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#serious angler podcast
fishshots · 3 years
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I’ve waited a long time to tell my story in words, rather than photos. My brain just couldn't keep up with my mouth. I’d say something, it would trigger another memory and well, just like this text, I’d get off track and have to bring it all back around. 
Thank you so much to Bailey Eigbrett and Andrew Full for giving me this oppertunity. Be sure to check out their hustles. 
Bailey has started a content creation/management service for those in the fishing industry, https://www.seriousanglermedia.com/ & Andrew just received his captains license and will be guiding in and around the Buffalo, Ny area! Find him on instagram @fullfishingguideservice and book a trip!
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megadavestewart · 3 years
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WFS 186 - Reds Fly Shop with Joe Rotter  — Blue Winged Olive Mayfly Hatch, Yakima River
Show Notes: https://wetflyswing.com/186
Sponsors: Stonefly Nets: http://wetflyswing.com/stonefly
Anglers Coffee: https://anglerscoffee.com/
I sat down with Joe Rotter from Reds Fly Shop to dig into some tips on fishing the mayfly hatch with a focus on the blue-winged olive.  Joe has a serious passion for teaching and breaks down his good stuff today. 
We find out what technical dry fly fishing is all about on the Yakima River.  Joe is a wealth of knowledge and shares his best tips on dry fly fishing.  We find out what gear you need and what makes a great dry fly fisherman.
Reds Fly Shop Show Notes with Joe Rotter
- The Mend is the podcast that Joe puts together for Red's is another great resource online.
- The shadow cast in a River Runs Through It is one of the most impactful scenes in the movie. I interviewed the right-hand man for the movie here.
- I noted the couple of entomologists I've had on.  Rick Hafele was on the podcast in episode 37 and shared a general rundown on aquatic entomology.
Peter Sticher from Ascent Fly Fishing was on the show in episode 51 and shared some killer tips on matching the hatch.
- The Sage Foundation is a great dry fly rod for $325 to $350.  You can find the Sage Foundation here from our podcast sponsor, the Gorge Fly Shop.
(If you purchase through this link from the Gorge, this podcast gets a small commission at no extra cost to you).
- The Redington zero and the Scientific Anglers amplitude smooth are two great choices for mid range gear for the reel and the fly line respectively.
- Lune aquel or loon lochsa are both great dry fly floatants to use.
- Antonio Gonzales has some comp flies that are killer.
- I noted the Tom Rowland podcast and the lack of balance as a guide.  Tom was on our podcast and I was a guest on Tom's show.
- The Gary Borger book on presentation is Joe's most recommended resource and Gary was on the podcast here.
You can find joe at RedsFlyShop.com
Reds Fly Shop Conclusion with Joe Rotter
Joe Rotter brings his A game today as we dig into dry fly fishing with a focus on mayflies on the Yakima River in Washington.  Find out why a lighter 3 weight rod is the goto stick for most dry fly fishing.
We also find out why its important to put on a new tapered leader at the start of each trip you are on.  Joe also breaks down the top gear and brands to get you started for a mid range setup.
Show Notes: https://wetflyswing.com/186
Sponsors: Stonefly Nets: http://wetflyswing.com/stonefly
Anglers Coffee: https://anglerscoffee.com/
Check out this episode!
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Serious Angler Podcast: Episode #55 LOCK HOLMES | Swimbaits & Steelhead In today's podcast, I host Lock Holmes of New York. We talked about High School Bass Fishing, College Bass Fishing, Swimbaits and Steelhead! Enjoy! source
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thelostcatpodcast · 4 years
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THE LOST CAT PODCAST TRANSCRIPTS: SEASON 2: EPISODE 1: THE LOST CAT
THE LOST CAT PODCAST TRANSCRIPTS: SEASON 2: EPISODE 1: THE LOST CAT 
Episode released: 25th September 2016
http://thelostcat.libsyn.com/season-2-episode-1-the-lost-cat
I woke up, groggy in the half light that passed for mornings round here beneath the Dark Cloud and decided today to get up. And there, curled up in the dent in the couch where I always sit, was my cat. Sleeping. My cat. Right There. On my couch.  Sleeping.
