The Waterswatters are pleased to announce we've teamed up with Ass Hooked Whitey, Fly Times, Voluntary Beatdown and a few other folks to bring you the best in fly fishing typing. Imagine the combined power of the Pac Nor'west, the South, the Nor'East, country and western, honky and tonk, spey and singlehand, smartass and serious and you get
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Friday, October 5, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Fished in Tennessee all last week. Had a blast. This was taken by a Pentax Optio on [name redacted] River. The trout were feeding on all sorts of goodness I was kicking up. First there was one, then two, then thirty....pretty cool schiatt.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Two mornings later the Delawares returned from their dawn reconnaissance and reported the Gilenos camped along the shore of a shallow lake…They saw to their arms, drawing charges from their pieces and reloading them…The party was crouched in a stand of willow half a mile from the fires of the enemy…Glanton addressed them. We got an hour, maybe more. When we ride in it’s every man to his own. Don’t leave a dog alive if you can help it…Don’t waste powder and ball on anything that cant shoot back…the riders put rowels to their mounts and lined out for the camp behind the dogs with their clubs whirling and the dogs howling in a tableau of some hellish hunt, the partisans nineteen in number bearing down upon the encampment where there lay sleeping upward of a thousand souls…Within that first minute the slaughter had become general. Women were screaming and naked children and one old man tottered forth waving a pair of white pantaloons. The horsemen moved among them and slew them with clubs or knives…The dead lay awash in the shallows of the lake…They moved among the dead harvesting the long black locks with their knives and leaving their victims rawskulled and strange in their bloody cauls.
Monday, August 20, 2007
They rode through marl and terracotta and rifts of copper shale and they rode through a wooden swag and out upon a promontory overlooking a bleak and barren caldera where lay the abandoned ruins of Santa Rita del Cobre.
The Judge, said Tobin…I seen him before, said the Kid. In Nacogdoches. Tobin smiled. Every man in the company claims to have encountered that sooty souled rascal in some other place. We come down off the Little Colorado we didn’t have a pound of powder in the company. Pound. We’d not a dram hardly. There he set on a rock in the middle of the greatest desert you’d ever want to see. We were thirty eight men when we left Chihuahua City and we were fourteen when the Judge found us…Glanton just studied him…They’ve a secret commerce. Some terrible covenant…but if being naked of arms in that wilderness and half of all Apacheria in pursuit worried him at all he kept it to himself entire…The Judge had been up all night…Watchin the bats…Two men deserted in the night and that made us down to twelve and the Judge thirteen. I gave him my best study, the Judge…He appeared to be a lunatic and then not. Glanton I always knew was mad…We led the horses in the dark…When we reached the cave some of the men thought that he meant for us to hide there…But it was the nitre…We filled our wallets and panniers and our mochilas with the cave dirt.
(Freshwater Spring, Apache Pass, Arizona)
The next day on the far side of the mountain we encountered the two lads that had deserted us. Hanging upside down in a tree. They’d been skinned and I can tell ye it does very little for a man’s appearance. But if the savages had not guessed it already, now they knew for sure. That we’d none of us any powder.
(Oak tree, Apache Pass, Arizona)
But in those two days the Judge leached out the guano with creekwater and woodash…He got up when he seen us and went to the willows and come back with a pair of wallets and in one was about eight pounds of pure crystal saltpeter and in the other about three pounds of fine alder charcoal…he pointed to that stark and solitary mountain…He was first to the rim of the cone…Then he set down and he begun to scale at the rock with his knife…It was brimstone…most pure flowers of sulphur…went to a cupped place in the rock and dumped out the charcoal and the nitre and stirred them about with his hand and poured the sulphur in…Captain Glanton, he says. Come charge that swivelbore of yours and let’s see what manner of things we have here…The foremost of the savages was not more than a furlong on the slope…then the Judge, he steps up to the rim and he had with him a good white linen shirt…and he waved it to the redskins and he called down to them in Spanish All dead save me he called. Have mercy on me. Todos muertos…God it set them yappin on the slope like dogs…Gentlemen. That was all he said. He had the pistols stuck in his belt at the back and he drew them one in each hand and he is as either handed as a spider…and he commenced to kill Indians. We needed no second invitation. God it was a butchery.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Things are starting to settle down and looks like we may have time to resume internet fishing. Winter in the South is here.....it was 97 degrees (Fahrenheit to you non-USA'rs) with 97% humidity. Brew-tall. Throw in severe drought and it has sucked donkey balls, royally. Thee Dog Days are upon us.
To our three readers, thanks for sticking around.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
It's good to move now and then, it wakes you up from your nap and I'll have more later and should be occupying my usual spot at the fire once I get a dial up connection at the house.