Fly Fish Chick

In the dark of night.

After two and a half weeks in Nashville for the holidays, Little Chick and I finally returned to Austin last night…under duress. We had soooo much fun, it was a difficult and wrenching process to pack up the steamer trunks and venture home last night. And WHY exactly was I on an airplane during most of the Fiesta Bowl?? Killing me. Luckily I established a rapport with the pilot early and he announced scores for me periodically during the flight.

Other than football I will say this was the girliest vacation of my life. I am sorry to say, I couldn’t have a less fishy report to share with you. I was so busy running around with my bestest highschool girlfriends and playing with Little Chick. Dressing up for one party after the next. Baking and eating and sipping wine at every turn.

It was pretty decadent. I’m sorry, is there a recession going on? My waistline does not aptly reflect the ailing economy. I feel like I should look a little more frail given the state of the state. Alas….there were just too many baked goods around.

I wish I had pictures of all the wonderful food, but I was too busy consuming it to slow down and get the camera. Highlights include….the beautiful oyster bar on my friend’s family porch…the endless supply of Great Aunt Eleanor’s Chili Dip that my mother had on the kitchen counter at every turn (perfect with beer and football)….Little Chick’s sugary sweet sugar cookies….Kobe beef sliders with spicy mustard and just one perfect pickle….Sportsfan’s sublime steak on New Year’s Eve…Magnolia’s bread pudding…super country Country Ham….crab cakes and steak frite at Bricktops….the most heavenly biscuit-like dinner rolls you’ve ever imagined….exceptional sushi we discovered at The Red Pony in Franklin….chocolate pecan pie…lemon pie….chess pie…chess pie again…chess pie one more time….and yes, I even had a Moon Pie.

I should also mention the to-die-for coconut cake my aunt serves at Christmas lunch. I was so mesmerized by its beauty I almost failed in my duty to slice and serve it. I really can’t stop thinking about this cake! And I’m not even sure I really even like coconut.

Sounds indulgent I know. But there’s no rest for the weary — or apparently for the gluttonous– as I insisted The Professor drive me down to Elliston Place so I could visit my absolute favorite Nashville haunt, Rotier’s. A family owned restaurant in an old stone carriage house, Rotier’s is the uber romantic dive where my dad used to take my mom on dates in college. Of course you can get a meat-and-three but Rotier’s is best known for it’s cheeseburger — hell, Jimmy Buffet even says they’re tops. Personally I recommend the Patty Melt.

Food, fancy & parties galore…that’s pretty much the report. Now that’s I’m home, I am officially on a break from all of the following until further notice:

• High Heels
• Hairdryers
• Carbs
• Being Charming

As I make my transition back to regular life of clogs, flip-flops and ponytails, enjoy this slideshow from our holidays in Tennessee. But stay tuned because in my next post I am going to distill the highlights of my 20-hour roadtrip to Kentucky. Cheers…

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Been pretty nuts around here with holiday madness — not to mention some actual work. But I was thrilled to take some time out last week to meet up with G SMOLT who left Alaska for a spell and found himself kicking around my Austin neighborhood. We had some good laughs over hot sauce and cold beer.

Cheers G SMOLT! Hope yall made it north to Alaska safe & sound. Next time the Modelo is on me….

It’s that time of year when we are drawn into the centrifugal force of chaos called the holidays. My to do list has been eating me alive…return one more email, do another load of laundry, call the washing machine repair guy, wash laundry by hand, get those library books back up to school, attend the holiday music performance, pay bills, find work, do the work, buy new holiday clothes for Little Chick, cheer for football, scour the BCS bowl game predictions online, starve myself to fit into this one particular party dress, ditch the starvation idea and convince myself texmex food is South Beach Diet friendly, make the Christmas gift list (another list!)….and so on and so forth.

But in a few short hours I get on a plane and I am switching lists. Time to fold up the to do list and forget about what didn’t get crossed off. And in the spirit of Thanksgiving, it’s time to make a list of all the things for which I am truly thankful this year.

