As Danyle and I were getting drunk one Saturday night while tying flies...
We started talking about our pathetic love lives and why the hell two gorgeous, fat challenged girlfriends were home without dates.

I immediately realized “It’s because we fish too much and we might as well become lesbian lovers…”

Danyle went EWWWWWWWWWWWWW and I then said… “Well, shit. All we do is go fishin and see some of the most romantic sights ever, when we should be with a "GUY” Nothing like watching the sun go down and you lean over and your best friend is sitting next to you instead of Antonio Banderas… Heavy sigh…


Here are the "Top 5 Reasons" why Danyle and Angie are home on a Saturday Night…

1. We can’t find anyone with teeth that fishes all the time.
2. We can’t find anyone without a mullet hair cut that fishes all the time.
3. We can’t find any rich guys that fish all the time.
4. We can’t find any sensitive guys that fish all the time, and flygeeks don’t count.
5. And the top reason why Danyle and Angie are home on a Saturday Night… Because we actually have to get up at 3am to go fish Sunday morning because all the fuckin Puget Sound rivers are closed.

So what does Danyle come up with? Let’s place an add in the Orvis Catalog and see if we can get a date…

So thinking about what we want in a real man.

1. Strength
2. Endurance
3. Good technique (and that was just in bed)
4. Looks
5. The desire to kill wild creatures
6. Lives on the edge man, or Elk Back Man…

We decided to come up with a contest… And after reading my daughter one of those fairy princess tales I suggest we come up with a contest for a date to win the both of us.

The ad went something like this…

Must be able to fly fish, catch fish on a regular basis and like their mother. Must be gorgeous, hunky, well endowed (we ain’t talking beer guts here) and not suffering from male pattern baldness. To win the date the man must row us successfully down the Calawah without hurting Angie’s boat. (We’ve been wanting to float the Calawah and couldn’t find anyone that was brave enough to do it.)

After a couple interviews over the phone with such interrogations like how big are your biceps, hair color, hair existence, weight, height, (we had a chart to calculate stature like our steelhead chart) yearly income, financial statements, college education, how many girlfriends have you had and were they all sexually satisfied or did they turn into lesbians after you broke up, shoulder width, or the famous “If you were to buy a woman an engagement ring how many months income should it be worth” (God Danyle you’re not desperate to get married are you? Biological timeclock ticking there babe?


When we told them that they had to row the Calawah, they immediately hung up after telling us we were crazy or excuse me "fuckin crazy". But finally one man rose to the challenge and said he would meet us at the boat ramp at dawn Sunday morning. Now what’s the Calawah you ask? It’s a famous Olympic Peninsula River that is famous for it’s rapids. It has death rapids where a couple of boats flip in it every year. It has rapids dubbed names like “Sucker Rapids” which suck you right no matter how left you stay and will throw you down a wall of water and rocks. “Suicide Rapids” which if you make it through all the other ones, this one will surely flip your boat and plunge you to your death.

In high water it isn’t that bad you don’t get boxed into rocks, but at one brick, you have to be crazy and have a backbone so stiff that you can stand in the face of danger. Like the Big Game Hunters that stand there and see how close the Elephant would charge them before they shot it. Put it this way, there aren’t very many men that do that. Trust me, most men can’t even stand their ground when a fat woman (usually their wives) charge them down.

That morning, we came upon one of the only real men out there, Jim Mansfield. We started shooting the breeze and Jim offered for us to follow him. I was enthralled because to watch Jimmy in action is something every aspiring guide should try to do. His sculling (scowling??) method with his oars, his plugging technique... to watch him move through the rocks without touching a one, he makes his damn drift boat just graceful... if that’s possible.
Jim Mansfield spinning through the rocks

Danny was just speechless and I had to pull her off of him as she started patting and feeling his muscles. Mansfield had rowing arms and shoulders to die for and when she started pinching his pecs to see how firm they were I kicked her. So we put the boats in and chatted and waited for the mystery man. As he came down the ramp I screamed in terror. It was Orvis Boy! NOOOOOOOOOOO--- and now it was Danny who kicked me. She thought he was kind of cute. “Yeah, as cute as a baby bat”, I responded.

Little did I know that after treating Orvis Boy terribly he had fallen madly in love with me. He had some submissive/want to be dominated thing going on.

“Well you’ll have to do.” I grimaced and Danny and I got in the boat, when Orvis Boy sat down I gave him the following “You will die and pay for any damages to my boat, bitch speech” Mansfield sat there and laughed and than Danny grabbed the duc tape and the chains and we duc taped Orvis Boy’s hands to the oars and chained him to his seat. He was actually kind of enjoying it, so I grew worried. Mansfield at this time had to sit down because he was laughing so hard.

The first rapid was a narly one and we had to get out because one mess up on the oars meant getting boxed in immediately. I yelled at Orvis Boy to stay on Jim’s ass and this would be a continous scenario throughout the trip. We had a cell phone but we weren’t gay enough to do the “Cell Phone Usage Number 562” like Sparky did on his float down the Hoh Rapids. Hoh Rapids???? Now that’s funny.

Orvis Boy began to panic so getting irritated I pulled out my fly rod (which rarely gets used on the Peninsula, I do like to catch fish when I drive the 4 hours out there) and I got behind him and hit him on the back. He instantly shut up and began to row. During the next four hours Danny would instruct him on where to go and I would stand behind him with the fly rod beating him to row harder so that we wouldn’t die.

At the end of the trip I fell in love with Orvis Boy because he had successfully rowed us down the river. Danny was a little upset but she wasn’t the mean type and Orvis Boy was a little sadistic. By the end of the trip his arms had swelled up like Mansfield’s and after he took the webbing out of his ass and his knuckles turned back to their normal color and his palms stopped bleeding, Orvis Boy realized that he had just touched his masculine side. He will now be following Mansfield with a bow this season to win my love with a giant bull elk.

Now for all you effeminate men out there. Go row a tough river (WITHOUT A FUCKIN LIFE JACKET) and get in touch with your masculine side. It will do wonders for your life, it will make you a man, you will be able to chew snoose and gulp down whiskey without a stutter and most importantly it might just make you a better lover!

Here is a reply sent to me about the ad, from one of Orvis Catalog's members, Kurt aka Trouter...

Reasons for not entering your win a date contest are

1. I'm too damn tired, to "try" and be nice all the time
2. My thoughts on love and life are illegal in most states
3. I hate asking "is everything all right?"
4. I have but a few friends right now and I can hardly stand them SOBs
5. I really hate rejection and because of that I often wonder why I started Flyfishing
6. I quit drinking
7. I think you have better gear than I do and I would always covet your gear

“Beer is God’s way of telling us he loves us” by Ben Franklin