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By Ajax
#233773
Jesus tap-dancing Christ, Mitch! How in the fuck are the rest of us supposed to write up a trip report after that? I'm going up to Grayling next week, but anything I do will resemble an ice-cream social in comparison. Unless I encounter raptors eating Girl Scouts or get blown by the ghost of Marilyn Monroe in the shitter at Spikes, I think that I'll keep whatever happens to myself. Thanks, you prick. :cool
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By SLSS
#233774
Ajax wrote:Jesus tap-dancing Christ, Mitch! How in the fuck are the rest of us supposed to write up a trip report after that? I'm going up to Grayling next week, but anything I do will resemble an ice-cream social in comparison. Unless I encounter raptors eating Girl Scouts or get blown by the ghost of Marilyn Monroe in the shitter at Spikes, I think that I'll keep whatever happens to myself. Thanks, you prick. :cool
Exactly.
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By Plow
#233775
SLSS wrote:
Ajax wrote:Jesus tap-dancing Christ, Mitch! How in the fuck are the rest of us supposed to write up a trip report after that? I'm going up to Grayling next week, but anything I do will resemble an ice-cream social in comparison. Unless I encounter raptors eating Girl Scouts or get blown by the ghost of Marilyn Monroe in the shitter at Spikes, I think that I'll keep whatever happens to myself. Thanks, you prick. :cool
Exactly.
He's killed the drake with that post. It was a great death nevertheless. :cool
User avatar
By Ajax
#233776
Plow wrote:
SLSS wrote:
Ajax wrote:Jesus tap-dancing Christ, Mitch! How in the fuck are the rest of us supposed to write up a trip report after that? I'm going up to Grayling next week, but anything I do will resemble an ice-cream social in comparison. Unless I encounter raptors eating Girl Scouts or get blown by the ghost of Marilyn Monroe in the shitter at Spikes, I think that I'll keep whatever happens to myself. Thanks, you prick. :cool
Exactly.
He's killed the drake with that post. It was a great death nevertheless. :cool
Really. In between Mitch & Glista, they've fucked-up the rest of us for keeps.
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By Jon
#233780
Dammit mitch you AustroCanadian bastard...fine work. I take back everything I've ever said about you. OK, most of it...well half of it at least. And smart move bringing your own personal flytyer - Roy is a mensch - I'd fish with him again anytime, anywhere. :cool
#233785
No wonder you like small nets.

Was the final pic the last time somesuggested downstream dry fly??

Hellava report
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By RoyChristie
#233786
Translation for the non-austrian speakers among us.

2008 June, Mitch came over to London to see the family, asked if anybody had a day's fishing to share, as it happened I did - so folowing many decades of drought and hosepipe bans we went fishing on the Coln in the lovely county of Gloucestershire - pronounced glostersher.. handy tip for those who get lost easily.
Long story short - it pissed down rain the whole day, dinks and average fishes were duped and returned to be stupefied another day. It was fun, good to meet another Drakian from afar. cheers brother.

2009 June, the bold Mitch takes the opportunity to visit the family again, paying for it by working in a goldmine for 26 hours a day at temperatures of 120 degrees C in the daytime and -300 at night. Being the hardest dude on the planet he duly hardened the fuck up and saved up multiple pounds of gold to cover the Italy&Wales Drake Bake 2009.

In true Drake fashion, tickets were booked the night before and on the day of departure, decisions having been made at 4AM after gallons of beer and it was decided in this Drakian lucidity to visit Italy where the man had previously tied a silken insect but where the mystery had never previously set foot, inch even.

I gather that the trip from Chateau Shunned to Perth's international terminal was without incident and that the Shunnedmobile would be expected to remain safe on a hydrant until the return of the sacred mystery - AKA shunned. For the sake of clarity Mitch aka 2 fish will remain in background.

Having laid waste large areas of England's capital, as an example to the remainder, the mystery and the man teamed up and by magic were transported to a far off land where the polish was unintelligible to your heroes. This, it was decided, albeit after a few days, was a distinct advantage as the local folks were provided with the perfect example to prove their hospitality, which they did in style.

The heroic pair (well the mystery one anyway) hired a horseless carriage as displayed previously, with a fierce guard dog, who it transpired spoke neither our austro-anglo dialect nor the local speak - but a germanic throwback of a byegone age intelligible only to quadrupeds - he was left to guard the beers for breakfast, elevenses, lunch, teabreak, supper and snack-time. Cheers, zoozoo, for a job well done.

Finding fishing is far from easy when there are fifteen forms to complete to get a licence and another twenty to get a fishing ticket. Especially difficult was getting the latter tickets as the office had been closed with no forward address. As nobody spoke our language and we hadn't a frigin clue what was going on, a local guy worked out that we were totally nuts and should be thrown in the river. He guided us to a suitable place for that foul purpose which strangely co-incided with the fishery office. Cool, molto grazie meester.

