Brian and I have a problem. Of all the folks in the fly fishing industry, we might be the two worst people at actually getting out and chasing fish. Seriously, on any given week I think there is a better chance we catch swine flu than fish. Case in point, Brian and I have never fished together…not ever. We’ve been friends for several years, see each other on a weekly basis, and talk almost every day, but we’ve never wet a line together. It’s beyond absurd.
The irony is not lost on us – the two dudes most responsible for spoon-feeding the fly fishing blogosphere its biggest daily dose of content never actually fish. And you know what, it is starting to piss us off! We’re constantly inundated with pictures and stories of friends gallivanting across the globe, chasing tail in the coolest locales in the world. Meanwhile we can’t even sneak out for a few hours to toss dries at hungry trout on a nearby creek. This has to stop!!
Out of our growing frustration, a solution was spawned – FREE THE CHUM. Our goal is to bring you a weekly/biweekly photo essay generated by Brian or me that documents our efforts to power down our laptops and pick up a fly rod. Some posts might be exotic locales we have lined up down the road. Others might just be a short jaunt to nearby water. All of them will hopefully feature photos and stories you dig.
FREE THE CHUM – SOUTH FORK EDITION
click the image to view the slideshow full screen
The initial edition of FREE THE CHUM epitomizes the problem we’re trying to overcome. Less than an hour drive from my cramped one bedroom apartment, lies the headwaters of the Snoqualmie’s South Fork. It’s a small, stunning stretch of water filled with gorgeous native trout eager to suck down a dry fly. But until last week, I had never fished it.
I love big fish, but these intimate streams and their diminutive residents are my north star. Cascading falls plunge into deep, crystal clear pools teaming with trout ready to erupt from the abyss. Everything feels in place – the fish are native, the water is pristine, and the towering spruce scrape the sky.
Tucked into these cozy confines, I subtly slip into a simpler world – a paradisiacal place devoid of work and overflowing with picturesque trout surreptitiously sipping mayflies. Waist-deep in this freestone’s frigid waters, I’m reminded of what it feels like to be alive and free. I drink it all in with the reckless abandon of an alcoholic, yet I’m left unsatiated, desperately craving more.