You know the more I fish the more I think of fishing, the more

I dream about fishing the more I fish, the more I fish the more

it consumes me. ESPECIALLY when you do it with a long rod

baby...

What is it about the fly rod that turns some of us into uncom-

promising fish bums and fish heads??? THe rhythm? THe

beauty? The challenge? All of them? Maybe the lifestyle? Stomp

around a campfire in the mountains, beer and brats on a fall

line river, cold mornings throwing streamers for reluctant

trout, nicotine rushes to get you thru the night floats? Yeah

that must be it.

Why do we pursue fish with feathers and flash? Why do we flail

into our days with tiny tippets and bad back casts into, over,

and under trees, rocks, and cussing guides? Cuss like drunken

sailors when we snag something and can't wait to do it all

again telling our wives how much fun we had while not bring-

ing anything home not even a picture. Maybe deep down we

are all masochistic. Maybe we have a screw loose. At least I am

sure that's how my friends and family look at my travels and

pursuits...

My dreams consist not of beautiful beaches and women but salt

flats filled with fat redfish chasing mullet, 10lb browns crash-

ing top water flies, smallies leaping in the fall sunlight, large-

mouths busting a deer hair fly at dusk. Beautiful rivers cut into

the mountains with high canyon walls and limestone outcrop-

pings. Sunsets on the marsh. The scream of a good reel with a

good fish in the backing. The beauty of a bent rod.

Tattoos, nicotine, and unkempt hair are more common among

my fishing buddies than Phd's, MD's or God help us lawyers. A

few friends have spent more on rods than on cars. A few even

houses...

Personally I think it's a life style. Not just a hobby. I had al-

most forgotten how much I like the feel of a fly line laying out in front of me. The sight of a popper landing under an over-

hanging branch. It has been a great year of rediscovery for me.

Man cannot reach perfection. I am a Presbyterian, Scot-Irish,

and mountain (half of me anyway) bred fellow so I believe like

in the movie that "Man is a damn mess" but thru fly fishing we

can gain a little bit of perfection. The other half is just an anti-

establishment un-reconstructed confederate from Atlanta who

just does this to be different...

Maybe just maybe it's the places, the people, the experience of

fly fishing that I love and chase. Trout do not live in ugly

places. Shoal Bass don't either. In fact can you fish in an ugly

place? Or once we reach the water does everywhere become

beautiful?

In any case that's my ramblings and thoughts for a night... A

week of a couple of good fishing trips. Only a few fish but a lot

of good companionship.

Can't wait to do it all again.

I wrote this back at the beginning of the year. We were Rabbit Hunting a lot. Some friends and I hunted every weekend I believe from December 1st thru Feb 28. Might have missed one or two but not many.

May the Lord bless your harvest

and provide good hunts every one.

May your dogs' nose be keen

Their feet be swift

May your cover be thick

and your briars be low.

May the Lord provide good companions,

Good food and fine weather.

May the skies be fair

and the days be cool.

The rabbits may they be plentiful

and hard running.

And most of all may God bless everyone in this New Year.

It's a Saturday morning in the lowlands. Drizzly rain as almost always falls on the green fields. You and your family. Wrapped in wool gather to meet with your elder. This will be the first of 3 or maybe even 4 days. The elder sits down with you and talks to your family. They ask about your situation. Your marriage and your family. You talk about your struggles, your fears, your desires, and prayers. The elder watches the interaction of your family then hands you each a communion token.

Sunday morning dawns gray and cold. Wrapped in your wool coat your wife in a tartan wrap your children in wool pants and dresses. All 5 of them. You arrive at the field early and your family gets a spot on the grass near where you believe the preacher will stand.

Suddenly men appear on horseback. Bearded serious looking men though all with a smile on their face. All carrying guns and swords. 200 in all circle the group. The preacher stands up and explains they are here for your protection. You are expecting your communion service to be attacked this morning. Even with this announcement no one leaves.

You look around and notice all your neighbors, your cousins, your family, all the people from your village are here. Men and women who are willing to sacrifice it all to be here this morning. Most of the men have little scars on their arms as yours do. The scars are from the signing. You as they did signed in blood. Your covenant is your future, your life, and may very well be your death.

For three days you meet and listen to preachers, take communion, sing, and listen to more preachers. For three days the armed men sit and wait for an attack. But it never comes. They walk you to and from your friends homes and the services. For three days no one shows to molest your services. For three days despite the threats more and more people show up. By day 3 your number has doubled.

You make this trip as far from your home as you have ever been to worship and take communion with your Church. The government wants to execute you for being a member. Just for being a member. Your pastors are not allowed a manse or church building. They preach in fields, mountain sides, even frozen rivers. Anywhere a crowd can gather. They if caught by the authorities will be hung, beheaded, have their right hands cut off and even disemboweled. You expect no better. But they preach with a fervor of the Kingship of the Lord Christ! The sufficient grace of God and with the moving of the Holy Spirit they have changed a nation!

This is the story of the Presbyterian Church in Scotland in the mid 1600's. Imagine seeing this. Imagine seeing the growth in the Church this caused.

These are our ancestors. These are the people who came here. Who settled in the back country of the US. Who shaped our very constitution and our outlook.

If only we as Christians today had the spirit just the spirit of these men and women and children what could we do? What could we accomplish? What would the state of our country be?

May the Lord bless His people, His Church, and our lives.

I'm new to the idea of blogging. But for the sake of all those forced to see my facebook page... Well I guess it's time.

My interests wander from Theology, Politics, Fly Fishing, Bow Hunting, Kayaking and Canoeing, to Food and Beer...

So get ready sit back and I hope you enjoy some of what I have to say.