Driving at the speed of light we managed to get legal, and proceeded to conquer truttas. A couple of dinks came along then the magic spell of the mystery clicked in and resulted in 3/4 inch of rain in the afternoon which clouded the waters of the stream and soaked yours truly to the arse of my waders. A decision had to be made. Of course we continued to fish until the last bit of daylight had been sucked from the sky and we then went back to the small castle we stayed att to get changed. Time to eat.
Oh and drink loads of beers and avoid the scorpions and fireflies and man-eating frigin spiders and try to sleep while huge bugs tried to eat the floor, easy after another gallon of Peroni.

The next morning dawned brightt and sunny, allegedly, it was too bright for jmy hangover anyway, the mystery woke me and informed me that the guard dog had eaten all the bugs and scorpions and the day was young, time for coffee. COOL, coffee mmmmm. After coffee it rained another half inch, mutthafucka, I have never seen the like. Off fishing we went, trying to distinguish the water surface from the sky. The mystery said he'd had enough rain and needed coffee. By magic the rain ceased, never to reappear, cofee did not so we returned to the village, coffee mmmmmmmmm.

We recounted how many truttas we had caught, me many millions, shunned had none he could remember until I showed him my camera, duhhh! :) more coffee mmmmmmmmmm

By now, seriously addicted to espresso and jangling at the seams we went off like suckers for punishment, watch out ye truttas, we will take your photograph and steal your soul.
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By RoyChristie
#233787
Returning to the hunt we crept up a long section of white water with big boulders at the outside of the bends.
Fish were spotted and cast at, some taken, some missed, some lost.
One fish that was sitting on the far side of a seam of white water in a flat area behind a rock was busy feeding and was very special, something in the grace of his feeding pattern showed him to be a confident feeder and likely a big mufuger.
To get a fly in there was a challenge. To get it to stay in the zone for three seconds was hard work and involved intricate calculation, four seconds would be nigh impossible.
About a hundred casts later, six of which might have been viable, we moved on up. Every few seconds he showed again. Back we go, this time give him the biggest baddest revpara in the bigbad box. Second cast was about perfect, after three and a half seconds the fish rose up and snapped at the fly which instantaneously got ripped away by the current. The fish followed it with such conviction that he backflipped over the two foot rock behind him, to return, sheepish looking, a second later in his lie.
That was one fine fish.
He will take a fly if it sits long enough. Retrying tthe bigbadrevpara had no effect.
Try this.. handed the mystery a bigbad red Quill Catskill fly.
First good cast and there was a point where time stood still. A mouth you could hide a fist in opened and engulfed the fly.
The mystery hit it and was hanging on in there. I stood watching while this monster was brought under control, played in the fast water and brought over the net. The hook came away and the fish came off and sat at our feet a few minutes before returning to feed in his spot. Easily six pounds. No shots of fish you don't catch. Awesome all the same; laughed our tits off when we could speak again a bit later on.

On the way out I manaaged a fish in a backwash behind a huge rock, took him by highsticking a nymph at him from on tippytoes and managed to haul him in on to the beach ; there is some real fun fishing in a river this fast and clear.
Back to coffee beer and food to prepare for another day in paradise. The dog still hasn't learned to drive beers still safe though. Pasta and pizza for dinner - more beer, scorpions, bugs and sleep.
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By RoyChristie
#233788
As the Drakian may imagine the ensuing days were spent in similar manner, itineraries being adapted to include searches for the ultimate DSFK dogdammit, the amazing scenery, more amazing fishing, more amazing food and coffee mmmmmmm and generally great craic. oh and beer.

flies were tied and tried and some worked so they were stuck in trees, fishes were caught, more beers, more food, did I mention coffee.
Time flies as does the tourist.
We got back to Rome with a couple of hours to spare, got through securitty with a warning that my fly reels should really have been in the hold, won't do it again officer, sure.
Got a free upgrade to buusiness class due to the happy demeanour of the heroic pair and flew into LHR in time to go west young man, next stop Wales.
Land of sheep and mountains and wild trout, what again!,
Here we come. Breakfast in Wales, fishing before lunchtime

Nuff said, Shawn, it was a pleasure.
That onefish you caught in Wales has to be mentioned in despatches.
Spottted by Shunned - the biggest fish in this tiny place was left in position while we went off to the local alehouse to get some venison steaakburgers, yummy fer sure, returned, picked up the landmark, the shunned one popped in there and took that excellent smallstream fish in short order. coolaz.

Like you say, we had a nofucking ball

Latest news from Perth municipal council WA - is that the fire hydrant by the airport is now clear for another few days; oh and rain is expected.

Until next time, Shawn,
may the wind be at your back and may the road come up to meet you;

Counter-revelation -
I'll just have to make do with the 3liter V6 and -

confessions - I dont know fuck all about flyfishing and fly tying, I just make it up as I go along.
haha.


good fishing, great times, cheers,

Roy the man
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