I’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.
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.