Specifically, I am grateful for:

1. the fact that my daughter is so naturally sweet and soulful
2. my mom for writing out her pumpkin bread recipe by hand and sending me a can of pumpkin to get me started
3. my dad for giving me the Scott G2 5 weight for my birthday and the opportunity to catch some unforgettable trout on dry flies
4. all the fishing I was able to do this year
5. old friends from highschoool and college
6. new girlfriends I’ve met here in Austin
7. best girlfriends who lure me into long lunches with champagne and wine
8. the Professor
9. the jukebox at The Horseshoe Lounge
10. Willie Nelson and Cross Canadian Ragweed and Seth Walker
11. the people at Neuva Onda for knowing my breakfast taco order by heart
12. the fact that Carolina beat Notre Dame and I was in Chapel Hill to see it 
13. the family who has invited me to spend Thanksgiving with them
14. my grandmother for sending a little check to help Santa stuff the stocking
15. all the raucous laughter
16. anyone & everyone who reads this blog and all the new friends I’ve made through FFC
17. this hunk of a brown trout who, for just one little moment in time, let me win

And the list goes on……

I hope everyone has a safe and happy Thanksgiving filled with family and friends and food and football. If you have a second to spare, break away from your to do list and help me keep this list going. What are you grateful for this year?

From a boat ramp on the Big Hole to a coffee shop in Austin. Funny where this little cult – uh, I mean sport – will take us. And this time you may actually benefit from my most recent small-world encounter. Let me explain.

You may recall that on my trip to Montana just a few weeks ago I met a guy named Gaper who had written a fishing book. Well in a fortuitous plot twist it turns out his publisher, Tosh Brown, lives right here in Austin Texas! Soon after I wrote my post about Gaper, a mutual friend connected me with Tosh.

Next thing you know we’re having coffee at Austin Java and brainstorming ways to spread the word about his new project. Cause it’s a good one. 

Tosh is a venerable outdoor photographer and author who recently launched a new company called Departure Publishing. I’ll spare you the traditional press-release speak and say bluntly: This Is Not Your Father’s Outdoor Book Publisher.

It’s no secret digital cameras and message boards have redefined the relationship between fly-fishing and media. A relationship that was once a predictable, stale marriage is now a torrid and tumultuous affair.

Tosh wants to harness this same edge and energy into the world of outdoor print. He plans to publish writers that speak to (and sometimes even shout at) the innovative, yet disenfranchised derelicts who embody the ever-warring extremes of idealism and cynicism within fly-fishing.

Uh, I think he’s talking to us.

Miles is his debut author. Miles Nolte (aka Gaper) was a fishing guide in Alaska who detailed his daily adventures in a bulletin board thread on The Drake website. The thread, titled AK Chronicles, became so popular that throngs of people were logging on daily to follow his journey. His book, The Alaska Chronicles, is based on the now infamous posts on The Drake and will be available Spring 2009.

It doesn’t get more grassroots than that. The guy didn’t even start with a blog. He posted a thread in a bulletin board. It’s like the field of dreams….if you post it they will come….and read it. And comment. And rant. And beg for more. Let’s just say when it comes to fly-fishing, Miles Nolte puts the cult in culture.

Support your fellow troutlaws who are trying to shake things up and bring you something fresh. Visit the Departure website to learn more about the backstory and sign up to win a FREE signed copy of the book. This book is bound (hardbound in fact) to cause a stir and you could have a free signed copy. Just click here to enter your name for the drawing.

No duplicate entries and dead relatives are not eligible. Good luck and CHEERS to Tosh & Miles for laying it all on the line in an effort to entertain and make a difference.

After disappearing this summer on a super-extended fishing vacation, I promised regular FFC reader Monty Montana (who was none too pleased that I abandoned my blog without explanation) that as a meager penance I would deliver some cupcakes to a nearby Veteran’s Hospital. What better day than Veteran’s Day, right??

I recruited Little Chick to the project so she could experience this patriotic service project. We started at the grocery, picked out our supplies and made a feast of cupcakes.

Then we went to the Veterans Affairs web site to find our spot. We decided on a Veterans Outpatient Clinic on the east side of town.

I will admit I was a little disappointed when we arrived because the parking lot was so empty. Oh well, I mused to Little Chick, “We must just be really early. Plus, even if there aren’t a number of veterans in the clinic today, the people who work here will appreciate the cupcakes too!”

Of course we had to snap a few pictures before heading in.

We marched boldly toward the entrance, excited to share our humble (albeit heartfelt & delicious) offering with our heroes. But when the electric doors wouldn’t slide open I took a closer look at the sign staring me in the face:

Oh. My. Freaking. Word. Are you kidding me???? But it wasn’t a joke. Sorry folks, clinic’s closed. Moose out front shoulda told ya.

I kinda felt like doing this.

But they don’t have a moose outside the clinic and Little Chick and I were laughing too hard to get too upset. I swear, does this sort of thing only happen to me?

