As of late

My apologies to the two of you who read this. I have not been a good blogger lately. It's been quite a month, and it had nothing to do with an orange jump suit.

The old computer dinosaur finally died which hindered my blogging and dropped stock in a few porn sites. Many many thanks to John Knight for furnishing me with a new one for an exceptional price, flies. No I cant just steal a handful a week from the shop, he wants the custom top secret variety for his upcoming summer of competitive fly fishing. He's probably screwed but I'm back on line.

Things have gotten very busy around the ol fly shop and I have been doing floats on the Roaring Fork almost daily for the last 3 weeks. Believe me or not, the fishing has been off the hook. Rank beginners, kids and even drunk fly shop owners have been sticking Fork piggies. The water has begun to stain a bit below the Crystal River but that has only seemed to make things better. At least I've been able to put my 6x away.

A very loud shout out to Outcast boats! I am a terrible rower so I have always felt that my baby was one tough ship, but apparently they make them strong enough to drag down the highway. On my way to pick up my regular March clients Ms Shay and her husband Lenny my boat became dislodged from its cradle. Luckily the tattered winch strap which should have been replaced 3 years ago is rated for 78 mph. I dragged my girl a few hundred yards, much to the dismay of the rush hour traffic around me and she survived to float again. Funny enough I credit Mag Chloride. There was enough of the crap on the road to protect the bottom of the raft and when I leaned underneath her at the Wolcott exit for a heart pounding inspection I scraped a nice 1/2 inch layer from the hot rubber. Thank you to the fine people at the DOT.

We shot an episode of  "Fishful Thinker" for the Altitude network in early March on the Roaring Fork. My open mind was running in circles in preparation for having a gear guy in the boat on top of some of my favorite employees. The dinner conversation was a bit tense when the demand of cutting trebles from 7" swim baits came up but the Makers Mark helped.....alot. I honestly did not realize they don't swim or sink right when you cut that many hooks off, it didnt matter, he caught a bunch. The host Chad and his camera guy turned out to be great guys and Chad can honestly chuck a chunk of gear in any spot you ask. Their dull knife was a welcome addition to the tying session even if I was not allowed to touch it. They ended up very happy that my boy Scott Thompson was able to catch so many fish. I guess he has tried to film the "Fly Guy" vs the "Gear guy" episode quite a few times and the Fly dude never does that well. My friend Scott represented the fly fishing community extremely well. Look for my bad rowing, poor decision making, buff covered melon on Altitude the morning of March 26th. And No, Outdoor Television does not pay very well, they did tip nicely though.......Thanks Chad and Tim.

So my Mom is in town this week to see her Grandson Sam. She doesn't get to see him as much as either would like, so when she is here the education is constant, fast and furious. The potty training  lessons started in the airport, god love Grandma B. So as a distraction and a way to get the young prodigy to take a nap I suggested we take a drive to the upper Colorado so I might check the water for another option in the days to come. The water looked great, clean and clear, free of ice and 39 degrees. The unusually deserted put in at Pump House offered me a perfect opportunity to again teach my young son the joys of relieving himself in the great outdoors. Unfortunately during my manly right I sharted, I'm sorry, I shit my pants, right there in the bushes next to the river I love, in front of my mother and young son. Who needs the potty training? I could only imagine the shuttle driver or the DOW driving down and seeing me buck naked while learning first hand how soothing those baby wipes actually are.
I've been busy as of late.

Yes Zim, pictures of people holding their rods in their mouth bug me, but I don't like the taste of cork unless it has something to do with red wine. I also just admitted that I shit my pants so who's gonna listen to me.

Definition of the month: In honor of the pro football mess.
Occasionally when arriving back from a trip other guides will ask how your peeps did. We or I have developed 2 teams.

AFC Team: Awesome Fucking Chances

NFC Team: No Fucking Chance


  1. Apology accepted. Glad you're back on and writing stories about shitting your pants. I laughed.

    --Reader 1

  2. And you were laughing at me for my mid afternoon antics on I-70. Good post bobber. May all this snow melt and the eagle bump up to 200. The streamer rod is ready.

  3. my condolences to your computer, your boat, and your pants. Nice.