When Argentina or Chile comes to mind, it’s usually about Patagonia and its abundance of beautiful places to target trout.  Not this time. Some tunnel for it, others pan for it in rivers, creeks and streams, a few look for it at the end of rainbows & then there are individuals like myself that attempt to find it with a stick and a fly.  To be obsessed with the passion of pursuit while traveling afar to observe an opulent flash & feel that combative strike while attempting to bring “Gold” to hand.   ElDorado is the legendary lost city of gold, which drew the Spanish conquistadors, explorers & gold seekers, to South America, for centuries.  Today the gold is real but, elusive drawing fly fisherman from all over the world to dip there flies in unspoiled water while testing their skills & stamina. Golden Gold (Dorado) Let us not forget the city Dorado, “El Dorado”.   El Dorado was a fictional city in Texas which was used as the backdrop for a western movie production in 1966.  It portrayed a local range war staring John Wayne as Cole Thornton, Robert Mitchum as Sheriff Harrah, James Caan as Alan Bourdillion Traherne, nickname “Mississippi”, Charlene Holt as Maudie, Arthur Hunnicutt as Bull Harris, Michele Carey as Joey MacDonald, Ed Asher as Bart Jason, Christopher George as Nelse McLeod & so many others cast members.   My son (Willie) boarded his flight in Portland Oregon almost as the exact same time (three hours difference) that I boarded mine in Charlotte North Carolina.  We were both in route to Buenos Aries Argentina. My flights went without hitch, and I arrived in Buenos Aires the very next morning.  Unfortunately, Willie got waylaid as the result of a large cold front and snowstorm that caused multiple delays. He arrived a day later exhausted but, excited to be at his destination. From there we traveled four hours north crossing the Uruguay River into Uruguay to the Estancia Talar Ranch where we would spend the next week targeting Golden Dorado i.e. “Tiger of The River”. Estancia Talar Ranch Sometimes things just come together, this was truly one of those occasions.  The Rio Mate Lodge itself is currently under renovations so, we stayed @ the family ranch.  That is how we ended up at the Estancis Talar Ranch, which dates back to the 1800s.  The ranch, like the lodge, is located directly on the bank of the Rio Mate River.  Arriving we met our host, Maxie Fox and our fishing guide Kito Raineri.  As luck would have it, they were hosting only two fly fisherman at a time when using the ranch. Talking about being spoiled. The accommodations, weather, waters, traditional Uruguay / Argentina food, guide, staff, & yes, the fishing was over the top.  We fished rivers, creeks and a local pond (Rio Mate, Rio Uruguay, Palmar Dam, Zban (Stream), Ztas (Stream), Salto Dam (The WALL) & the Rio Mate Super Secret Wolfish Pond).  We were able to bring to hand Wolf Fish, Sabalo and our primary target The Golden Dorado. Fishing method was 97.5 % large and medium size streamer fishing. The other 2.5 consisted of popper fishing.  This was truly a streamer junkies paradise using 8, 9 & 10 weight rods.  Water haul, back load, tight line cast & placement, water haul, back load, tight line cast & placement, etc. for hours on end.  But, when it came together, as it surprisingly often did, it was off the chart. The adrenaline made you pound the water for the next take.  I’ve been very fortunate chasing & catching a number of fish species over the years however, these Golden Dorado (Salminus brasiliensis) are the beast of freshwater beast. They are an apex predator with unimaginative ferocity, speed, razor sharp teeth that after crushing your streamer launch itself into the air with acrobatic skills.   Heading up the Rio Mate River, Kito directed the skiff directly into the raging whitewater currents, shouting above the noice for us to get ready to cast our streamers.  As we approached the top of the rapids he starts yelling reparto, reparto, cast, cast.  As soon as our streamers hit the water all heck broke loose.  Looking at Willie I see him strip set his line and he’s into a very nice Dorado.  Tight line Willie, keep a tight line, strip, strip, strip!  I also have a strong take but, unfortunately I’m at a bad angle and my strip set comes up short & the Dorado is gone.  Willie’s fish is now launching itself into the air trying to get into the heavy water and before I can duck his fly line is rapped around my forehead.  Willie is yelling sorry dad, sorry dad.  Kito and I are both in stitches & laughing our foolhardy heads off.  Meanwhile, Willie has finally got the Dorado partially under control.  Kito gets the skiff next to the shoreline & we all jump out and I am able to net this Golden Gold Dorado.  High fives by all, pictures taken and the fish is released back to where it just came from.   Is Dorado fishing a numbers game?  Honestly, I don’t know.  It is understood that they can be hard to find.  But then again, someone forgot to tell them during our recent time on the water. Rio Uruguay River Strip Set o the Rio Mate River The WALL The WALL BTW - Willie took the honors.  Dang.  Eldorado” Gaily bedight, A gallant knight, In sunshine and in shadow, Had journeyed long, Singing a song, In search of Eldorado. But he grew old — This knight so bold — And o’er his heart a shadow Fell as he found No spot of ground That looked like Eldorado. And, as his strength Failed him at length, He met a pilgrim shadow — “Shadow,” said he,“ Where can it be — This land of Eldorado?” “Over the Mountains Of the Moon, Down the Valley of the Shadow, Ride, boldly ride,” The shade replied — “If you seek for Eldorado!”  Edgar Allen Poe, 1849

