I had no idea the love affair that was born in the moment of that transaction. The monumental power of those pants was lost on me until later.

Little Chick loved these pants. She wore them all summer and even managed to squeeeeze into them the next year as well. Those pants have logged more days on the Missouri River than many guides’ pants – and we all know those have seen a few back-to-back trips without a dip in the laundry. She wouldn’t wear shorts, she wouldn’t wear other pants, nothing else would do. These were her lucky fishing pants. She was wearing them on the Blackfoot when she caught her first fish on a fly all on her own.

So of course we were already fans of 1379 for bringing the beloved Patagonia fishing pants into our lives. But now we have even more cause to be grateful:

1379 has just become a Team Paddlefish Sponsor!

[cue the streamers and the horns]

Banning and I are so excited to have them on board. Lindsey & Mike, the couple that own 1379, have a bustling family and started the kidswear athletic boutique because they know “kids like to be out and about more if they are wearing comfortable and durable clothing and shoes.” Not to mention, Mike and Lindsey are both lifelong athletes themselves. Lindsey was a volleyball star at Notre Dame (she was #13) where Mike started as offensive lineman (# 79) for four years before heading to the NFL for a nine-year professional football career.

Whoa. That is some serious athletic mojo backing Team Paddlefish. I feel feel stronger and faster already.

We are incredibly lucky to have their support and urge you to take a moment to check out their online store, blog, and slideshow. The more I learn about their mission to create a “store focused on active kids”, the more I am inspired. I know this FFC crowd agrees, kids need to spend more time active and outdoors. Remember this post from the FFC archives about children and their decline in outdoor activities?

So wave the flag for the good guys who have stepped up to the plate, not just for Team Paddlefish, but for kids and families and the community. Three cheers for 1379.

My dad raised an eyebrow and shook his head, Stevie tried not to smile while poling for the last fish and my mom worked her Sudoku without looking up. The bonefish dismissed me as well.

No matter, I’ve taken the technique stateside. Turns out fish, friends and family ignore me just the same in freshwater as they do in salt. Last shot of the day on the Missouri and I bust out the Donna Summer tune. I simply can’t hold it in! Little Chick will be hot and hungry and bored and acapella I promise her to a disco beat, “Last cast…this is my last cast of the da-a-ay.”

Last cast, last dance, last waltz — what fly fisherman doesn’t love a good Hail Mary? Perhaps that explains my recent lapse in judgment in taking Little Chick downtown last Friday evening, the night before Halloween, to 6th Street among the drunken costumed rabblerousers and the panhandling homeless just so we could see the Michael Jackson movie ‘This Is It’. Hey, what can I say? Whether it’s fishing, disco, rock or pop, I have a soft spot for a swan song.

Which is why I have some really big news…

Unless you have spent most of this calendar year hiding under a rock like a molting nymph, you are probably aware that the Drake Fly Fishing Film Tour of 2009 was wildly successful, hitting more cities than ever with topnotch films. But what you may not know is that you have one more chance to see these incredible films before the 2010 tour begins. Last Dance Texas…

Tailwaters Fly Fishing in Dallas, TX is hosting one last stop on the 2009 Drake FFFT:

Fly Fishing Film Tour 2009 at Tailwaters

Nov 11th, doors open at 7 pm

Dallas Texas

The films are superb and of course look amazing on the big screen. Plus, the guys at Tailwaters do a great job and always throw a fine party so don’t tarry…buy your tickets now! Remember what happened last time I told you to get your tickets? Sell out. Big time. So you might as well trust me this go round and get your tickets pronto! Click ticket to buy online.

The Professor has been doctoring up his skiff recently, adding latch systems in the front and back so he can use coolers as casting and poling platforms.

We cruised around for a couple of hours, ever stealth and vigilant, but the only thing we saw were sting ray and some blue stone crabs. Hmmm….this was starting to feel like our last Mississippi redfish outing, sans the flounder and spanish mackerel.

Just when we were thinking of picking up and running to a new area, the Professor spotted a wake and poled me closer. For the first time all day I felt a little bumpety-bump-bump tugging on my fly. A fish was following it, but we never connected. Nonetheless it was just the bumpety-bump-bump we needed to reinvigorate our focus. And in a flash I saw what we were really looking for – a tail. A sure enough redfish tail. Now I have been known to “see” things on the water when I am really looking. I can turn birds into tarpon and leaves into trout and dandelion puffs into PMDs. But there was absolutely no doubt in my mind. I saw a redfish tail.

