Debby Downer

I’m sitting at work pouring through budget figures and formatting Excel spreadsheets. I'll leave Microsoft Excel out of this, but I will state one thing about this devilish software: She is a soul-crushing whore..... Look over my shoulder out of my window to the world outside. It’s overcast, drizzling; temps are in the mid 60’s. It’s a perfect day to be on the stream. Then my thoughts turn to my no-good sons a bitchin’ friends. About now they are about 3 beers deep, nymphs about 3 feet deep, and all I can do is pout. Not your typical adult pouting, I’m full on 5 year old boy just got his ass spanked pouting. I can see them now. General D. is probably cracking a witty off the wall comment, Ryan is undoubtedly making fun of Murphy’s boy band beard, and Murphy is calling Ryan a Mexican and trying to steal Dave's Jew Gold. The BentRodMedia boys are slangin’ flies, stickin’ trout, and are involved in some type of debauchery deep in the heart of Georgia.
It’s hard to describe what it’s like to know that your friends are fishing without you. I’ve never caught my wife in bed with another man, BUT I would imagine it’s probably in the ballpark. Fly-fishing is such a whore and is in bed with my friends. Once again I am Karma’s bitch. I am the love child of Debbie Downer and Negative Nancy, if they were lesbians and somehow could have a child together. So, I’ll whip out my IPOD and turn on some Old Crow, close my eyes and try to imagine Dave calling me a no good piece of shit….I’ll try to imagine Murphy telling me that I whine more than my Dad…..I’ll try to imagine Ryan’s short Mexican stature…..Maybe at lunch I’ll go grab a drink….Because all of my friends are fishing…..

MLB

Bearded Ladies

Remember Fridays are Picture days at the BRM Blog. Even though we usually forget to do it on Friday.

The BeARDED LaDIes!!!

Our Friend Dave

A little taste of some behind the scene rambles of our friend Dave A.K.A. Nymph-O A.K.A General-D. Fishing wouldn't be the same without you. (Click The Pic For Link to Video)

Who Needs Some Steel Wool?

Our Friend Dave from Bent Rod Media on Vimeo.

Pray to the Fish God

On the day of our Lord, the fish god, September 30, 2009 Mitch and I (BayE) set out early mourning for that bitch of a stretch of water ultimately know as "The Lady." Personally I have a love/hate relationship with "The Lady." A relationship much the same as I do with my weed eater, that son of a bitch that does what it wants to do, when it wants to do it, despite what you do to make it do what you want. That was a mind bottling (Blades of Glory) reference. My love for "The Lady" is centered around the serene beauty that comes from her tall mountains and thick timber that make up the valleys to holds her crystal clear, perfectly balanced water. With thick limestone river beds that support her, like a Victoria's Secret bra holding a fine pair of D's. My hatred comes from those elusive, slimy little bastards that scurry about her waters. Beautiful and wild these little beasts have had the privilege to see practically every fly know to man. Presented to them in all possible manners. This "privilege" has created fish nearly impossible to stock, present, and ultimately catch. But, it has also created other so dumb that when seeing the human figure they literally follow you around the stream. Kinda like the vultures were the day we found Dave somehow stranded in his boat on a dried up stream bed wearing nothing but a diaper. Mumbling something about "those god dam canoes....NO.....please don't make me go back in the canoe." Nothing beats an easy fish to catch, puts a smile on my face every time!!

We started off the day early, around 2'am early, for the stream. Gas-check. Cigarettes-check. Snuff-check. Gear-check. New Creations from the fly tying bench-Check. Cameras-check. Water-check. Beer Cooler with Ice-Check. Phone, wallet, iPod, Sunglasses, all things needed for a fine day on the stream-check. Well about 45 minutes into the trip DISASTER STRUCK!!

No one brought beer. Did I mention September 30th was a Sunday? What does this mean? Wikipedia says--

**The sale of liquor is prohibited statewide on Sundays. Beer and wine may be purchased after 1 pm.

**The sale of all alcohol is prohibited on election days. WHICH MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE AT ALL!!! NONE!!!

They can't sell it but I can drink it? Come on. Really? I had the no beer, before, during, and after fishing shakes. Now I don't require a constant, or therapeutic alcohol level. I routinely live at a level of zero. Only when going to, in the act of, and after fishing do I require a low, but sometimes high alcohol, and the occasional inebriating alchol level. At times my body does not judge alcohol by age, taste, cost, or regurgitated color.

