahead, after about 2 miles of walk/running, you see a few cars on the side of the road...other fisherman! you beg for a ride, they agree. then you retire to watching them haul all the fucking huge ass fish they caught up to the trucks. the one that said you could have a ride has dissapeared so you beg another who is about to leave. there is barely any room to sit in the bed of the truck as it is filled with fish and the driver looks like he doesn't want you to sit back there and he says "not much room back there, and i got two rifles in the back seat so you won't fit there either". you are not scared by his stupid fucking rifles and re-insist that you can fit between the empty pop cans and the fish and that you will "just jump out" when you get to your rig. finally, the boat decides it is done paying you back for all the fucking goopy salmon egg cure you spilled on it and you get back to your rig with no further problems. final score, Boat - 9,867,401 Me - back to 0 for not taking that rifle bullshit.

Consider yourselves warned.

signs point to yes

As most of the readers of this little shithole corner of the intertubes know, I have recently acquired a badass boat from an even bad asser fella, really dude, thanks again. It sits in my carport as of last night and the image hasn't left my mind once for roughly 19 hours 28 minutes and 30 seconds, it is a constant state of fuck yeah.

Along with the boat came a magic 8 ball, this fuckin thing is like a legend in its own right. So I promise her that I will ask her one question and one question only when we're off the water. I needed to know if she was happy in her new place. So I waited until we were alone, slid the 8 ball out of the side pocket and asked "Are you happy with your new home?", damnit I almost shit myself with the anticipation. Then I turned it over...."signs point to yes"

Life is Good.

Gear

I went fishing on sunday for fall salmon. I went dirty mcdirt style, fishing a shitty 20 dollar spinning reel on a shitty, 45 dollar, 9 foot ten weight (do I get additional dirt points for fishing dirty style with a fly rod?). Anyways, point is, there is a line that needs to be drawn which defines the point at which you shouldn't even go fishing until you get the right gear, or at least close to the right gear.

My main line on the above mentioned rig is 25 lb shitty ass braid, I was using 20 lb maxima leader and my main line broke every time I got a snag. I would have downsized leader, but I didn't have anything smaller along. Chalk up half my fishing time lost to re-rigging. Then I was pulling on one of said snags and I kept giving up line, but my drag wasn't turning. Upon closer inspection I realized that my line was free spinning on the spool, like, the spool to line knot broke and now the whole mass of it spins together. I was partially hoping I didn't hook one because I'd rather get skunked then get close and lose it due to bad gear. A stupid and self imposed paradox, to go fishing and hope to not hook a fish.

Then I hooked a fish. I was back bouncing a big ass gob of eggs, corky and 1/2 oz of lead down a current seam about 4 feet from the bank. The fish took, I set up and the fish gave a couple thrashes on top then settled into the main current, not doing much. Fearing the result of taking the fish down the chute about 60 feet below me I tried to backtrack upstream along the bank to get my net (note: don't leave your net upstream!). I went up and the fish ran out, which was fine, but then it ran straight down and in toward the bank below me, this is a bad place to be, directly upstream of a fish. I was fishing a small hook and was feeling a little worried about the hook set when the fish came to the top, its mouth pointed straight at me, and started thrashing around again. On the third head shake the line went limp. Fuck stick.

Anyone got a salmon bait caster set up they don't use anymore? Either that or I am going to Joe's this week, as I have a date with a fat salmon next weekend, and that bitch will be mine!

A Social Tip

This probably isn't rocket science, but if you ever play a little game called "Guess what that person does?" and the person or people in question actually talk to you at some point, and you actually ask them what they do, and they ask "Well what were your guesses?". I would highly suggest NOT leading off with "barista", just in case the person has had "ten years of higher education" and owns her own agricultural consulting firm. This is, however, just a tip...feel free to offend, its usually more fun anyways.

Another to pass the time

the video is of shitty quality, but pretty cool regardless. the fucking spawning bed is like 150x60 ft, thats a lotta salmon sex.

