Murphy and I blasted out of camp to the sound of the ice-cream truck making the rounds through the campgrounds hocking overpriced frozen treats to the kids. Our destination was an old friend, an old Lady that we both have heard recent reports that she was being quite the whore and giving up her goodies to everyone. So with high expectations we scampered across the mountains to a little place known as Elk Springs. We arrived half inebriated and started to gear up. We were graced with bluebird skies and scorching temps, which are better for drinking adult beverages, not fishing. We hopped down over the bank and started to molest some trout. The day started out fairly decent. Both Murphy and myself hooked up with some nice fish. Murphy landed the fish of the day within the first hour, a nasty looking retarded female rainbow of about 22” that pissed all over me. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="489" caption="Elk River Rainbow Trout"][/caption] At around 5pm we decided to enjoy a few cold beverages and head down stream to get in place for the potential evening onslaught of bugs. We continued our way downstream until we reached a place that is known as the Trestle Hole. How can I describe the Trestle Hole? Imagine if you will walk into a club. The place is bangin’. You look across the dance floor and see a plethora of hot bitches. Granted you also see some brown baggers and butter faces. So what’s your game plan? Well my plan was to stick to the side of the dance floor where all of the not so bright, not so pretty, drunk bitches hang out. What does this mean in trout speak? It means I started going after the retarded little browns that are eating feverishly on every speck of solid substance that hits the water. That’s how I roll. So after about 30 minutes of catching retarded fish you notice the hottest most bangin chick ever, but its in the form of a near 30” rainbow cruising the pool. So the game begins. Nymphs, streamers, dries, small nymphs, small dries, BIG streamers, midges, and so the progression goes until you’re so pissed off that you haven’t caught this fish you focus on the retards off to the side again. And so you have the Trestle Hole…… [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="483" caption="Mini Salmon Trutta"][/caption] The rest of the eve was spent waiting for the water to boil. Around 8pm we noticed a shit ton of midges on the surface with a few size 20 rusty spinners. Overhead a few Coffin flies and Sulphur spinners joined in, BUT we never really got the “snout-soup” that we’ve been hearing of and wanting to see. I chalk this up to flows under 75cfs and the hot ass sun. So a little insulted, embarrassed, hungry, and a little chaffed, I headed back to the truck to drink 10 more beers. Lying in bed that night I thought of my little retarded trout, swimming along the side channels, eating every god-damned thing known to man and I laughed a little. My wife said, WTF are you laughing about? Only if she knew, only if she knew……….

        

Have you ever noticed when you go into a fly shop, any fly shop, that if they have a huge mount eight times out of ten it's a big Brown? Or when guys talk about the dirty, filthy, beautiful, biggest trout he's ever seen that got away, it's usually a Brown. There is a reason for this folks. The Brown trout is the Heavy D of the Trout world. I am in no way saying that I turn my nose up at the other fine participants in the game we call Trout. Rainbows are a hell of a good time. They jump like someone lit a string of Black Cats up their backsides. Rainbows also put on the poundage. The majority of my piggiest pigs have been rainbows. But the ones I remember the most have been the Browns. Same goes for the most memorable fish released before I could molest them up close and personal like. I am from North Carolina and intellectually recognize that the Brook Trout should be my favorite fish. The whole native thing, yeah I get it. I have even tossed around the hair brain scheme of covering up my "frattoo" or fraternity tattoo (really drunk on the way to Allman Brothers Show...18 years old...I am not proud) with some brook trout ink. But let's not ignore the clown colored elephant in the room, Brook Trout around these parts don't get much bigger then your hand. That can only appease my appetite for meat for so long before I am on another stream looking for old Leroy Brown under every cut bank and deep hole. My love affair with Salmo trutta morpha fario (one of three Latin words I know...the other two involve human anatomy...the dirty kind) didn't begin on the river. I am a book nerd, I read anything and everything if it involves trout. When I started researching the various inhabitants of our river systems something unmentionable stirred when I stumbled upon the ways of the Brown Trout. Brown Trout are nocturnal feeders. At the time I was a younger man, and my habits could be described as nocturnal feeding, mostly booze though...not other fish, mice, and small ducks. Which leads me to my next point, Brown Trout are carnivores. When Brown trout reach a certain size (frickin' huge) they feed mostly on meat. No more tiny midges for these bruisers, they want the Porterhouse and they don't care who gets messed up in the process. Brown Trout are the largest Trout. The current world record is 44 lbs. 4oz., I think that covers it. [caption id="attachment_486" align="aligncenter" width="209" caption="Rip Collins with the world record Butter Belly"][/caption] Once I observed Brown Trout in the rivers it was all over. I have seen Browns try to eat 12" rainbows that didn't know which was worse, being hooked by me or being chased by the Brown that saw a trout in trouble and decided it was time to feast. I have also heard some crazy stories about Browns being so ill tempered that after they broke you off they would come back punch you in the junk, steal your wallet, and leave you wanting more. These stories seem a little weird but hey, who am I to doubt a fish story. [caption id="attachment_497" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Better than than average, but there are bigger ones out there...kind of like Ryan"][/caption] I have caught some decent Browns but the huge one still eludes me, haunts me, and appears as the main character in most of my nocturnal emissions. I will continue to hunt these elusive creatures of myth and lore until the day my casting arm falls off due to a raging case of leprosy (most likely contracted form Murphy). So next time you land a nice bow or brook revel in the moment, but know, it would be a hell of a lot cooler if it was my friend the Brown Trout. [caption id="attachment_494" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Caught last Tuesday, on the Watauga, on a size 20 pheasant tail, and on 6X tippet. Respect the skills. "][/caption] - Nymph-o

