• Visit: Moldy Chum
  • Visit: The Horse's Mouth
  • Visit: Chi Wulff
  • Visit: Parks' Fly Shop
  • Monday, October 31, 2011

    Fising Denied

    Well, Not Too Giant
    three pools made into one
    .. We took our fishing gear into Yellowstone National Park and caught no fish. Instead we took several hours to wander around the thermal features of Biscuit Basin.
    .. A thermal explosion and eruption occurred a couple of days ago and rearranged the topography of the three most visited pools along the boardwalk.
    .. The debris field, scoured outwash area, and boiling muck now clouding Opal Pool give testimony to the forces at work just below the feet of wading fisher folk: or for that matter, any folk in Yellowstone.
    .. Eyewitness reports place the vertical displacement of water at about 70 feet. It was a large single column of water the erupted with a violent explosion and showered debris into the three previously separate pools along the boardwalk.
    .. Boiling water, scalding mud, and boulders the size of watermelons were ejected from the newly expanded vent. The amount of water expelled was sufficient to remove vegetation and some subsurface sand all the way to the Firehole River, about 300 feet away.
    .. Only a few faithful geyser gazers were present for the eruption. Hoards of visitors are now not streaming to the area to view the scene. After all, this is the last week of the "Summer Season." There are very few folks around to enjoy our protracted salubrious weather. So be it.
    .. We're going to make up for not fishin' by going fishing. Golly gee, there's only seven days left.
    Salt & Pepper Spring on the right was filled with debris and is now a pepper & pepper spring.

    Sunday, October 30, 2011


    NOT FOR US !
    Cuban Brown & Algerian Buff
    with a little umber arundinaria
    .. As we enter the last week of fishing in Yellowstone National Park we contemplate the past season and anticipate the next. We celebrate each season's end with a couple of fine bits of Cuban Culture, some personally selected North African Tree Bark, and a bit of oriental grass, (no not that kind.)
    .. Personal traditions are weirdly idiosyncratic and demand no justification. An explanation may suffice.
    .. Nearly 50 years ago we fished the fall runners on the Madison River with a rod that we assembled in our basement, and smoked our first Cuban cigar.
    .. To this day we drag out the old Orvis 8 weight blank that we nailed together with bits and pieces from friends and neighbors.
    .. The grip was assembled from cork scraps that we sent home from a then recent expedition in Algeria. It's been sanded to within an inch of it's useful life and looks it.
    .. We're sentimental enough to fish today with the same flies we did then and, with some of the same old reels and funky lines of the past.
    .. On rare occasion, (not this year,) we put Mr. Young's finest to the test with a well honed bit of silk and horsehair.
    .. It pleases us and we go about our business in a nostalgic fog. We usually catch some fish but interestingly, that seems less and less important as the years go by. . .
    .. If we had some 'Seal Dry' waders we'd put the clammy old rubber to the test. Not too sadly, though, they have gone the way of all flesh rubber.
    .. The neighbors of a certain age humor us. They are kind enough to giggle and chortle behind our backs. Others have less appreciation as they question our choice of rod, line, fly, etc.
    .. Woolly Worm, Scarlet Ibis, Wet March Brown, Wet Royal Coachman, Wickham's Fancy, and many others fail to ring true in the face of contemporary verbiage.
    .. We're yet to be convinced that a 'crinkled-tail, hoary thorax, zipidedon hackled strangler,' is much better for fooling fish than a Dark Spruce Fly or a Gray Ghost. Besides that we've got a dozen or so jungle cock capes to use up before we're done.
    .. The giant fish from Hebgen Lake are late arriving this year - that's the bad news. There seem to be more of them - at least the 20" and smaller ones this year - that's the good news.
    .. We've taken a few and even some fish from other than the Madison River. Not a single fly had synthetic material. Silk thread works just fine, thank you.
    .. The explosion in Biscuit Basin has produced some new thermal features, a bit of murky hot water and combined a couple of hot springs. Maybe we'll fish visit there.
    .. Well, it's cold and overcast is predicted. We're going to drink two pots of coffee, eat fried eggs and potatoes, slather some toast with real butter, and use real cream in the coffee - laced with refined white sugar.
    .. Our sack lunch today includes a white bread sandwich with bacon, bologna, and real mayonnaise. We're putting in two three four double Snickers bars and some pepperoni sticks as well.
    .. We will be getting a rather late start: our appointment with the hair stylist is for 9:30 AM. We need to sell about a half-dozen Whiting capes to generate enough cash for the winter. Should bring between $3,000 and $5,000 if we're lucky.
    .. The key lime pie should be thawed by 10:00 and we'll eat it with spoons made of Nutter Butter cookies. We may even fish some.