Second update from Helena Montana From Cody, Steve & I drove over into Yellowstone Park by way of Chief Joseph Highway and met Harry at the Roosevelt Lodge.  Harry made arrangements for us to have a cabin (#53) at the lodge.  Great location as it is only a short drive to the Soda Butte, Slough Creek and the Lamar.   L to R - Joe, Steve & Harry in Yellowstone Park We fished four days in the Park.  The first morning we met our guide Justin & walked to a remote location to fish the lower section of the Lamar.  Unfortunately the lower Lamar was not willing to give up its fishing secret.  However, later in the day the Soda Butte was more than willing to share goodly numbers of Yellowstone Cutties.   Soda Butte Yellowstone Cuttie Steve tying on a fly with a bull bison in the background on the Soda Butte.  The Lamar valley was absolutely loaded with Bison everywhere. The second day found us on the second meadow of Slough Creek. This requires a trek of about 2 1/2 miles all up hill both ways.  The landscape and fishing for cutties was fantastic. We decided head out only after being visited by a Grizzly entering the meadow.   Harry with a beautiful Slough Creek Yellowstone Cuttie The third day found us on the Butte once again. Joe with Butte Cuttie On day four we tussled with scads of Brookies on the head waters of the Gardner River.   Gardner River Valley After Yellowstone Steve and Harry made their way home.  I continued my adventure heading over to Hood River Oregon to visit my son Will and family to fish the Deschutes, Klickitat and John Day. The Deschutes and John Day are found in the desert mountains of Oregon while the Klickitat finds it head waters at the base of Mt. Adams in Washington State. Will & I floated the Deschutes with Sterling as our guide but, fishing can not be done while in a boat.  Wade fishing only.  In other words you must exit the boat in order to fish then get back in and continue your float.  It was a rather productive day catching Redband Rainbow Trout.  Will had bragging rights taking this very nice 23” Redband. Will with 23” Redband Trout The next morning found us floating the Klickitat in Will’s new pontoon drift craft.  The float approximately 15 miles took us into rather remote locations.  The scenery was fantastic however, the river was the color of chocolate candy.  We didn’t get skunked as I was able to catch one whitefish and two very small Steelhead.  Very small. The last day together found us driving through wheat field after wheat field and then suddenly into mountainous desert with the John Day meandering through a scenic wilderness valley. We had a big time bringing to hand one smallmouth bass after another.  The top water action was fantastic with green / yellow chubbies.   L to R - Joe & Will at the John Day River Org Ok 4 now - Joe <“)££><

Third update finds me home back in Florence SC The truck was loaded, oil change, clothes washed time to start heading back east.  After saying my goodbyes to Willie and all in Hood River Oregon it was Montana fishing time.  John Gray of Charlotte NC and I made plans to meet in Drummond MT and drive over to Helena for the night and fish The Land of Giants on the Missouri the next day.   We met Trent Brown “Little Blackfoot Outfitters” at the dock and with favorable water conditions we were able to bring to hand some very nice rainbows below the dam.  We never did find that giant but, the day was trout crazy and full of adventure. Me with a colorful rainbow L to R - John and Trent holding a nice rainbow From Helena we headed back over to John’s place outside of Philipsburg MT.  Cool little town with a great atmosphere.  If you’re ever there stop in at the local watering hole or the Phillipsburg Brewery atop the hill.   Downtown Phillipsburg John introduced me to a very fine meadow creek that flows into Rock Creek.  I fished it one afternoon having a huge time dry fly fishing catching Yellowstone Cutties, Browns, Cutbows and my first Bull Trout.  The next day John, Jeff Gray, Mike Camp and I found ourselves back at this meadow creek. Love fishing Meadow Creeks From John’s “Double Wood Ranch” I made a short drive over to Twin Bridges MT.  About a two hour dive.  Heck everywhere is at least a two hour drive in Montana it’s a geographic abnormality.  I had made arrangements to fish the Beaverhead and the Big Hole River with “Four Rivers Fishing Co.” Had a huge time fishing the Beaverhead with Chris Knott.  