Where are the tout !!!!!

[hankaye]

tter, Howdy;

Tight line..


Please leave a few for us at Turner's Cross and the inside riffle.....

hank

[Otter]

Tough out, nasty wind. Caught a few , lost a few and enough refused to make me go back soon and try em again, just about perfect.

Dunno if this Otter will ever be a trout hunter but its right good fun trying.

[willowhead]

Damn, i just topped my old record by 6 inches..............and it'll most likely be the only 32 inch Trout i ever catch..... What an amazing experience.....and i have an Otter to thank for it. Thank you kind Sir. There'll be as fine a fly as i can tye headed your way.....
Very glad you had a nice time on-stream.

[Otter]

“We got a trespasser”; Hank stared at the Harley parked in their base camp, gleaming in the morning sun. “That’s one big bike, probably owned by one mean, ugly, hairy fellow covered in tattoos”. Hank stepped behind William, “I’m following you big fella”.

Willowhead guffawed loudly. “ Ray you son of a sea turtle, where da hell are you hiding , I thought I got a whiff of one of them cigars that you are always smoking”

Out stepped Ray from behind the RV, “ Howdy, Willow, heard you coming from miles away, something about a big mean angry trout”. The old friend’s embraced, “ Folks this is Ray LetUmGo, Ray this is……”
“No need Willow, I can guess who each one is. What a sight you all are”; said Ray looking at the unshaven faces, Dougdens black hands.

“Me and Ray go back a longggggggggg way , 88 Ray …no 89 , show over in …, Ray ties a mean fly”; Willow was thrilled to see his friend.

Ray took a bag from the carrier on the Harley, tossed it to Hank, “ a few cold beers in here, you look like you might need one”.

Bill got the fire going and Dubby set about making the crayfish soup. Sitting watching it simmering away, sipping the cold beers the every increasing group of friend swapped stories. “Hey Ray, tell the boys about how you got your name. this is good , very good”; chuckled Willow.

“ Back when I was about seventeen and dinosaurs still roamed the world, I got wind of a fly fishing show in a neighbouring town, never heard of such a thing before. I sure did a lot of chores , trying to impress my papa, dropping hints that I would love to go to the show. My papa didn’t fish, but my grandda did and he organised some transport for me. When the great day arrived , grandda handed me 10 bucks, a whole lot of money back then”.

“Ray you go spend every last dime of that on fishing stuff and don’t you go bringing back any change, and don’t tell your pappa.”

“ So I set off for the show, the 10 bucks safely tucked away in my pocket. What a show, row upon rows of fly rods and reels, beautiful feathers from all corners of the world, I was like a child in a sweet shop.

Out back I watched the fly casting , what a showman, that Left Kreh, held an audience like he owned them. Heads moving back and forth following the rhythm of his casting. When Lefty made a joke , they laughed, when Lefty got serious they got serious. One fella, well dressed in the best of fishing gear shouted up, “that’s no way to teach casting, you ain’t got no clock to stop at”. Well Lefty went to the nearest tree, broke off a small thin branch and tied a fly line to the end of it, some tippet and tied on a fly. He them placed a jam jar on the ground, walked back about twenty five yards and started false casting. When enough line was aerialised he let go and darn if the fly didn’t land in the jar. “Son you don’t need a clock, you don’t even need a fancy rod”; the crowd exploded and the guy that asked about the clock disappeared right quick.

A large crowd was gathered around some fly tiers. One was tying flies, the like of which I had never seen before. All my own flies were dries, some deer hair and whatever fur or wool I could find to use as dubbing. This man was tying things called Flymphs. Wow, he did things with dubbing that made my eyes damn near pop out of their sockets. It was hard for a young fella to see through big men but I managed to squeeze my head through a gap. When he finished tying one, a rich looking man at the front offered him $5 for the flymph. Well that Leisenring , he just looked at man, then he noticed my head sticking through the gap. He picked up a small bag, dropped the fly into it, took some dubbing and a few hackles and dropped them in as well and handed it to me.

“I still got that fly”, Ray opened his wallet and extracted a tiny aluminium case and extracted a fly, holding it at the bend, he held it up for all to see. A Leisenring Brown Hackle.



