You see I have had complaints; apparently they smell a bit. I have four of them (two pairs – one matching) and I rotate them according to a weekly schedule. When one pair is not in use the other is tied to the roof of the car (great way to wash and dry your things for free incidentally; why some people waste large amounts of money on laundries and buying washing powder smelling of the countryside, when by tying one's clothes to a roof rack, the wing mirrors or perhaps by simply letting them hang out of the windows, you can achieve the same affect, is completely beyond me).
By the way, the air around Te Anau has had an unusual, and I think, interestingly wholesome smell about it just recently.
I have to be careful about what I write exactly, since I have had the kind offer of a place to stay when I'm in Noosa next month and I don't want to get thrown out before I even arrive, so just for the record let me state that I will not be taking these socks to Australia with me; I don't wear socks in Australia and besides I doubt they'd let me in.
Sean and his 6lb quest
This has been a busy week of fly fishing and I've been on a mission trying to help Sean catch a six-pound trout. Hampered by wine and chillies (for breakast) it's been a tough trip and, at the time of writing this, an as yet an unfulfilled one: we have one day left. Sean had thought he had seen life on the edge, being a journalist by trade, but even he has never experienced anything like the Sexyloops diet. He says that he feels lucky to still be alive and doubts whether his digestive system will ever fully recover.
Frankly he's said some fairly nasty things about my feet and doubts that they'll return his bond on the hire car, and he made me take my waders out of the back every night; the socks were "making them pong a bit".
You have seen it here on Sexyloops as a first. The reversible waders concept is a stunningly brilliant idea I had while fishing the Oreti on Saturday. One side could be tan and the other green so that you could blend in according to the background and so long as you kept changing the background, they would wash themselves naturally and you wouldn't have to tie them to the roofrack. The only drawback I suppose is that, in my case, I wouldn't be allowed anywhere near a river for fear of a major pollution incident.
BTW the waders I use are Vision Extreme and they are really excellent. I have worn them for three months of scrambling through spikey undergrowth and sliding down rocky embankments and although they are not reversible, they are tremendous and I shall review them shortly (you can buy them in the Sexyloops Tackleshop, of course).
I once had a girlfriend who made me bathe my feet in potassium permanganate solution every month or so, since she felt that this made them bearable. Of course the fact that this turned my toenails purple was an interesting side effect and used to generate a lot of idle speculation down on the beach as to nature of my sexuality (straight, by the way, but currently idle). But the problem is not one of feet but rather one of socks – funny how she didn't realise this.
And that wasn't the first time this has come up either: on my first trip to New Zealand I had a problem with money (ran out of it – this happens quite regularly actually, and I hear it's quite a common affliction) and I resorted to picking up a job picking apples :-) and one evening I incinerated my socks. Now I didn't do this by accident, in case you were wondering, but rather with the intention of doing something worthwhile for my fellow man. Unfortunately I chose a windless night and the smoke sank around the farm buildings and we had to evacuate the entire area and someone called the police.
So I can quite understand it when Sean says that he thinks that he's not catching a six-pounder because of the unusual smell. He is however, wrong in this assumption. He is not catching a six-pounder because he is striking too fast, too slowly, or not at all.
We have been fishing everywhere and we have had quite a few fish too.
Location, location, location
The Waiau has been great with the sedges and I had a reasonable fish out of the Eglinton by casting behind it with a daddy longlegs. Mavora Lakes was "crap" according to Sean who spend his time there trying to catch six-pounders while I had a more profitable time communing with nature and climbing trees (I have a bit of a tree thing at the moment – don't ask; but suffice to say that I'll be living in a tree house when in Noosa).
We also fished the Oreti, where I caught a nice brown on my first cast and spent the rest of the day dreaming about reversible waders. Mystery Lake X produced rainbows for everyone, but the highlight of the trip was, without doubt, a trip up the Worsley, where Sean cunningly spooked one fish by lining it and - in the same cast and while subsequently reeling in - cleverly hooked another. Sean is obviously a bit of an expert.
