I’m not really sure why the package the SCOF guys deliver (more or less) every quarter resonates so deeply with me. Even though I’m a died-in-the-wool, elitist-asshole trout bastard from the Northern Rockies, part of me will always be a sunburned 8-year old chucking live shrimp with a bait-caster from my grandfather’s dilapidated pier about a quarter-mile from the mouth of the Colorado River along the Texas Gulf Coast.
When you’re eight, 12-inch croakers make for a fine fishing day, and the occasional 3 pound redfish seems as mighty as a trophy sailfish finning off Belize.
God bless the fine trout waters, at least in the lower 48 declining in mythical quality the further one gets from the hallowed intersection of Montana, Idaho and Wyoming, though SCOF reminds us every three months there are a shitload of species worthy of pursuit on the fly rod, and a passel of fishers doing just that, having (at least some of ’em are) more fun than some of the trout guys we routinely fish with.
The SCOF guys have put together what is no doubt their best ever edition – better words, better images, a tip of their hats to local food (always better and always an adventure) – and more.
They even have the huevos to gore a sacred ox or two; screw you and your Belize development, Mr. DiCaprio, the Destroyer of flats habitats.