This type of fishing, drop shot or locally called pogo with size 20 flies, on the Beaverhead is somewhat unorthodox, but highly effective.  Fortunately the day was overcast and temps moderate making for really good trout (browns, rainbow and cutbow) fishing.   Me with a typical Beaverhead Brown Chris holding the largest Cutbow, a mix of a cuttie and rainbow, that I have ever brought to hand.  See the red under the jaw. The last day of fishing out west this year found me on a freestone river, The Big Hole, fishing with Art. This is a beautiful river that provides a goodly number of fly fishing options. Sometimes a blind hog finds an acorn.  Big Hole Brown. Big Hole River After three days of driving & turning right into the driveway of 865 Ivanhoe I find myself home.  Just in time, it’s Taco 🌮 Friday. Ok 4 now - Joe <“)££><

Good day all,   Traveling with me this year is a Saluda River Trout Unlimited ((SRTU) buddy Steve Storick. Twelfth day into this year's travels out west & we are finding fishing a bit more challenging. With the abundance of snow pack melting and the unusual amount of rain the streams and rivers in Western Wyoming are very swollen and swift.  Some have been completely blown out while others are day to day.   Fishing the North Plate (Miracle Mile & Grey Reef) with high flow rate the water produced some good fishing but not quite as good as previous years. Here are a few of pics on the Mile & Reef 22" Rainbow  on the North Platte Mile Colt holding nice bow with Steve behind The Miracle Mile Floating the Grey Reef Steve with a nice rainbow Fish on with Logan & Joe Moving on to Sheridan Wyoming We fished the North Tongue River with John Madia (Powder River TU President) & Dr. Paul Yokum (PRTU).  They showed and fished with us in their backyard The Bighorn Mountains. Right to Left - Joe, John, Paul, & Steve We had several encounters with Bullwinkle and his moose friends along with elk, mule and whitetail deer, black bear, eagles, sandhill crane, etc. Dang, they are extremely large! Fished the South Tongue in the Bighorn Mountains and the Bighorn Rivers at Thermopolis with Justin.  We caught goodly numbers of brown trout on the South Tongue and we both hade “hat tricks” on the Bighorn (brown, rainbow & cutthroat trout). South Tongue River Steve with a nice Swedish Brown Trout Bighorn River Snake River Cutthroat Trout Bighorn River Drove over to Cody and met Dr. Tom Brown TU president East Yellowstone Chapter. Left to right - Joe, Tom & Steve From here we are heading over to met Harry Huntley (another SRTU friend from Columbia SC) and fished a few days in Yellowstone Park. Ok 4 now - Joe <“)££><

Visiting the local hospital was necessary in order to have our arms reattach to our shoulders. This time of the year the fishing really heats up in the southeast. After months of hot humid weather the air chills, the water temperature change and the fish become active. Do we head to the mountains for trout, lakes for largemouth bass, over to the coast for migratory false Albacore, or perhaps schooling reds? Well, trout fishing is just getting started again and will be around for the next several months, largemouth bass are around all year with ebbs and peeks, and the False Albie bite will just keep getting better for the next month. On the other hand, the thrill of sight casting to singles, doubles and schools of red drums is peeking this time of year so, it’s time for a road trip. Judy and I load the truck and head over to Port Sulphur LA staying at Woodland Plantation fishing with a couple local guides. Judy loves spin casting where I much prefer holding a 9’ 9wt., with 20lbs leader and a good fly on the end of the line. This neck of the woods has been very good to us previously regarding hospitality, accommodations and yes, the strike, set / strip set and flight of aggressive reds. From the marshes, to the bays, the open waters on the west or east side of the Mississippi River reds call these waters home. This year arriving at the plantation we’re informed that the water temperature remains a bit warm and the bite is a bit off. Not what you want to hear after a twelve hour drive. How things change overnight and in order to participate you must have been present. Meeting Matt at the dock, out guide, the next morning the word is floating about of reports of schooling bull reds along the coast. The reports are spot on and for the next three days Matt and Michael, our other guide, show us an amazing display of red fish Armageddon! Watching those huge school of bull red fish busting the surface was absolutely insane. No doubt, if you were in position to cast into the school it was an automatic hookup. After that it really got exciting especially if we were doubled up, which occurred several times, with each of us trying to persuade a bull red to come to the boat. Fishing with big poppers on top was outrageous. I would cast at that mass of hug reds charging directly at the boat and all heck would cut lose. There would be 6, 7 or maybe 8 big reds all trying to inhale the fly. They would be knocking each other out of the way (vision reds with elbows, it looked just like