What made the Worsley trip was the scenery. To be so far into bush, so far from people and the problems of our making, was just great and I haven't done this for a very long while indeed (I really have to get back into this bush thing at some point in my life).
There were mountains and rivers and trees ("there he goes with his trees again") and although the fish were not out and playing with us it really didn't matter; we didn't care. Fly fishing is about the whole process, the being out there, a part of this great thing (that we don't really understand – but are trying to, since that appears to be why we actually are here) and although we returned with sore feet and smelly socks, we both had caught a few fish and felt good about it (well I did; Sean said he felt "fucked" but whether this was a good thing or not he didn't reveal, but simply collapsed in a heap).
Someone else has my phone (probably – I mean it may be tucked away in some secret compartment of my pack, but I somehow doubt it) and in case the dude who now has it, decides to check out the URL printed upon the business cards in the back and then types "lost phone" into that site's search page, and therefore finds himself here: I'd like it back please :-). I mean having a phone can be a bit of a pain in the arse at times, but at others it can be really useful (like when you want to ring someone) and besides that phone cost me over 200 quid and is tri-band.
I'll need it for this summer: I have an extensive trip of Europe planned with demos in Spain and Germany, fishing in Norway and Denmark, trips to Switzerland and France (to see Steve), to Scotland (to see Big Paul), Ireland (to see the mayfly) – basically it's going to be one wild time of fishing and travel. And I'll need a phone; I mean how else am I going to be able to ring to say I'm going to be late back since I'm in the middle of some dramatic rise?
Last week I put some movies into the Stillwater section. Jim Curry and I reveal that beneath this harsh worldly AAPGAI exterior we really know our stuff and therefore have produced some short but poignant mpegs.
I think that we are going to do more of this sort of content – which alarms Steve, since he thinks that site structure is going to go out the window (and it is, Steve…) but that's cool since I think a bit of chaos is a good thing :-)
I mean, I'm thinking of throwing one of my socks into a crowded room just to see the results – deep at heart I'm a bit of an anarchist you know, and this sock thing of mine must have some higher purpose. I'm thinking: church, religion, perhaps Catholic, one sock, left one, overhand throw. Maybe if I was to flycast them I'd be more devastating. What do you think? The pen may be mightier than the sword, but a well cast sock on the end of a sexyloop could wipe out belief in a higher being overnight, and then we'd be the ones responsible for the effects of our actions.
Following my comments of a couple of weeks back suggesting that the Stanic exam merely assessed one's ability to turn up, I should like to retract this comment. However, since I feel that I may already be too late in this and that there may already be a price on my head, I shall let it remain. Anyway, I hear that they are going to alter the Stanic examination this year and make the assessment worthwhile and perhaps even assess one's ability to teach and, dare I say it, actually cast.
Government sponsorship and AAPGAI assessment will help this thing along, but the fact that there is an existing hard core of Stanic members (btw Stanic is very similar to Satanic don't you think? – possibility for developing a theme here: I'm thinking men dressed in black, horns, red, crap loops, lots of whipping noises, maybe some bondage) who can't cast or teach; it's a bit of a non-starter.
I should like to point out that trees are fantastic things and just hanging around, or even out of them, gives me energy and I'd much rather get this from a tree rather than an argument with some dude. All apart, that is, from some of the trees surrounding Mystery Lake X that steal flies on your backcast (as Sean clearly demonstrated in his quest for the six-pounder).
Coming soon to Sexyloops
This week I'm going to head back down to Invercargill and say farewell to all the beautiful women (won't take long – great place, Invercargill, btw) and dip my slime line into Bluff Harbour (great place, Bluff – very harbourish) and while I'm down there I'm going to do some things on this site. We're talking integration and flashification (Steve), The Flow, work on the bulletin board, The Discovery, Mugwai hunting (worth checking out btw). Steve is busy, Big Paul is busy, I'm busy(ish) :-)
Take care, plant a tree, climb a tree, and I'm thinking: sock, right one, address label, international stamp, Houses of Parliment…