BONEDALE FISHING REPORT #22

BONEDALE FISHING REPORT #22

IN HEAVEN TOO YOU’D BE INSTITUTIONALIZED

Being a fish bum seems romantic to the very people who will never be fish bums. For starters, what’s required is an appreciation for the great unwashed, because that’s who you’ll be slumming with at various boat ramps, campgrounds, rest stops, trailheads, diners and beer joints. You have to be PART of the great unwashed; you cannot buy your way in. It requires the ability to sleep on the ground or flea-ridden mattresses, in the back of cars, or if you’re headed south, in the company of rats. You have to be able to eat ANYTHING–from Navajo tacos to sardines–in mustard sauce. You have to be willing to get by on instant coffee; lattes aren’t an option. Fish bums have to be able to fix their own cars, because you’ll break down in zones where you’re the only mechanic. You’ll need a road atlas, tape, glue, socket set, vice grips and the ability to listen to and tell stories, for hours at a time, as you rip through miles of American west. You’ll have to wear boots. You’ll have to sew, patch and rig. You’ll need a solid understanding of knots. Your car will be full of coffee cups, matches, empty Red Bull cans, pizza crust, rain jackets, BONEDALE t-shirts, scratched-up Scorpions CDs, wads of monofilament and lots of gear bags. You’ll need several hats and goggles. You’ll need a Plastic Jesus. You’ll need a passport and two drivers’ licenses, and the ability to talk your way out of bad situations. There may be a hawg in the tunnel. Mostly, you’ll need a restless heart.

Live from the WORLD HEADQUARTERS

Kea C. Hause esq.

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After a spring expedition on Independence Pass, CO. Photo: Copi Vojta