The Professor did not see it but luckily he believed me and poled me over there while I organized my fly line which seemed to have a magnetic attraction to every hook and buckle in the vicinity of my casting deck. No more tails, no wakes. The redfish must have sunk below the surface but we were convinced he was still in the vicinity. I sent a few depth charging blind casts in and Wodka! Hooked up with this little guy.

So fun. We persevered and spotted some big reds crashing on bait fish way up in some narrow finger inlets, but they shot out of there like torpedos faster than I could put a cast on them. Pretty cool nonetheless.

It was a gorgeous day and all-in-all a great success. The new casting/poling platforms worked out perfectly. I took my hand at the push pole for a bit and have confirmed that I want to learn how to pole a skiff (seems like a good skill to have when I defect to the Keys.) We also got the stink off my new Hatch reel and the Professor’s TFO 8-weight. Breaking new ground left and right.

A very good way to spend a beautiful autumn Sunday.

Elementary school teachers are supposed to be well-rounded and fairly democratic in their passion for various subjects, but let’s face it, every teacher has a certain bent and Ihde’s was writing. Apparently I showed some promise early in the year as she was very bullish about my writing skills. She’d rave and coo and spend extra time editing my little red composition books which I would fill with as many words as I possibly could, utterly convinced more was better.

One day Ms Ihde announced that there was going to be a creative writing contest. Students were to submit a Halloween-themed short story and the BBC was going to select the two best writing samples to be read on BBC radio on Halloween.

I won.

Technically some other kid “tied” with me as his story would be read on the radio as well, but in my mind, I won. It was most exciting thing that ever happened to me.  I was a writer. A real live writer. Broadcast all across Britain, perhaps even to Buckingham Palace. I had visions of Queen Elizabeth inviting me to tea, desperate for me to sign a copy of my short story.

I knew in the 4th grade I wanted to grow up and become a writer. Yet I cringe at how many years (decades even) I spent not pursuing that passion. It makes me sentimental considering Little Chick is now in the 4th grade. Does she have ideas that are shaping her adult soul as we speak?

I can’t even recall what my 4th grade winning story was about. I remember my parents laughing about it a lot, saying it had a very “O’Henry” ending. Maybe I killed everyone off? I don’t think it ended pleasantly. Foreshadowing the future doom and gloom and romantically depressed tales I would output years later in college.

I did study Creative Writing for four years at Carolina. Despite studying under the best of the best, Southern writer Doris Betts who absolutely hung the moon as far as I was concerned, I still managed to get off track from my writing immediately after graduation. I found corporate life and marriage and motherhood and writing went by the wayside.

But over the past few years I have slowly been chipping my way back to my old childhood dream. I started a blog, having zero idea what a blog even was. Tom Chandler from The Trout Underground found it and encouraged me to start a fishing blog. I resisted for a bit but he was enthusiastic and I was feeling somewhat fearless so lo and behold this site was born.

And thanks to yall, this place has some life to it! It’s been a treat and a gas to share stories about fishing and other non-fishing adventures as they unfold. Which is why I am particularly excited to share a bit of news with each of you. (This is way better than the BBC radio.)

Tosh Brown of Departure Publishing has decided to publish a book of mine. It’s official, he just announced it yesterday. He wants me to document my year of training and preparation for the Texas Water Safari in a funny, raw, genuinely-me sort of way. So it’s happening. I’ve already submitted 15 chapters and the editing process has begun.

Of course I have no idea how the story is going to end until we actually get the race behind us but hopefully we will fare better than the characters in my BBC short story.

I wouldn’t have had that opportunity in 4th grade without Sheila Ihde cheering me on. Similarly I wouldn’t have this opportunity with Departure Publishing without each of you cheering me on….tuning in, leaving comments, laughing along at the stories I share on this site. I am so grateful and hope I can make you proud with this next adventure!

Onward…

Setting aside my slight real estate hyperbole, I am indeed having a mad love affair with tarpon. Here’s a quick breakdown of the fishing:

Day 1 — We met up with our guide Rich Keating. The Professor fished with Rich last May, but this was my first time to meet him, and I liked him straightaway. Positive, cool, great bullshit and utterly confident I could break into this new saltwater scene. Despite scattered clouds and rain in the distance Rich was able to show us plenty of action. My first time ever to cast at baby tarpon, at an 80-pound tarpon and two shots at permit. My casts were respectable enough but truthfully my skills fell just short. No matter, I was in heaven. Lots of firsts for me right out of the gate.

