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Showing posts with label ass kicking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ass kicking. Show all posts
Large Talons
Not Particularly.
But Osprey's? Oh yeah they do and the guys at The Caddis Fly got to meet one up close. Lucky.
-Alex who applauds the rescue and thinks it was a good idea they called in a professional.
Manly behaviour
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| How it's done. |
That's pro.
Happy 4th.
-Alex who learned from the best.
The Big Ass Florida Post
It was good pho, and the first time I had been to this particular restaurant. The woman gave me grief about putting the hot sauce directly in the broth, saying that it is cooked for eight hours and if us white boys make it too hot we won’t be able to enjoy the flavor. Whatever. Don’t tell me how to eat my pho just because you are some sort of expert.
The obligatory fortune cookies arrived with the check, and I asked for a to-go to take home the remainder of my delicious broth (because it kicks ass with ramen noodles). She shot me a sideways, judgmental glance and headed back towards the kitchen.
I opened my cookie and smiled, sticking the little piece of paper in my pocket.
That was two days before I left.
THE FLORIDA
The first question that crossed my mind when my inbox pinged with the conformation to photograph a beach wedding in Naples was where am I going to fish?
That question was quickly answered by a couple of FB messages, and I was all set to party at the beach.
... as soon as the work was done.
I like Florida. Well, I can't say that. I don't really know Florida, but I like the Ritz Carlton in Naples and their heavy Makers pour, I like the weather in March, I like the beach, I like getting the winter-pale off my feet in the sand, I like the smell of water, I like hanging out with James, Erin and little Cooper in a sweet house in Apollo Beach with its own dock housing twenty-three feet of Bay Runner fishing potential. I like these things.
Moving on...
THE FISHING
James wasn't happy about the weather. The cold front that had just passed. The lunar and solar tables. The tides. I was a little early for the awesomenes, he said, but we made due and I had a good time regardless.
We ran from spot to spot: oyster bars, bays, inlets, outlets, down edges and around points searching for the fish. We caught a few here, and a few there.
On the eleventh hour, between a metal scrap yard and some other industrial hardware we found this school of jacks and I think these little guys were the highlight of the trip for me, mostly because it was the first time I had something to throw a fly at. The rest of the time was a combination of glass minnows and shrimp covering a lot of water just trying to find the fish.
James told me that I had to come back during the summer when the fishing is how it should be. I think I will have to do that and in no small part because of:
THE FOOD
I love food. I love buying it. I love cooking it and I especially love eating it. So does James.
NIGHT 1: DRY RUB RIBS, SEASONED POTATOES AND GREASY BEANS WITH BACON AND MUSHROOMS
NIGHT 2: FISH TACOS
NIGHT 3: PRIME RIB, ROASTED ONIONS WITH JAMES SECRET FILLING
NIGHT 4: GRILLED MARINATED SHRIMP, GRILLED PROSCIUTTO-WRAPPED AND OLIVE OIL ASPARAGUS, 3-CHEESE TORTELLINI WITH BACON BUTTER SAUCE
So yeah, I had a good time.
The End.
-Alex who knows that this post is pretty ridiculous.
The obligatory fortune cookies arrived with the check, and I asked for a to-go to take home the remainder of my delicious broth (because it kicks ass with ramen noodles). She shot me a sideways, judgmental glance and headed back towards the kitchen.
I opened my cookie and smiled, sticking the little piece of paper in my pocket.
That was two days before I left.
THE FLORIDA
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| Tampa Bay morning. |
The first question that crossed my mind when my inbox pinged with the conformation to photograph a beach wedding in Naples was where am I going to fish? That question was quickly answered by a couple of FB messages, and I was all set to party at the beach.
... as soon as the work was done.
I like Florida. Well, I can't say that. I don't really know Florida, but I like the Ritz Carlton in Naples and their heavy Makers pour, I like the weather in March, I like the beach, I like getting the winter-pale off my feet in the sand, I like the smell of water, I like hanging out with James, Erin and little Cooper in a sweet house in Apollo Beach with its own dock housing twenty-three feet of Bay Runner fishing potential. I like these things.
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| Bling. This is where the wedding was. |
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| James and his big dock. |
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| Patio and Bella. |
THE FISHING
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| spanish mackerel |
James wasn't happy about the weather. The cold front that had just passed. The lunar and solar tables. The tides. I was a little early for the awesomenes, he said, but we made due and I had a good time regardless.
We ran from spot to spot: oyster bars, bays, inlets, outlets, down edges and around points searching for the fish. We caught a few here, and a few there.
