Click here if you’d like to order a signed copy and/or need me to write something custom in the front such as “Happy Birthday” or “Hold the Mayo” or “To My #1 FFC Reader”. There’s a little box-form on my book blog page where you can fill in what you’d like it to say.

Click here if you’d rather skip my chicken scratch in the front of the book and just want to go ahead and order/checkout.

If you’d like to supersize it (ie, you want to buy books for your whole family tree to put in their stockings or give out to all your employees at your next team building meeting) then give me a shout at flyfishchick [at] live [dot] com to discuss shipping options.

If you need a little refresher or primer as to what the book is about, take a look at this video that my friend Tim Cole put together. Am also especially grateful to The Band of Heathens and Nathan Hamilton (Texas musicians!) who offered their TX tunes as the soundtrack. I insisted the music had to be 100% Texas homegrown and these local talents were kind enough to support the cause. More lovin’ on these bands in future posts. In the meantime, here’s the sizzle reel:

So there you have it. The FLY FISH CHICK Drive-Thru is open late nite to take your PADDLEFISH value meal deal orders, and this one-woman operation will ship it via good-old fashioned ASAP.

Your unwavering support throughout the race and the book-writing process has been humbling and much appreciated. Thank you again & again!

The printer has shipped the books (we have real live tracking numbers) so check back here at flyfishchick.com next Wednesday to purchase your very own copy!

And because it’s not all about me me me, I do have some real grip and grins of the professor catching fish on the Missouri with his new best buddy, Headhunters guide Jarrod.

The guys managed to tear themselves away from fishing the Mo for a little bird hunting as well…

But now it’s back to reality for the Professor. The talk around the dining room table at this house is pretty much all volleyball, middle school math, rumored 6th grade romances, and Paddlefish the book.

I hope you will consider finding a spot on your bookshelf. It would be an honor!

Departure Publishing (yes, coincidentally my very own publisher) has released two fantastic fly fishing books this year and I can’t wait to devour them cover to cover.

The first is KEEPER by Martin Donovan, a British streamkeeper. I’m told it’s a raucously funny take on storied English trout streams. I am already loving the “Foreigner’s Guide to the Queen’s English” included at the front. Bullocks, I need a quid to buy a pint and settle in with a good read….

The second book, THE BLITZ is by my friend over at Fishing Jones, Pete McDonald as well as Tosh Brown. Pete wrote the stories, Tosh took the photos. It’s a coffee table book about stripers and eastern seaboard saltwater fishing and will make you want to get on the water stat.

Congrats to my Departure Publishing brethren on two very exciting fishing books! Run, don’t walk, to get copies for your library.

And since we are talking about books…it seems fitting to tell you that as of yesterday afternoon we have a cover concept for my book. Which is convenient because it goes to the printer in two days.

And now, about the music…

A few weeks ago after a day of fishing on the Big Hole with the Professor, Little Chick and my parents, we enjoyed a fantastic meal at the Old Hotel in Twin Bridges. Somehow (and by somehow I mean after lots of wine) we came up with the hilarious idea of turning my soon-to-be-published book into a musical theater production, PADDLEFISH THE MUSICAL.

I can’t share all the bizarre song ideas and choreography that we brainstormed…because I don’t remember them. But trust me, it was riotous. You see, I know my musicals. When I was a kiddo, my mother used to take me down to the Dallas County Fairgrounds or where ever that is where they host the Texas State Fair and the Cotton Bowl. Well, they would also show Broadway musicals year round. So I am well-prepped for a Broadway sing-off anywhere, anytime. Bring it. Sound of Music, Oklahoma, The King and I, My Fair Lady, Cats, Evita.

Oh, give me a balcony and I can rock ‘Don’t Cry for Me Argentina’.

While an off off off Broadway musical production of PADDLEFISH is likely not in the cards, nor in my publishing agreement, music was a very big part of the whole race experience, from training to the finish line. For example…

Don’t forget that yall helped create a killer and comprehensive playlist of river songs to keep me inspired in the months leading up to the race.

And of course there were the songs I listened to at the gym on the rowing machine on my playlist ‘Row Against the Machine’. Favorites to fake row to include: Errtime, Jive Talkin’, Mo Money Mo Problems, Nasty Girl, Workin’ Day and Night, and lots lots more.

