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One month. Seven random days of fishing. Two different states. However you look at it, it’s depressing. Needless to say it has been a LONG TIME since i have caught a fish. Granted the Texas fish seem to have boarded spaceships and set off for their intergalactic Winter Cruise while the Oregon fish were basically drowning in flooding torrents. Never the less, i finally caught a beautiful 8″ sunfish on Barton Creek. I wandered quite a bit of the creek seeing absolutely no sign of all the fish that normally are so plentiful. I spotted this one from high on the upper bank, backtracked to the opposite bank and stalked him like he was the mighty Moby Dick. It was a lot of time and effort spent for a sunfish, but it was worth it all. Since i was using the 4WT and it had been so long i practically cried when the Popper sunk under the surface with a satisfying “SLURP”. I’m ever thank full to that fish for reintroducing me to the reason that i fell in love with this sport…nay lifestyle, in the first place. That beautiful joy that happens when it all comes together, and for just a moment you feel like you know what your doing.

Well, i spent about nine hours on the Guadalupe the other day and didn’t get so much as a bite. I only saw two fish the whole day. One was a 18″ monster that came close enough to examine my strike indicator briefly before heading back into the murky water. The other was another rainbow that i found at the end of a tangled mess of mono filament that had got caught up in a nice run down near Huaco Camp. At first i thought it was possibly a trot line but it was hard to tell, it might have just been a mess of line that got caught in a really strange way. At first when i was dragging all the line in i thought it was some sort of beer can connected to the end. I was surprised to find it was a good 13″ trout. I’m not sure how long he was there, minutes, days…who knows. I felt so bad for him that i quickly cut the line and let him free. 

Since i was so busy trying to catch anything after 5 days of being skunked i didn’t really take any photos. So instead let me share this photo of an old logging truck taken in Tillamook, Or.


I recently got back from spending the holidays with my family in Manzanita, Oregon. It was good to see the family. But unfortunately our time spent together just happened to coincide with some crazy coastal weather. Really though it was written on the wall, what else could you expect from the Oregon coast in the middle of the winter. As far as Die Fishce is concerned, that being the concern known as angling, it was awful. Rivers that normally ran at 400-800CFS were running at 20.000-40,000CFS. Needless to say,

the fish weren’t biting. They were in fact probably hugging the bottom as though it was the beginning of the end. It even felt that way slogging around over fern and under fallen tree along the banks of the Newhalem. Between my brother David and i, we must have tried close to everything: nymphs, eggs, streamers, split-shot and even weird bait casting contraptions. Pretty much anything that might possibly get down quick enough before hauling ass downstream in the insane currents.

After a few days of disappointment my brother David, my dad and i headed down to Cape Meares Lake which is also known as Crab Harbor, it just depends on which map or gas station attendant you consult. Weeds and twigs. Every cast we made ended up tangled behind us or ended up pulling branches from the bottom. 

After an hour of this we headed to another small lake before i decided to just admit defeat. It was hard but after four days of beating the water senseless it seemed best to just put it on hold and appreciate the time spending time with my family. Casting lessons and idle chit chat were the order of the day, and i couldn’t have been happier than to try to help the family come one step closer to a universal interest.
Besides the trout in Texas are primed and ready to go. I’ll be on the Guadalupe tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Last Thursday i made it out to Barton Creek for a a few hours. I have to admit from the start that i didn’t catch anything other than a small case of hypothermia. I was so out of it that i didn’t realize that wading the creek in sandals wasn’t the best idea. It wasn’t until i hiked 2 miles back to my car in the dark that i realized my feet had frozen. No bites and no runs but it did give me the outdoors fix that i needed to get me through until today, Christmas Eve. 

So here is a photo for you. This is right below one of the low water crossings on Barton Creek. I don’t know if these deer were stolen and placed here, or if they migrated here following routes genetically handed down through the ages, but enjoy.