Enough.

OK, kids...due to the recent spamming, we're going back to log-in commenting. If some of the spammers still want to post comments, here is our advice, in no particular order.

-Get a better grasp of the english language, and the mechanics thereof. Nobody likes crappy syntax.

-Be humorous. Humor goes a long way here, and as with the syntax thingy, lame-ass attempts at humor get old real quick.

-We really don't need to hear about your lotto, but if you are interested, we have access to the King of Alaska's personal bank account. We just need $5000 to clear a few transactions that are in arrears, but if you send us the money we can promise you close to $500,000 in left-handed hammers. Hurry, act now.



Clowns.

Breakfast of Champions, v2.1

The Wife is off squeezing seals for another week, so Us n' the dog have been practicing our lazy, shiftless, no-good male habits - sleeping in, hoggin' the covers, walking around the house in various states of undress...

Culinary discipline goes right out the window when we undergo involuntary bachelorhood. Meals are deconstructed into speedy, semi-nutritious pit stops than we can either stuff into our heads in under a minute or transport with us wherever we happen to be dashing off to.

We would like to take this time to thank whomever it was that created the burrito...We love you, man.

At any rate, the Breakfast of Champions, as you may recall (if you don't, go here and here) is an integral part of our summer routine. We are pleased to announce an addition to the family of breakfast greatness...The BLC.

Reeking of the middle American suburban white-picket-fence ghetto, incomplete without some Tang...Bacon on white bread liberally mayonnaise'd, with Iceberg lettuce and a square of wholesome individually wrapped pasteurized processed cheese food.

You smirk, but this IS the breakfast of the future.

Almost...

Just about done on the King front - more little girls, a few more dusky dudes - sounds like the end of the run is near.

Which is fine with us. We put away a few pounds of fish earlier in the run, and now we're workin' on the winter stock for the Fanz.

Couple more days like this, we'll call it a year.

More work, more play.

Had an AM trip today, got some real nice folks into a pile of fish and had a good time...

...'til we discovered that, somewhere in between dashing around unhooking fish and moving gear, we dropped out polyleader stash. We scoured the bank, walked down a ways, but no dice.

Back at the shop, a hasty phonecall to the Compound, and problem solved. More on the way (Thanks Jay) and we'll try not to pull that bonehead move again.

Junior got off the water same time as us today, and we decided to see what came in on the tide around the way.

Good thing we did.


Junior, throwin' up the muscle-boy weight.


Just about time for the fat lady to sing for the kings - more hens are showin' up, and the chums are startin' to show their ugly faces.

Won't be long 'til bead season, kids.

Play, Work...

Yesterday's fun fishin'...


Today's Client...


It was a good day. The gentleman caught a bunch of fish, including one late steelhead, and his personal pilot was nice enough to carry the gun for us.

In case you were wondering, Life is still good.

Happy day after Solstice.

We know this sounds weird, but yesterday was summer solstice, not today...seems to happen every once in awhile on the 20th as opposed to the 21st, with the next one coming in 2012.

An any rate, 23:59 UTC was the point of furthest northward tilt of the axis...or 2:59 pm AKDT which, coincidentally, was the exact time that Us and Jools were knockin' the holy crap out of some king salmon.

5 for the day...beautiful sunshine, flat calm, way away from the hustle and bustle of town - a great way to spend solstice afternoon.

Now we begin the journey back into the dark tunnel of winter. Today the sun will be up for exactly 3 fewer seconds than yesterday. Already the noose is tightening.

Ow.

Tidewater Pluggin' is a hoot...

...Until 25lbs of pissed-off salmon does this to you when you try to take the hooks out without pliers.


We crimped the barb down and backed it out, soldiered on for a few more hours and a few more fish, then went for a tetanus shot.

That's what a fly-guy gets for dustin' off the old gear rod, we suppose.

Now we gotta learn to wipe left-handed for awhile.

They Say...

...That a picture is worth 1000 words.

We had the parental trip in the T-ride, packin' in 2 families for some gear-flangin' fun. We farmed a few off while trolling, then T's Ma poked this hog.

The only thing that would have lent more awesomnality to this is if it woulda been a tallboy.

Full Force

What started last week as a trickle is now a torrent...

Little Bro is back in OH, having bequeathed his spot on the bow to the Old Man. The Old Man, never one to mess around when it comes to fish, is doing quite a tidy job, battin' .500 with two mid-20's chromers.

The North wind blew today so things were a bit bumpy on the ride to church, but the Old Man showed some grit and savvy, sittin' on the fuel tank for a little cushier ride. As for us, we did our part by flooring it the whole way...just trying to help shorten the pounding.

