peetso

thanks for all the kind words and to all those who took the time to read this all. here's hoping for an early spring. cheers, peetso

i never really enjoyed the vibe there . . . regardless, it's sad to see any shop close. hopefully the future treats them well

will do. maybe sometime this winter, i'll buy the beers . . . but i may need some instruction on winter fishing. as i am utterly inept with bobbers and nymphs . . . a lifetime of grayling, high country cutts and pike will do that . . . it's quite sad acutally.

Turned the truck north and headed home. Made time for one last stop. Another chance to wander new water. It was the last day of the trip, the last day of my season. Yellow days disappear, summer fires die. It's an inevitability that all of us who live in northern locales accept. That's just how it is. A long, cold winter sets in and "Rent-a-movie weather" always comes. But so does spring. The chinook winds will begin to blow and the first crocuses will show up. We will shed our heavy coats, our gloves, our toques, our winter boots. The snow will melt. The rivers will thaw. The sun will shine. And the yellow days will return.

Click here if the movie does not play. Hit the road and traveled a little further south. Everybody will know where this is, but it was my first time on this particular piece of water. Checked into the Yellow Days Inn. The maid service sucked And the food was merely adequate. More fuel than food really. But the views were spectacular. As were the nearby attractions. The wind blew hard through the gap the entire day, everybody who came and strung up decided to leave. I hung around and had the place to myself for most of the day.

The highlighted portion of your text is what says it all. There aren't enough people that know how to remove a barbless hook properly let alone a barbed one. Rip and tear. Rip and tear. This ain't a good move. At all.

This was all extra top notch.

Nope. Not this time anyways.

Familiar water affords you time. Allows you to slow down. There is no rush to beat the crowds to the public access. If they're full, a quick coffee at a local rancher's will have you on a prime stretch in half an hour. So you can sleep in. Eat a full breakfast. Wait until the water warms up and leave the waders behind. Precious minutes aren't wasted figuring out what the fish are eating. You've already got a hunch before you reach the water. Ants. Crickets. Where they're hiding is evident. You know where the good holding water is. You can gradually pick your way through the pocket water, ignored by the others in search of more obvious pools. There is no rush to see what's around the upstream bend. You've been there before. So instead of racing ahead. You can move with ease and explore the smaller intricacies of that particular water. This extra time allows you to slow down and enjoy each moment as they happen. And as the sun sets on the river you never feel as if you've ran out of time. You know that's all there was to begin with.

Sounds like a lot of grey area.

Please define "obscene"

Looks sharp. Now only we get the 3,448 forums and sub-forums streamlined into about 6.

Click here if the movie does not play. 6 hours from home, 0 cell service. New water and a chance to wander. Fishing new water always feels the same, sort of like dancing to a song you've never heard. By the time you figure out the rhythm, the song ends and it's time to leave. But at least you leave with a little more info gleaned. And new water won't be as new, the next time you return to wander these banks.

" . . . how it happens, well it disappears as it happens, doesn't it not everything is capturable, hard as we try. Like this summer we're in presently. It's going. It's going, going, gone . . . " Winter lurks. It can be seen it the morning air, felt in the evening breeze . . . It will show up soon. Soon enough, anyways . . . . . . but near the end of September, the last of the "yellow days", it was still wet wading in the afternoon. Still casting to rising fish. Still drinking summer seasonals. Still eating outdoors. Still driving with the windows down. Still basking in the warmth of the sun. Still resolute in the belief that summer would last another month. Another week. Another day at least. I had a week, several maps and a favourable forecast. I took the last part of September to make the most of those precious few remaining "yellow days"

That is a good looking fish!!!

Bob, Yep I love that fly. It doesn't stay afloat like some other stones I use that get struck a bunch . But that one seems to hook up more often, probably because it rides a little lower.

A friend sent up his 40 year old glass Wonderrod from CO for me to fish. So I showed it a few of my favourite places. It's on tour. Headed to AK now. Here's a smattering of pictures from the excursion.

This is riveting stuff. They used to do it all on click pawl. Jus' sayin'.

You've obviously never had my ramen. It's world class. Absolutely divine. It'll make anybody question their current situations.

Good thing. Cigarettes are addictive. Says so right on the pack Would a size restriction be a better option than an outright ban?

I want to go to there. What a sweet looking spot. 77 of 89 is really getting after it. Was finding good places to set up shop fairly easy? Or a bit of a hassle? P.S. If AJ ever leaves you, don't worry. I'll tag along to NZ, keep you company and cook you the finest ramen you've ever had. True story

I was mostly just messing around. It's a good idea for those who into that sort of thing. Probably not my vibe though. This is a little more my style. As for noodle flavour, original is the way to go. But flavour is just a minor consideration. Noodle quality is the most important variable. So it's best not to cheap. Spend the extra $0.30 for the Sapporo Ichiban and leave that Mr. Noodle on the shelf.

$30 - 40K? That'll purchase a lot of ramen noodles and gas.

Dries mostly. Stones and drakes. And small white streamers.