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By Average Joe

Many of the nearby restaurants were shut down for the winter, so in the morning we went in search of a place that was open.

It took awhile, but we succeeded.

Hagen met us at the restaurant soon after we arrived, and we all ordered breakfast.

Hagen picked up the tab.

From there we went back to the fly shop.

Hagen didn’t want to waste any time running shuttles, so he paid for a shuttle at the fly shop. Lando and the Young Lass then towed their watercraft to the put in.

I jumped into my borrowed waders and stepped into the river to help with the boats, and within seconds my right foot and sock were drenched with a bracing quantity of spring runoff.

I tied on a streamer and settled into the front of the Young Lass’ raft.

Hagen said, “I just want to catch fish,” so Lando set him up with a bobber and some nymphs.

Then we pushed off and were on our way.

I’d made a few casts and was letting the streamer hang in the current off the front of the raft while I searched for a beer, when a fish took it.

It was a small rainbow, nearly black, and the streamer had most likely drifted into its redd and pissed it off.

It was the first fish of my trip, and would be my only fish of the day.

Hagen did quite well nymphing.

Hagen brought a bunch of food for lunch: fried chicken, deviled eggs, and a wide variety of sweet and salty snacks.

After lunch Hagen wanted to row.

That didn’t last long.

When Lando took over, he leaned back in the seat and pushed hard on the oars, and the welds that held the seat to the bar gave way and broke.

Lando strapped the seat to the heaviest thing in the boat - Hagen’s cooler full of beer and ice - and rowed the rest of the trip as if nothing had happened.

Near the takeout we came upon a big pod of rising fish.

I threw a tiny dry at them, but they ignored it.

There was a can crusher at the takeout. I brought the empty beer cans from our boat over to it and started crushing them, one by one. The crushed cans were supposed to drop into a hole that had been drilled into the lid of the recycling barrel, but the hole was too small and the cans would often get stuck.

I was pushing on one of the cans with the palm of my hand, trying to force it into the barrel, when Hagen passed me with a boat net full of his empty cans. He went straight to the dumpster, lifted the lid, and emptied the net. Then he tuned to me and said, "Come on! We need to get going before the restaurant closes!"

That night we had dinner at the same place where we had breakfast.

When we got back to the rooms, Hagen said, “Fuck! I forgot my toothbrush!”

Lando looked at him and said, “You know what that means….”

Hagen believes that if he doesn’t brush his teeth at night, he’ll wake up with a hangover.

He looked desperately around the room and said, “I guess I’ll just have to gargle with some of this and hope for the best.”

Hagen then picked up my brandy bottle, poured some into a paper cup, swished it around in his mouth, and then spit it out.

He then looked at me and said, “Almost tastes like Listerine," followed by, "Dude, I am freezing! Where’s the thermostat?”

I pointed to the wall, and he walked over and turned it up.

Then he looked at all of my clothes and gear scattered across the floor and said, “It looks like a goddamn yardsale in here.”

I told him I was going to take a shower, and he said, “OK. I’m going to watch some TV.”

When I got out of the shower, he was fast asleep.

I turned off the TV and spent the next several hours tossing about in bed, trying to sleep in a room that reminded me of the Sahara.

At three-thirty I heard him get up and yell, “Fuck it’s hot!”

Then he ripped off his undergarments and stumbled across the room.

He swore again when he stepped on one of my reels, then he opened the door to the cabin and walked outside.


He came back with some water bottles from his truck and then turned down the thermostat.

Then he started playing with his phone.

Eventually the sun rose.

There was no sleep for Jose in Cabin 6 that night.
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By Lando
5B923FE5-7800-440E-A91A-FD4DB240A542.jpeg (391.56 KiB) Viewed 502 times
Our plan worked.
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By Average Joe


We had breakfast at the same restaurant that served us dinner the night before.

While looking over the menu, Lando noticed that they offered chicken pot pies for lunch, but not for dinner. He asked the waitress if he could order one now and have them save it for him when we came back for dinner. She said, “Just ask them to make you one when you come in tonight.”

Hagen mentioned a businessman he knew who had a bunch of tee shirts printed up with his company’s name and logo and the words, “SAFTY FIRST.”