        

I trimmed my bush. The one out in the backyard you savages, my manscaping is my business. I had to get the bush trimmed in order to fish tomorrow. Now if the TVA doesn't kill me on the generation schedule I will hopefully have something more trout related to report soon. Until then enjoy my bush. [caption id="attachment_533" align="aligncenter" width="510" caption="My unruly bush"][/caption] [caption id="attachment_538" align="aligncenter" width="510" caption="My implement"][/caption] [caption id="attachment_539" align="aligncenter" width="510" caption="Got a little agressive with the implement (notice the chord?....I didn't)"][/caption] [caption id="attachment_540" align="aligncenter" width="510" caption="Implement #2 (no chord to cut)"][/caption] [caption id="attachment_541" align="aligncenter" width="510" caption="My well kept and trimmed bush"][/caption] ~ Nymph-o

        

        

I not sure where it all started, as my mind is a blur after the epic day on our beloved Watauga River in East By Gawd Tennessee. Bare with me as I recollect the following events. I believe it all started sometime last week while I was surfing the net in need of a trout fix. I received a call from my amigo Eric Miker of Decemberadio looking to feed his addiction as well, so we set a date to float the Watauga River on Tuesday. As luck would have it, there was rain in the forecast along with a scheduled generation. Crap, this means I will have to rise at the wee hours of the morning and beat the hated guide traffic. I hate guide traffic (no offense to you guides), but it seems they all converge on the river at the same time and it is a game of hop scotch the rest of the day. My usual strategy is to launch around lunch and fish until dark, but due to the copious amount of rain, and summer generation schedule, the TVA graced us with a mid-day generation. Ok, where was I ? Oh yeah, I decided to give fellow BRM member Dave aka General D a ring and see if wanted to join us. Of course the General jumped all over the invitation like a fat chick on a moon pie. So tuesday roles around, we all meet bright and early at the boat ramp and we were greeted with high muddy water. F$&k, this is gonna be a fun day, not only is the water high, but it looks like chocolate milk. We launch and shortly after Miker hooks up on a nice 14 inch brown. Well maybe today won't be so bad. Just as I said that here comes the monsoon, I mean it dumped on us like we had not made our offerings to the rain god or something. Anyway, rain, muddy water, and no rising trout have me really bummed out at this point. So we pick our way through the most of the river all the way to the Caddis Riffle before mother nature decides to play nice. Finally the sun shows itself, and the fish begin to cooperate a little. But it isn't the day you dream of by no stretches of the imagination. So , as the day wears on we reach the Ledges, and I search my boxes for a pattern that will work in this "Soup de Jour" of water. I have tried bigger nymphs, eggs and so on, nothing seemed to produce consistently. Now we were catching a fish here and there, but nothing to brag about. Ah, I see the Medusa a.k.a. Worm Orgy sitting nice and pretty in my box. Now I have never used this pattern, it is tied and marketed by the Legendary Dave Hise, owner of Casters Fly Shop in Hickory , NC. He is the worm and egg king, and swears by them. So I tied one on and dropped a Quazimoto PT off the back and proceeded to pick apart the water. It seemed fish after fish would hit this thing. Numbers started racking up fast. [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="Another Victim"][/caption] [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="Eric Miker... Guitarist Decemberadio.... Ain't he pretty!"][/caption] Now imagine this if you would, Miker and I are fishing our buts off, and the General is sitting in my boat being all cranky because the Sulphurs aren't cooperating. He is drinking all the beer and being a knot on a log. So we pick our way through the ledges and sticking fish left and right. Seriously, these are tailwater trout with a fine eye for detail, and they were eating something that would usually scare them into hiding. As the sleighing commenced, the General decided to take a stab at the bounty. As soon as he picks up the rod, he is into the fish. He too was sticking it to them. We worked our way towards the "Last Chance" hole and Miker gets hung on a rock, so i drop anchor to assist. As I am helping retrieve a stuck fly, the General hooks another, and he starts yanking the rod like its cookie cutter trout. Well it wasn't and we quickly realize it. The fish never made an appearance during the fight, it just kept bull dogging. After a few minutes of tug-a- war, we see butter. So here I go with the net, I scoop, the trout ducks, I scoop, the trout ducks. While I am doing this, the General is cursing me for missing his trout and possibly causing him to lose the darn thing. Finally I am able to doop ol'Leroy and net him. Well done I say to the General, it looks as we have put icing on the cake for the day with a nice 20 inch Leroy brown. Mr. Poopy pants finally got off his arse and caught some fish, and the fish of the day. Now picture this, the General was sad and pissy all day, but now he is acting like an 8 year old at Christmas. Classic I tell you, classic ! [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="Leeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrooooooooooyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"][/caption] [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="The General and Leroy"][/caption] Now wait, that ain't all folks. So, after we release Mr. Leroy to the murky depths, we proceed to the "Last Chance " hole where the proverbial raping begins. Again fish after fish on the worm patterns. Miker and I were lined up along the run sticking it to em, when I lose my last Medusa to a finicky trucha. Desperately searching my box, I spy another Dave Hise pattern known as "Eggi Juan". I quickly tie her on and cast. Bam, I hook into a slab that flips into the air, spits the hook, and flips us the fin. My luck, I lose the big fish. Oh well, still an epic day on the Holy Water. Until next time, Ryan