At any rate, the game was on, further down the Island this time...one more bay, two big bait concentrations, birds goin' haywire, and a pile of fresh fish ready to play ball. The Old Man held down the gear end of things with the new spinning rig while we manned the stern with the now-quite-nicely-broken-in-thank-you 10wt and a candlefish fly.

Taking pics while in the heat of the moment is often difficult, especially so when fishing with the man that taught us a lot of what we know about the game, so we didn't take any until the game was over. Still...we think they tell a hell of a story.

39", 38", and a pile of 36".


The Old Man and his kid, happy as hell.


This is what $478 of salmon looks like.


Tomorrow, we take out the Old Man's wife...we'll have our hands full, but there's nobody that we can think of offhand that we would rather have catch a big king than her.

Lookin' forward to another good day.

Back to where you are...

"Ladies and Gentlemen...introducing in the challengers corner...weighing in a a combined 375 ready pounds...the Anglers!"

"...Aaaand in the champions corner...the undisputed heavyweight of the world...put your hands together for The King Salmon!"

We went 3 rounds with the kings, and we have to say that Little Bro punched his weight, even though he's still a rookie and all. Took the day off to collect wetlocks, visit the smoker, and make arrangements for the booty to be flown back to Ohio, where it should rightly be viewed as luxury protein. We sparred with the crustaceans as well, went 2 rounds with good results, so He's gonna take back some prime Dungeness too. He's on the evening jet, so we're just about through with the prep...12 long hours in planes to get to bed.

Back on the job tomorrow. The Old Man in now on the scene, and he's chompin' at the bit for his turn on the bow of the redneck ride. If the fish cooperate, it's gonna be an epic 3 days.

Final tally-
Fish: 8
Us: 10
Crabs (non-contenders): 21

Life...is still good.

Back to the Well

Tired.

Weather was crappier today, and we took a beatin' on the "there" as well as the "back".

Was it worth it?

You bet your ass.

2 fly-gazers, 2 short-grabs, 7 solid, 4 landed. Little Bro got his ass handed to him by what appeared to be a dolphin...125 yds of 17 lb test, gone in 15 seconds. 2 massive wakes when the fish thrashed over the shallows, then the sound of a screaming drag and the smell of a burnt thumb. Before we could even get to the "Start" button, he was asking if we thought the little knot-thingy at the spool-end of the line would hold.

It did. The leader didn't.

Oh, well...these things happen. Little Bro acquitted himself well, going .500 for the day with 2 landed.

Today, it was another good day.

Sweetness and Light

After a mean plate of eggs and black beans with some bitchin' corn tortillas, we gathered up Little Bro, fired up the redneck ride and made our way out of town, lookin' for some large love.

High tide saw us in a backbay of a nearby island, Little Bro armed with the meatstick and us with the 10wt. No finners, no jumpers...no big showy signs. Lots of little hints, though. We watched candlefish shoaling, we saw a few birds working bait concentrations, and we decided that this felt good enough to take a chance on.

After an hour of cast, retrieve, ponder, second-guess, and repeat, we done got hammered by a chrome buck in the mid 20's. All doubts out the window, full speed ahead, and game on. After a superb net job by Little Bro and the tender ministrations of the crescent wrench kept expressly for this sort of thing, we motored back to the head of the bay for another drift.

That's when we met the Bastard.

He circled the boat a few times while we yelled and cussed at him, but he was a pro. He figured he was on to us and a little noise wasn't gonna fool him, by dog. We were hoping he would go find some fish of his own, maybe a clam or two and leave us the hell alone, but no such luck was to be had.

Of course, that's when we hooked up. If you haven't ever fought a mid-twenties king salmon trying to get away from a 300lb seal, you really haven't fought a a king salmon. This fish did everything but jump in the boat to get away, but in the end, the Bastard got ahold of him.

Tryin' to reel in some seal-meat...


Not content to let the Bastard win, we fired up the jet and took off in hot pursuit. The trick is to keep on top of 'em...but sometimes they go awful fast.


After 10 minutes, some furious reeling, a few choice epithets, and some awfully tidy boat-driving (if we do say so ourselves), the Bastard gave up and let our fish go. Little Bro made haste with the net, and the 2nd king of the day was at hand.


Upon closer inspection, the fish proved to have survived the ordeal quite handily, with only a few sets of bite-marks to show for the whole experience. A quick application of crescent wrench to dispatch him, and we were back in business.

The Bastard gave up and left, but not before following us around, giving us the hairy eyeball, and muttering threats under his fishy breath.


The rest of the morning was spent in seal-free bliss. Little Bro had apparently used up all of his Jedi Powers on his sole hookup of the day, but the dirty, dirty fly was producing somethin' fierce and we rode the wave until the fish left, with 4 more fish hooked and 2 that we counted coup on and released. When it was obvious that the little inlet was now fishless, we fired up the jet and planed the redneck ride out of the bay, headed back towards town.