Day 2 – All of our excitement happened in the first two hours on the water when we were able to sight cast at small tarpon rolling and smacking at shrimp all around us. Apparently the wind and tide had pushed some murky, un-oxygenated water around this one island, causing shrimp to rise up to the surface for some O2, drawing the tarpon in like crazy. Good heavens it was fun. Hooked one right away, lost it. Hooked another small tarpon, jumped it a few times, and now I can honestly say the tarpon has “hooked” me. Baby tarpon, baby steps. But now I want to get to the next level.

Unfortunately, the activity waned from here. Thicker clouds and serious thunderstorms began to smother us and the fish. Rich ran us all over the Gulf side and the flats on the ocean but despite relentless spot-hopping we couldn’t find many signs of fish life.

Day 3 – Things looked ominous outside our motel window, but we dressed for fishing and geared-up nonetheless. Rich picked us up right on queue and we drove toward the put-in with determination despite a thick blanket of grey clouds and a wind that was shaking street signs and whipping the water into white caps. It didn’t look good, so we decided to sit tight for a few hours and delay our decision. Unfortunately time didn’t help. Radar showed we were covered up with clouds and a serious cold front. Rich called it about noon, no fishing. So The Professor and I hopped in the rental car and cruised down to Key West for an afternoon of sight-seeing.

All in all it was a fabulous trip, we had a blast. By most accounts, the fishing wasn’t exactly off the charts, but from my perspective I feel like I won the lottery having my first encounter with tarpon and permit! Despite our optimistic determination the weather simply had its way with us, piling on more and more each day like a gluttonous serving of hash browns at Waffle House, scattered, smothered & covered. Still, sometimes you just have to give it a try and dig right in even though you know it’s capable of shutting everything down and bringing all activity to a screeching halt.

I first crossed paths with the guys at Sunrise last May in Virginia City. I was on the girls fishing trip and we ventured off the ranch one evening for dinner at Banditos and a little entertainment at the Virginia City Follies. During intermission our not-so-subtle group of nine caused quite a ruckus trying to get a group picture. Some very nice guys ventured over and offered to take it for us.

As he clicked away, I shouted out, “Are you a fishing guide?” He was just so at home with the fancy camera I knew right away he must be a fishing guide – guides are always the best photographers. Sure enough not only guide, but a partner in Sunrise Flyshop.

We have since been in & out of Sunrise several times – it’s a great shop. And not just because they are so close to the Melrose Bar. Those guys are on the water relentlessly and have excellent intel about what’s happening with hatches and fish at any given moment and they are eager to share information every time we go in for shuttles and bugs.

2. Sunrise Chicken Biscuits in Chapel Hill, NC

Let’s just say in college after a rare night (ahem) of being overserved my roommates and I would skip all of our classes and hunker down all day playing Hearts and eating chicken biscuits from Sunrise. It was inevitably an intricate negotiation process as to who would make the trip out into the world and get the grub, often bartering clothes, future rides to class and of course blackmail from the night before. But it was always worth it. Hands down the best chicken biscuit on the planet. I don’t know how they can produce so many biscuits – so well – from such a teeny little kitchen.

3. Sunrise…

Well I would say the Craneflies at sunrise on the Beaverhead over Labor Day this year but we never made it to the river in time to catch that hatch. We heard about it every where we went, apparently it was stellar. But since we merely have that lingering and punishing should-a-been there, and since it is almost sunrise here and I have to catch an early flight, I am going to have to go with the delightful Norah Jones song “Sunrise”. I am off to the keys for a few days but in the meantime, enjoy some tunes and share a good sunrise story with us…

I’d like to take some time to thank and laud John Bugge and Ruta Maya Organic Coffee.

There is so much to do in getting ready for the Safari, but first and foremost is clearly getting The Canoe. Many people associated with the race urged us to speak with safari veteran John Bugge and dutifully, we did.

John Bugge has raced in the Safari a staggering thirty-three times. This past year he finished eighth overall. Mindboggling! Banning and I loaded Little Chick in the back of the truck and ventured down to Bugge’s ranch in Luling a week or so ago, because Bugge rents canoes that are custom-rigged specifically for the Water Safari.

