: January Fly of the month contest
01-03-2006, 08:18 AM
Tell us your best tropical Salt water fly fishing story and win a diver fly.
Got an interesting story about tropical salt-water fishing? Got an interesting lie about tropical salt-water fishing? Tell the story here on the FlyfishingForum and you could win the diver fly pictured below.
The rules are simple: Attach your salt-water story to this thread by January 24 and if our independent panel of judges decides it is the best story we will send you the fly, no questions asked. FlyTalk General Guidelines also apply. The winning story will also be featured on the Worldwide Flyfishing Discussion area for a month for everyone to enjoy. So, lets hear those salmon stories. What do you have to lose?
Good luck and may the best story win.
P.S. The judges can submit stories but they are not eligible to win the contest.
Must be some bonefish stories out there, we want to hear them.
Anyone have any from the South Pacific or the Indian Ocean?
01-13-2006, 01:38 PM
Have to agree with OC. Someone has to have some good stories. Tarpon or bone getting eaten by a shark or something to that affect, hell, make up a good story. At this point there is a week and a half left in the contest. If know one puts in a story I will have to give the fly to OC just because he was the only one to respond.
01-13-2006, 02:25 PM
I'm responding, so now OC's chances of winning have been reduced by 50%. :lildevl:
I wanna read a story too! Don't be shy folks. :)
01-13-2006, 02:54 PM
OK here's a story. It's not quite about me, but about my dad. My dad is a good guy, but he is kind of goofy. (Don't most kids think their dad is goofy?) My dad is from England, and like most English gentleman he wears a proper tie and tweed coat fishing. Because he is English he sunburns easily. He always wears a hat fishing. You'd think he'd buy a nice hat. No, he has a cheap straw hat that he picked up on a business trip. He was in San Diego and visited tiajuana and got one of those tourist hats with the huge brim and fuzzy pom-poms.
So here we have a proper English gentleman in his tie, tweed jacket and ridiculous hat going fishing with his buddies. Keep in mind that these guys bring a case of beer with them when the go fishing. That's a case each.
So they get to the boat launch and back the boat into the water. My dad's friend hands him the rope and tells him to hold on. My dad sees some other friends and waves to them dropping the rope and they watch the boat float away from the launch with no one in it. Luckily my dad's other friends were in a boat and were able to push the drifting boat into shore.
So they launch and head out to fish. Mostly just trolling for blue fish. They catch a few but nothing too big. Finally my dad hooks a big striper. Probably the biggest one any of the guys had ever caught. (My dad was uncommonly lucky, he almost always caught the most and biggest fish.) So he's reeling and fighting this huge fish. Even with heavy tackle he must have fought the fish for over 45 minutes. Finally the fish comes up to the side of the boat and my dad's friend is just about to gaff this huge fish. My dad drops the rod and says, "Ooooooo, me arms are tired." The fish rolls over, drops the hook and swims away. All in his tie, tweed jacket and stupid hat.
As you can see my dad STILL hasn't lived loosing that fish down.
01-13-2006, 02:56 PM
Just so you know, my dad isn't a complete dope. He often did silly things to make his pals laugh. Even though he often messed up he alays had someone to fish with. Of course the fact that he always payed for gas may have helped. ;)
01-13-2006, 05:44 PM
Per Jack Gartside's advice, I decided I could, indeed, afford to try out my sightfishing skills at Fresh Creek on North Andros Island in the Bahamas. If it would be Lefty's last wish was to fish Andros than that's where I want to start my bonefishing addiction. I traveled alone because I didn't want anyone telling me where or when to do anything. All decisions would be my own. After a short ride from the airport in a vintage 1978 Sedan Deville I checked into Charlie Gay's Chickcharnie Hotel right on the opening of Fresh Creek. I was in Heaven already. Bonefish flat right across the creek, clean, clear as glass water. Got rigged up and started walking and three youngsters pulled up next to me on their bikes and asked why I was dressed so damn funny and what does Exoficio mean? Well, after filling them in they offered to guide me for $5.00 a piece. I said no but offered them each a P&J and some ice cream afterwards if they found fish. "OK MON! That's a deal!" So, here I was not even ten minutes from my bed and we were spotting 6- 7 lb. bones tailing in the sunset. Caught five! They were everywhere! Fed the kids and then headed over to Hank's Place for a cold Kalik! Here's the best part. While I'm working on my third beer, an elderly woman sits down next to me and introduces herself. I offer to buy her a drink and she accepts, three times! Come to find out, she is the A.U.T.E.C base's school principal.The following day she invited me over to her home at the mouth of Wilson's Creek to prove a story she had told me at the bar. After picking me up at Charlie's in her very old pickup truck, she gave me a tour of the base as well as two flats nearby. Having arrived at her home for lunch we then headed out the door to the creek opening a mere 40 paces from her front door.It's paradise here. The tide was just begining to flood and her story at the bar began to unfold! She made me leave the fly rod in the car. URGHHH! Big bag of bread in hand and one huge school of 2-3 lb. bones came within hands reach of her offerings. There was a lull and we sat in the bright white sand and waited about twenty minutes when some very dark shapes began to appear, some in threes others in fives. These fellas were in the 5-6lb. range. We were in the water now and they were swimming between our legs at the sight of food being handed them. All the while my eyes were peeled towards the open ocean, waiting, wondering if what she had told me at the bar was not Tequila Sunrise baffoonery. Oh my God!!!!!
