Fishing's slow. We've caught a few fish, but not enough to slake our thirst in this land of prodigious water and wise-guy fish. We're looking for more. Stuff to do, fish to catch, sights to see. All we hear about are the floods. Floods around Boxing Day. Great deluges of water that rearranged channels, scoured bottoms, washed out food and washed down fish. The evidence is astounding. Trees five feet across just tossed carelessly over roads, 15 feet or more above where the water now runs. The weather hasn't been terribly cooperative either. What few rivers seem like they might be worthwhile are overrun with guides and clients and other bums like ourselves. And our arch-enemies: Ze Germans. Those bastards. We've run into them before, and I'm sure we'll see them again. Time's are trying but we'll prevail. I hope/wish/dream anyway.
Nnyep, 'bout sums it up for now.
|What? We're just a coupla guys...|