ColdWaterFshr

This was from 2014 blizzard down on the Current. I

If you got chainsaws, good bourbon, and the right gear . . . . it ain't so bad. I've had better nights sleep at home though, I can't lie. Easy to look at these pictures and think it was great, but I remember some suffering.

Wintertime on the river is the best. Many single digit nights and lower spent on the 11 point and Current . . . .floating through some blizzards and some right after a big weather event. Here are a few memories. I wish I was down there now.

We can organize and find a loophole to help you protest. Set aside all your anxieties about this new record deficit and mysterious healthcare plan. Don't sweat it . . . we got free Venezeula oil about to come on line and rain down riches upon all of us. And we'll mine the heck outta Greenland, with tariff money aflowin' to cover them expenses too. We're flush! Route 66 Celebration be darn, I'm going to party with you and your wife, Chief.

Table for me, please. That looks delicious.

Where did you get that weird video, Snagged? Seems suspect. AI QAnon level weird. Doomsday,. Maybe all the water is going to that Hilary pizza basement in Manhattan. It is a concern. But thanks for that informative clip. 🤣🤣🤣

Its all very true. We all owe a debt of gratitude to Zebediah Ness for his actions, but more than that . . . his vision that provided us with the blueprint for wild-trout angling in Missouri. I've written letters to my congressmen asking for a casting of a 60 foot tall bronze statue in his likeness and image to be made and presented to the mayor of Crane, to be proudly displayed at the city park or better still, directly adjacent to the Chinese Chef Inn where he was a frequent customer. As you may know, Chinese laborers were the backbone of the railroads construction, and without them, the redbands could have never made it to Crane Creek. Many died along the way, and the few that did survive, were able to open small businesses in the area, most prominently of course was the Chinese Chef Inn, where some of the best Cashew Chicken in the world is served (Tues-Sat, closed Sun/Mon) and is a Michelin star restaurant. But I digress.

Boy Scout Camp Arrowhead, 1983. Just east of Marshfield. Oldest Boy Scout camp west of the Mississippi. I think I was a Tenderfoot rank at that time. Week long camp of misery. Chigger bitten on my privates, sunburn, and nearly drowned twice while trying to earn the Lifesaving merit badge, . . . but my fishing skills were well refined and extremely sharp, even at that delicate young age, I was a bada$$. I had my eye on the prize for "big fish" trophy which was to be awarded at the end of that week long slog on closing night ceremony, with parents in the audience, a large bonfire and torches and all the pomp and pageantry with the Order of the Arrow indians, all standing guard and scowling . . . .they didn't play around. I schemed on this prize early in the week, and I knew the fish wasn't going to come out of that gobdanged cesspool lake. It was going to come out of the creek down by the old abandoned swimming pool, that was springfed, crystal clear, and just a few hundred yards down from the haunted Soapstone cave. Extreme upper Osage Fork of the Gasconade, or a feeder creek I suppose. When I wasn't drinking orange soda up at the cantina and listening to Devo on the radio there, or in the wall tent perusing contraband of Hustler and Penthouse magazines . . . I was out on the hunt for THE fish, and I found one on a nest in that creek where shimmied out on a fallen down parallel sycamore over the creek and I dangled a jig in its face. Landed a 17" smallmouth that blew all the competition away. It wasn't even close. Was awarded the trophy in front of all the troops and parents present. I think my mom sold the trophy in a garage sale about 18 months later. Will never forgive her for it as it was one of the proudest moments of my life. Here is mom and dad (Paul Dallas) visiting me and my brother at Camp Arrowhead, circa 1983. Miss them both.

Tapped the keg tonight. It’s a dandy….turned out exactly as I wanted it. Not sweet at all. Fresh raspberry aroma comes through nicely. Flavor is not too tart, and finishes smooth without lingering.

Kegged and force carbing. Should be ready in 10 days or so. What little I sipped out of was left in the siphon, ….this is going to be a dandy… the raspberry aroma and flavor was all there but not overdone. And the malt backbone balanced with a punch, but not too much diacetyl, and perle and leaf hops all present.

Been traveling the past few days. Primary fermentation has settled way down, but still going (day 6). I’m so out of practice with brewing that I think messed up by not using enough water in my boil. All DME, not full grain. So forgive me. But I’m about a gallon light which will make this beer bigger towards the imperial side. We’ll see. Was too lazy to do hydrometer readings. Never could read that thing very well anyway. So I got home and decided to rack to secondary and add my 3 lbs of fresh raspberry that I had crushed wit a potato masher and colander and then threw a couple campden tablets into a vented ziplock and stored in the fridge. Have them in mesh bags in secondary and waiting to see if secondary gets a second wind with fresh sugars added. I don’t like the head space in my secondary, but the o2 should scrub out quick enough as it’s still bubbling. Stay tuned.

Forgive my improper thread placement as my memory betrays me yet again . . . . yes, I do recall that now . . . . . . though technically this is still "cooking", and not yet brewing . . . . at least not till I pitch the San Diego Super Strain yeast here in a minute. It smells wonderful.

Imperial Raspberry Wheat with homegrown hops.

Very witty, Net Boi! Find that on the Net I Bet? 🤪

pretty bright here in Ballwin a half hour ago

Yeah, its very low. Didn't do much rowing at all, but we weren't in any hurry.

Enjoyable day out on the water yesterday chasing some bronze against a backdrop of burnished amber and gold. Didn’t catch a lot of fish, but enough to keep things interesting. My buddies new drifter is super sweet.

Very sorry to hear this about your son, Ollie.

Same here. Never once have I fished soft hackles. That looks like a giant one.

My middle daughter, age 23, is halfway through an accelerated nursing program in downtown St. Louis. She came home today saying she had a tough day at work, and I replied that I did too . . . .but it didn't compare. She said she was assigned a patient today who intentionally laid his arm across a train track, up to the armpit, and let it be severed. He brought the severed arm with him into the hospital a few days ago and is recovering. She accompanied him to a group mental health therapy session where some artist came in with his guitar and played Bob Dylan songs, which he seemed to enjoy as if nothing had happened. I'm sure much worse is ahead for her in the years to come. So much incomprehensible suffering, and I worry about her own mental health in dealing with it.

I think Roaring River was my first real fishing trip.. Not sure if that was my first fish catching experience or not. Possibly my first fish ever caught was a bluegill at one of the lakes at Southern Hills subdivision in Springfield around 1976. A small chunk of hot dog under a red and white plastic bobber. This later led to many early morning expeditions at Lake Springfield, Fellows Lake, Lake McDaniel, Taneycomo, and Stockton lakes. Zebco 202's progressed to 404's. Then Daiwa ultralight spinning rod combo's. Was really impressed with Shakespeare Ugly Stick and its unbreakableness . . . until I fished with a Fenwick graphic rod mated to a Browning Mitchell and later a Shimano Cardinal spinning reel. Trout and crappie were the first obsessions. Largemouth, smallmouth, and walleye all came later.

Tell us more about this girl. Is she pretty? If so, you should at least take an interest in learning about them machines. But then you run the risk that your wife might pick up on this phony interest of yours and get jealous which could lead to unintended consequences. Yeah, probably better to stay in the man cave.

Brown to Blue, please pardon me this detour on such a fine occasion for a day of dual enjoyment of a magnificent Brown and the mighty Blue (Angels). I went into a reverie, though of different meanings. One of my favorite songs.....