    Friday, October 28, 2011

    Get It Done With

    The Kids Are Into It
    we like the witches
    .. Such traditional silliness for an industrial society whose populus believes that food comes from cans and boxes and shopping carts.
    .. Perhaps as old as Roman times, certainly most associated with the Scots and Irish, Hallowe'en thunders across the landscape just as big, (but not yet as commercial,) as Christmas, (give 'em time girls!)
    .. For a welcome change, this year's Hallowe'en will probably be celebrated in our village where the sidewalks and streets are bare of snow and full of real costumes, instead of every little monster dressed up as a sledhead.
    .. Novelty to be sure! Fear not there will be flurries but, last year's knee deep snow will be just a remembrance. The cold will still be with us.
    .. The neighbors, (older farts and such,) are loving the very cold nights and galling the most recent run of fish from Hebgen Lake. Finally the waters from Yellowstone National Park are cold enough and inviting enough to lure the hefty-shouldered Brown Trout from the depths. Rejoice, those of you that are still hanging around. The fish are here, (finally,) in significant numbers and are eagerly biting hooks with all offerings imaginable.
    JIMMY'S OWN - (replica)
    .. In passing we note: "HEY JIMMY, WE LIFTED ONE OF YOUR WORMS,"
    .. Found on the Internet last year, Jimmy has been fishing what he called the "THE DEVIL'S WORM."
    .. It's a creation of BIGGERFISH and we finally purloined one. Jimmy has been outfishing all of us in the dredging department - and now we know why! The original is tied 'red' just like a San Juan Worm. Jimmy has been using orange, (for the season, he says.) This may replace our favorite seasonal fly the Haloween Leech.
    .. For those of you that also enjoy the witches we suggest a click on over to SEXY WITCH. Adults only, please.
    .. Over the years we've bumped into a couple of fisher folk that could both read and did appreceate poetry. In the belief that more than a few of our visitors are of such a mind we offer, below, the complete, (rarely found,) text of Robert Burns' Hallowe'en. 'Tis a bawdy sort of poem, full of magic, mystery, apples, hi jinx, dark barns, mirrors, boisterous goings-on, young girls, young men, old women, bushes, rivers, evening fun, prophecies, and the devil.
    .. Go ahead and "Kindle Coothie," if you choose! You can even "grippet Nelly hard and fast," should you be of such a mind, -- it gets better! You will be rewarded if you make it to the end.


