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By Average Joe
… to get the fuck out of the house.

During the past year I’ve gradually morphed into a lazy sack of shit. Too many of my days have consisted of little more than waking up, watching porn, drinking beer, taking naps, hitting the hard stuff in the early afternoon, eating whatever my wife cooks for dinner, and then falling asleep in front of the television. It was easy to blame it on the pandemic, and I milked that sorry-assed excuse for all it was worth, but COVID had little to do with my lack of motivation. No writing. No music. No woodworking. No gardening. No fly tying. And not much fishing. I just let myself get lazy.

People often wonder how my wife puts up with me. I often wonder as well. She recently signed up for a five day seminar thing of watercolor painting classes and demonstrations. She was excited and enthusiastic about the curriculum, yet concerned about what she might miss while cooking me lunch and dinner and washing the dishes, so I reached out to my friend Wayne and was halfway to his cabin before the start of her first class.
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Wayne’s cabin is like an old overstuffed chair. Warm, comfortable, inviting, unpretentious... It’s easy to feel at home here. To feel that you could easily abandon your past and be happy in this place, especially if you like to fish. It never takes me long to settle in.
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Need a fly? Take one off the lampshade...
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... or study some of the patterns scattered throughout the cabin and tie up some of your own.
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Need some light reading? Or some speculative advice on how to catch fish? Covered.
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Need help identifying your catch? Check.
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Unfortunately you'll never catch one of these around here. They went extinct in the 70’s.
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The view from the porch ain’t bad...
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...and there’s a dog that will show you the path to the river across the street, hoping you’ll throw him a stick in return.
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You’d never find this place unless you were looking for it, yet people come from around the globe.
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Has it really been that long?

More to follow.
User avatar
By 421sd
X2 of sorts......

My den is a place I just settle into most evenings, watching videos of other people doing things and drinking bourbons and other whiskeys.....

I will eyeball spots on the the wall and think "I need a fish mount there..." but I've never had a fish mounted or replicated, even though the walls are full of deer heads.....

Only flys I've tied lately are a few Esox models....

I think I'm about to get my carp game on….
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User avatar
By fishskibum
say hey jose
way to make macy sheldon and i proud

i has a sticker for you thats fits
and its about that time we share a summer pilgrimages again
i gots the garden things to bring
and im sure theyll end up in another average culinary experiences of excellences
fish ya soon
User avatar
By Average Joe
Looking forward to it, as always. And yeah, we're gonna do another pizza night this year. You growing pineapples and avocados for Hagen?
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By fishskibum
hell git strawberry bnanna kush shatter and like it
and its his turn to row me into more troots doobies than i can smoke
thanks again for kir and makin me smile in anticipation
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By Jon
We all could use a friend with a cabin with a river right across the road.

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By Average Joe
Wayne and Steven are best friends, and they’ve been fishing this river for over twenty years. They talk nearly every night. “Where did you fish? Run into anyone? What were the water temps? The flows? Was the xyz hatch coming off? How many did you get and what did you get them on? Did you see “Bob” (aka the trout truck)?”

They know all the hidden backroads; that you need to turn left at the big tree even though going straight or turning right makes more sense; that certain dirt roads will lead you to the river and others will end with a call to triple A. They’ve spent hours cutting paths through blackberry jungles, and they do a great job of hiding those paths from other fishermen. They’ve got a name for just about every run on the river and a questionable story to go with it, and if they don’t they’ll make one up on the spot. All of which is a roundabout way of saying they really know their shit.
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They also complain. A lot. About the drought. Water (mis)allocation. Fires. The lack of bugs. The lack of fish. Poachers.

More than once I heard them say, “Look at the far bank. We’re standing in what’s usually the lake at this time of year.”
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There were also way too many of these lying around for a barbless, artificial only, catch and release fishery.
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They do all of the things you’re supposed to do: they participate in the streamside cleanup programs, report poachers, and stay in touch with the assorted regulatory agencies that have a say in what happens to the river. But that won’t make it snow more in the winter.
User avatar
By stillsteamin
Brutal summers out west just seems like the new normal. Some more so than others. Do either of those guys know guys who know guys who remember the steelhead?

And fuck poachers.
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By Ginseng Sullivan
Glad to see you're at least admitting it. Probably help some of the rest of us trying to remember what day it is too. Denial and Sloth seems to be the malady de jour.

Mmmmm, Shatter...
User avatar
By Average Joe
Seeing an open boxcar never fails to conjure romantic illusions of escape and starting over.
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Those days are gone.

Today every mistake we make is now etched into digital stone and tethered to us for eternity; never to be forgotten or left behind; available for all to see.

It’s a terrible loss for humanity; largely unrecognized and unwittingly embraced.
A debt owed... belated payment...


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