Only singles and doubles now but they are HUGE!!!!!!! I walked backwards out of the water thinking they might be juvy Black Tips but then the tails appeared along with the dorsals. Her story was right on! "First the small one's....then the medium ones and soon the monsters!" all feeding on home baked bread. No lie, these fish were 9-12 lbs. "Oh! Look over there!" she said. I could not..... and will never from that day forward believe what I saw appear not twenty feet from my toes. She asked me to get out of the water and hide behind a palm tree nearby.
"This one is very old and he is always hungry! He doesn't take to stangers. PLEASE don't move! He doesn't like fisherman." she whispered. The 18 or so lb. fish came to her and swam circles around her as to give greeting before she emptied what was left of the bread out of her bag. She reached down and with a slow hand stroked the back of the bonefish as if it were her family. The old man then swam up the creek as is his daily ritual. Gladys make me take a vow not to fish there so I did not. I did come the next day with my own loaf of bread and one hour later in the day to watch the same senerio unfold again only this time there were cudas not far behind. Sitting, waiting, just like me. Big ones!!!!!!!!!!!!
To be continued..................
It was our second to last day on Exuma, Moderator Eddie Howells and I were exploring a well-fished flat at an un-fished time with the benefit of local knowledge showing us around. When we arrived the tide had dropped far enough to cross from the coral head to the vast sandy flat that lay ahead.
Eddie and our host were convinced they should work down current, I for some reason had a very strong urge to work upcurrent toward a narrow fast current formed by the emptying of a large basin between a mangrove island and the mainland. We bode each other well and split up.
Despite large sharks, a dropping sun, and no fish in sight I kept exploring further toward the channel as the water started to drain quickly like a river.
The bottom consisted of large mucky chalk holes divided by semi-hard mounds and each step was like playing Bahamian roulette, you didn't know if you were going in up to your stones in muck or prancing over the toadstools like a leprechaun.
While futzing around, scurrying schools of small bones would appear from nowhere and scoot in and out of the pockets most of the time between me and the shore in what seemed like inches of water. I never even got at shot at those.
Suddenly huge tails started to slice their way against the current at the edge of the main deep channel in about 10" of water - and I mean HUGE tails, bigger than the ones I saw in the Keys. At first I was not sure they could be bones, but indeed they were with several fish in the pod of 20 or so fish being well into the teens in pounds. I was a good 50 yards away and my whole body was shaking like a leaf as I stood to get shots at the biggest bonefish of my life.
I started to walk to where I could get a shot but no sooner would I get within 90 feet or so they would go down and re-appear a significant distance away. Mobility was very difficult for the awkward two-legged creature with the graphite stick to say the least. Even when they came close as soon as I stood up they would blow up. I needed a strategy.
Moving well back away from the water the mounds were drier and harder and I could move twice as fast. As light was leaving the burning bright day, the only visible signs were the silver waving sickles in the lowering angle of sun. As I spotted the pods, I would run as far as 50 yards to lay like a mudhole pig as close as I could get to the edge of the water, sometimes with my body so far in a sinkhole I started to have visions of a mantis shrimp testing my privates for food value. By my lack of a soprano voice you can tell that I did not fall prey to that thankfully.
