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User avatar
By jerome
#305708
Ollie wrote:I was just wondering how long it takes to catch a fish. I know there is a lot of people waiting to catch a fish with that rod. Maybe Shunned is a bettere fisherman as it only took him a while to get in the game.

Just kidding I just like to read the stories about how people are doing.

Mom and Dad
I caught a few browns...still trying to get the first steelhead.

The rod is about to head north for a spell.....and maybe I will get my first metalhead this Oct.
User avatar
By Ollie
#305820
His mom is a english teacher and she would have worded it a lot nicer and maybe put a comma or word it better but I like to cut to the chase and tell it like it is. Outcast took after his mom in writing to do it correct with the comma's but also cut to the chase and be a little brutal.



Enough of that last night we went up and watched Sage do a little jamming his guitar with a older fellow and a lady singing at a coffee shop. His dad would have been real proud. I did look in the audience and there were about six young girls in the crowd keeping a close eye on him. Grandma ask him about it later and his reply was they are just groupies.



Mom and Dad
User avatar
By Ollie
#311044
Ok i posted last on march 27 with no reply.

Jerome it is time you got off your ass and sent the pole on to some one else that would like to catch a fish. The pole is not just for catching Steelhead even though it is a spey rod. The purpose Outcast wanted was so everybody got a chance to use it and not someone to set on it for more than 6 months.

So if you would be so nice get it in the mail that would be great.

Dad
User avatar
By jerome
#311054
Ollie wrote:Ok i posted last on march 27 with no reply.

Jerome it is time you got off your ass and sent the pole on to some one else that would like to catch a fish. The pole is not just for catching Steelhead even though it is a spey rod. The purpose Outcast wanted was so everybody got a chance to use it and not someone to set on it for more than 6 months.

So if you would be so nice get it in the mail that would be great.

Dad
The rod is on its way to Alaska. I'm sorry if you misunderstood me, earlier.

I did catch a few nice browns with it, its too much rod for that, though..

Hopefully, Overcast will be able to use the rod for what it was made for Salmon and Steelhead.

I'm sorry for the hold-up, but winter put stop on fishing and I won't stoop to fishing for steel in Idaho after ice out.
User avatar
By Overcast
#311199
Outcast wrote:I don't care if you don't like it. If it seems strange it's because you don't understand, trust in that. This one's just for me.

Catch a damn fish!

The sun sets in the Western sky. As the last glimmer of light comes off the water a bolt of electricity runs up the line and into the rod. The surface explodes with a burst of silver. It’s worth the wait. In a few minutes it’s all over and a hunger overtakes as the high erodes.

Just two more steps......................................................
Although I find myself questioning many things in life, it is not for me to question but to find the answer.
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The change of seasons has began as the daytime temperatures begin to rise, then fall with the sun descending across the Chilkat Range to the west....Spring is finally here as daylight lengthens with each passing day, the pungent smell of skunk cabbage although rank, is a precursor to many things. Unlike runs of steelhead elsewhere, Southeast Alaska runs of steelhead are small by numbers of fish, with most streams hosting less than fifty. Make no mistake, these fish are wild and the existence of streams in this pristine environment ensures their survival.

I have been practicing for several weeks with a variety of spey rods, not to achieve perfection but cast with some sense of purpose. I have finally began to feel the rod and listen to what it is asking. After decades of casting single hand rods, I have once again found what has driven me to the point of exhaustion and adulation. It's strange to feel the pressure exuded by water pushing the fly line as it swings across mixing currents then straightens with a pulse. I need to feel the line come tight and the voltage of adrenaline run through my hands.

Almost game time and the spirit you passed on will lead me to the fish.

Over and Out. :cool

(to be continued)
User avatar
By SLSS
#311221
sweet :cool
User avatar
By Spudnik
#311501
Good onya. :cool

Get at it.
User avatar
By Overcast
#312941
[report]Rub the sleep out of the eyes, brush the teeth and put a little deodorant on the outside of the shirt to cover up the smell of the road, climb into a wet pair of waders and hit the highway. A little bit of gas station coffee and some loud rock and roll shoo the cobwebs away. The first run is in view now and it feels good. Coffee tastes better with whiskey and cream.

Stumble down the bank in the dark like a thousand times before and step into the water. It's cold but it feels like home. The first cast lays out and the game is on.

Two steps.

As the sun peeks over the Eastern horizon the cold becomes a little more intense but nothing another shot of whiskey in the coffee won't fix. Water drips from the brim of a beaver felt hat that's seen some tough miles as a weary looking mist rises from the water.

Two steps.

Line hisses through the water and sails through the sky. The mind wanders to far off places but remains very much in the moment. Is it possible to be two places at once? It sure feels like it now.

Two steps.

