You really are the Man.

And there was a gnashing of teeth, and many wept.  You will need to crank the volume on this one.  And tuck that tenkara rod into the regions spoiled.





I have a love/hate relationship with this man. That being said, after a terrible bout of luck for anybody, (especially an extremely active person) he's now not making excuses and taking longbow shots at whitetails from the ground out of a wheelchair.  Mad props to you Mr. Barta.  Stick to those guns by using wizard weapons, ridiculous notions that make more sense as I age, ridiculous notions that are just ridiculous, and never, EVER change that god damn theme song.

On the Present and the Desires of Memory

  A pull towards fishing, singletrack, birds, breasts.  The moon always sipping these thoughts from you on the back porch. Fishing with your brothers when as far as you're concerned nobody else is on the same earth. Rolling against fast packed berms in high country wildflower fields while this years first coveys burst clear for the brush below. Your dog gaining your trust in matters of scent and location of things desirous to the both of you. Nibbling at ears that have been pierced since she would call boys "gross" and feeling her face squirm against your stubble.

These things trouble me.

A good sit is required to silently discuss any memory of catching them while they matter most.
They always matter most to me when I'm with them. If you could have all of them at once, your heart and head would split clean in four and you would never be able to use them properly again.  Don't dote in the past. Don't proselytize to the uninitiated for the sake of their future and yours. Don't ask questions. Don't look up to that moon or mumble aloud, there are no answers in those places. That giant raccoon that just ran across the top of the back fence has as many answers as you do.

You cannot best yourself by attempting to remain younger than you are at heart. 

All I know is the following: I love tall blondes with blue eyes who talk back when needed.  Game birds who hold till the smartest second, not the last.  Fish that don't need to be grip and grinned.  Bike rides so painful they make you wish you were dead before they're over. The look in my dogs eyes when she drops a bird in my hand.
And the fact I use this place as a sounding board to commit to a false memory all the simple things that have come to define the excitement in my voice.

Jude's First Casting Lesson

I never want to see another grip and grin for the rest of my life.

Randoms of the Summer thus Far.

Coach ate some mud.

Game Face.

Post Game Face 

Trout Treats at Fanny Bridge. Frowned upon by hippy tourists.

Don't go to the dentist, eat dirts instead.

Summoning William Dance.

Team Jorts post-winning the Lake Tahoe 8 Hour.

Jesse D Reeves Winning

Jesse D Reeves Losing, almost severely.

Summoning the Cherokee Falls Bandits.

Fuck you winter.

 Fuck you Crank Brothers.  Winner, World's Shittiest Pedal! After just two rides!

 Back Side of the Sierra Buttes, which happen to be my power source, from the top of Halls Ranch.

 Mid-ride Crisis

 Too many cooks in the kitchen.

Fish bites back.

RAAM!!!

You wanna go on a lil' ride tomorrow?  How about riding across the country from Oceanside, California to Annapolis, Maryland.  Let's make it a race, shall we?  And let's say you're going to do it by yourself (plus support crew to hand you snacks and fresh chamois creme), sleeping less than an hour a day, spending 23 hours a day in the saddle, for no more than 12 days because if you take longer than that to ride 3000 miles sea to shining sea IT DOESN'T FUCKING COUNT.  Welcome to RAAM, The Race Across America.
This is the toughest bike race on Earth.  The Tour De France crowd can't hold a candle to this.  The only two I can think of that compare are Iditabike (yes, the Iditarod Trail, on bikes, in the winter) and the Great Divide Mountain Bike Race down the spine of the Rockies.  But RAAM's pace, its mental and physical torture are unmatched by anything on Earth.  I'm not stating this as a matter of opinion, experience, or arrogance.  This race makes you insane.  The proof is in the pudding.  Solo Men start tomorrow, so pay attention.  It will blow your mind.  ---- > RAAM WILL KILL YOU.
Here's a teaser from Bicycle Dreams. 
Gets weird at 1:50. 

Three Eyes

I think Sophie found the long lost matching eye.

French Bass and Fly!

"Il attrape des poissons syrah et de boissons."

Gotta love Coach.  First time fishing a popper on the fly yesterday, in a downpour, with a bottle of syrah.  And he battles this lil' beauty.  Congrats house sharing man.

Goodbye, Spatchanko.

Spatchanko and I have had quite the relationship over the years.  So much so I don't remember much of it.  Mainly some broken objects scattered around town with the occasional random piece of property magically sitting in my living room when I come around in the morning.  The cover-tuck shame at first light waking up next to Night Beasts I would have never given the nod to.  Money gone from my wallet, a lot of it in fact.  Meeting the same people multiple times.  Remembering nothing. 
It's a damn curse to be charming and persuasive. But that's not me.

I'm pretty damn sick of Spatchanko.   