It was truly a hardcore game of running, falling, laying like a crocodile, and having the slightest movement put this alpha pod of giant bones down. Finally they appeared just 30 feet from where I lay. Holy cow those are the biggest bones I have ever seen in real life! I made a cast calling upon the most Zen-like forces that I could conjure... trying not to think about the indulgence like a schoolboy not wanting to see the teacher's cleavage as she picks up an eraser but being unable to turn away. The small tan bunny gotcha landed softly and the line came tight into a slow swing under the ebb current's tension.
The tails propped high over the surface as these big missles foraged on a relaxed pace, probably eating clams and any little morsels along the way. My line pointed just ahead of the pod and I noticed one tail have a couple of eight notes in the 4/4 silver tail symphony and I wondered "was that little ditty for me?".
I pulled the line taught with the loose hand, still laying on my belly like a snake. The pod had passed the fly by now and when I pulled tight my line turned upcurrent and faced the pod! For that split second I thought "well my fly could be on the bottom above the line's drift or it could be in the mouth of one of these missles... I had worked so hard just to be in this alignment and if I pull on a snag and blow up this pod I might not get another chance by dark... but then again I might not anyway..." Luckily all that thinking took only about 1/100th of a second and I sprung up like a crocodile in the muddy oasis and ripped a stripset into the line.
TWANG!!!!! The entire pod exploded with a deafening fury, like more than a 50 fish school of 30 pound chinook salmon would do in a riffle, I mean churning the water and my rod bent like it would break until the drag broke into a screaming fit the likes of which I have never seen or felt before!
I was fast into a lifetime bonefish, hard-earned with every bit of patience and guile I had in me, and the rod and reel screamed like a baby in my hands as the whole fly line shot past the tip top so fast you'd think it was a shooting head. This monster fish, one of the biggest in the bunch, seemed to fly around the flat and blow up 6 or 7 more pods as it frantically zipped like lightning through the water. It was so big some of the wakes it made by itself rivaled the small pods it disturbed.
By this time I had started to run after it to keep tension, tempting fate with each leap from mound to mound and losing about 25% of the time. I hurt from falling into mounds and was covered with white chalk dust from head to toe, even in my mouth - but the hole in that chalk covered face was my smile as I whooped and hollered with joy at such a fine fish.
For what seemed to be an eternity it only showed one hint of surrender before a final acceleration that put my reel into complete overload. The backing foamed up and wrapped the handle and the tippet exploded mid-run, which is a feat in itself with all that line out - in fact that fish is probably still running. I will not name the reel brand but I will tell you that I have since upgraded all my bonefish reels to only those with the most extreme drag quality. Not for the 100 average bones that you can get by without, but for the next lifetime bone.
I've landed some very nice bones before that fish and since that fish too - but my bonefishing drive is not about catching a lot of normal bones but it's something to keep me in the game for the next freak bone.
Two of the best bonefish stories ever! Give us more.
Your story is so amazing it's surreal... yet I know that the beautiful people of the Bahamas are so connected with their pristine tropical surroundings that every bit is true!
Thanks for sharing
01-14-2006, 07:07 AM
It's time you wrote another article for an angling magazine! Your choice of words
show and define the mental picture of your experiences in passionate prose as that of the greats we spend so much time with during the colder months. I had a similar experience off of Key Biscayne on my first ever bonefish outing gratis the editor of Florida Sportsman magazine. A pod of five fish in the teens could not be via poling the skiff so I jumped out of the bow, upcurrent to intercept them in ankle deep water. These tailing fish were moving in zig zag formation feeding heavily so my chances seemed good they would not see me as they were in deeper water and mudding as their went tails in the air. I set up about 80 feet in front of their flight plan not far from a deep channel. I picked out the larger of the five towards the back feft and made a cast. It was a #2 blue crab imitation. The fly sat for what seemed like an eternity. As the outside fish approched I gave it just the slightest twitch. The tail went up and the strip strike drove the hook home. Rod held high it tore off line faster than anything I have ever experienced. 100 yards and going strong I made a mistake which the fish did not like. Never palm the reel on the fist run! It only made him madder and jerked the rod hard on an even faster run for safety. Backing almost gone, the fish dove for the channel and as it did I saw the dorsal fin of a very large blacktip shark follow close behind and I knew the battle was over. To give my first ever bone a fighting chance at not being shark meat I slammed the drag tight and broke him off. He deserved another day because he gave me such a thrill. If you seek BIG bones go to Miami and the Biscaynes! 9 lbs. rule.