I said 'oh come on'.
THE LOST CAT PODCAST SERIES 2 BY A P CLARKE EPISODE 1 THE LOST CAT
They say you can only recognise happiness in hindsight, they say that you are far too busy living in the moment to take stock of how you are living, and it is only in the quiet moments afterwards that you can pay attention to such things. I like the quiet moments, and try to stay in them as much as I can. Does this mean I am not living?
Another thing they say: They say you do not know what you’ve got till it’s gone. Well, what happens when it comes back?
For there he was, sleeping on the couch: Like he had done for years, like he had never been away, like he had just come back from a night of chasing foxes. Just lying there sleeping on my couch, just like my cat does.
Looking at my cat on my couch gave me a sudden sense of dislocation, like looking over the side of a building. I expected the cat to disappear. I expected it to explode. I expected it to be a lure as like the light on an angler fish.
But: it was my cat, sleeping on my couch. I watched its fur move up and down as it breathed. I watched the little tic it had in its shoulder, as if dreaming.
I had searched for him for so long, I had gone through so much and lost so many things, just to try and find him, and now he was here, back, sleeping on my couch.
I slowly approached it. I stood above it, and that felt weird so I crouched down and ever so slowly reached out my hand to touch it.
My hand was two inches from its head when the cat woke up slowly twisted its head round, its inner lids opening slowly as it focused on me.
There was the tear in one ear, there were the angry markings of its forehead, there the green eyes. My cat, whom I had not seen in endless months. It slowly lifted its head towards my hand. It sniffed at the ends of my fingers.
Then it turned back, put its head down and went to sleep again.
I remained, crouching by my couch with my hand out to a sleeping animal.
This was my cat.
I said: “Oh come on.”
I watched it for some time, not being able to decide what to do.
I went into the kitchen and put some food in its bowl. I hoped it wasn't stale.
I came back and my movement had at last woken it. It raised up to begin its slow stretching process shivering down its spine as it always does but... this time it just stood up, and started walking towards the hall.
I stood out of its way.
It walked with its tail curved up like a scythe. It moved the tail about in jittery motions. I am not sure it knew it even had a tail before. It would flop about behind him like an afterthought, reacting only through instinct.
As it passed it meowed at me. A mono-tonal drone that only curled down at the end.
It always used to whine, you see.
It walked into the hall and padded off towards the kitchen.
I was following it a few steps back when Maupin came out of her room, scratching at her thigh through her pyjamas.
“Mate,” she said.
“Hey Maups,” I began.
She said “that's your cat.”
I said “yes, it is.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
She said “no?”
“He's different.”
She gave me a look then, we both watched him walk across the floor into the kitchen.
“OK then,” Maupin said “Let's take a better look.”
Maups poured some milk into a saucer and then put it on the table, to lure the cat up.
The cat did not move.
The cat looked up at Maupin and Maupin looked at the cat and they both looked at each other without blinking for a moment
Maups sighed and picked up the cat and put it on the table.
“Mate,” she said to the cat.
The cat went over and started lapping at the milk.
We sat down on either side of the table and watched the cat.
“Well, that’s your cat back,” she said. “So: now what do you want?”
And I found not immediately have an answer.
So she said, “OK, so what you want to do you is have a party. To celebrate finding the cat. Alright? To have some fun.”
“I...”I began. I was about to say that I wasn’t sure I really liked parties when Dom rushed in.
“Mate,” he said. He looked ragged and exhausted. He was still out of breath.
Maupin said “Mate, you alright?”
Dom began explaining: “I was coming back from the Tower and I turned a corner when hey is that your cat?”
“I think so,” I said.
“Mate! That's your cat! You should have a party, right?”
“What happened by the Tower?” Maupin sounded suddenly serious
“Street Eater.”
Maups banged on her wall. “Bojana! Mate!” She turned back to Dom. “Where exactly near the tower?”