I must have opened that bag a hundred times as I wandered around. Finally I came to a stall that sold some fly tying stuff. Spying a brown hen cape , I compared it to the hackles in the bag, nearly the same, $2. Next purchase was a hackle pliers and a nice scissors, that left $5. Hooks, I needed hooks. I explained to man at the stall that I needed hooks. “Son” he said, “at your age you need a lot of hooks, how much money have you left.”
I gingerly placed the $5 on the makeshift counter. He rummaged around in one of his boxes and placed little piles of envelopes on the counter. The size was carefully written on each, 12’s to 18’s in a neat little line of envelopes, twenty envelopes in all. That’s 1000 hooks the man said smiling at me, 50 in each envelope. I pushed the five dollars over to him , grabbed the envelopes and ran before he changed his mind.

When I got home I built me a wooden box to hold all my new fly tying stuff.
A neighbour had some peacocks and obliged letting me pluck some feathers while he held down the peacock. I was pecked a few times and it stung like hell, but I had my feathers.

Over the next few weeks , any spare moment between chores and schooling seen me sitting in front of my homemade vice. I rattled of brown hackles, brown and hare, brown and green wool, brown and red wool, and host of other colours. By the time the school holiday’s came around I had a tobacco tin full of flies and was ready to go fishing.

A small creek ran close to where we lived and it was stuffed with 8” brownies. Boy they loved the brown hackles, I caught hundred’s of them. Soon I learned the ways of the bigger trout, less inclined to catch the young trout, I started to hunt for their daddy’s. That’s when it all got a little tricky. You see every daddy or momma I hooked , escaped when the hook broke. Same every time, strike , bang , gone.
I cursed that man for cheating a young fella out of his $5.

One of my worm fishing friends thought this was just deserts for my showing off with that fancy fly rod and fancy flies.
“ You Let Um Go again Ray, you letumgo “ and that’s how I got me my nickname and it stuck all these years.”


“That’s one heck of a story Ray, one heck of a story, I hope the flies you sent me for the last swap wasn’t tied on them hooks.”; Hank pretended to rummage around in his fly box for the offending hooks.

[willowhead]

Norman.....your capeable of completely mesmerizing the reader.....in my case anyway. Thankx p.s., and thankx for bringing my pal Ray safely to camp.

[tie2fish]

Been waitin' for Ray to show up ...

[hankaye]

Otter, Howdy;

Norman.....your capeable of completely mesmerizing the reader.....in my case anyway. Thankx p.s., and thankx for bringing my pal Ray safely to camp.

X 2 ...

hank

[Otter]

“Let Um Go, Let um go, I done more than my fair share of Let Um Go. Me and you Ray, we must be the best exponents ever of C&R but them hooks of yours gave you a decent excuse. Mine , well just say I’m working on it”

Hank was trying to lick some crayfish soup that had spilled onto his stubble but even Hanks slitherin tongue could not reach. Rascal missed nothing, when Hank stopped licking, up hopped Rascal, knocking Hank onto his back and proceeded to take care of the spilled soup. Then licking his own lips he scurried away before he got a slap from Hank..

Dougsden gathered up the tankards, washed them and poured a liberal amount of whiskey into each. “Medicine time , wash your tablets down with this”; said Dougsden handing out the whiskey. No one refused and soon all were in high spirits.

Where’s your gear said Dubby, wondering if Ray had a travel rod with him. LetUmGo grinned, “been on the gun powder for the last week. These old bones are too sore to even cast a shadow. If I knew about this trip though I would have given the Gun Powder a wide berth. Sounds like this was the trip of a lifetime.”
Everyone nodded,

“Best trip since the sixties”; laughed Willow, “ sure did love the Beatles”.

Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
Mmm,I get high with a little help from my friends,
Mmm, I'm gonna try with a little help from my friends

I don’t think any of us could cast another fly today” said Hank, “ but I sure could could sip another drop of that Whiskey, Waiter”
Dougsden shook the last drop from the bottle into Hanks tankard. “You got a right hollow leg Hank, that whiskey just seems to disappear”; Dougsden retrieved another bottle from the RV.


“What’ s the plan for to-morrow pardner said Willow . “Wrong man” said Dubby, “ I’m only a deckhand, ask the Captain”, he looked to-wards Dougsden. Dougsden felt a litlle embarrassed, but hell , these were his friends, nothing would change that fact.
Dougsden was quiet for a while and then pulled Bill to one side, spoke quietly and then smiled.
Hank whispered to Dougsden, “ I aint complaining, but I still wan’t to catch that big trout, just like the one Otter had me lose”
Dougsden nodded; “ Let me think about it hank”
Okay I’ve got a plan, should be fun and I’ll reveal it a bit at a time. With that Dougsden lay back and slept the sleep of a happy man. “ Darn Frog Hunter”; the suspense was too much for Hank.