    by Robert Burns
    Upon that night, when fairies light
    On Cassilis Downans dance,
    Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
    On sprightly coursers prance;
    Or for Colean the route is ta'en,
    Beneath the moon's pale beams;
    There, up the cove, to stray and rove,
    Among the rocks and streams
    To sport that night.
    Among the bonny winding banks,
    Where Doon rins, wimplin' clear,
    Where Bruce ance ruled the martial ranks,
    And shook his Carrick spear,
    Some merry, friendly, country-folks,
    Together did convene,
    To burn their nits, and pou their stocks,
    And haud their Hallowe'en
    Fu' blithe that night.
    The lasses feat, and cleanly neat,
    Mair braw than when they're fine;
    Their faces blithe, fu' sweetly kythe,
    Hearts leal, and warm, and kin';
    The lads sae trig, wi' wooer-babs,
    Weel knotted on their garten,
    Some unco blate, and some wi' gabs,
    Gar lasses' hearts gang startin'
    Whiles fast at night.
    Then, first and foremost, through the kail,
    Their stocks maun a' be sought ance;
    They steek their een, and graip and wale,
    For muckle anes and straught anes.
    Poor hav'rel Will fell aff the drift,
    And wander'd through the bow-kail,
    And pou't, for want o' better shift,
    A runt was like a sow-tail,
    Sae bow't that night.
    Then, staught or crooked, yird or nane,
    They roar and cry a' throu'ther;
    The very wee things, todlin', rin,
    Wi' stocks out owre their shouther;
    And gif the custoc's sweet or sour.
    Wi' joctelegs they taste them;
    Syne cozily, aboon the door,
    Wi cannie care, they've placed them
    To lie that night.
    The lasses staw frae 'mang them a'
    To pou their stalks of corn:
    But Rab slips out, and jinks about,
    Behint the muckle thorn:
    He grippet Nelly hard and fast;
    Loud skirl'd a' the lasses;
    But her tap-pickle maist was lost,
    When kitlin' in the fause-house
    Wi' him that night.
    The auld guidwife's well-hoordit nits,
    Are round and round divided,
    And monie lads' and lasses' fates
    Are there that night decided:
    Some kindle coothie, side by side,
    And burn thegither trimly;
    Some start awa, wi' saucy pride,
    And jump out-owre the chimlie
    Fu' high that night.
    Jean slips in twa wi' tentie ee;
    Wha 'twas she wadna tell;
    But this is Jock, and this is me,
    She says in to hersel:
    He bleezed owre her, and she owre him,
    As they wad never mair part;
    Till, fuff! he started up the lum,
    And Jean had e'en a sair heart
    To see't that night.
    Poor Willie, wi' his bow-kail runt,
    Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie;
    And Mallie, nae doubt, took the drunt,
    To be compared to Willie;
    Mall's nit lap out wi' pridefu' fling,
    And her ain fit it brunt it;
    While Willie lap, and swore by jing,
    'Twas just the way he wanted
    To be that night.
    Nell had the fause-house in her min',
    She pits hersel and Rob in;
    In loving bleeze they sweetly join,
    Till white in ase they're sobbin';
    Nell's heart was dancin' at the view,
    She whisper'd Rob to leuk for't:
    Rob, stowlins, prie'd her bonny mou',
    Fu' cozie in the neuk for't,
    Unseen that night.
    But Merran sat behint their backs,
    Her thoughts on Andrew Bell;
    She lea'es them gashin' at their cracks,
    And slips out by hersel:
    She through the yard the nearest taks,
    And to the kiln goes then,
    And darklins graipit for the bauks,
    And in the blue-clue throws then,
    Right fear't that night.
    And aye she win't, and aye she swat,
    I wat she made nae jaukin',
    Till something held within the pat,
    Guid Lord! but she was quakin'!
    But whether 'was the deil himsel,
    Or whether 'twas a bauk-en',
    Or whether it was Andrew Bell,
    She didna wait on talkin'
    To spier that night.
    Wee Jennie to her grannie says,
    "Will ye go wi' me, grannie?
    I'll eat the apple at the glass
    I gat frae Uncle Johnnie:"
    She fuff't her pipe wi' sic a lunt,
    In wrath she was sae vap'rin',
    She notice't na, an aizle brunt
    Her braw new worset apron
    Out through that night.
    "Ye little skelpie-limmer's face!
    I daur you try sic sportin',
    As seek the foul thief ony place,
    For him to spae your fortune.
    Nae doubt but ye may get a sight!
    Great cause ye hae to fear it;
    For mony a ane has gotten a fright,
    And lived and died deleeret
