We came. We saw. We drank entirely too much.

The Trout’s Fly Fishing Redfish Extravaganza is over. My liver will be hating on me for the next three months.

The fishing was mixed…a couple of donkeys here, and a pile of schoolies there. A few more pigs round yonder, and some little guys in between. A tad chilly one day, and semi-balmy the next.

Bryan Carter, who I fished with for the duration of the trip, leveraged our visit to generate ideas for his upcoming book. Actually, once we were through with him the concept was up to three books, because we all know any work of fiction by a Louisiana redfish guide must be a trilogy. It’ll have something to do with a zombie apocalypse, and smartphones gaining human consciousness then fighting the zombies before turning on their owners. In the last book the remaining humans are running around in Patagonia thongs trying to repopulate Earth. Somewhere within you’ll learn how YKK zippers are to blame for the whole mess, and I also vaguely recall Carter mentioning something about Star Trek and tropical-weight onesies.

Like I said…we drank entirely too much.

MG signing off (because the trip is over and most of the memories were killed in action)


Kara says:

Nice fish. Have to say I’m more than a bit jealous.

Aw…there are plenty of those in the Platte. And plenty of bars close by.

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