As night fell on Loutsville and engraved whisky glasses rang hollow-but-well-used, you could hear the far-away cries of the Whip-poor-will, warbling its woeful song amidst some dusky Frangipani…

At night’s end, was there a dry eye to be found? (No Brian, that’s “eye,” not “fly”.) I think all would agree that the quiet comforts of a well-made fire, a few boon and fish-fragrant companions, a flagon of sturdy malt to beat back the evening chill, the pleasingly obvious arc of an oft-told joke, and one of those decent bow-ties that doesn’t require much knowledge of knots, yes, those are the very essence of masculine amusement! Hooray! Here’s to 2009!

As in the previous post in this series, no excess is too much on Turkey Night, and the gents turned out in their best campfire attire. Tell me truly, fellas… Has the Group Sing-a-long ever sounded better?

More to follow!

The Louts went fishing again during Bug Week 2008 and definitely raised the bar a notch or two in the hospitality department.

More to follow!

On a rainy, frustrating day that crushed spirits all up and down the river, my boat buddy Glenn Kamp conjured up a rarity: this 20″ Delaware River tarpon. It tail-danced like a rainbow, tossed its big, bullet-head like an alpha-male brown trout with ‘roid rage, and generally resisted capture for as long as the wily pescador would indulge it.

Eventually, Glenn boated that bad boy and I had a sudden flashback to 1948 and Guyaberra, Cuba, on a morning me and Old Hemm were knocking back rum jumbies and talking horses when a big, dark critter torpedoed up just off the playa. It snapped Hemm right off at the outrigger and then turned on my kona-head like a slashing, water-borne she-devil in heat. As I fought back my breakfast and bent into the rod, Hemm’s little Maccaca striker mate danced around the gunnels, pointing and screaming “Tar-poon! Tar-poon!” in that sing-song accent the boys all affect when you’ve got a fish-on and they know you’re the Paying Customer.

Hemm never paid, the bastard.

No wait. Maybe I read that somewhere. Anyway, Glenn’s as good in a boat as the old man ever was.

I hope and pray for all of you Louts that some day you all enjoy a “Magic Hour” like I did on the last day of the ‘08 Lout trip. It was Saturday afternoon and I was fishing the far bank of the West Branch, downstream of the WBA. Bert was there and witnessed part of the hour. (It is always good to have a witness.)

Anyway, I observed a disturbance just off the far bank that was the type of rise we all love- those that are subtle yet move water, sure signs of a big fish. I had on a 5x tippet, a size 14, my one and only, hendricksen dunn, emerger that had a pink body and a split tail with light brown dubbing, upright. That is the best decription I can give, I hope it makes sense. (I will find and bring a supply next year.) On the second cast the fish, a nice rainbow, took the fly with great confidence, not splashy, but inhaled it and dropped back down into the water column. With a lift of the rod the fight was on. I landed that fish, had a fellow fisherman take a photograph and yelled up to Bert who acknowledged the catch.

Now is when it gets a little magic. Less than 5 minutes later I observed the same type of rise 10 feet downstream in some slightly faster water. Same fly, same cast, same result, another fine rainbow, picture #3.

Fifteen minutes later, now 20-25 feet back upstream, (we had the entire area to ourselves) same rise, cast and result except the fish was a lovely brown, picture #2. And this routine was repeated downstream again, except this time the rainbow was the largest, a few inches bigger than the previous biggest. Except no picture because this dumb-ass let the fish flop out of my hands and swim away. Finally, the same scenerio was repeated one more time for good measure but as soon as the last fish inhaled the fly, on the 5x, that I had not dared to re-tie or even touch, it took off for parts unknown, taking my fly.

So there you have it, 5 West Branch fish in the same stretch of water, on the same fly, landing 4 with a good hook-up on the fifth, all in less than 75 magic minutes. This “hour” more than made up for the rest of the trip when I caught only two other fish- a 19 1/2 bow during the float and one nice brown the evening before the float,(#1). So I hope that every Lout experiences an hour like this some day on the WB and hope that I enjoy a few more of these myself over the next 30 years of retirement!

Another year has come and gone. This year’s Lout Fest was our highest attended to date with an unprecedented 16 Louts including some newbies. Returning from a one-year hiatus were Simpson, Staid and Doherty. Lots of laughs were had by all and we actually finished the trip with some un-opened bottles (a topic of discussion for another day perhaps?).

Fishing, as it always is, was tough. Damned near impossible on float day. I was shown the skunk’s backside that day for my first ever zero on a float. Saturday, however, was my redemption. Wearing my finest new bowtie, I was able to stick and land some very nice fish. Perhaps the highlight for yours truly was a cold martini - shaken, not stirred - a few seconds after releasing a nice fish (caught on what else other than a rusty spinner) while standing waist deep in the big pool behind the cabins. Many thanks, Doc! You’re out of control with that 2 piece stemware!!!

Here’s the 2008 Louts (Simpson and Doherty represented with smiley plates)

Martini anyone?

Saturday’s payback