The Bastardization of my Fly Fishing

So last time I checked in I came to the realization that I needed to start paying more attention to the warm water collection of piscatorial pursuits. This need is is not only driven by the fact that, a little variety is the cayenne pepper of life, but also I need the money (a reoccurring theme in my life recently...baby on the way... home purchase looming...need a new 7 wt...just the basics) that guiding smallmouth could bring. With this in mind I got up with Ryan this week for an evening float on the French Broad. This was my first time on this section of the Broad and I have to say that it was a pretty enough section of water that you would swear trout lived there. This was also the maiden voyage of Ryan's new 12 ft raft. Turns out it was the final voyage as well since Ryan has become the Fred Sanford of the boat world (Murphy would be Lamont in this metaphor...and I would be Grady...and Mitch, well Mitch would be the old red truck that doesn't run for shit)

"Early Bent Rod Staff Photo"


and sold the boat a week after he got it.

"The boat from the blue lagoon...I only mounted her once yet much like herpes she will stay with me forever"




"Just another bass with a mean tequila hangover"

We did all right for a couple of bass novices boating 20-25 in a few hours. The fly of the day was the Tequila Fly that the boys were using to slay them on the New last weekend. So needless to say my vice and I are going to throw a tequila party very soon and Dave down at Casters is the only one invited since he invented it.



I feel that I am starting to figure out this alien species. I am no Mike Ichanelli (I don't care how you spell his name...spin fishing neanderthal) but I have come to a couple of conclusions:

1. The mountains are the mountains and a river is a river and so on and so on.

"Ryan hiding behind a bass...he's shy "




2. Bass are either amazingly aggressive for aggressiveness sake or they are not the sharpest tool in the shed. Either way, if you a put a big stupid looking, flashy fly with rubber legs in front of them they are most likely going to eat it.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING PSYCHO!!!!!!"




3. They fight like Mike Tyson before the face tattoos, think punch out for Nintendo Tyson or the Robbin Givens era Tyson...scary shit.

"Bent rod anyone?...No thank you, I already have one."



4. With enough beer anything can be fun...just as long as it's not wheat beer...beer that requires slices of fruit is a serious deduction of mantastic points...Ryan this means you.

"Is it just me or does that orange slice look like it might be hitting for the other team...not that there's anything wrong with that"





With these lessons in my knowledge quiver I will continue my quest to reap the rewards that bass can offer, but next time I will be armed with Budweiser tall boys like any other self respecting bass fisherman.

"I made a new friend, his name is Lester."




-Nymph-o