|Column nr. 3 2009|
"Spontaneous method of irrational Understanding based on the interpretive Critical association of dilirious phenomena." -Salvadore Dali, Immortal -
Fly fishing in my mind has always been an unmeasured adventure into a quicksilver mind set fueled by tactile, sensory, color, olfactory, sensual overload..... My old friend Bamboo Mentor Walton Powell said it perfectly, "Dan my friend it ain’t about catching fooling trout at all! Its only about obsession with moving waters, dancing light, and maybe, just maybe the feel of wildness interrupted when that two pound wild Rainbow wakes you up, that’s what its all about!"
Long languid mornings followed by magic moments playing Brookies so pretty golden sun glass’s are needed.... All around waterfalls and bird songs competing to wrestle one away from one self, ahh taste, smell of clean moving water, Yosemite National Park California fly/ Sensory Mecca. Many days in Yosemite have been complete Surrealist Buffet as my fingers tie hand made Mosquitos on to tippits 2 pound test. My favorite Bamboo working its easy alive swing as the Mosquito gently hits three feet above a resting Brookie. He moves right to it and as the bright California Sun blinds breaking up the morning light, I feel the wildness in my arm, wrist, as the little wild fish makes a nice run, joy pure joy...... Cast after cast a hit or a hook up, no other fly fishers in sight. Stop after four hours and just sit and smell and listen and be very thankful to be alive....
Half way down the long winding always clear running never crowded Feather River during the period I threw flies on every inch wadeable and wrote a feature article on the sweet Feather, I found a large pool about 40 yards wide and maybe ten feet deep at the most. It was early spring and I watched three very fat Rainbows slurping Pale Morning Dun’s around size #14 and smaller. I tied on a PMD tied with a little yellow and white mix and pow it was slammened quickly! That nice one pounder was full of life so instead of playing him out and enjoying the hook up, I quickly brought him to hand and off he went. One other hook up within minutes then back in warm car comfort and off to the next pool. The intense greenery, trees healthy and tall. The majestic Feather River rules when it comes to peaceful solo fly action. Many wonderful B&B’s to choose from, highly recommend this California ribbon of wild water home to many fine wild trout...
Just outside of Truckee California one can access the magic Truckee River in its still healthy well kept 2009 incarnation. The surrealistic aspect to this exciting trout habitat is the nearness to comfort, great food, outstanding hospitality! This river has many trout to keep you moving and happy, it is wadeable and can if fly fished correctly make your day sportsfans... One can begin just outside of the city limits and spend all day following the river down to Nevada.
Asian Fly Surreality!
Sneaking around in dangerous snake infested back waters of the legendary Mekong River as a young 17 year old Marine avoiding Charlie and my own officers. Catching and releasing fish I never dreamed existed in real life. Every Asian fly trip from Japan to Vietnam has been an education in meeting wild fish few sportsmen can imagine. Thailand walking cat fish that can stroll from one river to another! Fish that appear serpent like with heads resembling large snakes? Fish that hunt with more quiet skill then many human fly fishers ever display! No matter where one fly fish’s in Asia, be prepared to be amazed at what lives in those ancient waters. For me all of Asia is the height of surreal.......
Cabo San Lucas
When the marlin are running just off shore near the Madracal exclusive private beach where I spent a week surf fly fishing and catching fish almost every cast was sublime and unforgettable! Less then 200 yards from this private beach Marlin were thick and hitting anything resembling shiny silver baitfish. An adventure of a life time catching so many I had to stop and have both hands bandaged. Sea of Cortez, Cabo on shore and off still the hot fish nursery it has always been. If you have not been to Cabo San Lucus, go now!
Tangiers, Morocco in the late 1960s an insane sensory assault upon a fresh faced San Francisco Irish Marine. In later years the many animal packed national parks and the expansive coastline made for surf fly action if you can dodge pirates, smugglers, characters out of Indiana Jones all wanting to make friends because your from San Francisco California a truly exotic destination indeed! African surreal is source number one if one seeks hot weather more flying bugs then you ever imagined. Sensory overload kicks in as soon as one hits the airport lounges in Johannesburg or Jo Berg. Flashy colors on woman, rich food odors, an amazing Daliesque repository of fly fishing opportunities and cultural education.....
One hundred miles from Anchorage up north the famed Wilson homestead lake Marie an American lesson in wildness old school wildness. No roads, no people, just King Salmon and more Grizzly Bears then anyone anywhere ever encountered Cowboy! I always will remember the two weeks spent in this remote fly/hunting lodge hand built by the Wilson brothers David and John. Their Mother Marie killed a nice Grizzly attempting to help her do morning chores in the early years.. What a story the Wilson family, as surreal as it gets Pilgrim. (See Monster Kings & Sweet Bamboo Parts one and two......)