And Dom said “hey come on Maups, he just got his cat back.”
“I am done with his cat!” said Maupin “Where by the tower?”
“West side! I just turned a corner and nearly got sucked in. Moving east! Towards The Old Green Pub!”
Maupin exclaimed, “I like that pub!”
Dom agreed, “me too!”
“Why are we arguing?”
“I don’t know!”
These are my friends. I love them.
Bojana came in, brushing her hair.
“Wot do you want Maupin, oh hey your cat!”
I said, “yeah.”
And Bojana said, “so you’ll be having a party then, right?”
“I...maybe?” I said
“You found your cat,” Bojana said. “Be happy. Or I will kill you.”
“I...” I began.
“Shut up,” said Bojana.
“OK,” I said.
“Settled!” said Dom.
And that was that.
These are my friends, and I love them all.
By then the cat had finished its milk.
And Maupin was already gone.
And Dom said, “so, do we know where there Offie is today?”
You see:
Right: The offies all move around. We never know where they could be at any given moment. These days, An offie could never be in the same place for any length of time.
It is argued that they move around out of fear of being caught by those that are chasing them. Some argue that they move out of fear of never finding that which they are looking for. I find it hard to ascribe human motivations to shops, but then I sometime find it hard to ascribe it to many people I know, so I shall stay quiet on this. But they began moving a few years ago, and the speed has been increasing. I have noticed that other shops have begun moving too. The neighbourhoods are becoming a blur.
But do not worry. There are ways.
We went light and headed towards the high street – as good a place as any to start. We walked out beneath the Dark Cloud that spread across the entirety of the sky as always. It was low that day, low enough for the tallest buildings to write lines in to it.
I looked up and said: “Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to leave the house today.”
“Shut up,” said Dom.
And I must admit, teh Dark Cloud quieter than it had been in a long time, almost peaceful. We started our search.
A shambling figure was walking our way. He crossed the road towards us. He was waving his arms about and shouting.
It was something like 'ROO ROOO SHALLA BAR RAMPAROH'
I don't know what song it was, but it didn't matter. We sang along. Bojana sang long notes and Dom did a beat and I tried to mirror what the man was singing.
We sang along as best we could. Whatever song it had been, the man was singing it the best he could from whatever he remembered from the last time he heard it. I doubt he had heard it outside of his head for a very long time.
And so he sang it himself. He must have liked it a lot.
As we passed and he could hear us singing he smiled and started hopping a bent-knee hop as he walked.
And we too began walking to the beat in our heads.
It makes all the difference.
And in this way we entered the high street singing, and dancing
The High Street is often full of dancing.
And isn't that great? I think that's great.
He's a nice guy too, if you stop to talk to him. And on Dead Wednesdays I sometimes would. He would say things like:
“Magic is real, once you accept that reality is not.”
Which is a bit of a corker.
And:
“We are all falling as from a cliff. There are jagged rocks below us. And we will hit them. The question becomes: what do we do? Some spend all their time trying to find a branch to cling to. Some close their eyes and pretend the rocks are not there. Some scream and flail. Others strive to remain calm. Some try to fly. But we all hit the rocks in the end. All of us, no matter what we do. So these things we do become how we have spent the time that we have.”
“And what would you do?” I asked.
“Learn to enjoy falling.”
And I would begin to laugh
And he would laugh too.
There wasn't much small talk with him. I guess he didn't see the point. Not when there was singing to be done.
I try to sing more often.
We checked the Dark Cloud, but it still seemed fairly calm. We started searching the High Street.
Now: Next to a fairly average kebab shop was a boarded up bakery. But the pattern of chimneys and extensions was all wrong for a building used for cooking.
Ah! I should you see:
Onto the utterly uniform, boxy substructures of metal girders that made up all the buildings in this area, there had been endless additions and changes built up over the years, such that every building was utterly different. You could tell by what had been added what the building had been used for, by what materials used you could tell exactly where you were in the city, you could even tell who had lived there during the building's life by some of the more idiosyncratic aesthetic choices of our local population.
