Urban Warfare

Times are tough right now for the midwestern fly angler. For starters, it's stupid hot out. Should you dare venture outdoors, rest assured it won't be long 'til you find yourself sweating like a whore in church. I haven't even so much as cast to a trout in well over a month, and there's several miles, about 80 ft. of water and a veritable eternity between here and fall steelhead. Indeed, we've officially entered the doldrums.

But then again, it all depends on your perspective. I suppose we could sit at home with the air conditioning on full blast and a six pack of patriot cans in our laps and bemoan our unfortunate anglers' predicament. But I like to think I'm better than that. So I've been bringing the six pack with me, leaving the AC behind, and wading muddy bathwater flats, frantically searching for scales and whiskers. Desperate times, as you know, call for desperate measures and it was only a matter of time before we'd be forced to engage in urban warfare.

Choosing a strategic carp blind is cirtical when engaging the opponent in urban confines...

Best leave your shirt (and your shame) behind...

Hatch matching; not as easy as you might think. It was a layered hatch of buttered popcorn, creamed corn and cheetos. In the end, the fish showed a strong preference for Cheeto Spinners...

"I want my cheesy poofs"

So after we'd had our fun, we went and did some "real" fishing...

And bagged a backyard bone the hard way...

Summer fishing is what you make of it. Personally I'm having a ball, but the truth is I won't think twice when it comes time to hit the road and head west in 15 days (not that I'm counting).

I wasn't lyin...

Had some free time this morning.

I'm quickly becoming a bonafide hoover hound.