Plus there were the tunes Banning and I sang to pass the time during training runs in the canoe, especially the bay training. Mostly good Willie Nelson and many rounds of Janis Joplin’s ‘Me and Bobby McGee’.

Finally, Phil and I came up with our own set of songs to sing during the actual race. The only musical genre that we both knew (and could remember the lyrics to in our sleep-deprived state) seemed to be Soft Rock from the 70s. We rocked a lot of Firefall, Eagles, Don McLean and Jimmy Buffet. The main songs we sang over and over and over were: ‘You Are The Woman’, ‘Take It Easy’, and ‘American Pie’. Oh, and a rendition of Jimmy Buffet’s ‘Why Don’t We Get Drunk and Screw’…but we changed the lyrics to sing about Team Paddlefish and the race.

And because you probably aren’t spinning these tunes on your ipod today, I have taken the liberty of pulling them together in a little playlist for you. I dare you not to enjoy this nostalgic musical jaunt back to the 70s…

[if you are reading this post via email, you may need to click through to my site to view/listen to the playlist. cheers.]

While Melissa doesn’t fish herself, she is a longtime FFC reader. She is a yoga master, big-time skier, and has conquered some mountain climbing treks that make me dizzy just hearing about them. She is an athlete, mom, wife, chick friend, nutritionist, blogger and all-around angel.

Over a year and a half ago when I announced my intent to train and compete in the Water Safari, Melissa chimed in with what was one of her first comments on FFC. I was blathering on in this post about doing a low carb diet, which she immediately refuted, citing it as an unsound strategy for my training. Boom, I promoted her to the official Team Nutritionist.

That’s just how we get things done around here. Little did I know she would become my Health Consigliore for a year!

Having never met or spoken before I was fascinated to learn her credentials and agog at her willingness to help. Melissa has a very successful blog called Gluten Free For Good with fabulous pictures, recipes and resources about gluten free and healthy eating.

After a detailed phone consultation she sent me a packet that I completed and then she followed up with a detailed analysis about  my nutritional action plan.

The first thing she did was start me on a cleanse which I decribed in a post called Dawn Of A New Whey on the Chicken Fried Therapy blog. It was a drastic change to my diet for sure. After the three week cleanse, Melissa stuck by me for over a year, introducing me to things like chia seeds, hemp protein powder, bison burgers, flaxseed crackers, organic chicken apple sausage, quinoa, millet, kale, coconut water, and goat yogurt.

(Note: do not travel to the Bahamas with chia seeds and hemp protein powder in unmarked ziploc bags. That was a dicey day in customs.)

I wouldn’t say I have gone gluten-free for goooooood, but I am infinitely more conscious about what I eat and drink. I have all but excluded traditional diet sodas, refined sugar, wheat and gluten. (Except the past month of wedding and holiday celebrations which has been unabashed gluttony.) And I am strangely addicted to my chia-spinach-fruit smoothies. All in all I have lost 16 pounds since Melissa put me on that original cleanse. Not a ton. But my whole way of eating has changed completely.

I live in the gluten-free section of the grocery. There are so many options now, the pasta I serve is gluten free and it is delicious! They are making more and more gluten free choices everyday. Although knowing Melissa she would want us to eat foods that exist naturally as gluten free. She’s a funny purist like that. And one of those who practices what she preaches. She is funny, sweet, realistic and positive. She is a true Rocky Mountain Rockstar in my book.

I’d like to create a line of flies dedicated to Melissa with patterns such as The Ch-ch-ch-chia Pet Parachute Adams, The Hemp Protein Power Streamer, The Goat Kefir Caddis, and the Organic Buzzball.

While Melissa doesn’t really endorse supplements (she believes you should accomplish everything with real food and fish oil) this grasshopper is flying without a master now and I have discovered Maca Powder. Your welcome, ladies.

Melissa is a genuine goddess badass. She would send these amazing care packages throughout the year of training, along with sweet cards and notes of inspiration:

Melissa was with me 100% of the way from the day I announced my goal to race, all the way to the wall in Seadrift and the finish line. I am eternally grateful for the lasting influence she has made on my life! And to show my appreciation I am going to quit my wedding-holiday-newyear-bowlgame-backslide and get back to a healthier Melissa-endorsed eating regime pronto.

