I live over 100 miles away from the closest trout stream. What this means is that I don't have the ability to monitor flow rates, log seasonal hatches in a journal, and understand the cycles of the river. I wish I did, but I don't. Here's what I have time for: I can leave the house on a Friday night or early Saturday morning. I can fish all day and if I am lucky, I might be able to fish until 10 AM on Sunday before I head home. That means I fish when I can, and when I can fish, I want to CATCH fish. So for this very reason, places like Bennett and Roaring River (closest trout parks to my house) are awesome and I love them.
I have had a love affair with trout parks for about 15 years now and I have had some memorable trips to them. By that, I mean that there have been trips that produced few fish but large fish and other trips that have produced a large number of fish but they could mostly be classified as "pellet heads". However, last I was able to get down to Bennett last weekend and it was a particularly unique experience and maybe the most memorable that I have ever had.
I had this trip planned for a while after I heard that Redington was going to hold a get together on the Niangua on Saturday, October 8. I was wanting to try out some gear, meet some nice folks, and maybe procure a donation for the middle school fly fishing club that I sponsor. I also wanted to invite some friends to come along and spend some time on the water. I was able to wrangle my buddies Pat, Busch, and Austin into joining me. If you frequent this site you know that Busch is my best friend, Pat is like a second dad/brother, and Austin is a former student of mine as well as fly fishing prodigy. I like to think of it as a sort of "super team" of fly fishermen and I'm pretty sure that when we departed for the spring, the trout gave a collective shiver in response. Alright, maybe not, but isn't that a cool visualization. Fish actually fearing your arrival? That's funny.
Anywho, we arrived in the valley after dark and were able to check in to Sand Spring Resort before their office closed. The rest of the evening was spent rigging up rods, talking about fly patterns, and trying to find something decent on the television. I don't know what I fell asleep watching, but I know I fell asleep first. I also woke up first.
When I realized that it was 3:45 in the morning, I had already been awake for fifteen minutes and there was no chance that I would be returning to my night of slumber. I was like a kid on Christmas day and there was just too much excitement to allow sleep to drape over me again. I was awake, wide awake, and there was a stream about 100 yards away. What else was there to do than a little fishing in the dark?
I hit the water at about 4:00 AM and threw a few different dark colored wooly buggers until about 5:00. I didn't get any bites but thoroughly enjoyed fishing in the dark and fishing by feel rather than site. A mantra that I subscribe to, especially on trout streams, is to fish by faith and not by sight. Well buddy, when you are fishing in the dark, faith is all you have. It reminds me of the bible verse that states "And although I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I shall fear not for the Lord art with me." I'm not saying fishing is like death though because it is more important than that. I kid...kind of.
After realizing that I was fishing an unfamiliar stretch of water both in the dark and in the cold, I decided that I was participating in an act of futility and I decided to go warm myself near a campfire that I had seen burning the night before. Luckily, there were some embers and leftover wood available and it didn't take long to get a flame going and to warm my spirits for the rest of the day. It's fascinating to me about how a flame in the dark and especially in the cold can return you to a primal state of mind and make you appreciate simple things like light and warmth. This is the kind of soul restoration that I needed from the world of work, stress, and deadlines that I left behind. I felt myself returning to a state of calmness and sense of conscientiousness that I haven't felt in, well let's just call it many moons.
When I got back to the room, it was about time for my roomies to wake up to their cell phone alarms. Before long we were all going about some sort of silent routine like we were going to work like any other day regardless of the fact that the job, surroundings, and coworkers had changed. We all had ideas of what we needed and wanted to do with our days and we moved around the room with direction and purpose. While that sounds profound, it is important to note that Pat used the bathroom three times. He said that is normal for him but I would argue that it is not normal for anyone else in the known world. We all ended up in the truck about 45 minutes before the horn sounded and it at least appeared that we would reach the water with time to kill.
You probably think that we ended up hitting the water late with how I ended on the last post. You're wrong Jack! I totally rope-a-doped you. Bazinga! We actually got our tags and were ready to step into the spring with time to kill...and it was time to kill. Gotcha again punk! This was a catch and release day. The killing would come the next day (I promised some coworkers that I would bring them some fish) and let's just say that some special folks would show up for the trout harvest. Now that's foreshadowing!