roller derby in the water) grabbing at it and letting go until finally one would just crush the fly. A hard strip set and into the backing the red would go. As you fought the fish there was usually another half dozen swimming with the hooked red. If you can imagine, there were a few time that the water around the boat was just orange from all the reds swimming around. On the third morning Judy’s first cast results in a strong take but, there is no slowing this fish down with her light tackle. Micheal seeing that the line was deep into the bail decides to ease the craft closer to the fish. A half mile and 35 minutes later reveals a beautiful Jack. A couple pictures and the fish swims away. Even some of the seasoned guides were amazed at the number of schools and the size of the schools this early in the season. From day break until around 10:00AM the activity and bite was over the top but, after that it just slowed down until the next morning. On the last day we didn’t go after the big fish. We decided to head into the back country and catch some very nice slot fish reds and a few slightly larger. The range was 25 to 29 inches with scads of smaller rat reds. Sometimes it just falls into place and the fishing comes together. This road-trip was certainly one of those. Back home now with ice packs on our shoulders. Double Trouble Finding Bull Reds Dang Double Trouble Again Wild On The Fly

It’s alleged that good things come in threes. Understandable it was my hope that this year’s adventure was going to be nothing short of exceeding expectations and finding the unexpected. Each year, this being the third, prior to traveling I develop a game plan and corresponding itinerary. Not knowing in late winter of the water hardships that would challenge western states I had decided to pursue cutties, in high mountain waters, and float a few tail waters with room for some spontaneous misadventures journeys. Backing out of my driveway June 27 turning right the adventure begins. Three days later finds me in Bozeman Montana only a short distance from Red Cliff Campgrounds, Big Sky and the Gallatin River. This is a beautiful valley and a great place to start camping and fishing. From this location the Gallatin River, Taylor Creek and the upper Madison, just below Earthquake Lake are close. These three fishing locations permits me to bring to hand rainbows, cutbows, browns and white fish. While there I did find a cake and the icing was the Salmon Fly hatch. This was the first time I had ever experience this huge beautiful fly hatching on a Western river. The first one caught me by surprise, while on the Taylor, as it flew directly into my face. Thinking, why did that hummingbird do that only to realize it was not a bird but an insect. Then I saw another and another and so on as to never forget that experience. Heading south through Montana’s Yellowstone it’s possible to reach the Ruby Valley, via scenic drive, to my second campsite. From this location the Ruby River (rainbows and cutbows), Beaverhead River (pogo / drop shot fishing over the top - rainbows, white fish and many, many thumping jumping browns), Wise River (brookies and rainbows), and a complete surprise the PD Slue (browns) are within driving distance from the campground. The third leg of the adventure takes me back to the Bozeman Airport to pick up Judy, my wife. We’re spending the next few days at West Glacier, staying at the Belton Chalet Hotel, sightseeing and floating fishing the Middle Flathead River targeting cutties. This is truly an amazing park with the water gin clear and cutties readily available on dry flies. From there we head over to Hood River to visit our son. Judy departures Thursday from Portland and Willie and I head up to the Yakima River in Washington camping at the Bighorn Campground. Camping for three days and floating the Yakima for two days we have a big time. The Yakima River, this time of year, is a big river with a heavy flow making it a fast river to float and fish. The first day we fish the gorge and the second the upper river. We are able to bring to hand rainbows, cutties and small coho salmon. Departing Hood River I head east for Alpine Wyoming to begin the high mountain adventure. The confluence of the Snake and Greys Rivers is adjacent to Alpine. Driving into the high country, on the Greys River road, the next campsite, Forest Campground, is approximately 25 miles into the Bridges National Wilderness. This is truly another beautiful valley with an abundance of trees, which are absent in most western areas, with an absolutely amazing river. This river, and my next stop the Hoback, are waters of dream for cutties with top water flies (large chubbies trailed by a size 16 / 18 elk hair caddis on a 4wt rod). On my first evening, on the Greys, finding a fishy looking hole with a downed tree at its head I place the flies on the water. As they start drifting a nice cuttie emerges from below, looks over the chubby and inhales. Bringing this 16 inch, magnificent, cuttie to hand along with several others the high mountain pilgrimage unfolds. Spending