Viva la Chia!!!

(this warranted another showing)

Don’t get me wrong, after months of training and enduring the race itself, the San Marcos and Guadalupe rivers have an indelible place on my heart. As do other trout streams such as the Big Hole, the Beaverhead and the Blackfoot. But there is no getting around one plain and simple fact: The Missouri River is my home water.

I don’t know why. I didn’t set out to make it happen that way. I live in a state several states away. I know dozens upon dozens of people who fish the river infinitely better than I do. Many other streams and tides have captured my heart, but when it comes to fishing, the Missouri is my soul.

Curious, no? Is it the people I have come to know through the years? Is it the style of fishing? The fish I’ve caught? Memories with family and friends?

It begs the question: What defines ‘home waters’?

I will have to answer my own question with some pictures from this past July:

And here’s a little music to enjoy while you ponder this question, “What is your home water?”

Of course I also really love the Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty version of this tune but had to go with John Denver since we are, after all, talking about trout stream and the Rockies.

Okay, that’s not true, Project Playlist didn’t have the Loretta & Conway version. But this one is pretty good. It captures the mood. Because I can tell you it felt damn good to be back on the Missouri again this summer.

I am feeling pretty good after the race, my hands are achy and still a bit swollen, my legs are covered in poison ivy, I am eating like a ravenous beast, and I am super sleepy tired. So bear with me as I try to encapsulate a complex and dense adventure into a shorthand highlight reel. (If you want to cut to the chase, there is a slideshow at the end of this post.) Yall have been with me every step of the way for the past year so I want to give you a flavor of this wild expedition…

SATURDAY – DAY #1

I did not enjoy the first day. There were just so many damn boats to avoid and navigate. Everything was so amped up, I tweaked my back at the second portage literally 15 minutes into the race so that was stressing me out.

The first day on the upper San Marcos River is the hairiest section with fast narrow turns, tree limbs and stumps coming at you in rapid fire pace, and more portages than the law allows. Combat paddling at its finest. We had to portage a little island just after the start, Rio Vista rapids, Cummings Dam which is at least 24 feet high and was a total backlog of stressed out amped up racers and boats. Chaos.

We navigated the old broken down mill rapids seamlessly having scouted it during training. I was pretty proud of our execution there. Then we had Cottonseed Rapids which we also had a plan…that went so-so. I wasn’t at the top of my game there. But hey, we made it through unscathed so that’s the most important thing. We also stayed upright at Broken Bone rapids which has tumped Phil and me (and Banning and me!) the last four or five training runs.

We portaged both Martindale Dam and the low water bridge at the same time. That felt like a long haul. I was cursing every ounce of food and gear we brought. Phil estimates our 45lb boat was about 125lb fully loaded. And we packed lean. Things just add up…ounces turn into pounds fast.

The first checkpoint was at Staples Dam which was another weighty portage.

Things went smoothly until our second checkpoint at the Luling 90 Bridge which was a chaotic handoff. There were just so many spectators and recreational crowds and tubers. It was a nutty blur.

We plowed ahead to Zedler Mill and the Luling Dam which we portaged really well. We had a plan, communicated efficiently. It’s a pretty narly takout without much bank, then up and over a low concrete wall, push through the spectators to get the 24-foot boat lined up just right. And then we worked the boat down the 30ft rocky slope. This was our last major obstacle in daylight hours.

I was very glad the first day and the upper section was over. I did not enjoy the intensity of it all, I was worried about my back, and Seadrift seemed like a faint dream way too far away.

SATURDAY – NITE #1

I had been pretty nervous about night paddling. There are just so many obstacles that jump out during the day, I couldn’t imagine how it would go.

It was dusk at the Son of Ottine Dam which we awkwardly portaged river right. In retrospect with the high water we could have run the dam, but it wasn’t too bad. We had to swim the boat awhile down the right bank to find a place to get back in. I nailed a few rocks and tree branches which beat me up a little but that’s okay since it was my poor call to portage right.