It was a clear sign that a change had taken place. Research had told us that it was not simple substitution, and that there was no point searching the locations of known bakeries. Better to search for evidence of the kebab shop.
We were in luck as this was the only kebab shop that still wrapped its products in plain paper, instead of the branded bags of those emporiums seeking a classier image. We had our first clue...
Just then singing stopped and the energy of the High Street changed. I mean, you could feel it.
Said Dom, “watch it, mate, we got a Cinder.”
I immediately stepped to the side of the street. Standing behind a statue that had appeared recently.
A screaming man, on fire from head to toe ran towards us at full pelt. I could feel the heat as he drew near. This was a Cinder.
Oh yes, I should explain Cinders: Well, OK, their actual name they give themselves is the Ignizoi, which literally translates as ‘fire of life’. You learn to avoid the Ignizoi.
Again: They’re on fire.
The point of them, from what I know, is: as a protest against the wasting of life, they set light to their lives, and so are forced to not waste a second getting down only to what they truly need to. I have tried to understand them, from time to time, but it is not easy.
You learn to avoid the Ignizoi. Do not get in their way. They have things they need to do, and they are on fire. If you stop them, if you even accidentally interrupt them, even for a moment, they will destroy you. The blackened marks along the streets tell their story. There are many stories of the things the Ignizoi have done in this city.
About the only thing I have learnt is that the name is a deliberate muddle of Latinate and Greek word fragments and I have decided that the fact that this really annoys the more pedantic of the Ignizoi Scholars proves that somewhere deep down the Cinders have retained a sense of humour.
I think they called themselves the Ignizoi as a way to tell us not to sweat the little stuff. I've no idea if this is true, but I kind of like that.
But mostly they just come over as deeply obnoxious, running about on their life's work, and having no time for the rest of us.
We have no idea what they want, or what they are trying to do. That would involve stopping and telling us, and that would just be a waste of time, you see. You don't see them often down the pub, is what i'm saying. Mostly what they do is they run down the street, on fire, screaming.
Good luck to em, I say. We get out of their way.
This one, as he approached, suddenly swung his head in my direction. He recoiled and his flames turned a vicious purple. He ran out into the road and onto the other side of the street, with people diving out of their way as best they could.
‘What the hell was that?’ I thought.
“Mate,” said Dom. “What makes you special?”
Others on the street were looking at me. It was awkward. And then this Cinder ran off to do whatever they felt was most important to do, the street got back to normal, and we carried on looking for an offie.
And, four streets down, where the rubbish was all red and blue plastic bags, there was the greasy discarded paper with cabbage stuck to it of a distinctly average kebab shop. Someone had bought a kebab, popped in to the offie and exited in the offie's new location. Checking the floor for the trail of discarded cabbage we could trace back the journey of the person tucking in as they walked home.
We did so!
And there! The chink of two bottles in a bag! We were close!
Now it was the case of keying in to the signals the Offie emitted. We don't really have the language for this sort of thing yet but you know how birds can sense which way to go on their migrations over thousands of miles, Well this was like the sudden sense of familiarity of rounding the corner to see your childhood street, it was like that sense of gravity taking hold as you pass the apex of a roller-coaster, or of finding the clear fast current in the sea of slow water, of navigating by warmth in a pitch black room. You just know, right?
And, two roads further down, there it was.
There was the offie, dark and full, full of the gentle clinking of bottles on loose shelves and full of the squeak of cans stacked up too high and too deep.
We went in.
“Nice road,” I said.
“I don't know what you mean, sir.”
“Certainly,” I replied. “What have you got in?”
“A new shipment, actually, might be a bit strong. Not to everyone's taste. I say sir, Would you like a sample?”
“Why yes, yes I would.”
“I think I'll join you.” said the proprietor.
And, with that, like letting out some of the cooled water of a long bath so you can can turn the hot tap back on, we had a glass of wine.
<music starts: ‘Bottle Of Wine’, written & performed by A P Clarke>
BOTTLE OF WINE
My time and a bottle of wine, they’re mine to do with as I please
Oh sir, don’t play the chider.