        

Mitch once again wins the Debbie Downer of the week award, proving that the economy has even gotten bad for the dirty stinking bankers. talking to mitch today about fishing this weekend. here is what i got....."i have no money, my boots are to big, the boots you gave me the felt fell off, i had to send my TFO back to texas because 2 of the eyelets are broken, my 3wt reel has no drag and my 5 wt is broken, i have no leaders and i have no money so i'll probably just spin fish this weekend since it's easier and cheaper." I'm (Murphy) trying to talk miranda into moving to TN or NC so i can be closer to you guys, does that sound to gay? -Murphy [caption id="attachment_470" align="aligncenter" width="510" caption="Times are tough...even for a Gangsta"][/caption] I mean for the love of everything holy, it must be bad he mentioned the "s" word. Filthy whore. -Nymph-o

        

I know we say we shoot film on our misadventures, well here is one finally!!! This is the promotional video for Long Boat Outfitters in Missouri. I put a vimeo link because I don't feel like paying 60 bucks to do HD through wordpress. [caption id="attachment_472" align="aligncenter" width="510" caption="I command you to watch it...The wookie has spoken and it shall be done"][/caption] LONGBOAT OUTFITTERS VIDEO....WATCH HERE!!!!

        

Ryan and I spent yesterday getting chased around Western North Carolina by hellacious thunderstorms. We were one step slow all afternoon getting pounded by rain and lightning down on some new wild water. We finally got the timing right and hit the N. Davidson for the last couple of hours of light. It was at this point that we pooped the metaphorical trout bed. "Wild water before the biblical rains"


"Wild Brookie 0...Ryan 1"


 
Read the Rest of the Story HERE!!

        

"Hello"

 
    I am exhausted...my truck is full of soon to be mildewing gear... my flies are everywhere except where they should be...and I have a pretty big smile on my face as I write this. I have returned from another Bent Rod road trip with only a slight case of the crabs. The crew has decided we are going to start producing a monthly or bi-monthly video series for the web called Southern Tailwater Assault (Think A-Team meets The Snorks), where we will be traveling to all of our finest tailwaters in the South and producing a video short conveying our awesomeness on these waters. We decided to make the first installment as far North as I care to go these days, the North Branch of the Potomac River on the border of West (BY GOD) Virginia and Maryland.