several days pursuing cutties it’s time to break camp and continue east. Heading east over the mountains to the Green River Valley the land of the rendezvous where mountain men, trappers, travelers and Indian tribes gathered to barter, trade, sell and swap various items in the 1830s. Taking the Green River road north it terminates at a spectacular location overlooking the source of the Green River, the Lower Green River Lake. Finding a campsite I make this my home for the next few days. After camping, exploring and fishing for weeks it’s time to shake the dust off, eat some fried food and wash it down with a couple of cold ones. Heading south the next town is Pinedale, a town of the old west. Lodging, a few restaurants, beer joints, town hall, churches, car wash a brewery - Sweetwater (which I visit a few times), Two Rivers fly shop, etc. can be found on Main Street. While in Hood River I had made arrangements to fish the Green River out of the local fly shop. It just happens that a guide, Eli Crumley, which we (SRTU) know from the Blackhawk Lodge, in Georgia, also guides out of Two Rivers. We’re able to spend a day on the river throwing streamers and having a big time. Two days later finds me at my last campsite just outside of Alcova, Wyoming at Pete’s Draw on the bank of the North Platte River, Grays Reef. Earlier I had contacted the Cowboy Drifter’s Fly Shop and made arrangements to fish two day on the Miracle Mile of the North Platte River. Luckily, I was able to hook-up with Dane Szalwinski as my guide. Dane grew up in Irmo SC, his parents live in Florence, and as fate would have it he ended up guiding at the Cowboy Drifter’s in Wyoming. Steve Storick and I fished with Dane last year. So, for the next couple of days we spend time on the Mile having a huge time catching rainbows and browns. After nearly a week of camping and fishing the North Plate it’s time to start making my way back to Florence SC. Only after retiring my tent which continued to collapse time and time again. Playing taps, on my cellphone, it was placed in the dumpster when leaving the campsite. Forty-five days from departing home and nearly 9,000 additional mile on my Ford 150 finds me turning left and pulling into my driveway. Post Scrip - 24 hours on Greys It truly was an unforgettable experience camping, sightseeing and perusing cutties in the Bridges Wilderness on the Greys River. During the second night of camping I was awakened, in the middle of the night, with the sound of bugling elk on the ridge behind the campsite. Getting up early, before daybreak, the temperature had dropped to the lower 40 allowing steam to drift from my first cup of coffee. Readying my fishing equipment and other essentials, for a morning on the river, it’s time to make my way further up Greys River. While driving I saw several deer two being mulies. One was a magnificent 4 X 4, perhaps the largest I have ever seen. Studying the maps I had located a good size feeder stream, Cotters Creek, entering the Greys behind an old established DNR campsite. With the cold water stream entering the river the confluence was a sure bet to find some willing cutties. After a couple of drifts and a change in flies, game on bringing several nice cutties to hand. This stretch of water did not disappoint with a goodly number of cutties at the confluence, below it and above with some nice fish holding and willing to take. Around 1:00, I decided to pack it in and head back to camp for a quick bite before heading back out for the late afternoon bite. Having a spam sandwich, I love those single packs of spam, a can of beans, washing them down with a bottle of Gatorade it’s time to head back out. With clouds building the afternoon bite might be short lived. Driving up the road, this morning, I had noticed a promising stretch of water with a downed tree on the far bank. Putting on my hip waders I enter the water down stream, finding a few small cutties here and there, the water continues to look very promising beside the downed tree. That is when I heard the first rumble then a second. Looking back the sky had changed with dark ominous clouds moving across the mountain directly in my direction. Quickly moving up stream and casting to the lower section of the tree a few cutties rise and strike at the flies. Then I see a flash and not long after a crack. It’s time to get moving and head back to the truck before the downpour starts. As I make my way across the river I feel the first cold drop of rain hit my shoulder then another. Trying to avoid getting drenched I reach the far bank and start to climb out of the river only to get half ways up, slip and fall backwards into the water. With a death grip on my rod I flounder and splash about, boots filling with water, I craw back to the bank, right myself, and shake off the cold water, like an old dog. This time I am able to climb out of the river, up the bank and onto the roadway. Walking / slushing back to the truck the rain begins to pick up. Reaching the truck the sky opens and the bottom falls out. Standing in the rain I’m wet through