Journey's End

I'll just pick up where I left off:

We drove south. Option #1 was too low. Option #2 was full of more didymo than a port-a-potty after Chili Fest, and looked none more appealing. Option #3 was too windy. This was our last option. 

It was tight little spring creek that was full of spunky browns who aren't afraid to use every piece of cover to their advantage when fighting. 

The following day we continued deeper into the rabbit's hole.

We soon ascribed it a new moniker, Improbable Creek.

This was one of the better fish we had seen, and I shouldn't have had two opportunities at it. But I did. And I certainly shouldn't have blown both of them. But I did. 

A fish came the middle of this bit, just off Lewis's right shoulder.

And he fought it underneath and through this bush.

This one came while blind-casting, literally, over 6ft tall tussock!

We then went back to the lake I'd mentioned previously. The surface was glass and the fish uninterested in anything in anything less than the most technical of presentations (think <18 on 6x). 

   

Thank you for your time.

We then packed up and headed back.

I had one more chance to fish before I was back stateside. I went at it alone and was rewarded with one fish on a random blind cast. Fish number fifty. The last fish I needed. 

And alas, the sun has set on another New Zealand summer.

The cool creep of fall had finally settled in on the South Island. Though it doesn't necessarily amount to much by the way of harsh winters most places, it is a long and arduous transition into spring some months from now. With most rivers having closed before I left, I began to feel the restlessness of stale potential setting in. It's time to move on, time to get going. A few nights in Auckland enjoying a couple concerts by my favorite band helped to quell the unrest in my legs for a day or two, but the 24+ hours of travel following finished me off.

So here I sit back in Colorado reflecting on another winter well-spent, but also weighing opportunities anew. Stepping on that plane always leaves me heavy-hearted, wondering when or even if I shall ever see this land again that means so much to me. That is always the question and always the regret in leaving. I know not if I shall return, I only know that with the end of one journey thus begins another, especially for someone returning somewhere homeless and jobless. Keep looking forward, keep pressing on. For lack of sufficient alternatives I believe I shall be moseying eastward for a change. It's been a long while since I spent a summer in Maine, and though I regret not having fisheries work to occupy me out west, I do look forward to revisiting some long forgotten waters back there. Anyone fancy a fish?

Shangri-La

In my own personal utopia, there are Browns, big Browns. Not just a few but tons, and you can sight fish for them all damn day and they all fight like maniacs and their colors are crazy and there aren't any crowds and the scenery is beautiful......and there'd be a perfect pointbreak thats always double overhead. Late October out here comes real close.

Black and Whites

The Androscoggin River is a big tank of chubs
Photos by Nate True

My friend Ducky had never seen a drift boat....

He fished some... and ripped Mavricks....

I caught chubs..... and had a Mavrick as well

Chub at 12 0 ' Clock

Caption Contest: Fists Addition

add yers in the comments!

South Fork of the Snake

Sip...Sip...BANG

Striper Run

a nice specimen of the times. she's a bit smaller than some of the others we have been getting ourselves into...

Spider vs. Horse Fly

While not fishing related, I witnessed this earlier today and found it quite intriguing. The horse fly, while he may pack a serious bite against humans, apparently is a complete sally when pitted against the spider.

Fishing in the Far East

Recently I had the privilege of finding out about this blog, via Mr. Robbins, and couldn't help but want to share my own fishing experiences in the Far East. Recently I took a trip to China where I witnessed two methods of fishing I had never seen before, and one I had never even heard about. Neither method involved fishing in the traditional sense, with lures or nets, but both were intriguing none the less. Both were witnessed in the river and bogs of a rural part of China known as Yangshuo, about an hour and a half bus ride outside Guilin. The first involved the use of tamed Cormorants tied to a pole held on the back on the fisherman. The cormorants, while fishing, have two lines tied on them. One around their foot, to prevent escape, and a second around their neck. The line around their neck serves to prevent large fish from being swallowed, while allowing smaller fish through. Thereby, the bird feeds itself and the fisherman gets his catch. The second method is less noble. I witnessed it while riding a rented bike through the rice paddies surrounding the village. Riding along and snapping pictures, I was motioned by a local to come over and look. Camera in tow, I followed his hand signals up to the top of an embankment that looked down into a brown pool of water. For a brief moment I had no idea what was going on. There was a guy with a bucket, just kind of mulling around, and the another with two poles submerged in the water one of which was making intermittent buzzing noise. After a few moments, he pulled up one of the poles to reveal a net at the end, with a fish in it. A fish that was not moving. I peered closer to realize that the other pole had a wire running up it to the box on his back, which apparently is a large battery. Upon activating a switch, he could electrify the water, killing any fish within the immediate vicinity. I'd never imaged anything like this, but I guess when dinner is on the line, Man's ingenuity is limitless. I'm curious what would happen if he tripped and fell into the water with the battery...

UPDATE: In Th'Woods Haiku Contest

Sun atop the trees

Finally touching water

I will be there soon

Leave yers in the comments...

the mightiest angler

i really want to go fishing with this fine fellow. and i would like to hear some haikus about this wondeful picture! i would make one up, but sylables are hard for me. so we will see...

Highland Lake Report - Winter Edition

A large contingent of Portlandites, five from Beantown and another half-dozen from Brook took to the ice of Highland Lake last Saturday. 5 traps in and 3 Coffee Brandys poured by 8 am, another 5 holes punched by 11 and all was well.


13 flags went up over the course of the day, three smallies aced, the one below around 16" courtesy of Big Al and his Beard.
The three pictures above courtesy of amateur photog and BFC initiate, the lovely Miss Anna Schechter.