"North Branch Maryland Style"

 I have no idea how I keep getting talked into going to these Timbuktu like outposts for trout. First Missouri, then Maryland...you have got to be shitting me right? Well I shit you not you freaks, Maryland has trout and they must be putting something in the water up there (besides pulp mill effluent, but we'll get to that later) because there are some T-Rex like monsters that live in those waters and we even got to shake hands with some of them. We floated two different sections of the North Branch, as it is called by locals, the upper section is a more scenic float with very little if any development on the banks and the road just far enough away that you are actually able to forget it's there sometimes. The lower section is characterized by the pulp mill in town. The Pulp Mill plays a central role in the Lifetime movie that is the North Branch. I am by no means an expert on the history of this fishery but from what I gathered, the river up until recently (the seventies?) was a filthy ditch that was more likely to produce staff infections then trophy trout. Maryland and West Virgina then moved to clean up the river and convert it into a trout fishery. The Pulp Mill still pipes something of an orange soda color into the river through underground piping midway down the lower section. This apparently does not bother the stocked trout so who am I to complain. However, it was one of the weirdest sites I have ever seen on a trout river to this day, and that includes a guy rowing a boat constructed of styrofoam, a lawn chair, and ducktape. I digress. The upper section seems to have less numbers but larger fish on average. All the pigs we hooked came out of the top section. If the water is pumping I would definitely suggest the top section for overall mood, ambiance and hawgs.

"Goes to show, natural beauty can poke it's head outin the most unlikeliest places, like Maryland " The lower section fishes better on lower water and there are a ton of cookie cutter 12-14" rainbows in there. The fish seemed to like streamers in a casper the ghost white and basic attractor nymphs like pheasant tails. Fish also attacked crawfish patterns in the lower section because the nutrients in there produce huge crawdads. The trout have taken notice of this fact. I had one jump out of some pocket water and eat the damn thing like a dry fly. The highlights of the trip included,

• Meeting Otto High. With a name like High you gotta be a good dude. Otto lives up in WV and emailed us to see if we wanted to float up there some time. We indeed wanted to float up there so Otto hopped on board bringing a raft, a deadly long distance set, and other various party favors to the table (mostly PBR and pepperoni rolls, which also shows how good a dude Otto is). Otto you are more than welcome to fish with us any time buddy and no we did not roll tape on your, we'll call it husky, ass for more then ten minutes.

 

Otto the friendly bear...think Yogi not that bear from The Great Outdoors"

• Fishing with Mitch for the first time. Mitch hooks and loses large fish like no one I have ever met. I mean seriously, six trophy sized fish hooked...six trophy sized fish lost...in one day. Your pain provided us all with entertainment all through Saturday and well into the ride home on Sunday. Mitch was also on steroids all weekend. He was using them either to get Hulk Hogan like huge or to get over a severe sinus infection, I can't remember which. Either way I am pretty sure his testicles are shrinking as I write this.

 

"I swear I went through all the pictures and this was the only one we had of Mitch. Next time if he lands a big fish maybe we'll take a picture with his lovely face in it."

• Ryan, well where do I begin? First there always has to be a douche with a rod hotter then everyone else's. Well this trip the honor falls to Ryan. He stuck a nice bow the first day and then two 22"+ browns within ten minutes of each other out of the same hole on the second day. Truly sickening stuff. One of them took a white hair ball leach and the other took a pheasant tail. No one deserves that kind of luck. I am pretty sure a piano is going to fall on his dog any day now, which sucks because I like his dog. I hope you are happy Ryan.

First article of evidence suggesting a relationship between Ryan and the devil"

"The opposite of a short-fat"


"Another view of Mr. Long and Skinny"

"He's got a head like Sputnik."

"This one looks like it made one too many trips to the chinese buffet"
"Seriously, if I lived there I would be making sure my small dog went nowhere near this guy "

• Ryan wearing a body glove life vest to run a class II rapid. It was very scary and Ryan felt the need to revert back to the 1987 Jet Ski Nationals sponsored by Hawaiian Tropic. I told him he should have at least done it au natural. At least that way it would have been kind of cool. But he chose the Body Glove and now he must live with it for eternity.

 

 

"Fits like a glove"

• Murphy learning to row. Learning to row is never a pretty site. Murphy did not disappoint. The upper section has some pretty technical rock gardens that even good rowers need to pay attention to. Murphy is not a good rower. Murphy spent most of the first two days cussing as he burrito'd another rock. I say most of the first two days because he did show epic signs of improvement between the hours of 2:00 and 3:00 on Saturday. Keep on rowin' little buddy you'll get it sooner or later.