We reached Ottine Dam at dark with a backlog of about three boats trying to portage up the hill. While waiting our turn we put away sunglasses and hats and rigged the boat for night travel, mounting the bow light and getting headlamps out. Or did we do the bow light after the portage? At any rate, the 6-man aluminum boat that was blocking the portage path had to move aside to let others get by. We actually portaged Ottine – usually a beast – very well. We worked the boat up the 40- foot dirt bank, dragged it across the grassy field up top and then lowered it down the narrow cut on the other side back down to the river.

Here was a surprise for me…I liked running at night. I felt reinvigorated and for the first time in the race, a little bit more on my game. The sun wasn’t beating down on us which was relief. Since I was in the bow I had to focus keenly on the potential stumps in the beam of our light, which actually gave me something to zone in on as paddling became monotonous.

The next checkpoint was Palmetto low water bridge. Again we talked through a strategy and executed well. It’s a dangerous spot with a sweeper on one side and the water level just inches under the bridge which means the boat could easily get sucked under. There is a bend in the river so without a straightaway view, the bridge comes up very fast.

But we were on the ready, I jumped out on the right and scurried to the bank which gave me leverage to get up on the bridge while Phil got the boat lined up closer to the bridge. Then he jumped out and we hoisted it up and over….and we were on our way.

It was a long eerie night. From Palmetto to the Gonzales Dam the river calms down quite a bit. Just a stump here and there – I felt like the sailors on the Titanic on lookout for icebergs. It was somewhat relaxing paddling at night, the stars were gorgeous, the frogs were loud.

I’d say relaxing…until about 1:30 am when it went past relaxing right into soporific. We had to pull over for a rest. We found what we thought was a nice dirt-packed ledge above a bank where we could pull out. We grabbed out Ridgerest pads, took off shoes to dry feet, set watch alarm for an hour, and turned the lights off.

Unfortunately your body starts dumping heat, your clothes are wet and it’s freezing. Mosquitoes were vile. I think we only slept about 15 or 20 minutes so we picked it up after about 45 minutes rest and paddled on.

We reached the confluence where the San Marcos flows into the Guadalupe. I was happy to reach this landmark. About three more miles to the Gonzales Dam…

We were getting low on steam and a little bored so we started singing. Different musical tastes and lack of brain cells made it hard to think of songs we could both sing…but somehow we stumbled on the genre ‘Soft Rock of the 70s’ and made some progress.

We made it though with rounds of ‘Bye Bye Miss American Pie’, ‘Country Roads’, ‘Take It Easy’, ‘Life’s Been Good To Me So Far’, and ‘You Are The Woman That I’ve Always Dreamed Of’…let me save you a trip to Google…Firefall sang it.

We reached the Gonzales Dam around 4:30ish am? You may remember the Gonzales Dam from the post about the dead cow. We were keen not to follow the hefer over this fatal fall so we paddled carefully looking for the best path up. We saw the safety light and a solo racer trying to hoist his boat up the dirt bank.

This was a tough portage. Phil got up on land and tied the the bow rope around a tree. I climbed my way out of the water onto land and we inched the boat up the hill. Then we scouted around for the best way down. Nothing popped out. Argh. So begrudgingly we began to work the boat down these awkward rocks and boulders.

Whew. Another mile or so to the Gonazales checkpoint where we napped for almost an hour until sunrise.

SUNDAY – DAY #2

Groggy. Wow. Didn’t I got to college? Wasn’t I well trained in all-nighters? The sun was bright enough to lull me to nodding off and the stretch toward the Hocheim checkpoint is about as boring as it gets. No bridges, no spectators, no other racers – the boats has spread out by this point.

It was a long 38-mile grind to the next checkpoint. We had to dip in the water often to wake up. We reached the Hocheim pretty whipped. My back no longer hurt, but my knee ached and my fanny was starting to hurt. We were almost to the halfway mileage point and got a little testy with each other. We had to set the reset button on the team demeanor and grabbed a 30-45 minute nap before pressing on.

We finally started to run with a few other boats as we neared the Cheapside checkpoint. At this point in the race I started to get into a groove.

SUNDAY – NITE #2

We geared the boat for night at Cheapside and made way short leg to Cuero checkpoint. I think this is what they call Hallucination Alley – and it did not disappoint.

