Sunday, September 29, 2013

ManCamp 13'

Each year in September, my boy and I sneak off in the camper for our annual "ManCamp".  We do dangerous things, eat poorly and fart whenever the hell we feel like it.  Oh...and there is that tradition...  It is both obscure and bizarre, and it doesn't even make complete sense to us.

Here's how it went down....

Traditions must be kept...

King of all he surveys. (That's a BIG knife for a little guy....)
Last trout of 2013 for MacLoosh

Is it even legal to not take a picture like this in the fall?

Boy with big knife catch little snake (and crossed an item off his bucket list)

Tradition complete
Eater Island refugee??  Or just macabre sculpture watching over Big Spring Creek?
Morning fog clearing from Blackhawk Lake
And finally...does this hot-dog make you uncomfortable?
It does me...but Hey. a roadside oddity is a roadside oddity...
Til later,


Sunday, September 22, 2013

Harvest Moon Photo Drop

In lieu of anything actually profound to is a recap of September through the lens of my camera.  Enjoy.

Elroy-Sparta Bike Trail - Tunnel #2

Roadside attractions-Mauston, WI

Sure do love me some September Fishing!

Til later,


Sunday, September 15, 2013

Out of the fog


While silent, it carries an infinite weight and settles in with absolute permanence.  Once seated, it stays as long as it wants and clears only when it is ready.  

Fog obscures.  It allows the eye to see only as far as the fog has determined that the eye should see.  It slows life to a crawl.  Because of fog, the things that normally move freely are bound to creep along for fear of not knowing exactly what lies beyond. 

Fog renders everything middle gray.  Nothing is allowed to be too bright, or too dark. No highs.  No lows.

Fog is oppressive.

So what happens when the fog begins to lift?  

Life returns to normal.  It is no longer in a state of muted suspension.  Motion is no longer stifled. Glimpses of horizon begin to come into view. Colors emerge in the distance and as the fog continues to dissipate, those colors become stunningly vibrant.  Light is allowed to shine in, and shadows are allowed to deepen. 

For better or worse; highs and lows are allowed to occur without obstruction.

Life begins to return to what it truly is, and not what the fog wanted it to be.

Til later, 


Sunday, September 8, 2013


Forgive me for just a moment while I bask in the afterglow of the nearly perfect day.  At this moment in time, I am in a very good place.

I had a VERY good day fishing.

Today's outing wasn't even supposed to happen.  I was supposed to be up north all weekend with a group of friends drinking myself silly, boating, peacock hunting from a golf cart, bar hopping and generally forgetting that I am 42 years old as I acted like a college kid again.  (I have a history with these chaps that involves a meteor shower, Trunk pizza and a gentleman's club)  Unfortunately, a fairly severe car repair last week took every bit of disposable income we had (and then some) a bachelor's weekend was suddenly out of the picture.  Damn.

Had I gone up north...I am sure it would have looked something like this...
So yesterday, my son and I decided that since my wife and daughter were scheduled to be at a baby shower, we had better go fishing.  All we had to do was get there...not much cost involved. We called up a buddy of mine and the plan was hatched to head out to the driftless bright and early for some trout hunting.  In preparation, I spent Saturday evening in the lab working up a box full of fresh hoppers.  Now, you all know that my boy and I trout fish together regularly, but this time he was put on notice that he would be hanging with the big boys so he was expected to act accordingly. We were going there to fish, and fish hard.  Bad weather, bugs, or poor fishing be damned...this was serious.

Homie don't do early mornings so good....
As it turned out, there was no bad weather.  In fact it was nearly perfect: we were rolling by 0600 hours, the temps were in the mid 60's and overcast - no real bugs except the slight hatch of BWO's coming off the fast water. And aside from somehow shooting himself in the side of his neck with his slingshot (during a bit of "non fishing" play)...G conducted himself like a true sportsman.

By the way...I have NO idea how one accidentally shoots himself in the side of the neck with a slingshot, but yes...he has the bruise (and sore neck muscle) to prove it and doesn't seem to want to divulge any of the actual details of the incident.  In any case, he is fine and has now earned himself a new nickname.  "Slingshot".

The fish seemed to realize that the season is about to change and were more than eager to take my hoppers.  Several were caught, a few were kept and there was at least one who came out of the water like one of those sharks you see the Discovery Chanel. It took my hopper so violently that even Slingshot muttered "HOLY SHIT!".  His choice of words registered with me, but this fish was heavy and was taking line so I let this little Freudian slip go.  The fish promptly broke me off--and I launched into a string of swear words that would embarrass me under any other circumstances.

I had decided early on that I would keep a brace of fish.  It was time for a fresh trout dinner. This is an extremely rare occurrence for me as I am usually an avid catch and release guy.  But today, the weather was good, the fish were coming fairly easily and were of sufficient size to make a meal out of, so I met my bag limit.

Once home, and after some time watching football and helping Slingshot get comfortable with ice on his neck...I set to cooking up dinner.  The preparation for dinner (including filleting the trout) turned into a family affair, complete with Slingshot and my wife looking up the 80's  song "Fish Heads" on YouTube then singing it over and over and over and over and...

By no means am I a gourmet chef...but I sure had fun cooking...
Dinner turned out fantastic despite my daughter's objections to the notion that I had to kill the fish to eat them.  (Odd...doesn't seem to be an issue when I explain where chicken nuggets come from.......and the whole notion of "Mechanically Separated" doesn't seem to sink in either....)  She was a trooper and at least tasted the fish at our insistence then returned to her (requested) Mac & Cheese to "get the fishy taste out".  There is always a critic in the crowd...

So as I sit here and type in the afterglow of a fine meal of brown trout after a great day of fishing, and an excellent weekend despite the botched  party plans...I can say with some certainty that when it's's REALLY good.

Til later,