Another great day on the water, perfect weather, decent flows and quite a few bugs flying around. Trout of all shapes and sizes, taking terrestrials of all shapes and colors. Nothing beats a +20 inch fish gulping a juicy beetle off the surface, or a 16 inch brown coming from the bottom to destroy a hopper. Flies chewed up so badly they had to be laid to rest. Many trout were brought to hand in the 6 hours spent on the stream. Still the majority of the elusive bastards eluded us once again, sitting on the bottom looking up making fun of the 2 retards waving sticks in the air.

If you want to experience this stream for yourself check out http://elkspringsflyshop.com/index.htm Good food and drink!!

**BayE**

Tuesday Rationalization

"Holy Shit... I'm glad my Alaska trip next week is going to be a lot easier fishing than this."

-Said with a smile by another satisfied client today after staring into the giant salmonid aquarium that is the Davidson River and conning a couple of those wiley bastards to come out and play...thus proving the point if you can catch fish in the south you can catch fish anywhere.

Oh...Woe is Me

Hello again from the nymph-o radio hour. I was going to give my apologies for my silence over the past couple of weeks, but then I realized nobody really cares anyway and those of you that do occasionally read my drivel were probably ready for a vacation anyway. The past couple of weeks have been somewhat enlightening, I have learned that I can no longer stay up playing poker and drinking moonshine till 2 am and then go to work the next day (they do not produce enough goodies headache powders globally for this to be feasible anymore at my age), also I have finally figured out that my wife is really pregnant and I will be a father before you can say shitty diaper (it only took me 8 1/2 months to come to this realization), and that quitting smoking is the worst thing I could possibly do for my usual sunny disposition. Exacerbating my loss of my beloved nicotine, is the fact that over the past two weeks there have been, by my count, at least eight fish pushing 18-22 inches hooked, played, and lost from my boat. The culprits of these egregious actions are various clients and so-called friends (real friends don't horse fish),
"My friend Sean with the one that didn't get away"

but they all share the common trait of crapping the bed when the chips were on the table (clients not as much because they pay, I love you guys...don't forget to book early for the fall pre-spawn...spots are filling up quick...wink). After a tragedy such as this one it really makes you look inward and see who's home. In my case the house has been empty for a while now, but with what little intestinal fortitude I still had left, I formulated a theory. These eight fish lost were not singular randomn acts but instead a karmic conspiracy, on the part of the universe, to dole out the donkey kick to the genitals I so richly deserve for my prior bad acts (they are numerous and gruesome...I won't say I killed a man just to watch him die...but I killed a man just to watch him die). So I went to the chapel looked up at the sky and screamed, "I AM SORRY I TOUCHED YOUR SISTER, RAN OVER YOUR DOG, MADE FUN OF JERRY LEWIS, AND EVEN FOR THAT ONE TIME I PEED IN MURPHY'S SLEEPING BAG...I'M SORRY...JUST MAKE THE MADNESS STOP!"

That seemed to do the the trick because Chris, Ryan and I went to the Watauga yesterday and finally showed those trout that I was not a man to be trifled with.

"This one gave me five solid jumps before he faced the inevetabilty of my awesomeness"

"Just call me Jacques"


The catching was good all day with all of us losing track of just how many were caught.

"One of the numerous small fellas Chris tricked, giving him the title of the Great White Minnow Hunter for all eternity"


Most were taken on soft hackles, sulfur dries, cranefly dries, and other various emerger patterns.

"Big Fish Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner"

"This one made me cry a little...just a little"
Needless to say it was exactly what I needed, and exactly what I was due, damn it (the fried chicken didn't hurt either).

-Nymph-o

Bent Rod Media Teams up with Reel Job Fishing

RJF Teams Up with Bent Rod Media (Click to View the RJF BLOG)

Bent Rod Media

Reel Job Fishing has teamed up with Bent Rod Media, a fly fishing productions company developing fly fishing films from around the world. I’ll be filming with them for two days in September, and we’re really excited to bring everyone some spectacular footage fly fishing on our home waters. Filming big trout chomping terrestrials on the surface will be our primary focus this trip. If we like how everything turns out we’ll be filming some smallmouth bass fishing this Fall for the HOT topwater bite. When we’ve finished filming and editing the footage we’ll post it on the blog so everyone can check it out.

Longboat Outfitters promo / North Fork White River from Bent Rod Media on Vimeo.

The Forgotten Coast HD Bent Rod Media from Bent Rod Media on Vimeo.



<BayE>