We were all in the water when the horn sounded and were on pins and needles to make our first casts. I say pins and needles because I was freezing and my lower extremities were in the process of going numb following that pins and needles feeling. It didn't matter though! The trout were in the water, the sun was rising, and the fish seemed active. I think I jumped a little when the horn actually sounded, but my line ended up in the water pretty fast. While working through my first drift, it was hard to miss the fact that Austin had hooked up with a fish before the horn finished sounded. While I am EXTREMELY proud of Austin for so many reasons, I would be remiss if I failed to mention that I am incredibly jealous of his abilities, knowledge, and maybe even his luck.
The morning was rolling along and everyone was catching fish. The sun was out, the fish were biting, and this is all we had to do! Life was good and only got better when Busch arrived at the park. He had gotten up around 3:30 and made it to the park just about the time the horn sounded. Busch hadn't fly fished in a while, but he has done so much in the past that all he had to do was shake off some rust and he was into fish pretty fast. It didn't take long for us to start making fun of the small fish, oohing and awing over the larger than average fish, and inquiring about the flies one another was using. This was one of those mornings that we will refer back to in the future when things are slow. I can hear it now: "Remember that one morning you, me, Pat, and Austin...".
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| Austin caught his good looking male. We named it Troutasaurs after we looked at the picture. |
Mother Nature also decided to smile on us and send us a few bonuses on top of the fishing. Austin was the first to spot the otter that showed up near the hatchery intake grate. He dove in the pool behind the metal barrier and came out with a stocker rainbow a few seconds later. He then drug it up the nearby hillside and proceeded to eat his breakfast. Consequently, he did the same thing on Sunday morning as well. I had never seen that in the wild before and it was pretty impressive. We also saw some kingfishers and a flock about 20 turkey vultures on their morning commute.
There was something else going on this particular morning that I had never experienced either and that was the Holland Trout Derby. I had heard of this event in the past but had never participated in it and found it to be a little difficult in terms of finding information about it. Essentially, one hundred tagged fish were stocked in the stream and if you were lucky enough to land one then you could remove the tag, release or keep the fish, and turn the tag in at the park store. From there, you had to attend a drawing at noon on Sunday where prizes were given out. We joked a little about one of us catching a tagged fish but I'll be honest, I didn't expect anyone in our group to ACTUALLY get a tag. I think I even told Pat, "Come on man! Nobody's going to get a tag! That kind of stuff doesn't happen to people I know." So yeah, I landed a tagged fish at about 8:30 Saturday morning.
I had landed about 10-15 fish by that point, but this particular fish had something protruding from its right gill cover. I had been told that tags were blue and that they would be easy to remove. What I saw was a shiny piece of metal. After netting the fish (which I rarely do, but this sucker wasn't getting away) I gave a few gentle wiggles and prying and the tag came lose. I waited to announce to my buddies that I had actually got a tag until the fish was released and the tag was securely in my possession. To say I was excited was an understatement. I doubt the guy that stamped out this little piece of stainless steel or the guy that attached it to a twelve inch rainbow ever considered the amount of joy that it would bring some stranger on a trout stream. It felt like a little trophy because of the unlikelihood of being able to acquire a tag and the strong possibility that I could have dropped it in the gravel where it never would have been seen again. I joked with the guys that if I wasn't guaranteed my tag back, then I wasn't going to enter it in the drawing because to me, the tag WAS the prize. I did end up turning in the tag at the end of the day and called home to break the bad news to my wife that I would be staying a little later than I expected in order to attend the raffle...and get my tag back.
We fished until noon. Sometimes we fished together, sometimes we split up, and sometimes we fished in pairs. As usual, the fishing slowed down over the course of morning with the best fishing coming within the first thirty minutes of the horn, but we were still picking up fish here and there. We even saw a 1-2 pound largemouth in zone 1 (above the spillway). I always wonder how species other than trout find their way into this particular stretch and it adds a little bit of variety to the day.
The park was pretty crowded on this particular weekend and good fishing spots were at a premium. You had to fish the spots that were open and in some cases, fish stretches of water that no one else was fishing with the hope that the spot might actually hold fish. Sometimes it did and sometimes it didn't but you had to play the cards you were dealt. By about noon, we were starting to get hungry and wanted to head over to the Redington event on the Niangua.
Over? Did you think this was over? Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Heck no, and it's not over now. That's an Animal House reference and yes, I know the Japanese bombed Peral Harbor...and now you do too!