Hook: #6 Barbless
* Dedicated to the Master Salvador Dali
"ADVENTURES OF FLETCHER QUILL"
Paris 2009 ain’t quite DOA yet baby! Fletcher Quill’s insane almost all dead rolling and tumbling Blues Jam featuring a host of dead & almost alive blues rock immortals has moved to Montparnase and the grand la Rotunde Café ..... It’s 3am Quill and the all-star- all dead Blues men are just rapping up a 30 minute version of Albert Collins rueful ditty, ‘ Lights on But Nobodies Home!" In struts non other then Rob Zombi and his crew leaning on his old cane and whispering to his pal Lemmie from MotorHead. It appears these uber hard aging rockers want a little stage time with the immortals, they want it, they get it................................ John Tempesta time keeper for White Zombie and his Pal Sean Ysault Bass Master Blaster are jamming with Keith Richards, Nicky Hopkins, Bobby Keys, Albert Collins ( Master of the Telecaster ) as they begin the opening chords to Zombies, killer hit, " More Human then Human " in strolls Etta James ( Seven year Itch! ) and her soul sister to the bone Koko Taylor, the band puts, " More Human then Human " to sleep and goes straight into Willie Dixon’s, "Little Bad Mother Fuc-ker Red Rooooster ! ) and the girls take the ball and dribble they dooooooo..........
"Quill this café be coming apart with the meanest Chicago Bitch Blues you can find on Mother Earth. Dude this is insane in the no Alzheimer brain, look at the crowd coming in. Lets open this party and give Paris a reason to keep on trucking baby!!!"
"Nice to see you again General Parker, you know about the hit I have on Putang the Rooski Pricktator son?( PRP)
"Oh yeah Marine, that’s why I came to pow wow here. We got word your new blond thang from California Nurse Caron A.K.A, The Body, Hour Glass, Brick House...... A double CIA, Rooski Assassin Pal and guess who Putang has sent to Paris ( arriving momentarily! ) to take down the Frisco General Dark Prince (FGDP) fly fishing hard living boy?’
"Love that Cowboy, excellent, after I bang the hell out of her. I pull her little plug, nice, very very nice. Dude get some of that rude ass cool aid 666 is standing near. Its loaded of course. I’m going on stage and work me harp..."
"One more thing, Nurse Caron from Stock Farm Road out in Californication land is an expert in Ancient Mythology and Spell Creation. Her bio say’s she is a direct human descendant from Diana Goddess of the Hunt & Wild things. Her Father a violinist mated with a human/god sister of Diana, begat Nurse Caron, Be careful this little Princess has Cobra blood mixed in with a body made to be used over and over and over my friend!"
The café crowd now around the block as the 330am La Rotunde be rolling like Brittiney in a 4am back alley. Three long white shiny new limo’s rips up the wet curb, out rolls the one and only 4 feet 4 inch new French Prime Minister Sarpussy and his splendid model, actress Ball & Chain."
"At last the famous American Marine General Fly Master plays a mean Chicago blues harp?"
"Man, can’t live on Blondness alone my friend, how nice you slumming this early Parisian am.... These pesky rumors about my favorite cafe’s going down faster then your wife after three glass’s of Californication wine are over blown! Look at this crowd, why not turn Paris into a giant Blues Rock never ending jam/ man, I’ll hook up your people with enough dead & alive Blues killers to kick start Paris and put her game face back on Mr. Sarpussy, what you think Homey?’
"I love the impetous American Cowboy ( Get her Done! ) mentality. Remnds me of our little Nepolean hiding behind trees while his troops fell like leaves....... Your cultural Blues respiration resurection idea has much merit. Perhaps I will appoint you Roving Blues/Rock Cultural Minister? (RRCM)"
You like that title my Yankee General? "You little guys have awfully large ideas Sir. Yes, my boys and I would love to put Paris back together before baby strollers and third world food carts take over my Montparnase....."
"Sir, you Yankee’s, you save our frog butt’s during the importaunt war long ago and that intitles you to pump adrenalin into Rambo, Hemmingway, Piaf’s dear sweet aging Parie’? Perhaps, how fitting, another Yankee occupation, this time steeped in Chicago Blues? Why not? "
"Can’t fault that Yankee know how, look how my Jewish Banker/Wall Street/ Capital Investor highly educated best American MBA’s are worthless in lieu of the biggest greediest, seediest cold blooded hold up ever perpertrated on innocent citizens. Who now pay with blood and heart break! That’s my new Yankee , " Get er Done!!! " mentality working for you Mr. Sarpussy. Is it true Sir you had a Golden Dance Pole installed in your bedroom so your ATM sucker can feel comfortable?"
"Yes, another wonderful Yankee invention the sex club pole..... Thanks to your pathetic perverted undereducated red neck American’s the world at large now functions like Dick Clark at break dancing marathon....
