As MG says "An Offering To The Fish Gods"

They may not be pretty
They may not be normal
They may not be fish, wait yeah they are
The Kokanee salmon from Eleven Mile Canyon in Colorado
I got these bastards while fishing with my buddy Nate


Kyle- Who loves lipstick fish

Big Ol' Numero Deuce!

From Pike to Paris Hilton: the November Issue of FCR.

(Note: to you have to grab and turn an edge of the right-hand page to get to the TOC.)

Frye Creek-Stocker history is made on Mt. Graham.

Also, FGFF friend Rod Mcleod gets himself one step closer to international fame.

Always lick the bait.

A few clips of the man who inspired me to pick up a bass over 10 years ago, Les Claypool, from Fly Fishing the World, for those of you who haven't had the pleasure:





The full episodes can be found in the extras of Les's DVD 5 Gallons of Diesel, which kicks super amounts of ass, by the way.

-Alex

Arivaca Improvement Information-for the 10 people who care.

For those in the southern part of the state, Arizona Game and Fish Biologist Jason Kline sheds some light on what is going on at the lake.

Just the facts, ma'am-

Improvements:
Arivaca is getting improvements, but not quite what you heard. The boat ramp is being reconstructed, not moved. It will have a new wider and straighter ramp and a floating dock with a light to make launching much easier. This will also get an ADA compliant walkway from the parking lot. If the permits from the Corps of Engineers allow, we will also put in a low water ramp as an extension of the new one. There is already a new restroom in place; it is not open yet, as we are waiting on a handicap parking spot and ADA sidewalk to be poured to it. The parking lot currently has drainage issues and is washing out the old ramp. To fix this, the lot will be re-graded and the bottom third of the lot will be paved. This will include a swale to direct water to drain to the lake, not the ramp. The road will NOT BE PAVED; this rumor has perpetuated for years, and is not true.

Motors:
Arivaca has had gas motors allowed (10hp or less) since January of 2008; this was done to open a funding stream from the excise tax on gasoline for these and other improvements.

Fish Kill:
The lake will not have a fish kill just because it is low. I suppose this rumor is because the kill of 1999 occurred after it dropped to a very low level. What occurred was a chain on events that ended a kill:
1) The extremely low water level allowed terrestrial vegetation to grow, the lake refilled and the vegetation died and began to decompose-consuming oxygen in the lake
2) At the same time an algae bloom was occurring which normally puts oxygen back in the water, except at night or cloudy days when it consumes oxygen
3) We had a week of cloudy weather- so the bloom was consuming oxygen
4) The oxygen levels dropped to a lethal level and fish died.
Will all of this occur again? Possibly, but there is no way to predict these events. Arivaca is a hyper eutrophic lake, meaning it is super productive, so much so, that it can be to its own detriment. This is due to the high nutrient load in the water. It is not a bad thing, it is also the reason the fish grow so fast in Arivaca, it is just how the lake is.

Thanks for the information, Mr. Kline.

-Alex

A new product reveiw not about fishing at all

If you are like me, you suffer from extreme body hair. I thought it was just the curse of being Irish, or possibly a freak mutation. Well i figure now it has nothing to do with being Irish or a genetic mutation. None the less I have fooled myself into believing that I am the product of the Baboon cage at the zoo. I guess there were no sheep around at the time.

Many of years I have fought with this curse that has been laid upon me, Bald on the top of my head, the ability to grow a full beard since I was 15, ankle hair from 13, the chest hair growing in at 15, and the back....... So why the hell is my ass bald? damn monkeys!

I have found a product that I would love to share with you, "Nair For Men!"


So I went to Walgreen's and picked up a bottle of this stuff, I was a bit skeptical about this product due to using the ladies version of it on my head many years ago. To be Honest it smells like a chemical burn and when you wipe it off it looks the same. My hairs looked as it they were passed over a 16 burner stove on high heat. But the result was amazing! Never have I felt such comfort in hair removal before. I am yet to try this product on my head, I fear that and I don't need it on my face, Because I am a man I have a beard. and as I was looking on line for some reviews most had been about the "Nair on Balls" subject. If you are looking at this to, "Manscape", I ask you to look at some things others have said about this product, some funny, some good, and some that make you want to vomit.

Its so easy to use, smells funny, hard to get the rest off in the shower, but hey Its beats my old method of rope, a bunch of hair wax, a bed sheet, some good friends, and a car.
That was the worst Idea I have ever had.

Kyle- who's back is sexier than ever!

Whiteyville 2009

I think his driver's license says John, but I can't say for sure and I have always called him Whitey. He is retired, but occasionally fills in behind the counter at the local Orvis store, where I met him a few years ago.

Every year he balls his trailer and burns gas to a campsite north of 260 on Country Road 1325. The trailer-lined dirt circle with its industrially stocked chow tent and monstrous fire pit is base camp for dirty smelly fishy men, and is just another excuse to go to the mountains and drink and act retarded. After you wake up late and slap off a headache and eat a breakfast that would make a Waffle House line cook jealous, you might even have time to go wet a line.