01-14-2006, 02:33 PM
Having tired of feeding the bones I snatched up my backpack and trusty STS908-3
and headed north from SMB. I followed the shoreline at high tide and spotted several dark, ocean bones all in two to three feet of water. Hooked one and lost it to the coral heads nearby. It was now early afternoon and getting mostly cloudy so I packed the 8# and bushwacked back to the road over a sparsley covered and scrubby dry flat. There were indications of new or full moom tide activity but hookups here would next to impossible for landing fish. I found the road and started the long walk back to Fresh Creek. I managed a ride in earlier in the day from Lyga, the grocery store owner and devote Rastafarian.
About three miles down the road I stopped at a broken down shack with what appered to me to be 1940's Coca Cola sign rusting on the wall. A sun wrinkled, elderly woman in perhaps her 80's sat outside on a stool. She offered me another stool from inside along with a cold Kalik. It was, in fact a store. I thanked her and paid her for the beer and then introduced myself. She asked if I knew who she was and I thought to myself "This is going to be interesting!" She spoke with her hands and I could not help but to notice the cuts in her hands going in all different directions. She explained that she fished for a living as well and a finger of the Fresh Creek ecosystem ran close to her backyard. I asked her about the handline cuts. "Would you like to see how I got those fresh cuts?" she said. "Follow me." Her home was very old and as I entered she pointed out a large chest freezer in the middle of the room with a coral dirt floor. The freezer was a good six feet in lenght. She opened the lid and inside was the largest barracuda I have ever seen! It was beaheded with no tail and was bent in an arch, barely fitting the inside. I later learned that she was the famous "Barracuda Lady of Andos Island".
Bought a pack of British smokes and departed. Half a mile down the road a very small man emerged from a well kept home on Calabash Bay. His name was Henry Pinder of a long line of Pinders from Nassau. A chef by trade, new boat at the dock for his journies back to work on New Providence. He invited me in and shared his knowledge of Andros and the People to People program that the Bahamian Ministry promoted. He asked if I was thirsty. I was not but said yes and was glad I did. I followed him with curiosity out the back door to his imacculate palm tree grove in the back yard. Up one of the palm trees he went with speed to retreive two fresh and very large coconuts. Isdide we went to get out of the blistering sun. He offered me lunch, a delicious salad and of course frsh coconut juice. I in turn invited him and his family to my place on the veranda overlooking Fresh Creek for cocktails that evening. It was wonerful making new friends!
Another gentleman appeared during cocktail hour. This was Charlie Gay's doing. It was Bradley Mackey druming up the possibility of guiding me from his brand new Maverick skiff. I explained that I was visiting on a budget and we worked out a deal where as I would give him most of my fishing clothes and some charts he had never seen. We fished Young Sound and Fresh Creek. Did well and and also took lot's of photo's for his portfolio. He received a very nice tip and took me out again the following morning to train another guide. He mentioned a Tarpon Pond and I managed to find it that afternoon not very far in from the beach. This location will not be shared. Sorry fellas. Loads of landlocked babies. Jumped two on the nine weight but it was all timing and roll casting from the edge of a very muddy mangrove swamp. None landed. That night from the balcony at the hotel I pointed the flash light down towards the creek. I saw numerous LARGE orange/yellow eyes. Charlie was downstairs in the grocery and told me they were 100 lb. + tarpon rolling on shrimp. Tried to jump one and ended up with a huge jack that took all of 45 minutes to land. Off to bed day four. Eddie Newton has offered to drive me from Middle Bight all the way up the coast to view of the Jolters Cays.
To be continued.......
01-15-2006, 09:11 AM
I wrote this a couple of years ago after another unsuccessfull salmon fishing trip.
Warm saltwater fly fishing – the first time
The sun is cracking the paving stones in Trondheim in Norway and I have abandoned my salmon fishing trip.
I did this because of the glorious sunny weather and the lack of rain over the past few weeks causing most of the major rivers around here to be salmon less.
The reason I am writing this is because the sunshine reminded me of one of the reasons why I go WswaFFing – the sunshine. When the sun shines salmon fishing is very difficult and when it doesn’t bone fishing is very difficult. I found this concept truly amazing that you can actually catch fish when the weather is nice. If there had been any bonefish in the Trondheim area then conditions this week would have been perfect, apart from the fact that the water is freezing. Anyway lets get onto the fishing.
