I don't travel to the big city of Denver very often, so when I do I use a guide. I have no problem admitting to giving up the drivers seat to my lady as soon as the land flattens and the traffic starts to resemble a Trico swarm. Kit loves the big city and doesn't mind driving once I am overwhelmed. Someone once said "Listen and let your guide work" or relax and let all the responsibility ride on the shoulders of someone who's comfortable with the surroundings. I try.
So after checking into our favorite down town hotel Thursday evening we looked for our first guide of the evening to take us to the Project Healing Waters auction. There outside the hotel sat six taxi cabs, all empty except one. My tortuous adventure would start as soon as I knocked on the window and politely asked if he was on duty.
After what seemed like 20 minutes "Ted" finally got the window rolled down so I could ask if he would take us to Mile High Station and the many beers we were going to partake in for an extremely good cause.
When he explained he "didn't know where that was" I thought he must be joking.
"What the hell is a rookie doing out here in the middle of downtown and how the hell did I get him? I thought.
I had a bad feeling my guide had no idea how to row and thought about changing boats but I felt like I might be violating some sort of cancellation policy so I stayed with my drift. This was his office after all so I started my ride with high confidence he would find the damn take out which we were told was only a short walk away. By the end of my ride I would be thoroughly convinced I have eaten strips of bacon that were smarter than that cab driver.
The 1.5 miles took one professional gps unit, 2.5 human brains, two smart phones and 25 minutes to complete mostly due to the unexpected demonstration of hate literally blocking the one safe route to my night of fun. Thousands of pissed off people with their political panties in a bunch with nothing better to do than get together and lick each others wounds forced us to make three more wrong turns and end up lost in an empty dark parking lot under the interstate. We would see riot gear before our night ended.
What were they trying to accomplish other than confuse Siri and my cabbie's already shaky sense of direction? It's a free country and if you want to march around with a blow horn and a sign that's your right. Feel free to show your emotion and contempt in public even if it's pointless. Seems that's part of the American way thing we all have a right to.
It got me thinking how much time we as a society spend on hate and how once again real life mirrors fly fishing in my simple mind.
Fly Fisher People love to be hateful, political, demonstrative assholes as well. especially when someone else is doing or using or looking different than their parties beliefs.
I'm not sure exactly how our party lines are aligned but I know for a fact we have them.
Are the Republicans anti worm?
Do Democrats hate rafts?
Are Conservatives Dry Fly snobs?
Do the liberals fish junk one day and bugs another?
Pretty sure the Millennial's support Tenkara.
Our little club has some significant lines drawn in the sand and it often seems there is a bunch of hollering, finger pointing and lobbying going on justifying some small nuance of the art that just comes across as hateful noise.
There is Rod hate, Boat hate, Guide hate, Client hate, Fly Shop hate, Private Water hate, Bobber hate, Comp hate, Stocker hate (guilty) and my all time favorite, Fly hate, just to name a few.
"Trib Nuts"made beads a fly when they were lashed to the hook
You all know the fly hater; That dude who will never use a streamer, the misguided fool who doesn't fish eggs or worms and has no problem calling you a cheater for doing it that way. Get a sign, start a petition but trout eat smaller trout, eggs and worms, I approve this message.
My party cares not what color your squirm is.
"I hate Squirmy" say some anglers.
"Why? You have a box of San Juan worms in your pack" say I.
The confused change of stance come back sounds like, "Yeah, well Squirmies fall apart"
In the right situation, in the right conditions, in the right color with the proper drift and a great angler on the stick the squirmy always out performs the San Juan. Serious, that's my vague, drawn out, non committal, political take on that matter.
Yes it falls apart. Save the hook and set aside 15 seconds to tie another when you get home. Helps to balance the budget.
The Mop. I'm going to get some materials in a blond color and call it Trump next year
Recently there was quite a stir in the force regarding a particular fly created from a mop. People all up in arms, protesting like it was a bead head in the early eighties or something. Getting all political on it is again pointless. It was created at a vise by putting material on a bare hook with thread and then tied to some tippet attached to fly line and rod thus making it a fly. That shit is in the constitution of fly fishing somewhere. It's been voted on.
I am proud to be affiliated with the Egg Party
Carry On Haters