Streamer Punk: By Will Rice

He is guilty.

He did it.

He confesses.

He comes clean.

He is a streamer punk.

Simple ideas turn to thoughts: Streamers in the fall—there are few things he enjoys more. 5X? No. 4X? Nope. 3X? Maybe... if the water is clear. 2X? These fish aren't leader shy and matching the hatch is not exactly scientific. 

His thoughts turn to aspiration: It is time to head north, plane tickets are purchased, rigs are gassed up, boats are hitched and dragged across state lines. The gang is committed.

Aspiration turns to action: He throws them at the bank, fishes them in the middle, crashes them down on currents, drifts them through deep holes. He strips them fast, strips them slow. He doesn’t care. He is guilty as charged.   

Action leads to reaction: some of the fish fire off the bank like rockets, chasing the fly like they want to crush it to bits. He invaded the trout’s sacred solitude and his bug was to pay the price. Nothing in life is free. Other takes were less revealing, all he saw was the hydraulic swirl just under the vanilla gorilla—it looked like a toilet bowl just flushed under the Russian Olive tree. These moments occur out of nowhere and he loves it. He eats it up.   

Interaction: The jury looks on in amusement.

Connection: Sometimes he doesn’t see anything at all. The strip-set burns the finger and the trout goes airborne like a tarpon. Other times the bug just stops dead deep under the water.

Altercation.

Destruction.

And sometimes, successful perpetration.  

Guilty, guilty, guilty.

My boy Will Rice wrote this piece for his blog at It Ain't Pretty for drakemag.com. As a streamer punk myself, it spoke to me. 

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