Sticking with our usual modus operandi, Aaron and I set off for the mountains well after dark and arrived clanking and groaning around 3am, raising the pop up camper with as little hammering and pounding as possible. It was kinda cold, not like freeze-your-eye-lids-shut-and-your-fingers-to-your-man-parts-while-trying-to-pee-in-the-dark-without-falling-over cold, but a welcome 26° as we climb into sleep for a few hours, The travel over, and now on mountain time. Participants we are for the second year.

The Camp - photographic evidence:

The Starcraft, as far as I can tell, was manufactured in the late 70's. Re-canvased once after my father bought it, she is a fat assed with a broken leaf spring and stops the wind about as well as a chain link fence but the beds are damn comfortable, and the most of the stuff works just fine for the likes of us.

An evening in Whiteyville, I believe this was post cornbread cassaroll and seafood paella dinner, but I can't remember to well. You understand.

One thing required of the participants of Whiteyville is meal preparation. If you ain't cookin', you washin' dishes, and every man is assigned a night to cook dinner. If you happen to be in camp on nights where dinner has already been assigned, you cook breakfast.

For our breakfast, Aaron and I scrambled up some eggs, and made some kick-ass sauteed potatoes with jalapeno-smoked bacon, diced and blackened chicken breast and bell pepper topped with a cheese sauce and a tortilla on the side. We don't fuck around when it comes to grub, and neither does anyone else in camp if you haven't gotten the drift.

Good dumps are just as important as good eats, and this little creation was made by pimp master chef and Whiteyville veteran Phil. The Meditator 550LE is equipped with waterproof TP dispenser and hand pump bidet, and even has a journal for one to log their experience.  Aaron and I stuck to our Crapmaster 350, which does not have the upgrade options the 550LE has, but gets the job done.










The Fishy Stuff - photographic evidence:

This fatty Silver Creek rainbow ate a beadhead emerger that was slowly rolling along below some parachute what-have-you that Tom Teasdale gave me while I was in Colorado.

Silver Creek is a few mile long stretch of skinny, slow moving water that comes down from Silver Creek Hatchery, where the Native Apache trout are bread to be stocked in White Mountain Lakes.

Aaron standing on the bank of Silver Creek. Does this image look a little strange to you? 10 points and a gold star if you can figure out why.

Becker lake is located north of Springerville and is a weedy bastard, but holds some nice fish.

Aaron's Becker Rainbow.

Another Becker resident.

At Big Lake I found this brave little traveler battling with the native mud monsters. I saved his life, and now he belongs to me.

The person who comes up with the best name for him will win something sweet.




-Alex

Yea, No..... this fish!

The exhaust on the truck is still pinging from the drive back from Whiteyville, and I am going to bed. Report to follow.

This is what happens....

when you drink a bottle of Jager and attempt to do an interview over Skype.

-Alex who is a sexy bitch.

It could happen to you...

It is not quite the evening yet, and night has hours yet to be born from twilights womb. The summer sun still lingers annoyingly high, but the nine-to-fivers have parked the car and are looking for the remote, adding ice to their second scotch and water.

The temperature matches the colors as grays become reds and the landscape seems to deepen.

Someone, somewhere, has cracked their first beer. If you listen carefully, to can hear the kacheeeesk and the slurp that inevitably follows.

They may be partying, they may be just hanging out, or they may be sitting on the couch watching Forensic Files. Whatever they may be doing now, 3 hours and ~8 beers later they will be at the computer.

A bookmark click here, a Google search there, winding their way closer... They might even have a blog, and on this blog a blogroll, and on this blogroll, your site may be listed.

“Oh, lookey,” they say, “a new post,” slurp, “let’s go take a peek."

Their fingers follow along as their eyes are forced open wide enough to keep the words from smashing together. They laugh, they cry, they have an idea, a thought that must be voiced in type, tick, click, tick goes the keys as their intoxicatedness spills onto the keyboard.

They giggle at their cleverness as their hand moves the cursor toward the “Submit Comment” button and engages. Convex becomes concave as their inebriated mental state is forced into textual existence.

The deed has been done, you have been drunk-commented, and even with spelling errors and keyboard-topography mistakes, you may not even know it.

On the phone, it’s easy:

Ring....
“Hello?”
“Drrrrrrr”
“Dave… your drunk, aren’t you?”
“Maybe… hehe.”

Problem Solved.

But in this electronic age there are many more forums for the inebriated communicator. Drunk texts, drunk emails, drunk tweets…. And with proper grammar often flying out the window even in states of complete sobriety, how is one to know?

Has your blog been subject to drunken commenting? Has someone left their skewed mark on your page? Do you even care? Does it matter? Is it better that way? They do say that ones true feelings come out in times of intoxication....

-Alex who knows how easy it is to get in trouble with the click of a mouse.