Well now, I mentioned yesterday that I would begin to create more content. This is the first of that content. Rainbow trout in some little known tailwater in Northern NM. Twas a journey for sure. Here in the next week, be on the lookout for more videos. I’ll be creating a musky leader video, fly hacks, I’ve got a 3-day journey ahead of me and I’ll also be manufacturing a few more products. You’ll be first in line to see those!
It has been one year since I have posted anything here! As you have probably gathered, I am not so good at the blogging thing. I am currently thinking about finding new and interesting ways to use this format. I really like telling stories, but in the video format, it takes a very long time to edit and make all of that come together in my mediocre way. Maybe, I’ll start telling the stories when I upload videos without the narrative. Maybe that is what will happen. So, 2017 is resurrecting the blog and maybe some interesting writing instead of photographic posts. I feel like Facebook and instagram are your places to see images and this blog format has essentially been reduced to essays. Not a bad thing by any means. I’m back in the blog (even though I have made this promise before)! Anyhow, I will not be linking this site from Facebook anymore. I’m going to let the blog be the blog. To all of my 5 followers, you can see more content on YouTube. If you haven’t subscribed already, please do. I feel that youtube is a great social platform if you feel so inclined.
I wanted to keep everyone posted here. I dropped the new fly hacks and currently working on a DVD for season 1 aka last year. Only 5 episodes, but I’m trying to pack it as full of extras that I can. I might even film the entire season this year and put that out? Heck, I may do something altogether different. Either way, a tying DVD will be out soon. Maybe, a little spiral book of recipes as well. Who knows. Anyhoo, I really wanted to focus on upsizing small flies to give some ammunition to tailwater anglers this winter. Here it is!
Through a downward slope of chaotic meanderings, water tumbles over stones millions of years old where the basalt has been polished to glass by the traffic. Traffic without stop lights, where jams are managed by toppling over one another. But here, alas, respite. 6,000 vertical feet to go.
The journey of water is nearly as mysterious as the fish who reside within it. Maybe the water melted from a glacier stored thousands of years ago. Maybe from rain or snow. Maybe this is it’s first journey to the ocean. I almost feel bad for flinging droplets of water to the shore from the back of a fly who’s weight is nearly measurable in ounces. Those drops evaporate and are carried east to slower, probably less desirable water. Maybe that water will get the chance to flow here again, after it makes its way around the world. Not in my lifetime though.
The rhetoric and the mystery continues with the fish. These pike reside in class 5 rapids. Pushed to the edge of their ability and they thrive, giving credence to “what doesn’t kill you”. As a human fishing for the brutish beasts in the destructive terrain, the words should be changed to, “if it doesn’t kill you”. It wants to, and every chance it gets, it will. Fitting that pike would be here to live in harmony with the chaos and destructive force of this mighty divide in the earth.
The pike here aren’t as few and far between as one would expect. They are concentrated in great numbers and more aggressive than any other pike in the world. The only place to my recollection that a pike would eat after being caught. A place where you have to wait for the second take to be prepared enough to set; or by the time you set from the first take, the pike has already eaten your fly a second time. A place where if you talk to someone, you’ve already missed three.
We forget about what it takes to survive. Our buttons and knobs that complete simple tasks lead us to believe that a fish can be an annoyance, a nuisance. What it takes to survive here is more than what us humans can muster. There are no prepackaged meal plans here, no heaters, stairs or escalators. No mechanized tools of survival or assistance from ones who can. Just a fish that has all the cards stacked against it in a place where the water can rest on its journey to who-knows-where. Alas, here we are.
I may not live in a giant house or drive the newest of cars. I may not dine on the most elegant foods or drink the finest champagne. The shop I work in is not the most beautiful spectacle to behold. However, as mediocre as it all sounds, all of the things I have are all that I want or need in life. They exceed every expectation; the friends are true and the food is real. It may be a rustic way of living, but at least my excersize is climbing a mountain rather than flights of stairs. The decisions are whether or not to fish, rather than attend a meeting. I don’t live a life where I can ask what the easy way is. If I worked in an office building, the elevator would always be broken. On occasion, I ask myself why in a self loathing tone. Looking back, even in the five years I’ve spent blogging, it is all worth it. Every step was worth the work, every decision worth the effort. Even though I am not a popular guy with the masses, in the hearts of some, I am. I ended up in one of the most beautiful places on earth around the greatest people alive, my friends. Without you, I wouldn’t be able to share it. Without you, I would be miserable AND broke.
It’s a strange thing traveling from the written word to video. Inflection destroys even well placed commas. So, I’ve gone from writing to winging it. I hope you enjoy it.
From recent discussions, I’m going to be writing more and be less concerned with ranting. I’ll see you soon!