and through. Getting back to camp, pulling off my waders, pouring out the two gallons of water, then drying off, I walk over to the tent only to find that it’s collapsed. Had to laugh out loud thinking to myself - dang! Finding the Gorilla tape and with a quick fix, all is right in the world. Well almost, do you recall that can of beens I had for lunch? Light fading, thunder in the distance, I climb into the tent put on my head lamp, slip into the sleeping bag and pick up a book “The Earth is Enough” - by Harry Middleton. While reading I fall asleep rather quickly. Once again I am awoken, not by elk tonight but, by the haunting howl of a wolf across Greys River. Taylor Creek near Big Sky Montana Taylor Creek Rainbow Madison Brown Beaverhead Brown Wise River Montana Wise River Brookie Middle Fork Flathead River Yakima River Washington (Will Bibb) Gray River Wyoming Gray River Cuttie Green River Lower Lake Miracle Mile North Platte River Miracle Mile (Dane Szalwinski) Guide Miracle Mile Rainbow Another Mile Bow Brown Time on the Mile Joe Bibbo <“)££>< The Obstinate Fly Fisherman SRTU

This prose was written with names altered in order to protect the innocent. Although, it behooves me to think of anyone in this motley group or anyone that would associate with this group as innocent. Any similarities are on purpose or purely coincidental and not planned or the fault of the writer. A couple of years ago an impromptu meeting, of challenged minds, finds us engaged in conversation at the public pull-off beside the Nantahala River near Bryson City NC. This whimsical group (Harry, Keith, Mike and yours truly) getting out of the vehicles, putting on our chest waders and lacing up our boots started considering our fly fishing options. After a brief discussion, about where to begin fishing, I speak up and tell everyone an abbreviated story about a “Honey Hole” that was shown to me a coupled years ago. On a previous outing this location was revealed by a young guide from Cherokee. As it turned out this guide, all of 16, was a member of the US National Fly Fishing Team and quite astute in Euro Nymphing. A month later he could be found in Europe representing the US in the World Fly Fishing Youth Tournament. With no objections we get back into our vehicles and proceed to our first destination for the day. Arriving, at the predetermined location, we jump out of our vehicles and start putting together our rods, seating the reels, stringing them up, and tying on our favorite flies in anticipation of a day on the water. Chattering about this and that, like some excited guinea birds, we see a truck pull over and park with two NC DNR Game Wardens getting out. After making small talk they finally get around to asking us for our fishing license. Checking mine, Keith’s and Mike’s documents everything was found to be in order however, after sorting through several licenses Harry finds his NC license and gives it to the warden. Upon inspecting the license he ask Harry for his trout license. It seems he needed some additional paperwork. As we had not yet fished there had been no foul committed. So the warden recommended that Harry drive down the valley, to where he could get a signal on his phone, and purchase the needed trout license. Away went Harry and the game wardens leaving Keith, Mike and me on the hill watching Harry drive around the bend and out of sight. Two minutes later the three of us are standing in the water presenting our flies. Mike and Keith began fishing directly below our vehicles and I make my way to the “Honey Hole”. It doesn’t take long and Mike and Keith are both hooked up to a couple nice trout. As for me, the “Honey Hole” starts producing not letting me down. By this time, our prodigal son Harry returns, just in time, to net my football shaped / size Rainbow. Not long after that Harry starts bringing trout to hand. A few more fish and we all agree it time for lunch. During lunch Mike asked me if I had caught enough trout in the “Honey Hole” and asked me if I thought about trying another spot. Moving down stream I managed to catch a fish here and another one from there. Time flying by, as it always does while on the water, I work my way back up the stream to where we parked the vehicles. Seeing Harry, beside them, I ask him where’s Mike and Keith. Laughingly he tell me they are fishing the “Honey Hole”. Standing on the bridge I look over the edge just as Mike is releasing a nice rainbow with Keith standing only a few feet away. Looking up Mike looks like a Cheshire Cat, that has just swallowed a yellow Canary, smiling ear to ear. Apparently, after I started down stream, Mike immediately made his move into the “Honey Hole” catching one trout after another with Keith enjoying the action. Dr. Seuss said it best, “One fish, Two fish, Red fish, Blue fish, Black fish, Blue fish, Old fish, New fish.” Yelling back to Harry I tell him not to let any kids cross the bridge because there were a couple of old trolls underneath it on the hunt. Some days are just like that with fantastic fellowship and fish on the take willing to be brought to hand. This was certainly one of those memorable days that will forever be etched in memory. Later that evening over a hot dinner, with smiles on all of our faces, it was decided that Mike was the king “Trolling for Trout in the Honey Hole” under the bridge. In fondest memory of our beloved friend Dr. Mike Stone. Joe Bibbo <“££>< (The Obstinate Fly Fisherman)

