There goes the neighborhood (and along with it the pedestal I was perched on)

Luke and his modest prizeI’ve got a new neighbor, Luke Bever. He’s a former fly fishing guide, and friend of a friend. A week ago a bunch of us hit the local watering hole for his welcome party – much of the chatter was fishing related, and we drank the place dry. So far, so good.

Then this last weekend, while I was getting talked into a wiper/pike/bass expedition that wound up going awry anyway, he took off to one of my favorite waters. And brought back the evidence you see before you.

If miserable failure a disappointing (but fun) performance at the Teva Mountain Games wasn’t enough, I’ve now got the new guy to contend with. I held the Trout Fishing King title in my own self-aggrandized mind a couple of mile radius, and I’ve now been swiftly kicked off the pedestal. I may wind up sipping lattes and casting 3-weight bamboo if this keeps up.

MG signing off (to find a rock to hide..uh..behind)

PS: Congratulations LB – it’s a beaut! You are [officially] the man.

Comments

Not real, no way.

If it was me in the pic, I’d concede it’s just another one of those blow-up trout I carry in the pack. But this guy is actually a fly fisherman.

That ain’t the only ‘blow-up’ thing you carry in your pack, you sinner.

The Professor says:

Here I was thinking those CO2 cannisters were for your bike tubes ….. little did I know

Leave it to Bever to knock you down a peg or two. Wait just a second, that’s not a fly rod–that’s a clump of PowerBait stuck to the tip of his bait rig. OK, a bit of a stretch, just trying to help you feel better old man. Oops, I didn’t mean old as in OLD, just a term, like “dude,” or “pal.”

I better stop there before I make you feel really bad.

Let me get this straight…I’m being accused of fraud, making use of blow-up dolls, handling greenhouse gases for personal enrichment, and being old.

I may be a shitty fisherman (and I’m certainly a bad blogger), but I’ll be damned if I’m not a shoe-in for elected office.