Generosity

I count myself pretty lucky these days. Not because of my limited obligations and immense amount of fishing time, which, though I'm thankful for, isn't as glamorous as some would lead you to believe. Fishing is hard work if you actually want to make something more of it than just leisure. It can be physically taxing and emotionally aggravating. It isn't always fun. But the times when it is make up for the times when it isn't.

Last Friday, with the ambient blue-grey light of twilight fading away, I got to have a little fun in place of frustrations that have plagued me for a few years now. On my part time home river, I have struggled to decipher the night bite. With one wild brown and a handful of stockers to show for a lot of hours put in, and daytime efforts producing big fish but not big enough fish, this river was starting to wear me down. I know it well enough to give every big brown a name, but those names aren't flattering, all being the expletives I shouted when I missed or lost one of them. The fish I got just after dark on Friday still wasn't the monster, but it validated my efforts, and, believe it or not, is the biggest wild brown I've ever caught at night, though it could have been eaten by my last night of the trip megabow on the Gallatin. She ate a variation of Domenick Swentosky's Full Pint hard on the swing. Then she tail walked three times, straight at me, before becoming seemingly bound to my feet. I seriously couldn't get her away from me for a good five minutes, despite all sorts of kicking, stomping, and dancing in circles. It was an absurd fight, but one I happily won. A gorgeous, silvery Loch Leven strain brown trout, a little shy of 20, with a lot more weight than the average specimen, made my night. A few quick shots in the dark didn't do her stuperb bulk any justice at all. Or the blue on her cheek, which was electric.

I like fat girls in pretty silver, copper, and black dresses, with blue cheeks and big attitudes. 

If there are only two things that make what I do day in and day out worth it, it's moments like that, and you folks. Having you here, inexplicably reading and enjoying my content, makes me feel very lucky. This is a small crowd here, a quite small one really. But some of you are very generous. 

A few days ago, Joe Drake, who contributes to blogflyfish, and did a profile of me and this blog there a while back, got in touch with me. He had a mini photo-tank he hadn't used and asked if I wanted it. That was a very easy 'yes'. I'd been looking to purchase one recently but hadn't pulled the trigger yet, being that it was more of a luxury than a necessity, and, inexpensive though they are, I did't have a whole lot of disposable income that I'm willing to throw down on a thing I did't consider necessary. Within days, a free photo tank was at my doorstep. 

Why would I want such a thing (I presume that most of you aren't micro fisherman and have never seen one)?

Better, more anatomically and color revealing photos of small fish. I used it just hours after I got it.

Luxilus cornutus

Rhinichthys atratulus

Thanks Joe. I will be using that an awful lot in the coming months. Hopefully some species will end up in it that nobody else has ever caught on the fly before.

And, even though its in either the header or footer of every post, I'd also like to take the time to thank everyone (all four of you) that are supporting me through Patreon. Every little bit helps. And everyone that has provided any financial support outside of the Patreon platform. And everyone that has supported this blog in any of countless other ways over its existence. Sincerely. No matter how, no matter when. Because this wouldn't be possible without it. It's hard to write a good blog post every few days, and I don't feel it's much worth doing if I'm not posting that frequently. In 2017 I lost 100's of daily views in a matter of about a month, seemingly just because I went on a 10 day trip and couldn't post anything substantial in that time. Though my writing and photography have both since improved, I don't foresee those numbers coming back. So if it weren't for the generous and kind few that have stuck with me all this time, I just don't think I could continue.

Thank you all for making this possible. It's a labor of love, with a lot of emphasis on the labor. I will keep going as long as you all let me.