The park was pretty crowded on this particular weekend and good fishing spots were at a premium. You had to fish the spots that were open and in some cases, fish stretches of water that no one else was fishing with the hope that the spot might actually hold fish. Sometimes it did and sometimes it didn't but you had to play the cards you were dealt. By about noon, we were starting to get hungry and wanted to head over to the Redington event on the Niangua.
I had emailed the company to let them know that we would be attending the event and that I would be blogging about the experience. I also informed them that I sponsor a fly fishing club that is made up of middle schoolers and that I would greatly appreciate ANYTHING that they could donate to the club and that I could pass along to the kids. About 90 percent of my club members hadn't touched a fly rod until about 2 weeks ago and I was sure that they would be excited about something as simple as catalogs or stickers. To my surprise, I got a response from a guy named Jay and he promised to bring some "swag" as he put it. I told him how grateful I was for his efforts and was looking forward to seeing what "swag" looked like.
Link to Redington: http://www.redington.com/
We headed towards the Hidden Valley Outfitters Campground and quickly saw the canopy and signs for the event. While the event was small and laid back, we quickly found Jay as well as some guys from Dally's Ozark Fly Fisher, some folks from Reading's Fly Shop, and Jeff Trigg from Ozark Sweetwater. They were all great guys and I am seriously thinking about hooking up with Jeff or a guide from Dally's to go after some big browns on the White River in Arkansas.
Link to Reading's Fly Shop: http://readingsflyshop.com/
Link to Ozark Sweetwater: http://ozarksweetwater.com/
Link to Dally's Ozark Fly Fisher: https://theozarkflyfisher.com/
After some hot dogs, shooting the breeze, and checking out some cool gear, Austin and I started talking to Jay about some of the two-handed rods he had brought along. He kindly offered to give us some lessons on spey casting and we were on the water in no time. I got to try the new three weight trout rod and Austin got behind the bigger steelhead rod. Jay was a great instructor and it was a lot of fun! I can testify that it is a lot harder than it looks, but fun all the same. I have always thought spey casting looked fun and easy and it turns out I was half right. Austin on the other hand picked it up pretty quick because, well, that's what Austin does. He even caught the attention of Charlie Reading (yes, THAT Charlie Reading) and Jeff Trigg. I'm pretty sure I am going to read a book by Austin some day or hire him as a guide at some point in my life!
We were all getting a little itchy to get back to the park since there didn't seem to be a lot of fishy activity on the Niangua. There was however the unfinished business of obtaining the donation that Jay had agreed to. Now while I HATE to ask for handouts or free stuff, I am equally dedicated to getting cool stuff for my club members and fostering their love of the sport. So ultimately I swallowed my pride and proposition Jay for some "swag". He remembered and quickly gathered some materials for me. While it could be in poor taste to list out what was donated, I will however note that Redington now has a customer for life with me. The fact that they even replied to my request was kind enough, but the fact that they followed through on that donation in a very generous way has created a deep appreciation for the company and their products. I am planning on having the club members express their thanks as well in a fitting way and I will freely sing Jay's and Redington's praises in an unabashed way. While I'm not going to tell you how to spend your money, I AM going to tell you that I will be sending some of my own money their direction. We also sent a "ShowMeFlyGuy" shirt Jay's way as a small token of our appreciation. Since all four of us were wearing the same shirt on Saturday, I have no doubt that he understands what an up and coming fashion trend was bestowed upon him. Anyway, back to the fishing.
Like three oversized dwarfs, we piled into the truck and headed back to the painstaking task of going back to the chore that was pulling trout out of the stream and then letting them go. Fishing was a little slow but picked up as the sun sank lower in the sky. Busch and I fished below the spillway, under the bridge, and into zone 2 between the arched bridge and whistle bridge. Just as Pat and Austin were about ready to call it a day, Busch hooked into a really nice fish. It made some nice runs and while Busch didn't whoop and holler, you could tell from his quiet intensity that he was pumped. This was the biggest fish of the trip and probably went 16 inches. It was a real beauty and I was happy for my friend.
As the evening wound down, a number of fish started to rise just below the spillway. Busch and I caught a few fish on mini jigs under indicators and then picked up a few on dry flies. While I broke off on my last fish, I was able to land a pretty little brown to cap off a perfect day. Friends, fish, new friends, and a beautiful day! What more could we ask for?