Pretty much everything looked like Mardi Gras floats or Carnival costumes coming at me. I also saw a herd of Jack Russells, a deer corpse pierced through a stump, several mini mt rushmores, and a washing machine.

After the Cuero checkpoint we were on the prelim course which Phil and I both recognized fairly well at the start. Then it started to seem different. And it was a WILD ride. In the dark of night in high water we came up fast on the series of Nursery Rapids which were hairy. Am thrilled we didn’t tump. Whew.

I think it was about 4am when we really needed sleep. I could tell when Phil nodded off in the back because the boat jiggy-jagged. He could tell the same. It’s a miracle we didn’t fall asleep and jerk and tump the boat. Once we decided to sleep, it took ONE LONG GRUELING HOUR to find a slice of the bank where we could pull over. That was tedious.

MONDAY – DAY #3

It was a good nap – about an hour? We woke at dawn excited to have two days and two night behind us. The end was in sight….it was possible that we could reach Seadrift without another full night on the water.

We reached the Victoria checkpoint about 8am in great spirit and super focused. We ditched trash, reapplied Desitin, unloaded unnecessary items, and were paddling by 8:29.

Another brutally boring hot long stretch to the Dupont checkpoint.

Our upbeat euphoria in Victoria wore off after a few hours. We took breaks to dunk in water but a lot faster – Seadrift was a real carrot at this point. We had opportunity to hit the finish line before midnite.

Luckily we finally paddle up to our friends Max & Mike and ran with them over ten miles which was fun and took our minds off the monotony and pain. My fanny was killing me in that seat. My shoulders were really aching.

Without question this was the most mind-bending, boring, hot, achy, un-scenic stretch of the race. But we were making headway. We reached the Dupont checkpoint and our bank crew was excited at our pace. Our team captain was taking food orders to have waiting for us in Seadrift since we’d arrive middle of the night. The thought of a pile of pasta, a dry bed, and the cool sensation of an ice sock around my neck made me feel a ton better.

Just two more legs until the finish line! That was pretty exciting.

Of course we also had two of the our biggest obstacles: the logjams below Dupont and the bay, which is always a wild card.

Luckily we hit the logjams during the day as they were gnarly. They weren’t as bad as the tales from previous years. The first logjam was the toughest, and we fouled up our approach which added some extra work for us. In retrospect we think our original plan was probably sound but who knows. We went conservative. We were dragging that boat through brambles and tall weeds and bushes and fire ants and poison ivy and mosquitoes. It was pretty nasty.

I guess the logjam created about a 500 yard portage for us? I’m not great judging distances so who knows. I will get Phil to weigh in on that.

But we made it through!

The next two logjams were cupcakes compared to that. We actually rammed through them at their weak points and were able to jump some logs and/or push up on over them so we didn’t have to carry the boat again.

My body was wearing down. Shoulders ached. Bottom ached. Knees sore. Sleep deprivation was getting to me. I knew we were racing the clock for a good finish but I needed a minute at the Saltwater Barrier checkpoint. I laid down for 5 minutes. Then I just walked around to get the blood flowing and stretched my arms. It helped. As did the positive vibe from Phil and the team and crowd at the Barrier. It was our last checkpoint! Next stop, Seadrift!!

MONDAY – NITE #3

It was pretty exciting to think the next time my head hit the pillow would be a nice bed in a hotel with AC. That said, my body still ached and we had to cross the bay at night.

There were about ten more river miles until the mouth of the bay. It was hard to stay awake when it got dark. The trees all looked like wacky paper mache. My legs were itching like mad from the nastiess of the logjam portage. Phil and I discussed our strategy for the bay. We agreed on where we wanted to cross and our route up the marshy island and across the barge canal. He was very clear that for our fast but tippy boat to make the bay crossing upright I would need to paddle hard, strong arms, vertical catch with the paddle, perfect form.

I assured him I could do it despite the fact my arms were withering and my paddle was barely dipping sideways into the water. But I knew the challenge of the bay would lift me up into action. We decided we would wait to put on our spray skirt and life vests until the mouth of the bay where there is a grassy patch around the right side of the mouth. If we tumped in the spray skirt it would be nearly impossible to wiggle back into our tippy boat without a bank and terra firma.

