2011 - in the RearView.

Another year, another 13,624 fish. A few more stamps in the ol' passport, a few more lines on our face, a few more gray hairs among the few remaining hairs on our head.

There were some pretty big changes in the way things roll around the Neil Creek Estate this year, and most of them were net-positive.

For starters, we are no longer trading our long-term joint health and general physical well-being for money anymore. On the upside, this whole "work with your brain" thingy is pretty nifty, and although the initial transition was a little bumpy, we are nestling into the role nicely, thank you. As for the downside, well...let's just say that there is more of us lately, and part of the new year's resolution is to dust off the old college weight-set and play a little more hockey than, oh, 3 games a year.

We celebrated our 10th anniversary with the wife this year, and are still secretly amazed that she has stuck around this long. Must be our amazingly awesome multiple personalities, or the copious amounts of cash that the Neil Creek Empire generates on a second-by-second basis...or maybe it's just that we remember to do the dishes every now and then and tell her that she smells nice.

We are also fully vested in what used to be a serious hobby - for richer (not) and for poorer, in sickness and in health, and for better and for worse...We are now full-time in the industry and we will try not to hate the briar patch too much, br'er Fox.

At any rate, 2011 is what it was, and if we can't change it, then at least we can remember the good and learn from the bad.

46 reasons that 2011 didn't suck.










The Cap'n, showing some deep respect for the cinematic flyfishing oeuvre








The Afro in Modern Fly Angling: A Triptych.




Got to make some TeeVee with this fella last fall.


Nice enough guy, but he needs to shoot the puck more.






It may be disrespectful, but if you spent hours dialing in a custom setup only to lose it on some sunken piece of detritus, you'd be pissed off too.


















The children at rest.






More food tourism.


















Go ahead. Fish for them.


















Just enough time to catch our breath...RoadTrip '12 v1 and v1.1 commence in 15 days.

Can't wait, Fisha.

Confessions of a Gear Whore.

We are in the middle of step 4.

After conducting a searching and fearless fishing gear inventory, it has come to our attention that, despite trying to practically GIVE rods, reels and lines away, we still have far too much fishing gear for one sane individual to actually fess up to owning.

Uh, lessee...at least a few halibut rods layin' about...a bunch of old pitchin' sticks and one-piece trigger blanks from the bass days, as well as a couple of stout spinning rods...3 or 4 jiggin' sticks, a half-dozen mooching rods, and at LEAST a dozen steelhead gear rods. A metric assload of old levelwinds, and probably just as many twisty-reels.

Oh.

Flyrods?

Yeah, we got a pile of those too...

Thing is, none of the rods were acquired with any ulterior motives, or for any reason other than fishing.

Some fellas get the latest and greatest, some get the most expensive, some get the one that matches their wardrobe the best, and some buy gear looking for the "silver bullet" the magic that will make their cast longer and straighter while whitening their teeth and losing 20 pounds of ugly flab...others are content to have one rod or one reel and make adaptations as needed.

Us...well, in case you haven't noticed, we're Übergeeks when it comes to fishin' gear. We like to futz and putter with gear, checkin' out the different static and swing weights of all manner of rod, flexing and wiggling a blank while admiring the nodes, scrutinizing fit and finish...more than that, we like the way each rod that we own has its own distinct soul, a different feel, a certain chutzpah about it that makes it a pleasure to cast or to fish with.

We make this last distinction because we readily admit that yes, we have actually purchased rods that are damn near worthless as fishing tools, but are fun as hell to cast.

To this pile, we add one more.

Pros: Good aesthetic, slim blank, whippy in the right way, super-fast recovery, light as a duck fart.
Cons: Lumpy, oversized handle...C'mon Jerry, take some of that cork off, fer chrissakes...crappy name.

We'll see if the new girl holds her own as a fishing tool come spring. Until then, she will just have to take her lumps from the other rods.

Snowing, Snowing...Gone.

Here:


There:



That's right, kids.

RoadTrip '11 v6 begins in 20 hours, 42 minutes, and 11 seconds.

A brief stopover in Starbucksville is in order, to visit the nice older couple we used to live with. After that, we're off to the land of BBQ, Shiner, good Mexican food, and thermometer readings higher than your average presidential candidate IQ.

We'll give thanks in the traditional fashion with the In-Laws, then it's off to TurkeyDayFootballLand for the last rendition of the Showdown. We may be family and all, but we're sittin' on the maroon side of the couch, lest we annoy the wife - She socked us one time when we were rockin' out to a Sabbath album 'cause she thought we were givin' the "hook 'em" sign.

At any rate, friends and family will be looked up, good food will git et, and iced (or "ass" in the local lexicon) tea will be consumed in copious quantity. 8 days in the sun, and we ain't fixin to waste no time enjoyin' it.

See you in December, fisha.

A month in pictures

Back.

Busy.

We'll tell you a little more about it when the dust settles, but we are in the middle of changing tracks on the railroad of life at the moment. Don't you worry, it's been a long time coming, and it IS for the better...

In the meantime, here is a pictoral ode to our piscatorial dance partners, our touchstones of the soul, our eternal finned friends and dihydrogen-oxide-inclined buddies.

Enjoy.
















Pic stolen from Mr. Rogers - thanks, K.












And to top it all off...


It is winter again.