In our on-going effort to be frugal and direct as much money as possible to our charities, the price for a Bugge rented canoe was very attractive. On top of which, he discounted the lease price as a contribution to Team Paddlefish.

What a hero! He also spent about two hours talking to us about the race, sharing valuable information about how to succeed in the Safari. He talked about nutrition and staying hydrated. Talked about how to read the river and pick seams. He taught us about paddle strokes and paddling in sync and how to leverage everything the canoe could do in terms of turning and running trim. He spoke of the course and helped us prioritize which sections of the river to practice first and how to approach the smaller races in the spring.

Words cannot express our gratitude. Humbly, we would like to extend a huge heartfelt Thank You to John Bugge, a true ambassador of the Texas Water Safari.

Just one glitch. We still need some money in the Team Paddlefish account so when Bugge goes to cash that check…it clears!

As of this morning, with great fanfare (cue the trumpets and the drumroll) I am delighted to announce we have our first official corporate partner: Ruta Maya Organic Coffee. I am thrilled about this partnership for multiple reasons. First, it gets us in the clear with Bugge so the canoe we brought back to Austin won’t get repoed. But this partnership is much much more than that. It’s a truly good fit.

A mission-driven company located right here in Austin, Ruta Maya imports 100 percent organic Arabica coffee beans shade-grown by cooperatives of farmers in the highlands of Chiapas, Mexico. Founded on the simple premise of creating a marketplace of superior products produced in Latin American countries and to return to the producers of those products a fair portion of profits generated. Ruta Maya Coffee is handpicked and delivered fresh daily so we are all actually a part of this sustainable development project.

Plus, at the coffeeshop which is near my house they have live music and some bellydancing classes I want to try.

So why not support those who have stepped up to the plate to support Team Paddlefish and Rett Syndrome and Project Healing Waters. If you’re going to sip some coffee, why not try a cup with soul? Ruta Maya is available online as well as at HEB and Costco. I say run don’t walk and buy some beans from the good guys.

It’s such a good match: Ruta Maya – The Official Coffee of Team Paddlefish. I love the organic theme since I have been eating strictly organic, whole foods in an effort to get fit for the race. Banning loves that critical cup of joe to get him going for early training sessions. Like Team Paddlefish, Ruta Maya is grassroots at heart while shooting for the stars and I truly believe now that we’ve partnered with Ruta Maya our canoe is going to be muy, muy espresso.

John Bugge believes in us. Ruta Maya believes in us. With these incredible partners waving the flag on our behalf, we are already a few strokes closer to the finish line.

And so……it’s time to name the canoe! Anyone have any ideas?

A few hours later we rowed around a bend to discover some anglers in a driftboat wedged on a boulder and taking on water. Not the first on the scene, a gaggle of boats were anchored up river right trying to help and/or watch the drama unfold.

The guide from the blue skiff was leading the rescue charge with another guy who was friends with the anglers in peril. We offered to help but were quickly dismissed. They were far along into their strategy – plus, the fact that we’d previously allowed we were from Texas & Alabama gained us little credibility in this setting with this crowd.

So we stayed out of the way cheering and watching as the guide from the blue skiff jumped in someone else’s higher sided driftboat, rowed across the river, and held the boat in a hydraulic behind a boulder in what was otherwise fast moving water. He was able to hold it long enough for a critical two-way exchange of gear and bailing mechanisms.

Whoa! Our jaws were on the ground. The Professor and I were blown away by his rowing skills. The anglers were able to bail just enough water to dislodge and row like hell to the slower current river right. All was well.

We saw Super Guide down river and effusively praised his rowing prowess, commended him on being the super hero for the day. He was humble and cool about it.

We were sorta hoping to catch him and his girlfriend at the takeout and treat him to a drink, but they were long gone when we pulled out.

Who was that masked man? Who was that Super Guide dressed as a regular fishing guy?

We spent the next few days asking around flyshops, describing his boat, trying to find out who he was. But we never caught up with him.

****************************************

On our recent Labor Day trip to Montana we were determined to float the Jefferson, something we’d not previously done. Admittedly we had trouble cracking the code. Trying a million things. Hoppers, streamers, crawfish. We threw all kinds of things. What was the deal? Wrong color? wrong size? Wrong stretch? Wrong day?