This prose was written with names altered in order to protect the innocent. Although, it behooves me to think of anyone in this motley group or anyone that would associate with this group as innocent. Any similarities are on purpose or purely coincidental and not planned or the fault of the writer. A couple of years ago an impromptu meeting, of challenged minds, finds us engaged in conversation at the public pull-off beside the Nantahala River near Bryson City NC. This whimsical group (Harry, Keith, Mike and yours truly) getting out of the vehicles, putting on our chest waders and lacing up our boots started considering our fly fishing options. After a brief discussion, about where to begin fishing, I speak up and tell everyone an abbreviated story about a “Honey Hole” that was shown to me a coupled years ago. On a previous outing this location was revealed by a young guide from Cherokee. As it turned out this guide, all of 16, was a member of the US National Fly Fishing Team and quite astute in Euro Nymphing. A month later he could be found in Europe representing the US in the World Fly Fishing Youth Tournament. With no objections we get back into our vehicles and proceed to our first destination for the day. Arriving, at the predetermined location, we jump out of our vehicles and start putting together our rods, seating the reels, stringing them up, and tying on our favorite flies in anticipation of a day on the water. Chattering about this and that, like some excited guinea birds, we see a truck pull over and park with two NC DNR Game Wardens getting out. After making small talk they finally get around to asking us for our fishing license. Checking mine, Keith’s and Mike’s documents everything was found to be in order however, after sorting through several licenses Harry finds his NC license and gives it to the warden. Upon inspecting the license he ask Harry for his trout license. It seems he needed some additional paperwork. As we had not yet fished there had been no foul committed. So the warden recommended that Harry drive down the valley, to where he could get a signal on his phone, and purchase the needed trout license. Away went Harry and the game wardens leaving Keith, Mike and me on the hill watching Harry drive around the bend and out of sight. Two minutes later the three of us are standing in the water presenting our flies. Mike and Keith began fishing directly below our vehicles and I make my way to the “Honey Hole”. It doesn’t take long and Mike and Keith are both hooked up to a couple nice trout. As for me, the “Honey Hole” starts producing not letting me down. By this time, our prodigal son Harry returns, just in time, to net my football shaped / size Rainbow. Not long after that Harry starts bringing trout to hand. A few more fish and we all agree it time for lunch. During lunch Mike asked me if I had caught enough trout in the “Honey Hole” and asked me if I thought about trying another spot. Moving down stream I managed to catch a fish here and another one from there. Time flying by, as it always does while on the water, I work my way back up the stream to where we parked the vehicles. Seeing Harry, beside them, I ask him where’s Mike and Keith. Laughingly he tell me they are fishing the “Honey Hole”. Standing on the bridge I look over the edge just as Mike is releasing a nice rainbow with Keith standing only a few feet away. Looking up Mike looks like a Cheshire Cat, that has just swallowed a yellow Canary, smiling ear to ear. Apparently, after I started down stream, Mike immediately made his move into the “Honey Hole” catching one trout after another with Keith enjoying the action. Dr. Seuss said it best, “One fish, Two fish, Red fish, Blue fish, Black fish, Blue fish, Old fish, New fish.” Yelling back to Harry I tell him not to let any kids cross the bridge because there were a couple of old trolls underneath it on the hunt. Some days are just like that with fantastic fellowship and fish on the take willing to be brought to hand. This was certainly one of those memorable days that will forever be etched in memory. Later that evening over a hot dinner, with smiles on all of our faces, it was decided that Mike was the king “Trolling for Trout in the Honey Hole” under the bridge. In fondest memory of our beloved friend Dr. Mike Stone. Joe Bibbo <“££>< (The Obstinate Fly Fisherman)

