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River of Life

So the “plan” was to fish with Zoran for a week, Tina and Christian for a week, and then head on over to Spain. However I found myself unexpectedly broke, which may come as a surprise because normally it's expected, but this time it was unexpected, so I'm going up in the world of finances I believe. And not before time too, I might add.

And partly because I expect this to unexpectedly happen again - no hang on, this will never happen again… and because I love the freedom that is travelling, living and existing out the back of a truck, I have converted my sister's Suzuki Jimny into a bed. It wasn't easy, but she'll love it.

And so our plan has changed; we managed to miss Zoran completely, which is a complete and total fuckup because the same thing happened last year and now we've also missed Tina and Christian, but that was their fault because their car has injector troubles. Like ours too, in a manner of speaking (the bed leaves little room).

Zoran doesn't know it yet, how complicated it is to meet up. He only “thinks” he knows. Tina and Christian are old hands at this and they know how complicated it is to meet; why in NZ for three years straight we failed to connect, despite us both fishing there the same four months there each time. Life, man, Life. You try to control it with plans and organisation and stuff and what happens? It bites you in the arse. That's why we don't plan anything at Sexyloops: if you plan it, it never happens.

You see, friends, it's like this: I imagine we're all getting washed down a river; we'll call that river “Life”. Some of us have maps, others can see ahead and they see rocks and structure, eddies, interesting places to fish, places to visit, things to see and do, they have time to make decisions and after a while they find rhythm. That's the slow river.

The other river is the one I know. It is not slow - in fact it is bloody quick. There are no choices and there's no map and if there was there'd be no time to read it. To see a rock is to encounter it. Eddies are whirlpools and best avoided, not that you have any choice in the matter. And the only thing that concerns you, assuming you find time to contemplate, which is unlikely, is finding enough air before the next set of rapids, which will happen at any moment. That one is the Sexyloops river. I'm not saying it's better than the other one, only that it's different. If your river is like my one, something I have found that may be of help, is to try swimming downstream. You can fairly get some speed up.

So anyway, Spain should be interesting. It's been a while since I've fished with our Spanish brothers and sisters. They have some pretty damn good trout fishing, although getting rod licenses and permits to fish is only marginally less complicated than finding your way around Sexyloops. Sometimes it can actually take longer to get the permit than the time you want to spend fishing there.

And of course there's more to fishing than just fishing, as we all know, and Spain has lots of other stuff, in fact even if you're not a fisherman it could be well worth going. But that's not our world: yes we like castles; flyfishers like castles and so we will look at them, and quickly. No we don't like shopping; we're flyfishers, and so we won't go shopping (unless we need to buy camp provisions, which will take all of 10 minutes). And yes, we think stone-walled towns are pretty, but we won't spend half a day admiring them, instead we will fish below them and admire them between fish. If there are regions with poor fishing or overly complicated fishing permits we won't go there. It may seem complicated but it is in fact very simple. It's all about the fish.

(That last bit was sneaked in for Babus). See you soon Carlos!


14.07.08 - check out the POD!

Revolution is Evolution, with a holy sock.

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