Or maybe, you've got a fishing trip lined up. October means fall, and fall my friends, fall is for winners.
If you caught that not-too-subtle reference to one of the greatest monologues ever delivered, then you know your movies (and you’re probably over 40). If you missed it, click the link above and send us a thank you email. (Definitely don’t watch it at work or in front of your kids with the sound on, though; you’ve been warned.) Then go find a copy of Glengarry Glen Ross at your local Blockbuster (just kidding) and soak in some of the greatest actors of the 20th Century performing one of the greatest screenplays ever penned. If that scene doesn’t get you fired up, you lack a pulse.
Fall is for winners and coffee is for closers, for those burning miles from Montana to British Columbia in search of steelface, like our friends Tim Peterson and Eric Bodine do every year. More to come from them later.
Tim Peterson with a well earned piece of steel.
For those like our good buddy Joe Cermele, who broke the channel well before dawn in the bay boat the other day, and put in many miles searching, in vain, for false albies busting bait on the surface, only to find them at the 11th hour and put a charge in an 8 wt. More from Joe next week.
Like the crew at Schultz Outfitters up in Michigan, who will literally do whatever it takes to get into the big, angry smallies that are hitting the feed hard this time of year, including taking a chainsaw to an ill-placed strainer.
And, of course, we can’t talk about fall without talking about streamers. You know, hucking meat, stripping junk, pulling Hog Johnson out of brown town. In case you haven’t heard, fall is streamer season, bro.
The brown trout are staging up for their annual group hootenany, and the big uns are moving out of their deep, dark, dungeons into the light where we mere mortals might have a chance at connecting with one. Just don’t be these guys. Catching fish off redds doesn’t make you a winner; it makes you a jackass of the highest order. See below for an example of what NOT to do, brah.
Beat-up tails mean actively spawning fish, brah.
But you already knew that, right? We’re confident that our mailing list isn’t populated with redd raiders. We should all keep an eye out for that kind of malfeasance though, and be like Gregg T: “If you see something, say something.” Some basic life advice from Skwala: stay off trout beds and don’t stuff lead weights in walleye guts. Actually, don’t fish for walleye at all; they’re the most overrated fish on the planet.
Enough about other people’s asshattery, we were talking about fall, and getting all antsy in our pantsy. If you’re a trout guide, this is the season for a busman’s holiday. Your calendar likely has holes big enough to fit a worthy mission, and so do your buddies’. If the season went according to plan, your bank account is top shelf healthy, at least for the moment. You’re loading up the rig with a posse, hitching a boat or two, dialing in the sink tips, grabbing the spools of Maxima, and busting out the boxes marked, “not for client use.” You’re chasing Walter. If you find him, tell him we says, hi.
Winter is long and cold where we stay, but who’s talking about winter? That’s still months away. Now is the time when good things happen, when redfish smash poppers in Spartina cuts, when muskies bigger than your leg eat streamers longer than your foot.
So why are you staring at the screen right now? Pick up the gear you need to make sure you can handle any conditions, and get out there. Shoot us a note when you get home; we want to know how you make out.