My first trip or was about 10 years ago when I was on a business trip in the USA and my friend Dave came up with the idea of going bone fishing for the week end. His secretary worked out all the details and we went to Grand Exuma in the Bahamas for 3 days fishing. When we arrived I was pleased to find that we were staying in a reasonable hotel with separate rooms, as I have had to put up with Dave’s singing in small fishing lodges on a number of occasions. (It’s funny how many anglers like to sing despite their friends begging them not to). As usual we had taken a number of bottles of wine with us and consumed a few on the first evening making fishing next day, as usual, difficult.
Dave’s secretary was very good and had organised separate boats and guides for us. So after breakfast it was goodbye and compare notes in the evening. The first impression I got of flats was that the water was like some kind of living soup. It was full of tiny baitfish and lots of other fish chasing them around. The bigger fish in turn being chased by barracudas. If you have not seen a large barracuda close up then all I can say is it is an impressive sight. They sort of lurk like a pike and the move at lightning speed to eat any unwary by passer, they seem to be always hungry.
I was introduced to my guide Winston and Dave was fishing with Seymour. It’s funny but even though the Bahamas has been independent from Britain for a number of years, most of the guides are named after politicians or cricket players. “Hello” I said to Winston “my name’s Pete”.
”Hi mon” said Winston
Our boat was a Boston Whaler, which looked a little like a large bathtub with a 25 HP motor. We would drive with the motor until we reached a likely spot Winston then stood at the back of the boat and propelled the boat with a pole, which was made of a long straightish branch of a tree. He the stopped poling or branching and shouted “Hey mon bonefish 11 o’clock 60ft”.
I had heard about these instructions before but when you are standing at the front of the boat for the first time you think what is eleven o’clock? I had to look at my watch and then realised that it is a little bit left of straight on and then 60 ft how far is that? I had to convert to yards and then think that it was 5 yards further than the distance between the 25-yard line and the try line. But where were the fish? I couldn’t see any fish. I cast anyway. “You lined him and he spooked Mon,“ said Winston. I still couldn’t see any fish. This happened a few time more with the reaction “Hit him on the head Mon” or “too short Mon” or “too far left Mon”. Then we came upon a school of bonefish “about 40 ft at 1 o’clock Mon” and I could see them I concentrated very hard and put out my best cast. Unfortunately I had not fished before with someone standing behind me and with a slight breeze coming from the right but fortunately I hooked the push branch and not Winston. “What you think you doin mon?”
The day wore on with many repeats of “You blind mon?” “You tryin a kill me Mon?”
The were also instances of me seeing the school of 20 fish and getting a cast off only for my fly to land in the middle of the school, spooking the lot.
The trouble with all this was I was losing my confidence and my casting that was never that good was getting worse. I was thinking that I could never catch a fish. I then heard “ School a bone fish 80 ft 12 o’clock cast Mon”. I then put out a really lousy cast about 40ft “Good cast mon wait” and then “strip mon”. I knew enough about fishing not to start taking my clothes off at that time and slowly started stripping the line. I could see my fly in the water and bugger me a fish was following it. “Set the hook mon”. So I struck lifting the fly rod and pulling the fly out of the fish’s mouth. Winston was jumping up and down at the back of the boat. I was seriously contemplating jumping out of the boat. “Strike wi yer left hand mon”.
Anyway the day was saved a little later with a similar situation when I didn’t pull the hook out of the fish’s mouth, the fish actually hooked itself but I had a bonefish on the line. I was astonished it went off like a rocket. I had caught some nice fish in the past; both Atlantic and all types of pacific salmon even wild Alaskan rainbow trout but nothing that I had ever hooked went off so quickly as this bonefish. It even got into the backing. I finally got it to the boat and Winston unhooked it “It’s a baby Mon about 3 pounds”. I didn’t care; I had caught my first bonefish.
When I got back that evening Dave told me that he had caught 2, the barstool. Anyway we polished off a couple of bottles of very good Californian Cabernet.
What had I learnt after my first day of bone fishing?
The buggers are difficult to see and if you can’t see them you can’t cast to them never mind hook one and land it.
You have to cast in front of the fish. If you cast behind or into the school you will normally spook them.
On open water there a lot more wind about that on a river and casting is not as easy as it looks.