It was a long slow dark eerie grind down river and the banks closed in on us. It gets very narrow down there. Fish camps and river houses disappeared and the land turned marshy on either side.

I thought I was hallucinating again when the water looked like it had a tide to it. I looked again, “Is it my imagination or are there waves in this river?”

Whoa! In a nanosecond the waves became bigger and we were on a roller coaster. Boom! We were at the mouth of the bay and trying to paddle upright in 3 foot rolling waves!

Phil steered us to the right point of the mouth of the bay where we hopped out and clung to a scraggly dead tree in the water. The boat went sideways and we couldn’t get turned around. Crisis. Immediate need was life vests. He got mine undone in a flash and handed it to me.

I hopped out of the boat while the waves were lifting us up and down dramatically. I clung to a branch which broke in my hand, I grabbed another one which broke, then finally grabbed a solid one. I wrapped my knees around the branch and awkwardly bobbed in water putting on my life vest. Then it was Phil’s turn.

The waves just kept undulating us up and down. Just as we had our life vests on and we were going to try and decide what to do next we saw the light of another boat rocking toward us in the waves.

Turns out as we were clinging to this tree trying to keep our boat from swamping, the grassy knoll was about a foot or two behind us in the dark.

We pulled the boat up as did our fellow racers, Gary and Kristen, a father-daughter team. Soon another boat came, Jamie and his son Brian. And then our friend Max and Mike arrived as the rollers were about 4 feet.

We all gathered with our boats on this grassy point at the mouth of the bay, clearly not getting to cross that night.

We kicked around for about an hour, looking for a spot of dry grass that wasn’t six inches deep in water. Max/Mike and Jamie/Brian decided to sleep there as they could stay in their boats. We couldn’t sleep in our boat so we decided to paddle back upstream a few miles to solid ground and a few hours sleep, hoping the bay would be calm at daylight.

Ugh. No hotel room. No decent food. No finish line Monday night. Just more paddling, wet clothes, sore body and a violent attack of poison ivy itchy like mad.

We slept until just before dawn. Mosquitoes were bad which had me hopeful the winds were dying down. No such luck, winds were howling, trees blowing. My poison ivy was burning and I was scratching like a junkyard dog.

I took some Motrin, slathered the last of the Desitin on my poison ivy, and we labored over the map of the bay again. We decided to go for it.

We paddle the same few miles back to the mouth. Waves again inside the river but not quite as bad. We decided to tackle the bay and not retreat which meant to get out of the mouth upright we had to paddle as hard as possible and not stop until we crossed over.

It was nuts! Winds were sustained 25mph with gusts that almost took us down. The angle of the wind and waves were favorable though, save the initial crossing. We made it to the marshy island in the middle and traveled along it as long as we could.

When we reached the tip and made the turn across the barge canal the wind and waves were too much and we tumped. But we managed to get back in the boat and paddle across the barge canal. Then we were on the seawall and Seadrift was in sight!

We knew we would be walking and/or swimming the boat at some point but we wanted to paddle as long as possible. I gave it all I had. I literally was paddling as hard as I physically could, with my best form and best stroke possible. I couldn’t take me eyes off the waves directly in line in front of me for fear I would shift my weight and tip us. I was breathing deeply and controlled like a yoga class to keep my hips loose and one with the boat so we could move with the waves.

There was the pavilion in sight! There was the flagpole at the finish line! There was my family and our team captain who driven up to the top of the seawall to look for us. They scrambled back in their truck to get back to the finish line and we paddled as the bay got rougher.

As we closed in on the finish line we tumped, but it was shallow and we walked the final yards in. It was exhilarating. Crossing that finish line and walking up those steps to meet my family was one of the greatest feelings I’ve ever experienced.

Whew. Sorry to type so fast and use such poor syntax but I am a little short on energy and time at the moment. That said I have been dying to share the quick story with you…there’s more to tell but that will come. For now, all I have to say is THANK YOU to Phil, Monica, my family, my friends, and all of you for cheering so hard!

We did it. 39th place out of 92 boats. Finished in 73 hours and 21 minutes. My first Safari finish.