Hagen said, “I told the guy, ‘I hope you took them back,’ and he said, ‘No, it was my fault. That’s what I wrote on the printing order.’"

Hagen said, "So I asked the guy, ‘What did you do with them?’ and he said, ‘I gave them out to my employees and customers.’ What a fucking idiot.”

That’s how “Safty first” and “Are you being saf over there?” became our catchphrases of the day.

Hagen paid for breakfast, as well as for another shuttle.

I put on my wet socks and waders, and we launched the boats.

Last year I received a parcel in the mail from

I had no idea what he’d sent me, and upon opening it I was pleasantly surprised to find a couple dozen beautifully tied streamers.

I put one on the end of my tippet and started casting.

I hooked six nice fish throughout the day on’s streamer, but they all came unbuttoned.

Which is another way of saying that I caught nothing.

Hagen stuck with his bobber and nymph rig, and once again he did quite well.

The Young Lass and I were the first to reach the takeout.

I took my gear out of the raft and piled it on the dock.

Then I walked into the bushes and let out some beer.

As I walked back to the boat I saw a guy walking towards me and said, “How’s it going?”

He kept his head down, mumbled something, and passed me by.

It wasn’t until he yelled out to Lando and Hagen, “What did you do with Joe? Leave him on a beach somewhere?” that I realized he was FishSkiBum.

It had been awhile since we’d seen each other.

Soon after that he went back to his vehicle and said, “I’ve got something for ya.” Then he handed me a bottle that read “JOE IPA.”

When Lando and Hagen reached the takeout they let Louie out of the boat, and FSB let his young pup Sheldon out to play with him.

My 8 wt streamer rod was broken in the mayhem that ensued.

That night we had dinner at the same place where we had breakfast.

After being seated, Lando and Hagen asked if they could get chicken pot pies for dinner, and after a bit of back and forth with the manager and the kitchen staff, the waitress came back and said, “Sure.”

What they were served was actually a large bowl of chicken soup with a biscuit floating in the middle of it.

That night we had a small party in Cabin 6, and once everybody left I finally got some sleep.
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By Average Joe


In the morning, we all packed up and then had breakfast at the same restaurant that served us dinner the night before.

After breakfast we said our goodbyes to Hagen.

We then decided to float a different section of river and to camp that night.

FSB arranged and paid for the shuttle, and soon we were on our way.

FSB took the Young Lass in his boat, and I went with Lando and Louie.

I put on my wet socks and waders, and we launched the boats.

The two streamer rods I'd brought were both broken, so Lando let me use one of his.

I struggled with it, so Lando gave me a physics lesson.

It didn’t help, so I put that rod away and threw dries the rest of the day.

When FSB asked me why I wasn’t throwing streamers I replied, “I was getting too many wind knots.”

“You mean shitty casting?”

“Pretty much.”

FSB knew this section of river quite well, and we stopped and had safty meetings at nearly every beach and campsite we came across.

We also enjoyed yet another incredible lunch.

In the afternoon Lando found a nice stretch of river where he could use his spray pole.

While he was doing that, Louie and I gathered wood for the evening fire.

By the time we reached our campsite it was dark.

Lando and the Young Lass went to work setting up tents and cots, while I was put in charge of building and tending the fire.

My specialty.

FSB put some brats on the fire, and when they started to sizzle I said, “Do you want me to see if Lando has any…”

FSB then reached over the hot grill and turned each of the brats with his bare hand.


Dinner was exceptionally good.

Lando had purchased a brand new, heavy-duty cot for me to use, (“It’s so strong Hagen could sleep on it!”) but it wouldn’t fit in the tent.

Lando's friend who had lent me the waders had lent me a pad as well.

I put my sleeping bag on top of that and slept like the dead.
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By Average Joe

In the morning I woke to the sound of rain hitting the tent.

FSB and Sheldon were already up, so I got dressed and joined them around the coffee pot.

Lando, Louie, and the Young Lass soon joined us.

We packed up and said our goodbyes to FSB, and then headed out.

On the way back to Cody we stopped at a Mexican Restaurant and had lunch.

After our meal, we said our goodbyes to the Young Lass and continued our drive north.

