Hooky

I left work yesterday at 11:45. See, N^2 came over two nights ago and lived up to his reputation by making sure to tell me how he was going to fish the following day (yesterday), when he knows damn well I have to work...he is really good at this. Anyways, when I got to work yesterday I got this feeling that I wasn't supposed to be there. So, I called the N^2 and he was damned kind enough to get my gear together (payback for all the times he rubbed all the midweek fishing in my face). Leaving work early to fish when you left home thinking you were gonna work all day is like walking into a high class strip club when you were expecting a low class gay bar (you know like bikers and leather low-class) and you don't realize it until the last second. Fucking excellent. A fine day was had by all and the fine-ness was thoroughly in place prior to landing two steelhead on the swung fly between three guys in just over 3 hours of fishing, that shit was a bonus.

Ode to the Beatdown

I am sure all of you that have found your way here have also found your way there, but just in case you haven't, go now for it is closing time at the Beatdown. It's too bad that it must shutdown, but it's quite fitting really as it echoes reality and only makes sense. I mean, seriously, how much can one voluntarily beat oneself down before one must stop? Likewise, with all things, you gotta change it up sometimes. As much as I love to swing flies for winter steelhead, there has got to be something dynamic about it from my end (I know the river and the fish are constantly changing), I need to be changing too. Whether I change technique, location or my gear all together, somethings got to give. I would go fucking crazy if all I did was swing the same flies on the same stretch of river, with the same rod, line and tips, week in and week out, year in and year out. I can think of a lot of flies and a lot of rivers, so I am sure I can stay busy for awhile, but like I said somethings gotta give. For example, this year I am not nymphing, not because I think its not fly fishing or some other bullshit reason like that, but because the sight of the yarndicator makes my arm hurt and gives me immediate stress, remembering all those times I looked at a greasy seam on the farside knowing damned well that the monstrous fucking yarn gob on my leader would only allow me to get halway there at best and halfway only if I rollcasted my shoulder out of socket, on my tiptoes no less. So, fuck the nymphing. Instead, I fish gear or swing when fishing for hatchery rats and swing when targeting natives and its turned out very well so far, my best of three winters by leaps and bounds already and its just underway. I guess the point is, the beatdown is calling it quits and its sad and happy all at once. It couldn't go on forever and it was damned good while it lasted, with no shortage of insight, humor and stupidiforia...along with some words about the damned greasy fishing we have out here in the PNW. Props and thanks to you bacon, it was most thoroughly enjoyed!

The Beatdown will remain linked on this page, I will also add a link to Buster, where we will hopefully be able to find the continued ramblings of the bacon_to_fry.

will hoist a few tonight in rememberance

It's about time

Well, as I hinted at in an earlier post I was sort of waiting for something profound to happen before I started writing about Belize...the permit in particular. That something isn't happening and I am not exactly sure why I expected it to in the first place, wishful thinking I guess. Conveniently, I just wrote an email to a friend who has been asking for a story and pictures of the fish, I will take advantage and paste it in here. enjoy.



This is right after I hooked the fish, at this point the guide was screaming "GOT HIM!! GOT HIM!! GOT HIM!!" (sounding like got eem got eem etc.), clapping his hands and running down the flat trying to cut the permit off from the left side of the flat and push him over to the right where there is less coral, he was not fast enough.


At this point I had just ran to the edge of the flat and in chest deep water with no where to go I jumped up on a coral head and backed all the pressure off the fish so he wouldn't wrap me around the coral per the guides instructions. I was very doubtful when he first started yelling at me to give him slack. I couldn't figure out after 20 or 30 some shots at fish and finally hooking one why I would ever want to "give him slack", but I obliged...well partly obliged, I didn't really ever give him slack until the guide started speeding away from the flat in the boat once I jumped in, he went about twice as fast as I could recover line and I had zero tension on the fish for about 10 seconds or so, this was undoubtedly the longest 10 seconds of my life, except maybe for that time I crashed my car...ahhh I digress.

Here the fish is directly below the boat, at one point my backing was up to my stripping guide with the fish straight down, it was deep and I was apparently extremely lucky I didn't lose the fish to a shark or a 'cuda.
Victory. Notice the sweet battle wound on my left shin. I acquired this little gem while getting on top of the coral. I am not exactly sure how I got up there out of chest deep water, I thought I levitated but the wound clearly proves otherwise.

PERMIT.....ME

In addition, I am not one for gratuitous promotion, self or otherwise. Pick your own poison, I usually stick to. Nonetheless, if you ever find yourself in Placencia and looking for a guide I would quite highly suggest Benji Eiley. I don't think it is possible to find a guide who will work harder to get you into a fish.