Sunday, May 13, 2018

Anticipation

This morning's baked-goods-illustrated segment: mini-muffins. Blueberry, of course. I use too many blueberries.

Sue me.

Muffins are only a blueberry delivery mechanism. Besides, I'm practicing for the Camp of Old Bears in Yellowstone.

It's a trip year. The Amber Angler crew is going to Yellowstone for a Montana outing. Huge trip for us.

I'm going on a fly-in to northern Ontario again in August which is always a blast.

I'm going to Rocky Mountain National mid-summer for some mountain meadow fly fishing. Taking Frau Bear (thus the "meadow" because she isn't going to pack three hours and 2000' of climb to the better alpine lakes). Early morning is the trick to avoid crowds and so, we'll be a dawn patrol along with a couple students under instruction. Pity them.

Hey, soft hackles -- fished wet and dry -- in a mountain stream and at the edges of pocket lakes. Should work fine.

The Dexter Casting Club (not to be confused with the Golden Gate Angling and Casting Club here) is getting off the ground. We're doing a bit of Monday night casting practice and self-paced learning on a local pond.

We'll have sessions on the Huron, too -- after the bitch decides not to drown me. Water is high, fast, and dangerous for wading now. Pretty much like my entire state.

Anyway. Spey work on the river for trout and steelhead practice. Single-hand work on pond for the all-around. Should be good jovial efforts followed by something tasty at the Beer Grotto like the delinquents we anglers are.

Which brings me to these guys:


I've a juvenile (delinquent) turkey problem. These skinny little bastards are scraping the new mulch out of my perennial beds,  smoking cigarettes they roll themselves, and occasionally tagging things with silver sharpies. They make a lot of noise at dawn, too.

"Get offa my yard!"

The good number of these guys hanging around means my growing coyote problem has been addressed.


Anticipation

I get my mileage out of spending money for trips and vacations by anticipation. I stretch the value by using the preparation time for increasing my enjoyment.

I read, study photographs, maps, and satellite images. I read the descriptions and accounts of similar outings. I plan. I scheme. I even dream.

It stretches the dollar.

It's no different than winter tying sessions with a glass of scotch and a fire in the woodstove as I sit with Lou the foxhound in the library, watch the snow, and whip out another half-dozen Royal Wulffs.

I feel the enjoyment of fishing when I am not in the field.

I'm prepping for Yellowstone now because the damn park is huge and opportunities in and around it are enormous. Our group has a great place to stay. I've rented a Subaru to drive around with Leechboy as we hit various spots. Seemed a good choice given a late-fall chance of sleet.

I'm working on the precis brief on the waters of the area -- though none of the Amber Liquid guys will read it. They're impulsive. Makes 'em good companions.

I always feel I need to know the area. They feel that "going" is going to work out. Both ways can work and usually do work out fine.

I shared a book recommendation with The Senator. He too likes to know what he is getting into in order to not miss out on "the good stuff." Stopping at one bend on a river is fine but we both want to know what we're missing around the next bend.

I've set-up my LaTex typesetting software and am producing my briefing in the style of Dr. Tufte (here). It is going well and I'm enjoying the effort at non-fiction.

I've seen a similar layout used for fiction as well (The Selected Works of T.S.Spivet). The novel I reference was sold at auction by the author's agent for an advance of $1M in part because of the book's visual appeal. The marketing department of several publishers all believed that anyone opening the book would likely buy it based on the copious appeal of the side-notes and illustrations.

Literary fiction remains a difficult market despite the occasional gimmick.

So, I'm putting together the precis briefing on Yellowstone. I'm happy.

When the last time a writer said he was happy about something?

It's wet here and I sorted flies in the various versions of "go to field" boxes a couple weeks ago. Anticipation, again.

I sort by size and tone. I've got some color problems in these boxes. There's some size and composition stuff to sort out, too. I don't have my soft-hackle streamers in these pictures.

Basically, after sorting my boxes are still hunt and peck sorts. Meh. I'm not a commercial fisherman. I drink coffee on the water and have time to hunt and peck. It shows.

I do have two new Umpqua waterproof boxes that I'm trying to sort my best utility flies into. I dip my side bag in the water a great deal so I'm using waterproof boxes. Comes with being short-legged and wanting to take one more step. Now that I've tossed the marginally tied efforts into the mason jar, I need to stock the new go-to-river day boxes (one shirt pocket, one side bag -- more than that is just too many flies for prevailing conditions).
















Above, the usual motley assortment of fly boxes accumulated over time. I like my felt fly wallet best but flies do slip out. All of these have done some duty as shirt-pocket boxes one time or another.

Prost.

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