The snow and wind increased as we got closer to our destination, and I heard Lando say, “March in Cody: in like a lion, out like a grizzly.”

It was dark by the time we reached Lando’s house.

I’ve no idea what we ate for dinner that night.
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By Average Joe

After waking up and heading outside to play Frisbee with Louie, I was surprised to discover that the weather was actually… nice.

No wind, and partly cloudy.

Lando made us some coffee and we hit the road.

I was tired of wearing wet socks, so I left the waders and boots behind and wore my slippers instead.


Our first stop was a little tailwater.

Lando made a cast, stripped in some line, and immediately hooked a fish.

After letting it go he handed me the rod and said, “Here. Cast right over there.”

I did.

Then I did it again.

And again.

I caught nothing.

As we headed back to the truck, Lando said, “First cast curse. Not your fault.”

We went to a different frozen lake and found a small area where the ice had thawed.

Lando made a couple of casts, hooked a nice laker and said, “We’re having fish tacos tonight!”

I tied a giant, three-inch long foam stonefly to the end of my tippet and made a cast.

It landed on the ice, and I saw a fish come up and try to break through the frozen barrier in order to get it.

Lando caught a couple more lakers and a pair of tigers.

The tiger trout went back into the lake.

The lakers got a rock shower and were then gutted.

An old farmer and his grown son and a mess of kids showed up and started fishing right next to us with lures and Powerbait.

The bite turned off, and they caught nothing, so they left.

Lando broke out his new Jetboil and made us hot, French dip sandwiches for lunch.

We enjoyed them with some Walmart Caesar salad kits.

After lunch Lando went back to throwing streamers.

The air was full of midges, and every once in awhile a fish would rise, so I put on a dry.

Lando landed two more fish.

I caught nothing.

We left the lake and went to a river.

Lando said, "Throw this streamer into that run."

I did.

The streamer swung right into a submerged tree, and I broke it off.

On the way back to the house we stopped to let out some beer.

I jumped out of the truck wearing my slippers, and soon they were covered with mud.

They are now buried in a landfill.

Lando invited some friends to join us for dinner that night, and we enjoyed some phenomenal fish tacos and cornbread.

We all sampled some brown liquor - some of us more than others - and sometime after twelve we said our good-nights and headed for bed.
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By stillsteamin
This is great.

I'm surprised they even halfway served an off menu order. I'd assume ordering at granny's would go something like this

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By Average Joe

In the morning I packed up my stuff.

Lando knew I had a streamer trip planned for the following week, so he lent me a 7 wt and a reel and some lines.

At the airport I thanked him for being such a great host and we said our goodbyes.

When I arrived at the SF airport, I hailed a cab and had him drive me home.

My wife met me at the door and poured me a drink, and we sat out on the patio and I told her about my trip.

I finished my drink and said, “Let me show you some of my pictures. Where’s my daypack?”

“You didn’t walk in with a daypack. Just those two suitcases.”

“Oh…. SHIT! I must have left it in the back seat of the cab.”

I’d paid the driver with cash, and had no idea what cab company he worked for: there are hundreds of them that service SFO.

I put a bunch of "Thank you for being honest and returning my belongings" money on the table near the front door and hoped he’d come back.

The next day I filed a lost luggage report with the SFO police, posted an advertisement to the Craigslist Lost and Found, and started phoning local cab companies.

The day after that I reported my passport as stolen.

In addition to my passport, the pack held a dozen cigars, a notebook, some phone cord things my wife had lent me after saying, “Please don’t lose these,” an elbow brace, a headlamp, a pair of reading glasses, three pair of prescription polarized sunglasses, and my camera.

I'm sure that by now those items have either been sold or are keeping my slippers company at the landfill.

Today I shipped off the broken rods, and I’ll start replacing the other stuff next week.

The biggest loss was the photos.

When I mentioned this to Lando he said, "We don't need photos. We lived it!"

Thanks again Lando for letting me stay at your place, for driving and rowing my lazy fat ass around two states, for letting me use your gear, for the wonderful meals, and for being such a great host.

Looking forward to seeing you at the luau.
show your tying space plz!

What they were trying to say was Fuck OFF.

It's a yes for me.

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