Winner: Couch

imagine that.

Slacker

If I get off my lazy ass tonight and plug my camera in, there will be cool shit to look at on this blog, so keep your eyes peeled. But no guarantees, as the couch is far superior to the computer chair in comfort.

I will offer up a little love though. See the tidewater chromer that arrived on my screen via data packets. Sleazy neighbor nate shows his slyness and otherwise penchant for big, greaZy fish. Can you say ClouZer? Once again, nicely fucking done.

Billz are Bitchez

I recieved two bills in the mail today, both fucked up. Why do people insist on shitting on each other?

I have no reason to shit on you, State Farm Insurance. I pay you every month, automatically and shit, so even when I forget your sorry ass still gets paid. Yet you insist on attempts to poop in my mouth. Shit stains.

And you Dr. Sparks, you call that bullshit, two minute visit into the room a fucking exam? $51.00? Who the fuck do you think you are, the goddamn Dali Lahma of dentistry? I think not, bitch. Tell your secretary, or should I say "Administrative Assistant", to put her earmuffs on, cause there is an assault coming.

Oh well, the steelhead will still be there this weekend anyway, assholes. But get off my gas money!

Awwww, SNAP!

I have been back for two days now. I didn't update upon my return cause I was sort of waiting for things to really settle in. Steelhead are real bitches sometimes, like, diabolical even. I rose one to a dry fly, which is a fucked up experience in and of itself. If you have ever watched a fly skate across a thread of current, then slow in the seam, then get pushed forward by a swell of water generated by a chrome monster directly underneath it, well, then you know. My knees haven't shook like that since the first time I heard "do you have a condom?". Damn. One and only one but it was worth every minute and every penny.

Regardless of the lack of fish, the past weekend was one of the greatest fishing experiences I've had in awhile. The camp was rich with stories, legend and good ass food. Whiskey, salmon roe, smoked steelhead, elk soup, cream cheese, crackers and PBR never tasted so good. Being able to listen to a combined millenia's worth of fishing life stories is like reading a thousand books in a couple evenings and an experience that simply could not have been had anywhere but where we were. For that, I say, thanks to all and I can't wait to do it again.

Poised

You know that feeling when your about to do something super badass? It feels like your a kid again (not that I am that far removed), the excitement cannot be tamed and your completely fucking poised and ready to pounce. This feeling is most certainly desirable, attain it at all possible opportunities.

Thanks to storied rivers, steelhead and dry flies I will be riding this high for the next three days, with potential for extension depending upon said steelheads interest in said dry flies. Stay tuned.

Chlorophyll

Photo credit: Kari Christensen

you gotta click and make this one big, it's worth it.

Intro Info

I figured I should let you know the blogs motive. I want three things from it 1) an easier way than email to communicate, bulk style 2) I think of shit that I want to write down sometimes, but never do, now maybe I will and 3) my writing sucks hairy balls and I figure practice can't hurt.

The title is almost solely in response to a line in a book I recently read, it is a book about steelheading, and though this is not a quote it went something like this.....you can tell a lot about how much someone cares for nature by looking in their fly box. It went on to say, basically, that if you have pretty flies, you care more about nature. This guy annoys me, much like poison oak annoys me, I think. I figure he wouldn't much care for a dirty, gaudy ass string leech too much, although he probably uses them, really pretty ones I bet. In addition, he is a cock, undermining other peoples contributions to NW Steelheading and touting his own (which may or may not actually be his to tout).

Thats it. Stay tuned.

Trippy Shroomage

The red and white mushroom is apparently a Fly Amanita. A mushroom used primarily in northern cultures for religious and other social ceremonies (so used for its hallucinogenic properties). The upside down shroom with "Doison" supposed to be poison written on it is some kind of blue staining bolete...they are fun to write on.

Poison Oak

Hey, poison oak, fuck you.

Opener

Openers are usually good, can openers, fishing openers, grand open(ing)ers etc... It is likely, however that this opener won't be such. But an opener it is.