    On sic a night.
    "Ae hairst afore the Sherramoor, --
    I mind't as weel's yestreen,
    I was a gilpey then, I'm sure
    I wasna past fifteen;
    The simmer had been cauld and wat,
    And stuff was unco green;
    And aye a rantin' kirn we gat,
    And just on Halloween
    It fell that night.
    "Our stibble-rig was Rab M'Graen,
    A clever sturdy fallow:
    His son gat Eppie Sim wi' wean,
    That lived in Achmacalla:
    He gat hemp-seed, I mind it weel,
    And he made unco light o't;
    But mony a day was by himsel,
    He was sae sairly frighted
    That very night."
    Then up gat fechtin' Jamie Fleck,
    And he swore by his conscience,
    That he could saw hemp-seed a peck;
    For it was a' but nonsense.
    The auld guidman raught down the pock,
    And out a hanfu' gied him;
    Syne bade him slip frae 'mang the folk,
    Some time when nae ane see'd him,
    And try't that night.
    He marches through amang the stacks,
    Though he was something sturtin;
    The graip he for a harrow taks.
    And haurls it at his curpin;
    And every now and then he says,
    "Hemp-seed, I saw thee,
    And her that is to be my lass,
    Come after me, and draw thee
    As fast this night."
    He whistled up Lord Lennox' march
    To keep his courage cheery;
    Although his hair began to arch,
    He was say fley'd and eerie:
    Till presently he hears a squeak,
    And then a grane and gruntle;
    He by his shouther gae a keek,
    And tumbled wi' a wintle
    Out-owre that night.
    He roar'd a horrid murder-shout,
    In dreadfu' desperation!
    And young and auld came runnin' out
    To hear the sad narration;
    He swore 'twas hilchin Jean M'Craw,
    Or crouchie Merran Humphie,
    Till, stop! she trotted through them
    And wha was it but grumphie
    Asteer that night!
    Meg fain wad to the barn hae gaen,
    To win three wechts o' naething;
    But for to meet the deil her lane,
    She pat but little faith in:
    She gies the herd a pickle nits,
    And two red-cheekit apples,
    To watch, while for the barn she sets,
    In hopes to see Tam Kipples
    That very nicht.
    She turns the key wi cannie thraw,
    And owre the threshold ventures;
    But first on Sawnie gies a ca'
    Syne bauldly in she enters:
    A ratton rattled up the wa',
    And she cried, Lord, preserve her!
    And ran through midden-hole and a',
    And pray'd wi' zeal and fervour,
    Fu' fast that night;
    They hoy't out Will wi' sair advice;
    They hecht him some fine braw ane;
    It chanced the stack he faddom'd thrice
    Was timmer-propt for thrawin';
    He taks a swirlie, auld moss-oak,
    For some black grousome carlin;
    And loot a winze, and drew a stroke,
    Till skin in blypes cam haurlin'
    Aff's nieves that night.
    A wanton widow Leezie was,
    As canty as a kittlin;
    But, och! that night amang the shaws,
    She got a fearfu' settlin'!
    She through the whins, and by the cairn,
    And owre the hill gaed scrievin,
    Whare three lairds' lands met at a burn
    To dip her left sark-sleeve in,
    Was bent that night.
    Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays,
    As through the glen it wimpl't;
    Whyles round a rocky scaur it strays;
    Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't;
    Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays,
    Wi' bickering, dancing dazzle;
    Whyles cookit underneath the braes,
    Below the spreading hazel,
    Unseen that night.
    Among the brackens, on the brae,
    Between her and the moon,
    The deil, or else an outler quey,
    Gat up and gae a croon:
    Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool!
    Near lav'rock-height she jumpit;
    but mist a fit, and in the pool
    Out-owre the lugs she plumpit,
    Wi' a plunge that night.
    In order, on the clean hearth-stane,
    The luggies three are ranged,
    And every time great care is ta'en',
    To see them duly changed:
    Auld Uncle John, wha wedlock joys
    Sin' Mar's year did desire,
    Because he gat the toom dish thrice,
    He heaved them on the fire
    In wrath that night.
    Wi' merry sangs, and friendly cracks,
    I wat they didna weary;
    And unco tales, and funny jokes,
    Their sports were cheap and cheery;
    Till butter'd so'ns, wi' fragrant lunt,
    Set a' their gabs a-steerin';
    Syne, wi' a social glass o' strunt,
    They parted aff careerin'
    Fu' blythe that night.
    up, UP, AND AWAY