Oh well. Determined to salvage the quest in some form or fashion, we delivered the cupcakes to our church where they are hosting a dinner this evening, so all was not lost.

HAPPY VETERANS DAY.

Was cruising past the greatest music venue of all time, The Continental Club, and noticed The Meat Purveyors on the Thursday night marquis. Had to swing in and support my buddy, Pete, the mandolin player. Pete and I first met through our local TU chapter and in a weird twist we ran into each other back in September at another venerable Austin dive.

Once again we had fun drinking Lone Stars and swapping fishing stories. Then The Meat Purveyors took the stage and wowed the crowd with some edgy cowpunk-style bluegrass that was out of sight.

You have to love a guy who plays the hell out of a mandolin and a Texas redfish…

A purveyor of meat and fish. Cheers to Pete.

After a few days on The Big Hole, we ventured over to Craig to see what the Missouri had to offer. As we pulled off the interstate The Professor nodded toward an energy windmill that was earning its keep, spinning ferociously round and round.

“Well, that’s not good,” he quipped.

I maintained my naively positive attitude and delved straight into the flyshop firedrill, preparing for a good long day on the water. Shuttle arranged and cooler stocked, we were barreling down the road – halfway to the put-in – when I remembered the rods. Damn.We forgot the freaking rods.

The sing-songy voice in my head took its first hit as we went back for the rods.

Once again on course, we pulled up to the Wolf Creek Bridge and my Pollyanna point of view took another nosedive. The sky was gray, the wind was howling, it was cold. I watched the wind have its way with the river, causing white-capped waves that looked like roughly whipped peaks of buttercream frosting on a cake.

“Good heavens,” I uttered meekly. “It looks like the ocean.” A small part of me wanted to flash my Girl Card and retreat back to the house to hunker down with a fire, some hot chocolate and a cheesy movie. Clearly others had flashed the same credentials because the parking lot was deserted and no one was on the water.

No, no, no. I pushed that notion from my mind and decided I was going to buck up, bundle up and conquer the day, monstrous winds and all. Despite a bleak outlook I sensed the river had an adventure in store for us.

What can I say? Sometimes it pays to harbor idealistic fantasies. We started the day with some nice browns on streamers. Pretty consistent action, to be honest.

All that casting and catching and reaching for the net warmed me up in no time, and I forgot about the blustery conditions. But as often happens, just as I was starting to get into a groove, the wheels came off. The wind shifted directions, kicked up several notches, and basically molested my cast. The more frustrated I got, the more I buggered it up and couldn’t get my bugger in the right spot. The Professor was coaching me and even though I understood what he was telling me conceptually, my cast was in a downward spiral and I was asking for the oars.

He wouldn’t let me bow out of the bow, but he did abandon some fishy-looking water in favor of the opposite bank. Smart guy. Now the wind was coming over my right shoulder and suddenly I was casting like a pro! Once we moved river left my second cast delivered this jewel:

At that point I did take the rower’s seat but struggled to hold the bank in the wind. Despite my tenuous control of the boat, The Professor managed to hook up with a slab of a rainbow:

The day just improved from here. We fished streamers until about four in the afternoon, when the fish began to rise to the occasion and we shifted to dry flies. The wind eased up, the beer started to flow and each fish felt like gravy on top of an already spectacular day. As the old Trout Shop saying goes…Adventure, Danger, Romance…and a Few Large Fish.

It was a quixotic trip on The Missouri to be sure.

Regular FFC reader Harry sent pictures of his buddies’ big fish that he caught on The Big Hole. Pretty spectacular…

When you don’t have the time or energy to aim high, sometimes it’s better just to sink low. Normally I am not entertained by lowbrow disgusting humor. I was never one to fall for the pull my finger gag or laugh at the boys in elementary school who made fart noises with their armpits. I don’t like jokes about flatulence, snot or other bodily functions.

But for some reason this just keeps me in stitches. Those of you who got queasy from my post on The Cricketeer might want to put down your breakfast tacos. Or skip this post entirely.

So last week we enjoyed beers, burgers and laughs with Gaper, Spinner and Mike at The Melrose Bar in Montana. Just as the jukebox was in full swing and we were all feeling warm and jolly, it was time to leave. We traded hugs and fond farewells…and off we went. We wandered from the bar, musing about what a great day it had been, when The Professor noticed this vile frozen mess on his boat:

What is it????? I was both disgusted and horrified. It was pretty nasty. But for some reason I could not stop laughing! I mean, uncontrollable, adolescent, giddy, ridiculous laughter. Just when I stopped laughing and gained composure, I would think about it and fall right back into a pile of hysteria and giggles.

