San and I visited Houston November 11th through the 16th. Our journey began at DIA and the TSA check-in was the most pleasant experience to date: we walked right up to the agent, who was a happy chatty woman and preceded right through! Unbelievable, really.
On the train, I decided to take video as an opening to what one day may be an edited family video. But, after a few minutes of footage, I was informed by a police officer, that this was a federal offense. He was literally two feet from us and stood there while I taped, so it was a little odd - maybe he realized we weren't Bin Laden supporters and just let it happen; or, maybe, he was texting his girlfriend and didn't realize to begin with. Who knows?
So, the flight was fine, as well - the lorazepam helping to numb the senses.
When we arrived at Hobby we visited the Papa's Burgers to say hello to the kids, Stephanie and Wes. And, while we did, enjoyed some adult beverages.
Lupita arrived to pick us up and we went back to the house to drop off our bags. Then, we went over to the 'rents and ate mole. Que sabrosa.
On Thursday, we spent the day with Eddy and Lupita; and we pulled Faith out of school, too. Education is for losers. We went down to Kemah, TX. We ate some tasty vittles at Salt Grass.
On Friday, we visited the Houston Museum of Fine Arts. The old masterpieces done with oil still amaze the hell out of me. I wonder, how come no one has done a George Bush oil painting with him standing in the Iraqi desert while angels and demons hover around? Or Barrack Obama standing in a hospital corridor with angels and demons hovering around? Those cherubs are creepy!
During the first weekeend of October, I was granted privileges to go fishing with the Dupre Brothers. We decided to fish the Williams Fork up past Kremmling in the morning. Then, in the afternoon, we would head over to the Blue and fish above the reservoir.
The plan was to meet Blair at the parking lot outside of Kremmling. Well, that didn't exactly work out. Mike and I went through Kremmling, past what we thought may be the "parking lot" and decided to pull off the road and wait for Blair to pass us. We waited about 15 minutes, then decided to backtrack and look at another pullout of sorts. No luck. Cell phone coverage is spotty around Kremmling and Mike's calls all went directly to Blair's voicemail. "He probably drove off Trough Road," Mike commented. So here's a definition of Kremmling, if you've never been: the gas station had on the checkout counter bumper stickers that read - "How's That Obama Thing Workin' Out For Ya'?" Hicks! - Gotta love 'em!
Anyway, we headed over to a parking lot that was before Kremmling, essentially. No luck! So, we decided to head toward Parshall, where the turn-off was for the hike-in trail. Lo and behold, we got the call from Blair! We, again, pulled off the side of the road. About 5 minutes later, Blair pulled up behind us.
Come to find out, when we drove by the lower parking lot at 7:45, Blair was waiting there, since 7. When we finally went to that parking lot in question, he had just left. So, essentially, we crossed paths, but never once saw each other! Oy vey!
I now know Kremmling like the back of my hand - which is not a good thing.
The hike into the Williams Fork was about a mile. It was cold, so I had worn long-johns, and layered up. I would pay for this on the hike out. We finally arrived at the Willams Fork at about 9am. We walked up upon a nice slow pool of water where numerous trout boiled all over the surface. We quickly geared up and quickly had no luck. We worked our way upstream and came to find that the private property that denies fishing is only about a 1/2 mile from where we hiked into.
As we continued to get skunked, the river became more crowded. One dude we came across worked his way up to the pool we had started at, and he landed three nice trout. Upon his way back down stream, he crossed over to where we stood and showed us his rig. He was using a Hopper-Dropper rig, double-dropper to be exact. He had some tiny red-pheasant tails on there. Well, I tried this rig - similar, at least - and still no luck. In fact, having that much shit on my rod was just plain annoying. Mike D tried too, no luck.
Here's Mike's comment ~
Only Blair and that "one dude" were able to catch a fish.
Funny story here, though. As I was walking downstream with my rod, rod case, backpack and hiking boots in my hand, I payed too much attention to Mike and Blair casting and I stepped directly into an undercut on the riverbank and all my shit went flying! Seriously, I landed right on my face. One boot launched itself high into the air and directly in to the flowing waters! Blair and Mike began to laugh, until I screamed, "MY BOOT!" And Blair quickly jumped in the river and rescued it. I owe him one.
So, we decided we'd had enough of the Willams Fork and began the hike out. This is the time I began to pour sweat due the fact that I layered my clothing. I do believe that I lost 4 pounds on the hike out.
The spot on the Blue we arrived at is affectionately called (by Mike, anyway) "The Graveyard!" Because there is a graveyard there. Creepy.
But, the fish sure weren't dead! Mike D and I finally landed a trout! And Blair caught another. And all on a dry fly! Take that you Williams Fork Stuck-Up Trout Bitches!
Here, the Blue has beautiful crystal clear water. The trout were rising at patient intervals. It was wonderful. Finally, we had all landed a trout or two - time for cigars. Ahhh...fishing!