Sunscreen with protection factor 10 is no bloody good in the Bahamas. I burned my face, neck and hands.
The next day we had different guides, I was fishing with Clive and Dave was fishing with Wilfred. I caught 7 bonefish to Dave’s 5 but this was because we found a school of fish that no matter how badly I cast wouldn’t spook. I landed 6 fish from this school.
What did I learn from that day?
There are no rules in bone fishing.
The third day was a little different as we were only fishing a half-day as we had to get our flights home so we shared a guide. When you share a guide when fly-fishing from a boat obviously only one person can fish at a time. This time our guide was Wesley who was well spoken and keen to show us and teach us a few things. First thing in the morning we went out to a flat where you could see several groups of silver coloured things stuck out of the water. Wesley informed us that these were fish’s tails and believe it or not this phenomenon is known as “tailing”. He also said that the best way to get to these fish was to get out of the boat and walk. I had wondered why Dave had given me those funny boots. So we both got out of the boat and tried to sneak up on the fish but for some strange reason whenever we got close enough to cast the fish seemed to move off just out of range. On one occasion I managed to get a cast off to the fish but in my normal manner landed the fly into the middle of the school and spooked the lot of them. The tide was coming in and the light was getting a little better so Wesley decided that we should move to a different spot.
When we got there and the sun went behind a big cloud and if the sun doesn’t shine you can’t see the fish and if you can’t see the fish you can’t catch them. Or can you?
It was Dave taking the first turn fishing and Wesley pointed out a large patch of cloudy water and suggested that Dave simply cast into it. First cast, strip, strip and fish on. It was then my turn. This was easier than shelling peas but Wesley said that this is not really bone fishing but is OK if there is no light. Each of us caught 5 fish before it was time to go back.
On my flight back to Europe over several glasses of wine I pondered on what bone fishing was all about. I decided that there is more to it than I first though but I knew that I was hooked.
Since then I have made some 60 + trips to fish in warm saltwater. I have fished all over the Bahamas, in Mexico, in Florida, the Seychelles, Cuba and Venezuela. I have caught nearly 50 different species.
At the end of every trip I can always say that I have learnt something new.
01-21-2006, 05:34 PM
I will skip the details of day four. This was to be photographic essay of all the lodging from the shores of Behring Point to Red Bay far north. Since I cannot mention the names of nonsponsors this would not help anyone. Met many of the famous guides and got some great photographs.
Day five and six was spent fishing in the towns of Stainard Creek and Stafford Creek. Gave a guide from one of the lodges a box of flies over dinner and he showed me some other possibilities for DIY. Headed back to the hotel to get ready for the flight home and met a wall diver from Boston who flew down. Said he had heard that the helicopter forray at AUTEC was canceled as I wanted to see the flats along the northern coast from the air. The morning of day seven we flew to Nassau. I paid to top off his tank and we flew from the Jolters and Red Bay all the way down the coast to Fresh Creek. Hazy day but got recognizable photos from the air. Got off his Cessna grabbed my bags and got back on the next plane to Ft. Lauderdale. Excellent first bonefish vacation! Not much has changed since. Been back twice and will go again. Please PM me if you have questions about North Andros so as not to interupt this thread. Thanks Charlie!
01-23-2006, 09:47 AM
I was worried about this one for a small time but then you guys came through with some great stories! Tomorrow is the last day, so the rest of you, get them in while you still can.
01-25-2006, 08:25 AM
Well sports fans, The January Fly of the month contest is officially over and we got some great stories. The judging has started and we will let you all know in a few days who the winner is.
Also, keep your eyes open for the February Fly of the month contest.
01-31-2006, 08:43 AM
Well sports fans! The judges have debated for a few days now and even though we had a hard time picking one, we have a winner. bonefishmon and his fantastic story about Andros on a budget took the top spot. Great story bonefishmon, PM me with your snail mail and I will send you your fly.
And congrats and thanks to the rest of you who submitted stories. They were all great and deserve something. Wish I had time to tie all of you a fly.
Also, keep your eyes peeled. We will be announcing the February Fly of the month contest in a few days.
Hey all the stories for January were the best! It was really hard to vote for only one of them. Looking forward to Gopher month stories and hope many contribute.
Congrats to bonefishmon. Yours was a story for the ages.
02-04-2006, 06:57 AM
Thanks Steve. Looking forward to some Steelhead stories?