Way back in December of 2015, I received the following PM from Tranny.
Seasons greetings! Tranny here. I am chomping at the bit to hit up (the desert lake) in March/April next year. Will you be going? I plan to fly to (the nearest airport), get a rental drive that POS like it's stolen and hopefully get on a ladder and do some fishing. Air ticket prices are dirt cheap right now.
Let me know, I am all in!
I’d never had any contact with him prior to this.
I responded that I had no plans to visit the desert lake in 2016, but followed up by telling him that if fishing that particular body of water was something he really wanted to do, then I’d try my best to join him once he set some dates.
Nothing ever came of it.
In March of 2017, Tranny posted this.
After reading it I thought, “This guy really has a passion for desert trout,” and then remembered the PM he’d sent me two years earlier.
My brother has hosted an annual trip to the desert lake for many years now.
Some years I go, some years I don’t.
This year I told him I’d be happy to join him, and asked if I could bring a guest.
“Sure,” he replied, “But just one.”
When I reached out to Tranny, he jumped at the opportunity.
I told him to give me a list of what he would need, and started gathering provisions for our four day adventure.
I arrived at the airport at 11:30 PM on Thursday, and after getting Tranny’s luggage we hit the road and started our long drive east.
I’d been awake for over twenty-four hours by the time we reached the lake.
A sensible man would have taken a nap.
Instead, I cracked a beer, strung up a rod, and donned my waders.
Upon walking into the lake, water entered my waders via a number of leaks that hadn’t existed the last time I wore them.
I fished in wet clothes for the rest of the trip, which is now becoming something of an unwelcome trend.
Neil had arrived at the lake the previous day, but left camp Thursday afternoon in order to spend the night with a “friend” in a nearby town known for its many venues of adult entertainment.
Late Friday morning he returned to camp.
He then went to work cooking a midday meal of corned beef hash with fried potatoes and eggs.
Cornholio arrived sometime that afternoon and cooked a kickass dinner.
Later that night I looked at my watch and said to myself, “You’ve been up for over forty-hours now.”
Then I did something completely out of character.
I went to bed.
The next couple of days (for me) consisted of little more than fishing, taking off wet clothes, putting on dry clothes, eating great food, and drinking.
Tranny caught a couple fish.
He was happy, and I was happy for him.
I caught nothing.
The weather turned, so we left a day early.
On the drive home I said, “So where would you like to stop for dinner?”
Tranny replied, “I could really go for some sushi.”
“I’m sure you could, but that’s not going to happen. Pick something else.”
The next day I compromised and took him to a sushi restaurant that also served cooked food.
I had beef teriyaki and deep fried popcorn shrimp.
Tranny had something…. raw.
He said it was good.
After dropping Tranny off at the airport, I went to work cleaning my gear and putting everything away.
I was somewhat surprised at all the beer he didn’t drink.
Thanks for coming out Tranny, and for generously covering the trip’s fuel expenses and road meals.
I’m glad you were able to check two more species off your list.
You’re welcome to come back anytime.