3 hours of mayhem, with a couple of fine fish to hand. A long ride back to the ramp, and some heavy lifting up the dock...

How sweet it is.

Tied to the Whippin' Post

It's been a gnarly week around the Neil Creek Estate...

The wife took off on Thursday to squeeze seals, and we promptly lost our minds and went fishing, 24/7.

No problem there, really...we are prone to such behavior when the fish show up. Usually we can be found wherever the fish are, happily tossin' and flossin', catching piles of fish and in general enjoying the hell out of life.

The problem, see, is that the last few years we have been collecting switchrods. Great tools for where we live and all, but we now know that they are gateways of evil, and can only lead to one thing: Two-handing.

After road-trips 1 and 2 last season and the time we spent at the wheel of a true 2-hander, the sickness lay in dormancy, benign and unresolved. Two-handing is fun, we reasoned, but we really don't have that many locals that need that sort of tool.

Then we went and bought a 12' 7" 7/8wt. Guided by the unseen hand of the Geek, we plopped down our cash to get the rod and a few lines. After a few practice sessions in the cold spring slush, we felt we could translate enough of our switchrod experience to the true 2-hander and, as long as we remembered to slow the hell down and pull, we would actually look like we knew what we were doing.

Fast-forward to last Friday, when we got word that a local river a little ways out of town was hosting a party for some returning king salmon. As we geared up to go, we reached for the new(er) stick, a Winston bII-mx 9' 10wt, but our hand seemed to be unable to pick up the case. Instead, we found ourselves toting a 2-hander setup to the boat, ready to see what would happen.

That was 5 days, 9 powerbars, 37 beers and exactly 0 showers ago. The first night, Junior hooked a chrome slab midswing in the first hour, the Mad Z got 2 chrome thumpers to hand, and we lost our mind. And spent the next 7 tides enduring the bugs and the beatdown. Waiting for the pull.

It never came, but we ain't giving up. Last night, we had a HUUUUUGE fish glide up behind our fly, look it over, open his mouth...then change his mind and glide back into the depths, accompanied by a high, keening wail.

Fuel on the fire.

We are gonna slow it down this week, what with the little bro and parental units coming to town for awhile. Gotta return the phone calls from the Boss, shave occasionally, and remember not to grunt when folks ask questions. In all likelihood, the gear rods will come out for Pa and Bro, and we will probably throw some dirty, dirty flies on the singlehander. We'll get some crabbing in, and probably stalk a few beaches for dollies. We anticipate a good week of normal.

Then it's back to the whippin' post.

The Second Semi-Annual Swap Meet

The first gear sale went so well that we feel compelled to hold another one.

Same rules apply...Make us an offer we can't refuse.

We will let the invisible hand of the market guide us in all pecuniary matters.

RODS-
Sage:
RPl 696-2 6wt 9'6" 2pc
SP 590-3 5wt 9' 3pc
SPl 389-3 3wt 8'9" 3pc
TCR 890-4 8wt 9' 4pc

Scott:
STS 890-3 8wt 9' 3pc
ARC 896-4 8wt 9'6" 4pc

Other:
Winston IBIS 890-4 8wt 9' 4pc
Orvis T³ 11wt 9' tip-flex 4pc PENDING
Loomis IMX 3wt 9' 2pc
Lamiglas G1000 9wt 9' 2pc
Echo Classic 6wt 10' 4pc
St Croix Avid 9/10wt 14' 3 pc

REELS-
Teton Tioga 8
(2)Airflo Balance57
Ari 't Hart design ATH Gallatin 1

Other stuff to be added...we are waiting on a few reels, weighing the options, but odds are that a few good reels will be added to the list soon.

Git'cher sale on, Fisha.

Things that make us go Hmmm, Installment #9

'Nuff said.

At least it wasn't chocolate...

Got a chance to throw the Winston bII-mx 10wt around the other day...

Damn.

As a lifelong gear geek we have cast plenty of sticks looking for the right one, and the last year has been spent looking for the 10wt with which to rule the world, or at least a few king salmon. The search is officially over. Anything that can throw a 1/8oz. fly 90' with one backcast is officially good in our book. Paired with an Abel Super10 and a couple of Outbound sinking lines, we have a new Pimp-Stick.

No love but soul love during the casting session, but Big B did manage to hook up with a monster.
The title of this shot is "Starfish and B's Johnson"...ewww.


Fin was given until we busted out the dolly rods, then good times were had by all except the guy on the rock with the upside-down spinning reel casting what looked like a hubcap with a grappling hook on it. Apparently, some folks still haven't gotten the message that "Match the Hatch" applies up here.

Salty Love


Game off for the next few days, with clients and other obligations...but the kings are getting near.

We can feel it.