Someone vomited on the boat! Are you kidding me? I recalled some very very drunk guys who were at the bar when we arrived. They were pretty obnoxious, and I staunchly rebuffed their boisterous (and bad Kenny Chesney) song requests when I was at the jukebox. I deduced that they had staggered from the bar and thrown up in our boat as revenge.

At first, The Professor agreed with me. But he soon tired of my trippy laughter over the whole mess and offered a less disgusting theory. Perhaps I left my G2 unopened on the boat, it spilled, mixed with some dirt and froze in this uniquely vomit-like pattern. I don’t know…but whatever it is, some of it splattered into my wading boots.

What do you think? Keep it moderately appropriate, of course. But don your best Honkytonk CSI skills and help solve the mystery.

What is this ghoulish mess on the drift boat?

Someone should have warned me about Facebook. When I signed up a year ago, very few of my married mommy girlfriends were on there. I naively nosed around a few fishing groups and ended up with a gazillion fishing friends that I didn’t know. Nothing wrong with that except they now had my first and last name, and some of these dudes were creepy. A few bad eggs will just ruin it for everyone.

It was a full-time job to monitor my Facebook Wall which filled up with messages from total strangers who were always “Partying At The Playboy Club in Vegas” or “Recovering From a Six-Day Bender.” Not to mention writing lecherous messages about me.

I had to take down my Facebook profile.

Sad really, because I grew up in a family that was pretty open and embraced the notion of befriending a stranger. On family roadtrips to Colorado my dad would inevitably pick up some hitchhiker. It was always exotic and terribly exciting to hear their story and blend lives for a short while.

Once, when we were living in London, my mother went to Russia with a friend and they brought home some graduate student who didn’t have a place to spend the holidays. I swear I think we hung a stocking for him on our mantle.

Where did those days go? A simpler time when hitchhiking was the safest form of social networking and travel brought real human characters into your life.

I will say, we had a taste of it in Montana last week. Through an organic chain of events, The Professor and I met up with fishing-guide writer, Gaper, and his buddy Spinner. They were tackling the same stretch on The Big Hole. Now I can’t keep track of all the personalities and screen names over on The Drake site, so it was well into our boat ramp banter when I learned that Gaper is in fact the much-ballyhooed author of the AK Chronicles.

Knock me over with a feather! An urban legend…the blogger that gets a book deal. That’s like the guy who shows up in LA to be a screenwriter or the doe-eyed optimist who arrives in Nashville to be a songwriter. I was terribly uncool and starstruck.

Gaper, however, was the epitome of cool, as was his buddy Spinner. They were a riot actually. When we met them at the end of the day at The Melrose Bar, they appeared to be multiplying, arriving with a third guy. Turns out the extra fisherman, Mike, had been fishing alone on the banks of The Big Hole so they loaded him in their boat as they floated by.

Thank heavens they did because Mike brought a whole different layer to the story. He is a young golfer who played one British amateur and two US amateurs, including nailing a hole-in-one at Eastlake. Initial pass as a professional golfer didn’t pay the bills so he is headed to southern California to be a caddy. While working his way across the country toward that tour of duty, he was living out of his car in Montana, fishing out his final weeks of freedom.

Our boat ramp socializing continued over on The Missouri as well. I ran into my summertime buddy, fly tier Bob Lay, and he and The Professor became fast friends. On a particularly windy day we ran into Bob in Craig. Too windy for him to fish in his little one-man craft so we convinced him to join our float. Such fun! Stories galore and dry fly fishing til dark.

Granted hitchhiking is probably not as safe as it was back in the 70s, but the characters that come in and out of my life on the boat ramps of Montana are priceless. Facebook can’t compete with that.

That said, apparently in the past six months everyone I know has joined Facebook. The other day I was chatting with one of my best friends from high school. She was laughing that our upcoming reunion would be so boring since everyone was already up to speed on Facebook. What? She gave me her username and password to log onto her profile. Sure enough, there were all my friends, yucking it up, sharing pictures of their kids, swapping tales. It did look pretty fun. Damn.

But I’m holding firm in my Facebook boycott. I can always thumb a ride on her profile when I need to take a little spin and catch up with old friends. I’m sticking with blogs and boat ramps to meet the new ones.