Out of the black cold Paris early morning dressed in along black Australian drovers coat non other then then the dead man with the best rock pipes period Bonn Scott, DOA, yes, but not quite finished rolling awfully large testicles down Montparnass Baby.... ACDC now on " Black Ice " World tour kicking verrrry seriouassss boooty.................. As our leader and main Guru Dr. Timothy Leary so clearly elucidated in his epic psychadelic tomb, " Psychedelic Prayers " Page 55.
"The flow of energy here it is... It... Is... Nameless, Timeless, Speed of light..... Float... Beyond
Fear... Float... Beyond Desire... Into this Mystery of Mysteries Through this Gate of All Mysteries
Through this gate of all wonder."
Timothy Leary, Visionary, Prophet, Real American.
"Fletcher Quill, me Mate from the land of milk and honey. Hows bout we kick this into over drive Flyman. I’m itching to jam with these mega talented DOA Blues Master’s, especially Muddy Waters and Clapton. So get my dead ass up on that stage now, oh yeah a couple of me DOA Pal’s may show up. The REAL Rolling Stone Brian Jones is out at Jimmy Morrison’s grave right now getting wasted and coming looking for me and you."
"Great to almost see you Bonn, so grab a real life Brewski and come with me....."
Hot line Satellite Cell call screams into Quill’s ear from Washington, It’s OBAMARAMA Baby..
"General Quill, Man I wake up to every Frog Diplomat with my Dam number blowing paranoia smoke up my black ass. What the fuck are you pulling in Paris that I gotta get involved? Old man I got this bogus smoke and mirrors stimulye that is STYMULY baby enema that gonna fit into the ravaged ass of our totaaly screwed America. You read me Marine, I’m I speaking bad ass Marine green enough for you General?"
"Hold on their my leige.... First I ain’t in the motherfickin Green Machine anymore savvy baskitball player, which translates into you stop your 47 year old insolent I’m friggin God shit with me now son, understand? I’m still a certtified 47/0 Frosco street fighin bad boy and will not hesitate to....."
"OK, OK, look here, how much of that uber sweet French Tang you been banging old man? I hear you got a smokin hot Nurse horderve in route your nasty old basterd. Man, you get more strange then any of these washed up rock stars been begging to do some crack in lincolns bedroom. Don’t want no crack smell in the Emancipators bedroom son can’t do that, won’t stand for that, Told that Dam fool bobby Brown , stop wkacking Whitny and get your Perogative black ass here. Any hew."
"You been plowing the Ball & Chain in Lincoln’s room Dawg yes?"
"General Quill, I’m thinking you ought to bring the short frog Prime Minister Dude and his hot wifey here for a weekend, set it up, Put our countries needs first for a change ! " First Bitch (FB ) will have your black ass for lunch Son. Remember last two serious Black House Tang/Masters Kennedy & Cliton... Those boys were busy all the time... How you gonna get any strange with Aunt Jamima staring in the Oval Office window and running those lame ass dull very square tampon holders who will be bopping plain clothsmen right and friggin left Mr. President, Maiestro....."
"You are a very bad American Marine, talking shit about my two mistakes fool! Like your last five main squeezes could pass a toxic waste test or actually function there Fly Man ? "
"Gotta fly Obamarama send my stimulus check all five million to the Mustang Ranch Nevada Retirement Fund. Those Hookers gonna need all the help they can get. Keep my American helpless, broke, confused, pussy whipped and worshipping Ophra and Brad ( lets buy some more babies! ) Pittttt until I get back..."
"Excuse me Sir, I would like to introduce our most famous French Fly Fishing expert Andree Lapewwwww owner of Chateau lepewwwwww located 100 killometers east of Paris..."
"A pleasure to finnaly meet you Sir, was their something in that fowl tasting cool aid I just sipped? I would love to have you come and enjoy a month alone in my Chateau known for its well stocked trout/salmon streams. You can have the run of the place if I can come and visit your Castle Raven’s Haven?"
"Yes the cool aid is innersteller brain food my friend fresh from California. Have heard of your fly fishing estate. I have a young extreamly sexy young woman coming from California today, perfect timing my friend. No worries my castle is yours, at least most of it..."
The endless hard Blues/rock Café jam continues as Bonn Scott and Brian Jones medley moves into , " Road House Blues ". The atmosphere slows down to a crawl, smell of ancient Frankinsense and old San Francisco hippy Haight Street incense wafts in and out while the Great Ful Dead’s classic, " Truckin " climbs out of the early morning Paris mist. It is he, Capt Trips.
"Like me old Pal Bobby ( way tooo much Tang ) Weir used to speak." (Paris never the same Mercy! Our boys running little tooo wild???? )
Read about Fletcher Quill in earlier chapters:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11
Written by Dan Fallon © 2009
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