A Tip For Individuals Involved With Nonprofit Organizations

Lets say, hypothetically, that you belong to a nonprofit organization. Maybe it’s a group that wants to raise money to help kids avoid the dangers that come from listening to gangster rap or an organization that wants to make sure that a specific species of animal is properly protected within a specific environment. Lets go with the last one. We’ll say they want to protect, oh I don’t know… maybe trout. And specifically this hypothetical organization wants to protect these trout and their habitat on a particular river. We’ll call this river the “Baluda River” and the organization “Trout Limitless”.

So say you belong to the Baluda Chapter of Trout Limitless and there’s an event that includes fishing and BBQ for members and guests of members to help boost involvement. You, as a member, come rolling up to the parking spot for this event in your white jeep looking like the illicit love child of John Gierach and Count Dooku (from the Star Wars prequels) and wearing your stupid fucking “look at me and how old school fly fisherman I am” hat and see two individuals you don’t recognize. Do you:

A. Give these two the third degree about who the hell they are, what they’re doing there and once those two things are established start making fun of ones waders and speaking to the other as if he is completely ignorant of all things fly fishing causing both of these individuals to feel so unwelcomed that they just leave. Or do you:

B: Politely introduce yourself, ask in a nonchalant way if they’re here for the event and make friendly small talk about fishing, the weather and other non confrontational subjects.

Well, if you belong to a nonprofit organization that relies on donations and volunteers to get things accomplished the correct answer is B.

If you chose A, you’re a dick.

Just saying…

Crowds and Loathing on the Chattooga River

That’s a nice looking brown isn’t it?

Yep, a real nice looking fish…

I had to lift that pic from google images.

The fish I caught this past weekend might have averaged eight inches.

Maybe.

And there were only two of them.

They were wild fish though. Rainbows to be exact. And I caught them on top with dry flies, so that was pretty cool, but they weren’t the big browns I was looking for.

I have many, many theories why I didn’t catch a big hook jawed slab of speckled brown and yellow, but I believe the main cause (other than the fact that I might not know what the hell I’m actually doing) was the massive amount of people on the river this weekend.

I tried to out walk them. I really did.

I went way down the river to fish, past the crowds tossing their Rooster Tails and Panther Martins, only find bank sitters soaking night crawlers in all the deep dark holes where my fish were most likely laying in wait for a big nasty streamer to come stripping by.

I hiked way up river where all the fish are wild and only the most hardcore anglers venture. A lot more people than I thought are hardcore I guess, because if someone wasn’t already stationed in a good-looking pool, there were footprints making it clear that any stretch of water I was interested in fishing was recently used.

I fished at sunrise. I fished till sunset. I was surrounded by people at both times.

Aside from the fishing, there was the camping, which was one drum circle away from being the noisiest camping experience of my life.

I’m beginning to wonder if I somehow wronged a gypsy at some point in my past…

The Terrible Too’s

The weather’s been too hot.

People have been too sick.

There’s been too little money.

Too little time to fish.

Too little time to tie flies.

Too little time to prepare for the upcoming hunting season(s).

There’s been too many dirty diapers.

Too much fighting and screaming. (From the children. My wife and I get along splendidly, thank you very much.)

Too many cuts, scrapes and bruises.

And way, way too little sleep.

Here’s hoping for a future with too many caught fish to count, too much money to spend, too much meat for the freezer and children too happy and optimistic for their own good. (Hey, a man can dream can’t he?)

DuBose Heyward Was Full of Sh**

DuBose Heyward penned the lyrics to George Gershwin’s famous song “Summer Time” from Porgy and Bess. He was a liar.

So far my children have made the livin’ in this particular summer less than easy.

The fish seem to only be jumping for other people, including my buddy who I’m teaching to fly fish but who completely schooled me when we went out for smallmouth last Sunday. To make myself feel better I’m saying it was home river advantage. And I picked his flies…

The cotton in the local fields is only ankle high at the moment.

I, the daddy, am not rich, though I do think the mamma’s good looking.

And the baby… There ain’t no hushin’, just the cry.