Saturday night, after dinner with the guys, I slept. I slept deep, I barely moved during the night, and slept as if I had been in the outdoors all day doing something that I loved. Now in my usual day to day grind that is family, work, and responsibilities, the sound of an alarm clock brings on emotions of anger, sadness, and something that is a combination of the two. However, on this particular day, it was remarkably easy to get out of bed with enthusiasm and vigor. While Busch had to go home Saturday night, Austin, Pat, and I started preparing to head to the stream like it was something that we had done for five consecutive days. We rocked out to some Def Leppard "Rock of Ages" on the way and were reminded that Austin is REALLY young. Here are the boys for your listening pleasure including a one armed drummer. That never ceases to amaze me! A ONE ARMED DRUMMER!
I agree with Joe Elliot that it is indeed better to burn out than fade away, but there would be no burning out today my friends. We approached day 2 with the same tenacity of day 1. We were in the water about ten minutes before the horn sounded and were ready to fish. At one point we started to think that the horn-blowing-fish-starter guy had slept in, but when the horn DID go off, Austin had a fish on before the sound dispersed...again. Pat quickly hooked up as well and we were awfully close to having a triple but Austin lands his fish too fast. Darn him and his trout stream ethics. A little joint stiffness and muscle fatigue would do that kid some good.
At some point in the morning, Pat landed a REALLY nice 15-16 inch rainbow that he was pretty proud of and should have been. I say he was proud of it but it wasn't in a "Hey guys, look at me" kind of way. It was the smile on his face and the way he said, "Yeah, that was a pretty good one." That's about all of the bragging that you will ever get out of Pat.
Anywho, fishing was good and our spirits were soaring. Austin caught a nice 15-16 inch rainbow and I caught a few pretty fish as well. I was particularly impressed by this pretty male that had the cool kype and spts on almost every inch of him. Austin snapped a good picture that resembled a picture of that I took of one of his fish yesterday. We called his picture Troutasaurus so I guess mine was Troutasaurs II. What a cool looking fish! The genetic variations on trout always amaze me and I never get tired of seeing all of the colors, spots, and combinations of the two along with differences in body types between males and females.
With all of that being said about Rainbows (and I mean every word), I still prefer catching browns to rainbows. I always have, and always will. There are so many reasons why browns are, in my opinion, the prettiest freshwater fish on the planet. The dark backs, the butterscotch bellies, and dark spots that only make the red spots pop even more, and don't get me started on the white halos around the spots. Browns got it all in terms of outer beauty, but there is an inner mystique about them as well. While brook trout can rival their color, the attitude, aloofness, and aggression of browns put them on a whole different level. I think a lot of my respect for this species is that they are much rarer on the streams and parks that I fish and I have yet to catch a brown that is 20 inches or better. Also, in my first 12 or so years of fishing at Bennett, I think I caught one brown. In the last 12 months however, I bet I am nearing 20 browns in the park and just outside the park on the Niangua. Almost all of these have been hooked below the spillway, but on this second magical morning, I was able to land a rare (for me) brown above the spillway. Again, it wasn't a monster but sure didn't care. It was my favorite fish, it put up a great fight, and it only added to the variety of the weekend.
Now you might be thinking, "Tyler, you can't have any more luck light that. That's crazy!" I would respond, "You can now." Alright, I'm sorry. That sounded boastful. The truth is, I just wanted to work that phrase in so I could include this hilarious commercial. My wife is about to pull her hair out because I keep quoting it so I had to find a new outlet for my obsession. I'm sorry if you don't find it funny but I couldn't keep it inside any longer.
All joking aside, Lady Luck had a little something left for me and it came in a small piece of metal with an arbitrary number stamped on it. That's right, I caught another tagged fish in pretty much the same place as I caught the first one. And since karma was smiling on me, I decided to smile back and promised Austin that I would let him claim any prize that came along with it...but I wanted the tag back! He got some sweet Rio 5 weight fly line and I DID get my tag back. Oh yeah, oops. Spoiler alert or something. Did I do that right. Oh well, to heck with it. I never was any good at being trendy.
As I mentioned in a previous post, Pat, Austin, and I kept a few fish to give to some of my coworkers that like fish. I think they're gross, but to each his own. Anyway, sine the stormtrooper and bluegill pictures went so well with my son recently, I decided to bring along an evil, sadistic bounty hunter that has a cult following. That's right, my son loaned me his Boba Fett action figure and these pictures turned out just as well as the last ones. Boba Fett, you are a sick and twisted soul. Also, if you choose to try this with you kids or just for fun, be prepared to get some weird looks from bystanders.
