Coho salmon intrigue me. It is a fish that has been on my "Fly-Fishing Life List" for untold years but, I have never even targeted them - until this coming fall. The brash, brutish Chinook has held my attention for too long and the romance is over – Tyee O. tshawytscha, it turns out, is a barn slut. It wasn't size that mattered (well, so what, maybe it was!), but her heyday has come and, for the most part, gone. Sure, I fell for the big ones, who wouldn't? For Coho's it was simply lack of knowledge. That acquired knowledge of when, and, exactly where to hunt her. Now I know.
To the possible dismay of friends, I would appear to crave fishing in solitude, but that isn't quite the case. I have wonderful fishing friends and I enjoy their companionship enough.
Sure, I fell for the big ones, who wouldn't?"
The issue is - I'm never alone; demons squat insistently on my shoulders and reconfigure my thoughts. My mind's eyes and ears are tutored and tortured by visions and whisperings. I'm distracted and determined.
Unless I'm completely devoid of my several Angel's persistent designs - which is almost never - I am endlessly searching for the best words, the best light and hawking for "the pic". I also have a nasty habit of embarking on fishing quests on a whim. In short, I'm not good company.
So my new romance is rosy O. kisutch. She's sexy, more petite, has loads of class and I want her all to myself. Time for new love. - WES:::