"i am not against golf...

since I cannot but suspect it keeps armies of the unworthy from discovering trout."
-Paul O'Neil

As this new obsession takes an ever increasing hold on me, i have realized that this blog will probably be dedicated to more stories about fishing. now, a few of my loyal readers will probably appreciate this - dad, paul, dennis, maybe timmy - but to the rest of you i wholeheartedly apologize in advance.

catching fish is absolutely electric. 50 fruitless casts, and then suddenly i'm connected to a wild animal on the other end. i fished for 45 minutes at lunch today. at lunch, people. what is wrong with me??

i ate a couple of new york style slices real quickly from paisano's (probably the most authentic new york style in steamboat), which happens to be across from the fifth street bridge. i ate my pizza outside and walked across the street to get a better look at the water. right below the bridge, on the ski area side of town, was a pretty decent looking hole. i went back to the car, suited up, changed my bwo from yesterday to a hare's ear caddis nymph. i put on a strike indicator (elitist, flyfish speak for a tiny, stick-on foam "bobber"), and went down stream so that i could work my way up.

no luck downstream. i finally made it up to the spot i thought looked pretty good in the first place, and brought in a 12 and a 10 inch brown. had a fair size one on - probably 15 inches - but i didn't set the hook well enough and he slipped it after i got him about halfway in.

this sunday may require a trip to the elk's headwaters, about 45 minutes north of town. that is, if i have time. this weekend is the arts council's big beaux arts and wine festival annual weekend, and i'll be helping jenn.

peace out, peeps.