Not sure if it ever stops raining here but at least the wind is blowing now. Been here 10 hours. The fly has always worked before, just got to know there's a fish there. Can't think there's a fish there, have to know it, believe it.

Two steps.

The sun sets in the Western sky. As the last glimmer of light comes off the water a bolt of electricity runs up the line and into the rod. The surface explodes with a burst of silver. It's worth the wait. In a few minutes it's all over and a hunger overtakes as the high erodes.

Just two more steps......................................................- OC







Wish Ryan was here.

Wish he was here anyway.

Thanks Jerome, SLSS, and Ryan your friend has arrived safely here in the Southeast, Alaska. The box arrived just like Ryan liked his hats, with road wear.

The box although tattered was delivered today with all its contents no worse, for the miles traveled. I briefly removed it from the rod tube and slid the ferrules together.......Huh, two handed whooping stick. I quickly decided to take my new friend for a short drive before sunset. Tomorrow is another day and with the sound of rain pounding lightly on the steel roof, the rivers will rise with the tides.
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No time to waste, there's Steel waiting- OC[/report].
User avatar
By Overcast
#315069
Stay with it and they will appear. Patience is the word for this less than productive week......Quality. There is a story to be told.......................patience.

The story has a slow beginning but attitude wins the race.

See you on Monday. :cool
User avatar
By SLSS
#315100
patience is key Over. Lots of unlearning to do. Remember sloooooow, and a quiet top hand.

The rod sure is in a pretty place right now. :cool
User avatar
By Overcast
#316656
Overcast wrote:Stay with it and they will appear. Patience is the word for this less than productive week......Quality. There is a story to be told.......................patience.

The story has a slow beginning but attitude wins the race.

See you on Monday Tuesday Wednesday. :cool
Closed the wrong window and loose everything. :wink :smile :bomb Huh, kind of like steelheading in low water conditions with the same results.

Stay tuned. :cool

May 24th, 2010

I will update the thread later this week. Finally..................after crashing the hard drive on the old com puker and dowsing the Blackberry in an estuary, I think I have finally shaken the "shit happens" curse. To sum it up, damn this technology shit's expensive.

:bomb
User avatar
By Overcast
#320331
[report]This story continues by looking back to the beginning of my personal pursuit for trout in south central Montana. Although my hometown didn't lend itself to clear and cold streams needed to sustain healthy trout populations, many were less than an hour away. The mountains surrounding the Magic City offered many options in any direction except east. The Beartoooth Mountains, Absaroka range and the Crazies hosted numerous rivers and small creeks filled with rainbows, browns and brook trout, these areas eventually became my personal playground.

By the age of fifteen I was free to roam in my 69' Ford pickup traveling almost weekly to new destinations and gaining access to private property, rather than state accesses. My friends always said, the only person with more access was God, and they were right. I prided myself on gaining the respect of both ranchers and farmers and became close friends with many of them. So much so that many invited me to dinner in their homes and to weddings of their children. Each outing consisted in making a phone call to ask if they needed anything from the big city and at the very least a quick stop to say thank you. I was envious of their way of life, living in wide open spaces and the smells of the passing seasons.

My grandfather Rudy, provided the inspiration for both fishing and hunting during summer visits to my birth place of Butte, Montana. A miner and steel fabricator by trade, he was a individual of strong conviction and attitude of self reliance. The memories and experiences still remain with treks up Pipestone Pass in a 54' Willy's short box jeep and I can still remember the straining sound of the transmission as it crept up the steep passes, then descending quickly as it eclipsed the continental divide. One of his favorite destinations was the Big Hole river near the canyon stretch where fishing was not as much about fishing but chasing my grandfather, in his red ball hip-waders, up and down the river. The smell of fresh venison burgers and grilled onions always tasted better under the cover of towering cottonwoods and the sounds of the river passing near bye. Although he passed away at an early age, he left me filled with the thoughts of wild places and the treasures they held. His knowledge and passion for the outdoors is what still drives me to go to places without roads and trails, in search of fish.

I began tying flies in the basement of my childhood home with a Dan Bailey's starter kit and boxes of Mustad hooks, packaged in small drawer cardboard boxes. Although I had no idea of what or how to tie, I found by purchasing one pattern along with the necessary materials, I could recreate the patterns with some success.

My struggles were lessened when I later met Bob Walton, owner of Walton's flies, who I attribute to learning the art of tying. Although Bob was a cussing crude bastard, he could tie the finest dries, streamers and nymphs and the unforeseen benefits of expanding my personal vocabulary to an adult level only exceeded by military drill Sargent. Within weeks, I was tying in the backroom of his shop and tying patterns like Renegades, Bitchcreek nymphs, mosquitoes and dozens of other traditional trout patterns. Good times for a thirteen year old, so much for child labor laws.





to be continued................
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