"Muphy is a good lookin' fella...don't you think?"

Video will be out soon. Next month we head to Georgia. Keep it sleazy San Diego,

"Yours truly, happier than any man should be allowed to be"

More Pictures http://www.bentrodmedia.com/Maryland.php
 - Nymph-o

        

The TVA has still not seen fit to stop the spilling on the Tennessee tailwaters. This has thrown a wrench in the plans of a lot of float guides around here as of late. This conundrum has been compounded by Memorial Day Weekend and the influx of gapers and eager fisherman into our mountains for the three day weekend. With TN out, the Tuck is pretty much the only game left in town. It's kind of like at a small college when the fat chicks don't look so fat due the relative absence of good lookin' chicks. I am not saying the Tuck is a fat chick, she is more like the mousy girl who hangs out with the hot girls but doesn't get the attention that her better looking friends get due to the presence of a snaggle tooth or perhaps a hair lip. But once you turn out the lights she does pretty good (Thus concludes my tortured metaphor). I have floated the Tuck four out of the last five days and feel I have gained a little insight into this river that I will now share with the masses.

The main problem with the Tuck for the boats is the the top section is as bony as a Kenyan marathon runner off generation, and off generation is when the fishing is actually worth a damn. I don't mind draggin' the Hog through a couple of riffles but for an hour straight gets a little ridiculous. The best thing about the Tuck is that it is the most heavily stocked stretch of water in North Carolina. The state puts something like 10,000 trout a month into the Tuck and with those type of numbers the Tuck stacks up nicely with any tailwater in the southeast. The Tuck is no secret however, and gets pounded like a pretty white guy in prison all season long.

Day 1

Day 1 was tough. Water was off color and high and the fish were not co-operating. We had some eats but nothing to write home about.

Day 2

This was a first. I took out a father and son who had no desire to fly fish, try fly fishing, or even tolerate a fly rod in the boat. I know what you are thinking, that I have betrayed all my fellow fur and feather flingers with my Benedict Arnold like treachery. Well, screw all of you...I have a son on the way and I gotst' to get paid. They brought all their own gear and all I really had to do was tie on rooster tails, run the boat, and watch the melee. I started out fly fishing as a kid and never pursued the dark side of the force, so this was the first day in my life I got to watch spin fisherman go at it for a whole day. I don't know if it was the tackle or the just that day but those guys absolutely slayed it. Between two boats we must have boated and released 80 trout and a couple of smallies.

"Little man bringin' the pain"


"Big man bringin' the funk"

If for nothing else, you gotta admire the efficiency of spinning tackle. Everyone went home as happy as pigs in poop and it was the easiest money I ever made.

Day 3

I gave one of my college friends a gift certificate for a full day float (As I am broke) for his 30th birthday and the bastard took me up on it. We got started fly fishing together and where I became obsessed with the fine pursuit of fishing he wasted his time getting a masters, PHD, and making something of himself...sucker.

"My buddy Brock and the first trout he's seen in years...years"

We met up with Ryan and Chris at the put in. The generation from that morning was still flowing so the action was slow to start with. Everybody picked up a fish here or there while we waited for the water to come down. We got into a couple of pods as the day wore on and my buddy and I left Ryan and Chris up river as we had wives waiting on us for dinner. Well when they caught up with us at the takeout they were rocking full on teepee's in their pants and started blathering about thirty fish and twenty inchers. Me being my skeptical self I called bullshit and then they showed me the pictures. Well I found out where the spot was (and no I am not going to tell you) and made a mental note for the next day.

"More than a handful fellas"

"I think that fish is as tall as him"

"Seeing Ryan catch big fish is growing tiresome"

Day 4

Last day on the Tuck. My sport was 95 and in a wheelchair. This was probably gonna be the last time he ever got to go fishing. No pressure right. The water was off color again but I used all my ninja like prowess to get on the fish. I hit up the honey hole and we started tagging fish old guy style. My favorite part was my sport would yell Geronimo every time he caught one and Geronimo was heard a lot. It kind of makes you feel good because at the end of the day I'll probably be that guy in 50 years.

So in the end the Tuck can definitely be worth the hassle but the key is locating fish. As far as flies we caught them on everything from buggers to eggy juans to small pheasant tails. This weekend the crew is gathering in Maryland to fish and film the NB of the Potomac River. Geronimo Mother Fuckers...Geronimo.

"Till Next Time"
 

-Nymph-o