    Wednesday, October 26, 2011

    Abandoned Run


    Monday, October 24, 2011

    Bridge To Safety

    Delays Getting Longer
    bridge beams in place

    .. The new bridge and road alignment at Grayling Creek near the Yellowstone National Park Line is finally looking like a bridge.
    .. We've not mentioned it much because it's only been a minor nuisance. After all, if you intend to fish the Gallatin River and it's tributaries then it's just another snag.
    .. We also have trouble with the description of the problems being fixed: Both ascending and descending curves with diminishing radii of off-camber gradients. It means that one of the worst section of road in the state will now be a lot safer; especially in winter.
    .. We endured the wait twice this last weekend and were rewarded with some fine and solitary fishing in our surprisingly gentle Autumn weather.
    .. Report to follow.

    Saturday, October 22, 2011

    Word Of Mouth

    Madison & Firehole Hot
    follow the cars to fish heaven
    .. The jungle telegraph is a wonderful thing. Whispers in the aisles of feather merchants are amplified by the retelling in the grocery store, post office, hardware store, and bank. They become open conversation in a matter of minutes. Texting is double-thumbed through the village and soon it's common knowledge that everyone should head to the river.
    .. Within an hour excuses are made and an exodus of fisher folk are streaming to the appointed place. It's a social event and - fish be damned - everyone gets to the hot spot.
    .. Usually the fish are gone, or the hatch is over, or visitors from elsewhere are there first. It matters not. The word has spread and the hot spots stay that way in current mythology for days or even weeks.
    .. We appreciate this wonderful social mechanism. It sends people away from the waters that we like to fish. It's a boon to iconoclastic anglers, hermits, grumpy old farts, and our self.
    .. Right now, as the hoards are flocking to the famous rivers we are leisurely fishing on the Gallatin River and a couple of it's tributaries. These waters have been abandoned and ignored by the most sage of jungle telegraphers.
    .. The Gallatin River waters are forgotten and touted as "too cold," "done for the season," "not worth the effort," and other, wise insights. So we catch some fish, talk to the trees, sing to the bears, scare the elk, and leave the cell phone at home. We're pleased.

    Wednesday, October 19, 2011

    They'll Not Like This

    44°46'23.30" N
    111° 07'32.65" W

    .. Absolutely unmolested submarines that are willing to take a surface offering: preferably a mouse at dusk. Don't tell!

    Tuesday, October 18, 2011

    Monday, October 17, 2011

    Here & There

    All The Pretty Fishes
    anglers getting it done
    .. With just a couple of weeks left before the park closes, anglers are rediscovering just how good the catching can be.
    .. The Firehole River is still producing a small caddis hatch on the rare bright sunny evenings after the thunder snows. Most afternoons and evenings there are prolific flights of Baetids. All offerings, from realistic imitations to soft hackles are taking fish with ease.
    .. The elbow quotient is down a little bit from previous years at this time and general park visitation is a little slow as well. This makes travel and parking in Yellowstone National Park almost pleasant.
    .. The Brookie Playground of the Way-Up Firehole River is seeing some increased activity of both the catching and fishing variety. It's less abandoned than usual for late Autumn.
    .. The willow morass of Cougar Creek at the park line and at it's confluence with Duck Creek is getting some pressure from guided visitors. Attractors of various small varieties are the frequent choice - including emergers and floating nymphs.
    .. Despite the absolute disappearance of all fish from Nez Perce Creek there continue to be reports and cell phone pictures of the fish being taken there.
    ..The Madison River is seeing two groups of headhunters: standard and informed varieties are visiting in equal numbers. "FISH THE SPLIT," has become the watchword of highly successful catchers on the river.
    .. Where islands, gravel bars, and dense weed beds split the river into two or more streams the enlightened head hunter seeks the submarines in the most gentle flow. Reasoning seems to be that the out of the way places are good for resting after a migration of a dozen miles or so. Seems to produce.
    .. Yesterdays snow melted even before most of it reached the ground. Pity! We're off to enjoy some creative parking and post rut elk shenanigans.
    .. More coming soon.


    Saturday, October 15, 2011

    Lowland Madison Visit

    Fewer Fishers - More Fish
    lots of choices
    .. With a kind and generous neighbor at the oars we were treated to a rare visit to the 100-mile riffle. There was a hole in the clouds so the day was warmer and more gentle than many a blustery one in June.
    .. Bugs were plentiful in the air and we could've imitated any of several Caddis Flies, Itty Bitty Baetis', Crane Flies, Horse Flies, or other winged denizens.
    .. The visiting head hunters strip streamers looking to dance with an exuberant piscine partner.
    .. After much mulling and cogitating we produced the ideal rig: a size 14 Parachute Adams. The easy way out of the technical fishing trap set by the local experts and sage minds of the lowlands.
    .. Healthy Rainbow Trout and Brown Trout were a bit recalcitrant in the sunshine, but we had some dance partners. The streamers were a bust but not the pretty little Parachute Adams - go figure.
    .. Breaking away from our personal predilections for finding fish: a nymph was on the end of the line for only about 1/2 hour.
    .. It's nice to have indulgent neighbors with keen eyesight that can tie a competent knot.
    .. We fished merrily along leaving a trail of flies stuck in snags, sweepers, boulders, cobbles, willows, and baseball caps, (oops -- sorry 'bout that.)
    ..The freezing drizzle in the high country is muting the vibrant colors of Fall. Not so along the lowland Madison River: it's still way too green and gold for the middle of October. We'll take it.
    .. We're "re-Rigging" and getting ready for a bit of snow and rain and sleet and hail. It's off to Yellowstone National Park in the morning. Back to bluster.