My time and a bottle of wine, they’re mine to do with as I please
Don’t get me wrong sir, I’ll share a glass with you
As we get older, less time for running now
Who’ll look back fonder, now that the running’s done?
My time and a bottle of wine: join me or go in peace
One bottle, two glasses, three cheers, for all
And all good things will come and come in time, and wine
Leave off your tricks and ploys, and all your endless noise
run your race or take a place: your choice
Run your run or stay a while, but for god’s sake stop your moaning now
Some time and some time all will come in time.
My time and a bottle of wine, they’re mine to do with as I please
Oh sir, don’t play the chider
My time and a bottle of wine: join me or go in peace
The Dark Cloud hung calm and orange in the late afternoon, sending enough light to cast the shadows of motes across the room. It was surprisingly pleasant. It was entirely quiet, and peaceful, without even a breeze.
“Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to leave the house, after all,” I said.
“Mate,” said Bojana.
We set out to leave, with our bottles safely stored.
Outside the offie we did not immediately recognise the neighbourhood. The offie must have moved while we were inside.
“Where are we again?” I asked.
Dom walked out into the middle of the road. “There's the towers, so we must be on...oh god...the West Side.”
We looked around and realised how quiet it was. The street was entirely deserted. And then we heard it – the stretching metal sound of cars being subsumed.
It was the Street Eater.
The massive oozing body of the creature spread over the entire street, filling it from gutter to roof,  and blocked off all passage. The cars and trees and telephone polls broke its skin as it advanced, letting the inexorable goo within to seep out and envelop them all before a new skin congealed about them once more to seal them in forever.
And we were directly in front of it.
“Run!”
We ran! What else was there to do? We have all heard stories, stories of bodies floating still visible inside the mass. Some say you can still see them move.
We ran, as if we could outrun the tide. We ran.
And then, on a roof high off to our left a masked figure was running along parallel to us, leaping from guttering to guttering. She slipped a harness over a telephone line and then slid down along it, her cloth mask whipping about in the wind. The line took her directly across the path of the monster and she dropped thin sealed jars as she did so. The jars cracked on the tarmac and exploded out into clouds of thick smoke that caused the monster's skin to blacken and thicken as it touched. The goo inside recoiled from the smoke and you could see currents swirling bikes around behind the hardening shell as the monster tried to re-orient. Away from this toxic cloud.
Momentum carried it forwards still though. Towards us.
The figure, up on the other side of the street now, cracked open a fire escape and beckoned us to climb up.
She said cheerily “Come on now, friends, this way!”
So: we climbed.
The slowing skin split upon the bottom of the ladder just as we reached the top.
We stood upon the roof and looked down at the ruined street and the immense body that filled it.
But the masked figure was nowhere to be seen.
And then a massive explosion rocked our row of houses, and one building about 20 doors down from us disappeared entirely, right at the centre of the Street Eater, opening a gap into a cul de sac and a large area of garden beyond. You could see all the bikes and benches and more swirl around inside the street eater as it left its ruined front behind and began oozing into this new opening.
Slowly, achingly slowly, the forward movement of the monster stopped, with its skin encasing the fire escape beneath us. And there it stayed – its hardened, blackened skin now an unmoving carapace, marking the exact spot where its tide turned.
“Oh that's smart that is,” said Dom. “That place'll keep it busy for months.”
“Yeah,” said Bojana. “Pretty damn cool.”
“So who the hell was that?” I asked.
Bojana creased her forehead. “I...” she said before checking herself. She looked at me funny, and then said “Who is to say?”
“Come on, you doofus, we have a party to go to,” said Dom. “Let's get back.”
I looked at the ladder, enveloped up to perhaps a metre beneath us by the monster. “Perhaps,” I said. “We should we find another way down?”
We got home without incident after that. The light was gently reddening and Maupin was there with  glasses and said, “come on, what kept you? Up to the roof! It is starting!”