We were stubborn. We fished the Jeff for 3 days. The first day we were skunked. Second day we caught some on hoppers but while we were trending the right direction, it was still a very low hours-on-the-water to fish ratio. But our third day? Our third day we had the power. It unlocked for us. We were moving fish, netting fish, missing fish, losing fish, catching fish. It was a blast. Lots of action.

What changed for us? Well…..

So on that first day on the Jeff – the day we were skunked – we were floating along scratching our heads when what should appear but a guide boat. Hmm. Something was starting to seem familiar about this setup. Skiff….bright blue….young guide.

Wait a minute. The Professor poked me, you know who that was? That’s Super Guide from The Big Hole! He was right. Somewhere in our detective work we had learned his name was….what was it…his name…Joe, I think.

But where was he? Where’d they go? He vaporized like superheroes often do. Damn.

Next day we were kicking around Twin Bridges getting ready to fish and sure enough, we saw his truck and boat. Super Guide sighting again! Damn….where was he??? We kept our eye on the truck but no sighting. The river called.

After a long day we were heading home, barreling through Twin again when who should step out of the Blue Anchor bar just as we were gunning by but Super Guide and his girlfriend!! The Professor honked and waved, and somehow pulled a U-turn on the main street of Twin Bridges with a boat & trailer.

I kept a bead on Super Guide. Hey! They are turning around and walking toward us!

The Professor practically popped up on that curb and I was already hoisting myself out the passenger window to flag them down. Not worrying about the fact I was about to seem like a lunatic stalker I enthusiastically shouted, “Hey it’s you! Super Guide! Joe…..right?”

At that nanosecond it hit me. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot he is going to think we are complete freaks. I bet he is wondering who in the hell we are and why we keep popping up in his world. He opened his mouth to speak and I braced myself for him to dismiss us or ask what the….

Joe lit up and exclaimed, “You’re The Fly Fish Chick!”

Yay! Hugs for everyone!!! Lovefest on the streets of Twin. We met his girlfriend Kayla who was adorable. Lots of laughs about the multiple random encounters. Once again profuse praise for his supergalactic rowing feat on the Big Hole. The four us went to the Blue Anchor for a few drinks and lots of laughs.

Joe Willauer guides out of Stonefly Inn & Outfitters where Kalya works in the shop. We shared stories about fishing the Jefferson – mostly we told them about our challenges. Joe had some really solid insight and suggested we drop in the shop the next day.

We arrived at Stonefly the next morning – our final day of the trip – determined to make something happen on the Jeff. Joe was already long gone with clients but left Kayla with specific intel for us, including some super secret special bugs that we were not to share with anyone. We were so dutiful, we even plucked them off the cliff pad at the end of the float and off the rods so no one at the boat ramp would lay their eyeballs on them.

Kayla outlined a specific stretch of water where Joe suggested we float. She had just fished the same stretch days before and added her own data on specific rocks and banks to hit. Lottery. Needless to say they set us up bigtime.

We had a wonderful adventure on the Jefferson. The float was gorgeous, the fish were hungry, the bugs worked like a charm. Apparently Joe & Kayla aren’t trying to keep their super hero identities all that much of a secret. So if you’re in the Twin Bridges area, stop in Stonefly and meet our new friends.

MANY THANKS Joe & Kayla! Look forward to more laughs, cocktails & time on the water…

After such an ambitious start to the meal we decided to share an entree. Since I already railroaded the fly selection earlier that day, I deferred to the Professor on what to order even though I wasn’t really feeling the pork dish he picked. Just after we put the order in this deliciouso plate arrived right in front of the stranger sitting to my left.

I suppose I wasn’t very subtle as I was gazing over his shoulder with food envy and ooooing and awwwing because before the guy even took one bite for himself he handed me his fork and offered me a taste. I protested lightly but he continued to offer soooo…twist my arm…I took him up on it!! Ate right off his plate.

Good things only transpired from here. The Professor promptly changed our order so we enjoyed our own helping of the lamb special in the cherry reduction sauce with a sweet onion tamale on the side. Ooh la la!

Plus, we proceeded to have a big time with our new friend Brian whom I will always remember fondly as the guy who let me eat off his plate before he even tasted his own meal. Cheers to Brian and his brother and friend visiting from California. Enjoyed sharing fishing stories, laughs, drinks…and your lamb.

And of course a big salute to Scott and Justin and the whole crowd at Banditos. They close up shop for the season this Saturday so if you’re in the neighborhood, be sure to shake your tailfeathers over to Banditos this week for one last fix.

Until next time that is…