September and the coming on of Fall generally means three things: cooler temperatures, big Louisiana reds on the flats and False Albies off the coast of North Carolina. As the title implies we are heading south to Cajun county, down Louisiana way, to sight cast for rod testing spottail bass, red drum or as we like to say - “reds”. Actually Judy, my wife who loves spin Casting, and I will be driving to and staying near Port Sulfur at the Woodland Plantation. We found this fishing jewel several years ago and look forward to returning to great accommodation, hospitality, Cajun cuisine, making new acquaintance, and last bit, not least “Fishing for Reds”! You ask what is it like to hook a red on a fly rod? My good friend Capt. Steve Thomas, who guided on the Hobcaw Plantation, SC for a goodly number of years, would tell new comers, mostly trout fishermen, “well - it’s like hooking a bulldog in the ass and holding on”. This I always thought was an factual depiction. After a hardy breakfast, we meet our guide Johnathan and post a short drive we stepped onto his Hellsbay’s flats boat. With the anticipation of sight fishing, for reds, we travel into an expansive of waters known as the Lafoot area. Weaving our way through the marsh grass we arrived at a very fishing looking bay. Offering up the bow of the boat to Judy, FYI guys this is always a good maneuver, Johnathan see’s a stud red cruising in our direction. Locating the red, Judy cast the Johnson golden spoon, in the strike zone of the red. Reeling in the line and twitching the spoon the red follows the spoon to within a few feet of the boat. Johnathan instructs Judy to drop the spoon back into the water. Dropping the spoon back in the water and popping it the red hammers the spoon and the fight is on - here we go! This style of fishing is repeated several time during the next two days and is referred to as the “Judy Drop & Pop”. Releasing the red it is now my turn to step up on to the front of the craft. Picking up a ten weight and false casting, readying the line, a red suddenly appears within casting distance. With the fly landing on the water, John tells me to strip, strip, strip, watching the red open it mouth and take the fly I set the hook. Suddenly there is a huge commotion with the fly in the air and the red turning and swimming away. Well I’ll be an egg sucking mule. Knowing the answer to the question, I ask anyway, Johnathan what happened? His response - trout set. Casting the fly back into the water I practice strip setting several times to get my MoJoe back. A short drift into an adjacent bay and a tailing red is seen working the bottom. This is a happy fish and with a well placed fly and a short retrieve the red takes hard and with a quick strip set it rips across the water and after few runs it is brought to hand and released. For the next two days we find willing fish and have a big time catching and releasing reds. What was really cool was that every fish we caught we saw before casting. As for dinner? Yep - Cajun blackened reds and oysters on the half shell with a few cold ones on the side. Life is good!!! Swimming Gold Judy with the day’s first Red Joe finding his MoJoe Joe <“££><

My ledger defines the 2019 road trip as, Road Trip to The Dalles (Wide Open). The header for this years 2020 road trip, in my ledger, is Road Trip (Wide Open Too)! This adventure consisted of departing my home in Florence on July 19 and returning on August 24. In total traveling 37 days and adding 8047 mile to the odometer in my truck. Once again I had another “Huge” time out west traveling, camping, fellowship, and fly fishing catching - rainbows, browns, cutbows, cutthroat, sea run cutthroat, whitefish, and river graylings. After traveling three days west the adventure started with camping and fly fishing, with Cottonwood Outfitters, on the banks of The Little Big Horn near Fort Smith Montana. From there driving to Adler Montana, camping near the Ruby River and fishing with 4Rivers guides on the Big Hole, Boulder, Madison, and the Jefferson rivers. Self exploring and wade fishing the Ruby River with significant satisfaction from its headwaters, in the wilderness area, to the tail waters below the Ruby Rive Reservoir (don’t tell anyone about this tail waters, as this is the locals secret). Departing Adler / Twin Bridges and stopping in Bozeman picking up Judy, my wife, we dove over to Hood Rive Oregon to visit with my son and his family. From there Willie and I found a campsite on the headwaters of the Trask River and managed to find some sea run cutthroat. Taking Judy to the airport I made my way to Idaho and camped and fished on the Henry’s Fork. My last stop took me through Yellowstone National Park, the Wind River Gorge and Cody Wyoming. After spending a day in Cody and visiting Buffalo Bill’s Western Museum I found myself near Alcova Wyoming camping on the banks of the North Platte River. The next two days finding myself fishing the North Platte in the Pathfinder valley and the notorious Pathfinder / Fremont Gorge. Upon completing an awesome experience in the gorge and hooking up with Steve Storick, the next day at the Cowboy Driffter’s, we fished the Miracle Mile and the second and third legs of North Platte’s Grays Reef. Eastward bound and turning left into my SC driveway, home! Ruby River Valley Pathfinder / Fremont Gorge Bow on the North Platte (Miracle Mile) Brown on a streamer (Jefferson River) Joe <“££><