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| Black Drum... ate a shrimp. |
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| Sea trout could beat up most of the trout in my state. |
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| Bay Ninja. |
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| "Go tell your mama what I done." |
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| Morning Mackerel |
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| Solo Red. |
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| Double Jacks |
On the eleventh hour, between a metal scrap yard and some other industrial hardware we found this school of jacks and I think these little guys were the highlight of the trip for me, mostly because it was the first time I had something to throw a fly at. The rest of the time was a combination of glass minnows and shrimp covering a lot of water just trying to find the fish.
James told me that I had to come back during the summer when the fishing is how it should be. I think I will have to do that and in no small part because of:
THE FOOD
I love food. I love buying it. I love cooking it and I especially love eating it. So does James.
NIGHT 1: DRY RUB RIBS, SEASONED POTATOES AND GREASY BEANS WITH BACON AND MUSHROOMS
NIGHT 2: FISH TACOS
NIGHT 3: PRIME RIB, ROASTED ONIONS WITH JAMES SECRET FILLING
NIGHT 4: GRILLED MARINATED SHRIMP, GRILLED PROSCIUTTO-WRAPPED AND OLIVE OIL ASPARAGUS, 3-CHEESE TORTELLINI WITH BACON BUTTER SAUCE
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| Little Cooper helping his daddy with dinner. |
So yeah, I had a good time.
The End.
-Alex who knows that this post is pretty ridiculous.
Sandwich and a License
“Hey, how you doin’?” I asked, adjusting the pack strapped over my shoulder.
The man behind the counter typed something into the register pad and looked up with midday indifference.
“Is Dave around?”
“He is down at the boat.” He flicked his head toward the double glass doors at the back. “He said to tell you to get a sandwich and a license.”
The one I picked had salami and pepperoncinis.
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| Capt. Dave Trimble |
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| Arsenal |
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| Ammunition |
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| Mmmm chum bucket |
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| Wide angle lens makes my legs look long like donkey kong. |
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| permasmile |
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| The biggest one, I think. |
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| Somehow this little guy got all wound up in shooting head. Capt. Dave is on the case! |
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| You and the captain makin it happen! |
There is some part of your animal brain that tightens in the presence of a shark.
I have hooked harder fighting fish and larger fish. Fish with equally brutal teeth. Fish that seem to spend more time out of the water than below. But I have never caught anything more interesting. I have never looked at the fish at the end of the fly line with more child-like intrigue. Watching a big blue shark slowly raise its head out of the ocean and munch a popper evokes awe and wonder in the true sense of the word: awesome.
Fishing with Dave was a fantastic experience. Guiding from Alaska to Costa Rica, Lees Ferry to Panama, he knows whats up, and with 1000+ days on the waters off San Diego he will put you on fish.
He can be contacted through ontheflyfishingcharter.com and californiasharkfishing.com.
-Alex who is still in Florida and loving it.
Pat Cohen's Punk Rockers
Super kickassness.
I think it is safe to say that Pat over at the Warm Water Journal knows how to stack some hair.
I think it is safe to say that Pat over at the Warm Water Journal knows how to stack some hair.
Ummm, How Much?
8,136 Mustad Hooks mostly in the No. 1 and No. 1/0 variety. You really don't want to know how much I paid. Really, you don't.
White Mountains: Most of the time the it felt like this...
Get up real early and eat a massive egg, steak, cheese and salsa burrito to get the bowels all randy. Load up the truck, strap the pontoon to the back and walk back inside to take a massive wall-expanding buttery dump that will inevitably lead to itchy-b-hole 20 minutes later.
Gather rods, put on your waders and boots and back your truck out into the street. Take the pontoon boat off the truck and set it in the middle of the road. Put on fins, and rig rods, place yourself on the seat and proceed to punch yourself in the face continuously for 2 hours while a buddy sprays you with the hose.
Put boat back on truck, unrig rods, take waders off, scratch itchy b-hole, drive truck back into garage and start drinking and bitching and wondering why you didn't catch any fish.
Most of the time it felt like that.... But not sightfishing with ants on Christmas Tree...like a god damn cornucopia of awesomeness...
Super ultra short report version brought to you by Captain Morgan 100 proof. More to come... probably.
Gather rods, put on your waders and boots and back your truck out into the street. Take the pontoon boat off the truck and set it in the middle of the road. Put on fins, and rig rods, place yourself on the seat and proceed to punch yourself in the face continuously for 2 hours while a buddy sprays you with the hose.
Put boat back on truck, unrig rods, take waders off, scratch itchy b-hole, drive truck back into garage and start drinking and bitching and wondering why you didn't catch any fish.
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| I might have taken something to ease the pain.... |
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| Many Apache trout. |