So we (Pat, Austin, Boba, and I) were cleaning some fish when I noticed a guy out of the corner of my eye that was just slaying the fish. When what to my wandering eyes should appear, but a guy with a fly rod that looked a whole lot like Santa Claus. He cast with precision and his hook sets were quick. I knew in a moment that it must have been Saint Nick. This guy not only looked the part, but acted the part too. He posed for pictures, talked to anyone that walked by and even gave me a token to give to my son that said "naughty" on one side and "nice" on the other. He said that the could could be left with the milk and cookies, and if the "nice" side was facing up, then presents would be left. I shutter to think what happens with the naughty side. I never did catch his real name, but he was a very sweet man and if I could thank him again, I gladly would.
We stopped fishing at about 10:30 so we could clean the fish, check out of the room at Sand Spring, and get to the raffle by noon. Things went according to plan and we were headed back to the park when we saw some flashing lights near the park entrance. We pulled up behind a park ranger that had his rear hatch opened. We could see that he was returning from the car that was pulled over in front of him and he was carrying something. As he loaded the olived colored Yeti cooler into his vehicle, we realized that someone must have been over their limit of fish and to add insult to injury, lost a $300 cooler in the process. Ouch!
Finally, we arrived at the dining hall for the raffle and it was packed. There was a table that was full of things from the park store like puzzles, shirts, blankets, and such but there were also ultra light spinning combos, fly line, vests, and even fly rods. It became apparent that numbers were being pulled from a container and being read out loud along with the person's name that turned in the tag. As I mentioned earlier, Austin won some fly line and my name didn't get called for a while. I was starting to get concerned that I was going to end up with a Thomas Kinkead puzzle, but then my nerves were eased when my name was called and a few fly rods and fly lines were left on the table. After a little debate, I decided on a 9 foot, 5 weight fly rod that said "J. Rogers Outfitters" on the side. I almost went for some line but my oldest son does not have his first fly rod yet, and referencing the commercial from earlier "He does now!" I am going to have Pat write on the side of the rod in a paint pen "Lucky" before I hand it over to him. I figure it is only fitting with all of the events of the weekend and what had to transpire to get that rod. I even got my tags back and didn't have to do something illegal to acquire them. Even luckier.
As I said at the start of this incredibly long post, this was one of the most memorable trips to Bennett that I have ever had. However, when you strip everything down to its core, it was fun because I was with friends, catching fish, and reconnecting with nature as well as my faith. But that's what fishing is all about anyway isn't it? It just so happened that I came home with some good pictures, a couple of small pieces of stamped metal, and a couple new fly rods to pass on to the next generation of fly fishermen. I guess I kind of felt like this:
I agree with Joe Elliot that it is indeed better to burn out than fade away, but there would be no burning out today my friends. We approached day 2 with the same tenacity of day 1. We were in the water about ten minutes before the horn sounded and were ready to fish. At one point we started to think that the horn-blowing-fish-starter guy had slept in, but when the horn DID go off, Austin had a fish on before the sound dispersed...again. Pat quickly hooked up as well and we were awfully close to having a triple but Austin lands his fish too fast. Darn him and his trout stream ethics. A little joint stiffness and muscle fatigue would do that kid some good.
At some point in the morning, Pat landed a REALLY nice 15-16 inch rainbow that he was pretty proud of and should have been. I say he was proud of it but it wasn't in a "Hey guys, look at me" kind of way. It was the smile on his face and the way he said, "Yeah, that was a pretty good one." That's about all of the bragging that you will ever get out of Pat.
With all of that being said about Rainbows (and I mean every word), I still prefer catching browns to rainbows. I always have, and always will. There are so many reasons why browns are, in my opinion, the prettiest freshwater fish on the planet. The dark backs, the butterscotch bellies, and dark spots that only make the red spots pop even more, and don't get me started on the white halos around the spots. Browns got it all in terms of outer beauty, but there is an inner mystique about them as well. While brook trout can rival their color, the attitude, aloofness, and aggression of browns put them on a whole different level. I think a lot of my respect for this species is that they are much rarer on the streams and parks that I fish and I have yet to catch a brown that is 20 inches or better. Also, in my first 12 or so years of fishing at Bennett, I think I caught one brown. In the last 12 months however, I bet I am nearing 20 browns in the park and just outside the park on the Niangua. Almost all of these have been hooked below the spillway, but on this second magical morning, I was able to land a rare (for me) brown above the spillway. Again, it wasn't a monster but sure didn't care. It was my favorite fish, it put up a great fight, and it only added to the variety of the weekend.