I remembered to check my phone just then, and found that someone had been leaving dozens of messages. Someone who had blocked their number. So I closed it up and put it away – As Maupin said: I had a party to go to!
Danny and Czinskas were there and Bobbles and Krissie & Bulo. Everyone.
And we sat on the roof as the sun finally left the sky, leaving the Dark Cloud only lit by the zooming, swooping lights that moved about above it.
And my cat joined us, rubbing up against our legs and purring, before jumping up on the small table we put up there and started watching the lights too.
He never used to do this. Not at all.
They were like shooting stars, those lights, or fireworks, or shadows made by candlelight. They lit our party on the roof. Everyone was there. And, far to the west, just after midnight, a light brighter than any other lit up the Dark Cloud and broke through falling down slowly in to the forests behind the houses, turning the city for a brief moment to silhouette.
My phone beeped with new messages throughout the night and I ignored it. We finished all the wine and it was very late by then. A few crashed on our couches while the rest went back to their homes in a group for safety.
I returned to my room. I breathed out, for it was quiet at last, now that my friends were all gone. I love them I do I love them all but I get exhausted too. It was a really great night. And now I was alone, I could let the tension out and I let out an involuntary laugh. I smiled so wide I showed my teeth. I caught myself crying. It was good.
What I did not know then was that this was the last time we would all be together again and that, looking back, this is what happiness was.
But right then, I had my lost cat back with me, able to share in the quiet moments and I looked down at the couch and the cat was sleeping in the dent in the cushions where I always sit.
Everything was back to normal.
Then it lifted its head, and stared straight at me, its breathing fast and deep. With its tail bolt straight out behind it, It bent its neck back, and then it's spine back until it was almost bent-back over double. It had its lips peeled open and mouth wide but was not making any noise at all
Every muscle in its body was so tense it vibrated.
What was making him do this? Something was not right.
I said: “oh come on.”
THIS HAS BEEN A EPISODE 1 OF THE LOST CAT PODCAST SEASON 2, WRITTEN AND PERFORMED BY A P CLARKE. COPYRIGHT 2016.
THANK YOU FOR LISTENING.
Links
https://apclarke.bandcamp.com/album/the-lost-cat-podcast
thelostcat.libsyn.com
twitter.com/LostCatPod
thelostcatpodcast.tumblr.com
facebook.com/lostcatpodcast
soundcloud.com/a-p-clarke/sets/the-lost-cat-podcast
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Serious Angler Podcast: Episode #46 TYLER STEWART | FLW Pro Circuit Angler In today's podcast, I host Tyler Stewart of the FLW Pro Circuit. This guy has a CRAZY story! It was a blast to have him on and can't wait to have him on in the ... source
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Serious Angler Podcast: Episode #29 DWAINE BATEY | Skirmish Baits & Kayak Bass Fishing On today's podcast we hosted Dwaine Batey, Kayak Bass Fishing angler and creator of Skirmish Baits. See what he has to say! Dwaine's Instagram: ... source
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Serious Angler Podcast: Episode #61 ERIC SIDDIQI | Kayak Bass Fishing & Kayak Tournament Fishing
In today’s podcast, I have on Eric Siddiqi. One of the nation’s most reputable kayak bass fishing tournament anglers. We talked about kayak bass fishing, Hobie Worlds and tournament fishing. Enjoy!
Eric’s Instagram: Eric’s YouTube:
Thanks for watching! Comment, Like, SUBSCRIBE!
Follow along on Serious Angler social media: Instagram: seriousangler Facebook: Serious Angler Anchor, Spotify, Apple, &…
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Serious Angler Podcast: Episode #57 STEVE MUI | Bassmaster Opens Pro & Bass Behavior
In today’s podcast, I have on Steve Mui. A Bassmaster Opens angler who has seen a lot of success in his career and ready to take it to the next level. We talk everything tournament fishing and bass behavior! Enjoy.
Steve’s Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/smuibass/ Steve’s YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=04EYszGLcJ4&app=desktop
Thanks for watching! Comment, Like,…
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