    Friday, October 14, 2011

    The Lineup

    It's Like The Mambo
    but without the gyrating
    .. There are Baetids on the Firehole River, they are on the Madison River, (upland & lowland,) they are on Duck Creek, they are on Cougar Creek, they are even on the Gallatin River and the Gibbon River. There are hungry fish everywhere.
    .. The sage advice on Baetid imitations from the neighbors catching fish : "flies as big as you can get away with." That suits us just fine. We're going to start with a size 16 and work down.
    .. The experts have exterminated all the fish on Nez Perce Creek, Iron Spring Creek, and the Little Firehole River: "all done for the season," they proclaim.
    .. Spread the word far and wide, make sure that everyone knows about it: we are, on the other hand, going to visit the disappearing and exterminated fish of Yellowstone Park. We'll let you know if they like the rain and snow.


    Thursday, October 13, 2011

    Even Here !

    We're Not Too Surprised
    .. And so it goes!! The perfect hackle for our favorite Halloween Leech appeared before our eyes; - on the street, - in our neighborhood, (omygawd!)
    .. Rather than wrestling the yourng child to the ground and pulling her hair out by the roots, we asked for a photo. She complied, (thanks Sandy.)
    .. She also promised that we could have it when she was done with it, Thanks again.

    Wednesday, October 12, 2011



    Tuesday, October 11, 2011

    The Weather Watch

    Some It Doesn't
    it's always something
    .. We're having the kind of weather that you can read about in the guide books and travel brochures: variable!
    .. This is the time of year we can have all four seasons' weather in a single day. It might be said that it's usual to have that kind of weather. Visitors comment on it. We've grown accustomed to it.
    .. This is a condition that makes for interesting fishing strategy. What will be on and in the water when we get there? The neighborhood response: bring the kitchen sink.
    .. For instance, it's only 18.35 miles from the big meadows on the Gibbon River to Biscuit Basin on the Firehole River, (in a straight line.)  By road, it's right at 31 miles. There can be thunder snows at one locality and Spring-like warm sunshine at the other at the exact same time.
    .. This situation can affect many elements of our pastime. Dark water, bright water, dark fly, light fly, bug-A hatching or bug-B hatching, long shadow, no shadow, four layers, no layers, hot coffee, Mountain Dew, etc.
    .. This time of year some neighbors just tie on a soft hackle and "make-do." of course they are the ones that catch the most fish no matter what.
    .. We can only observe that the personal vehicle makes a wonderful tackle locker.
    Caddis Afternoon

    Sunday, October 09, 2011


    Many Miles To Go
    maybe another trip or two this year ?
    Click on image for large view.
    .. This fine old warrior was completed from a Ray's River Dories kit in May of 1995. It's been a guide's boat ever since and is a one owner craft.
    .. Of course it was a community project. Friends pitched in with expertise and honest labor. Many a cold one was enjoyed after the labors of the day. Stories abound and are frequently recalled in the neighborhood. Remember when . . . ?
    .. The outfitter that owns the boat remembers the first client, in this boat, during the second week in May of 1995 on the Big Horn River. It was just a month before his son was born.
    .. Rough calculations place the river miles at about 40,000. That's not counting trailer miles or leisure trips with colleagues and friends and neighbors. It doesn't count lake time either. Most of those miles have been on the Madison River.
    .. Like all the beloved accoutrements of any pleasurable pastime the memories pile up. Rods, reels, vests, waders, etc. have remembered stories. Occasions of warmth, occasions of despair, occasions of just plain exhilaration. So too this old boat.
    .. It's a rare thing for a guide / outfitter to keep a boat for 15 years - and more. The boats are tools, they get used hard and must stand up to the rigors of every thing that can be thrown at them: from heavy coolers, to portly first-timers, to hidden rocks this little stallion has seen it all.
    .. We wonder how many times the little craft has heard, "STAY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BOAT!"
    .. Only those that know, covet this rig. It's been continuously upgraded and maintained. It's heavy enough for big water and nimble enough for anything that can be thrown at it. If you can drive a boat this is the one for you. BUT - it's not for sale yet.