So I'm cutting him off.  No booze for 60 days.  August 5.

Today happens to be the 4th anniversary of my bike ride across the country.  That also took 60 days.
The more I've thought about it, I haven't felt very challenged since August 5, 2007. 
So here's to Sober Sixty Summer. 
Why broadcast this to you all?  I need some accountability and there's no greater motivator then the "You can't, you won't." crowd.   So bring it on.
And if you see a few pics of booze and fishing, biking and such on this blog before August 5 - They ain't mine. 

Day Ruiner

Way to almost mess the whole day up.  Rookie.  Take note that he not only jumped the fence with the open cooler on his back, he also sprayed that "Fancy Brown Ale" everywhere.

Beards vs. Buff

The closest compromise between the Beard and the Buff.

  Man has grown soft in the past few Millennia.  He's gone from spearing mammoths and battling sabre-tooth thunder cats for the rites to eat and survive in an ice age Hellfest to gently shooing his wife's inbred designer house cat from the organic Tofurkey leftovers lying on his Swedish table set in a gated community condo, 24 hour security patrol of course.
  Evolution, progression, change, call it what you will.  It's our world. We own it and some of you even accept it and all of us embrace it in our own strange ways.  We don't really have a choice with most things thrown at us at T3 speeds these days.  Embrace or Die.
  One thing I will never embrace is the Buff.  You know, The BUFF.  

I'm Here for the free coffee and bass jigs. I also just robbed a Subway.

  The uncapped multi-functional Swiss Army scarf that's taken the Fly Bro world by storm.  It's a hat, a beanie, a scarf, a neck condom, an iPhone app, a chuff rag, and an all around invaluable tool for the Utilitarian head dress fanatic.
  What ever happened to protecting your face and neck with a beard?  I know some of you were born soulless and/or female* and are incapable of growing a beard.  I know a beard won't cover your head and if you're like me and losing the hair battle daily, covering that thinning scalp forest takes more precedent with each outing (TANGENT - I do look forward to rocking an intense combover on a windy day in the future, the not as far as I wish future).  So Buff chalk one up for your bald spot coverage, but you will never replace a sweet ass hat.  Face "protection" is the battle here.  So with out further adieu, The Beard vs. The Buff Showdown.

Buy him a drink or he'll make a scepter from your skull plates.

  Bars - Beard - Instant Cred. Anywhere, everywhere.  You put time into that mouth and neck helmet.  We all know it.  We'll just buy you a shot of whiskey at the bar and when you look our way and nod just once we can safely assume you just got out of the backwoods from your latest successful trapping season.  We assume you put down a good mule 'cause it was slowing you down' and possibly ran naked with wolves because you were raised by them.  We won't mention your likeness on that moose shed scepter, but we can all imagine the story behind it, and how he got you out of that avalanche in Grizzly Gulch back in '09.
Buff - You walk in with that broken condom on your neck.  Girls laugh.  Bartenders are baffled.  The French laugh.  The rednecks start conspiring, leering, and one of them slips a few quarters in the jukebox to conjure some David Allan Coe.  You may not be walking out of here. 
ADVANTAGE: BEARD

No shit. Who else?

  Women - You think that suave and silly Buff protected baby face is going to swoop up all the ladies?  Think again.  You may get a few of the cookie cutter lame dames to check out your fishing rig with the spare Buff on the headrest and your Simms sungloves on the dash, but then she'll wonder if you need to be wiped every morning before she gives you your Snack Pack.  When she's looking to step it up, she's calling for the Bearded. The beard is a Keeping It Real Filter.  If she's a real woman, she's going to get at the real man.  She's going to go see your shitty rust covered truck with a gun rack and mud from states she doesn't know the location of.  She's going to see the way you don't give two shits.  She will fall in love with you.  But that's a mistake on her part.  Beards are too damn tough for love.
ADVANTAGE: BEARD 

WINNER: BEARD

Neither of these devices will help you fish, hunt, or ride bikes in an increased awesome manner, style points to the side of course.  So Bars and Women are the categories.  And the Beard won.  I know some of you Nudests (Buff fanatics) will write me about being uptight and a hater.  So now I present the practical sides to the Buff.

Ultra helpful if you're caught fishing carp in the bad part of the LA River.

Pretending you have a real bandana.

Mimicking an old hag from Kazakhstan. And updating your MySpace profile with it. Cause you still use MySpace.

Did I not mention - MAKING YOUR OWN TERRORIST VIDEOS!!  (Beards also perform this function, and are far less cowardly.)

From the Runway to Burning Man, nothing can beat the versatility of the Buff.  She also shoots skeet.  He also loves Saved By The Bell. 

Now sold in a convenient combo kit with ...

 I'll probably be rocking one when the last of my head hair forest clear-cuts itself.

Or when I meet her...

*Asterisk