Now you might be thinking, "Tyler, you can't have any more luck light that. That's crazy!" I would respond, "You can now." Alright, I'm sorry. That sounded boastful. The truth is, I just wanted to work that phrase in so I could include this hilarious commercial. My wife is about to pull her hair out because I keep quoting it so I had to find a new outlet for my obsession. I'm sorry if you don't find it funny but I couldn't keep it inside any longer.
All joking aside, Lady Luck had a little something left for me and it came in a small piece of metal with an arbitrary number stamped on it. That's right, I caught another tagged fish in pretty much the same place as I caught the first one. And since karma was smiling on me, I decided to smile back and promised Austin that I would let him claim any prize that came along with it...but I wanted the tag back! He got some sweet Rio 5 weight fly line and I DID get my tag back. Oh yeah, oops. Spoiler alert or something. Did I do that right. Oh well, to heck with it. I never was any good at being trendy.
As I mentioned in a previous post, Pat, Austin, and I kept a few fish to give to some of my coworkers that like fish. I think they're gross, but to each his own. Anyway, sine the stormtrooper and bluegill pictures went so well with my son recently, I decided to bring along an evil, sadistic bounty hunter that has a cult following. That's right, my son loaned me his Boba Fett action figure and these pictures turned out just as well as the last ones. Boba Fett, you are a sick and twisted soul. Also, if you choose to try this with you kids or just for fun, be prepared to get some weird looks from bystanders.
So we (Pat, Austin, Boba, and I) were cleaning some fish when I noticed a guy out of the corner of my eye that was just slaying the fish. When what to my wandering eyes should appear, but a guy with a fly rod that looked a whole lot like Santa Claus. He cast with precision and his hook sets were quick. I knew in a moment that it must have been Saint Nick. This guy not only looked the part, but acted the part too. He posed for pictures, talked to anyone that walked by and even gave me a token to give to my son that said "naughty" on one side and "nice" on the other. He said that the could could be left with the milk and cookies, and if the "nice" side was facing up, then presents would be left. I shutter to think what happens with the naughty side. I never did catch his real name, but he was a very sweet man and if I could thank him again, I gladly would.
We stopped fishing at about 10:30 so we could clean the fish, check out of the room at Sand Spring, and get to the raffle by noon. Things went according to plan and we were headed back to the park when we saw some flashing lights near the park entrance. We pulled up behind a park ranger that had his rear hatch opened. We could see that he was returning from the car that was pulled over in front of him and he was carrying something. As he loaded the olived colored Yeti cooler into his vehicle, we realized that someone must have been over their limit of fish and to add insult to injury, lost a $300 cooler in the process. Ouch!
Finally, we arrived at the dining hall for the raffle and it was packed. There was a table that was full of things from the park store like puzzles, shirts, blankets, and such but there were also ultra light spinning combos, fly line, vests, and even fly rods. It became apparent that numbers were being pulled from a container and being read out loud along with the person's name that turned in the tag. As I mentioned earlier, Austin won some fly line and my name didn't get called for a while. I was starting to get concerned that I was going to end up with a Thomas Kinkead puzzle, but then my nerves were eased when my name was called and a few fly rods and fly lines were left on the table. After a little debate, I decided on a 9 foot, 5 weight fly rod that said "J. Rogers Outfitters" on the side. I almost went for some line but my oldest son does not have his first fly rod yet, and referencing the commercial from earlier "He does now!" I am going to have Pat write on the side of the rod in a paint pen "Lucky" before I hand it over to him. I figure it is only fitting with all of the events of the weekend and what had to transpire to get that rod. I even got my tags back and didn't have to do something illegal to acquire them. Even luckier.
As I said at the start of this incredibly long post, this was one of the most memorable trips to Bennett that I have ever had. However, when you strip everything down to its core, it was fun because I was with friends, catching fish, and reconnecting with nature as well as my faith. But that's what fishing is all about anyway isn't it? It just so happened that I came home with some good pictures, a couple of small pieces of stamped metal, and a couple new fly rods to pass on to the next generation of fly fishermen. I guess I kind of felt like this:
Hey I was woumdering of you still have this j. Rogers outfitters rod. I just picked one up in maryland for cheap. Email me gagoat89@gmail.com
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