Welcome to The Bonefish Flat
"OK, Mon, Bonefish 50 feet at 10 o'clock. Cast when you're ready."
Cast when you're ready. And with that you drop your fly, roll out a cast, false cast once, and then...
Welcome to the bonefish flat.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Tibor and Abel Fly Reels (or, an ode to the Cork Drag)
And cork is just sooo smooth.
So which do you go with? An Abel or a Tibor? Flip a coin. I love my Abel. It's a workhorse and the reel is easy to take care of. The Tibor has it's own "song" that it plays when bonefish or other fish are screaming backing off. Plus it comes with your name on it. I put a bonefish on mine for a little extra bling. Abel has some really sweet fish graphics that give you another level of bling, too.
Either way, both of these reels will passed on to my kids as they will last forever.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
It's All About to Happen
Monday, January 25, 2010
Brokaw on Flyfishing
http://thehill.com/capital-
Have you nurtured any new hobbies since your retirement from the anchor desk?
No, not new ones. I’ve been spending time in the ones I’ve had — fly-fishing, bird hunting. I’m getting ready to go to Australia and New Zealand to go biking. I was in the south of France and South Africa biking.
What are your plans for the future? Any other projects you’re working on?
I’m always working on something. I’m finishing up a documentary for CNBC on baby boomers. I’m working on another book, the subject of which I’m not prepared to share with you at the moment. I do a fair amount on writing. I just did a profile on Dick Ebersole for Men’s Journal.
And I continue to pursue the things that compelled me to leave nightly news, like biking, climbing, exotic fishing trips. And then I’m spending more time watching my grandchildren come of age.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Happy New Year from the Bonefish Flat
In the end, the meat bucket was a situation of mind where everything was going to be okay. When you had gone and messed up your intelligence with whiskey or worse, jacked yourself all out of shape, the meat bucket was the final pie in the sky, the universal trout or steelhead or permit or what-all run, the place where you always threw the perfect loop and never had to live with right hand winds, cold rain, broken homes, failed religion, or long-distance relationships.
The meat bucket was Jim Harrison screaming that his knees were buckling and "he's got all my line!" on his first hundred pound tarpon.
Happy New Year to everyone. I hope we all find the meat bucket, or M.B., as McGuane calls it, in 2010!
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