The sun was almost set when Dougsden stirred the camp into life. Okay folks , if you wan’t to hunt trout first you have to hunt some worms. With that he handed each half a beer can and told them to get whatever torches they had. A few minutes all were assembled, Willow carried a torch powerful enough to light half of New York city. Leading the hunters to a grassy area, Dougsden dropped to his knees, shone the torch and deftly grabbed a worm , slipping it into a tin. A hundred worms each, should do.
Hank was about to start but Dougsden held his arm, “ Me and Hank have some urgent business to attend, we will be back in a hour”

Grabbing hanks rod he marched Hank to the small stream where they had made fools of themselves the previous day. “Jeez” said Hank “seems like a month ago that we fished here, look there’s my bush”. Down stream they went until Dougsden stopped close to the pool where he Jigged the toad. Laying Hanks rod down carefully, he sat and beckoned Hank to do the same. He removed the tippet and tied on a new one of about 4x, 7 feet long.

Opening his fly box he took out a fly, it was one of the P&O roadies. Hank was real excited now, “ the P&O roadie, the P&O roadie, he just kept on repeating himself, the P&O roadie. God I had forgotten about them. It’s the tummel style one, P&O roadie tummel style” Dougsden took out his scissors and cut away all the hackle from one side, pulling the remainder upright into a wing, tugging at the silk bindings. Taking a tiny piece of velcro from the corner of the flybox be brushed the rascal hair thorax till it was nice and lively. After close examination and some final pulling and tugging he tied it to Hanks leader.

What are we doing said Hank to which Dougsden simply put his finger to his lips and said “ssssssh, follow me slowly and quietly”

Dougsden proceeded to crawl towards the middle of the frog pool ,, stopping just short of the edge , motioned Hank to stop and remain a few yards behind. Dougsden got on his belly, hanks rod in one hand , he crawled to the edge, peered over the side. After about ten minutes he stripped off 5 yards of fly line laying it out straight on the ground behind, all the way to the fly. Finding a small rock he placed the P&O roadie on top. He then went to the edge, peered over the side and then beckoned Hank to crawl forward. “Okay, you are only going to get one cast, see that rock over the far side, I want you to kneel two yards back, rod in hand and when I signal you are going to land the P&O roadie beside the rock” “ Am I said”, Hank wondering what the hell Dougsden was playing at, was there a monster toad in there.

Dougsden peered into the pool, Hank behind like a coiled Cobra. Dougsden whispered urgently, NOW. With that Hank launched the P&O over the edge. A second later Dougsden screamed, strike. Hank sharply lifted the rod and it immediately buckled and Hank nearly wet himself in shock. Dougsden launched himself into the stream below the thrashing trout , and started to thrash the water, at the same time issuing instructions to Hank. Give em line, hold em, hold em , wind up that slack, hold em, hard Hank , tighten up hard. Slowly the pressure on the rod relaxed as the trout tired and finally it went limp. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO shouted Hank ,not again, not again, Otter has done it to me again. Dougsden climbed up the bank and laid a huge trout at Hanks feet, it made Willows one look like a parr. Hank sunk to his knees , cradling the huge trout, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. "Thank you friend." Dougsden took out his camera and shone his torch on hank and the trout , but hank said “ no pictures, we don’t need pictures, this is our trout and ours only. This trout aint a trout to boast about.“ With that Dougsden dropped back into the stream, taking the trout from hank, he held it gently in the stream until with one slash of its mighty tail it scorched off downstream and into the blackness.

A commotion at the top of their pool caught Dougsdens attention, “looks like we are not the only trout hunters out to-night”. Hank peered into the darkness and finally spotted the strange eyes peering at him. “ Well I be danged, if it ain’t my friend the Otter. What a night ,what a night”.

[letumgo]

“ You Let Um Go again Ray, you letumgo “

That is awesome! I'm still laughing as I type this. I've been called a character a number of times, and now it is true.

[William Anderson]

Can you see if Daniel Craig can play the role of William in the movie? He has just the demeanor to play such a suave character and the resemblance is uncanny. I'm amusing myself picturing other actors for the rest of the cast. I won't mention any names but some are strikingly obvious. You'll have to work it out for yourselves.

w