Welcome to The Bonefish Flat

There's a stiff wind in your face as you squint in the sun trying to see what the guide sees. "Bonefish at 12 o'clock about 90 feet, do you see it, mon?" You don't and keep squinting, your hat pulled low to keep the sun out of your eyes. "Bonefish at 11 o'clock 70 feet out. Come on man, do you see it?" As the guide is calmly shifting the skiff into position, this time you spot the fish, "I got, it," you reply.

"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.

Monday, April 30, 2012

The Dog Ate My Drake

I meant to post this gripe the other week, but I've just had a lot going on.

I subscribed to the Drake when the Borders next to my office closed.  I always enjoy reading the Drake and yes, I keep them in a safe place and guess you could say I collect them.

So when my latest copy showed up in the mail the other week, I was not pleased.

Thanks, Mr. Postman.

1 comment:

  1. Yeah, the great thing about the Drake is that when I see a new issue hit the shelf in the fly shop, I know those of us who subscribe can expect to receive a copy in the mail in about 2-3 more weeks.

    It's like an early warning system. Very thoughtful.