I have one more float trip before Steve and I head down to the low country, Thelma and Louise style, to shoot the redfish feature for the first issue. Should be interesting as we are taking Steve’s boat (never been in the salt), Ryan’s push pole (also never tasted the salt), and my cooler (to strap to the backseat for a poling platform). There’s really only two ways for this scenario to play out, but both involve SEATOW…although only one involves Steve making it out of this without a puncture wound (I get stabby when I’m nervous). Needless to say I got redfish on the brain but the fall trout fishing has officially gotten stupid. Ryan made a little foray into wild and wooly West Virginia looking for some brown trout that hadn’t quite hit full copulation but were stuck somewhere around foreplay. Ryan being the ultimate cock blocker, kicked in the bedroom door and found exactly what he was looking for.
Tis the season to put on your big boy pants and chase some tail.