Sunday, June 9, 2013

River of Red-Sometimes, the Red Gods Frown.....







Gotta tell you up front-I absolutely love the Colorado River.  I love Austin, I love Bastrop, and I love central Texas.  Those little rivers-the Llano, the San Marcos, the Colorado-I just effin love them.  I love the restaurants, the bbq, the music, the nightlife, the bluebonnets, the culture-I just effin love them.  Can't help it-I'm a by-God Texan, and this is the Holy Land.  Each and every year, the grand and glorious state of Texas requires that I attend and complete twenty-four hours of so-called continuing education.  This keeps me in good steads with the powers-that-be and allows me to practice medicine another year in the Lone Star State.  So, if I've gotta go to school, might as well be in the Heart of the Hill Country-The Hyatt Lost Pines Resort in Bastrop, Texas, just outside of mother Austin.  This year was no different.  Scott and White Hospital, home hospital of the Texas A&M Medical School, hosts a variety of CME courses through the year.  This year, they hosted a Neurology Update at the magnificent Hyatt Lost Pines Resort, and I was fortunate enough to attend.  In addition to a first class learning experience in a world class resort, I was able to steal away for a day of fishing on the Colorado with renowned fly-fishing guide Alvin  Dedeaux of Austin, Texas.  Alvin is a UT alum, worked his way through school as the front man for a funkadelic 80's soul/protest band known as  "The Bad Mother Goose",  roomed with JT Van Zandt for a while, and is an all-around righteous dude..  Right up front, he let me know that his wife was expecting their third child at any moment, and should the need arise, he and I would make a mad dash back to the boat launch.  I concurred, and commented on the awesomeness of that occasion.  We shook hands and headed off on the beautiful Colorado.   To say the least, Alvin is a cool motor scooter.  His boat deserves some mention-it is a custom twenty-foot fiberglass jon, very similar to the boats used by White River trout guides in Arkansas.   At the stern was a thirty-five horse Evinrude jet motor, and a pair of sturdy oars graced her midsection.


 The plan, it seems, was to motor seven or eight miles upstream, and then row downstream,  dropping bugs and poppers in likely looking spots.   Alas, a late season cold front wreaked havoc with barometric pressures, and a rising river left the graceful Colorado heavily stained and muddied, and the fish seemed hesitant to bite.  Alas, your intrepid angler also seemed recalcitrant to set the hook when they did, indeed, deign to bite.  We did manage to land a few.  All in all, though-this was as fine a day as I've ever had on a river.  Alvin is a fabulous fellow, a great companion, and I really enjoyed getting to know him.  Very few fish came to the net,  and no babies were born as of five o'clock.  Alvin headed home to his wife and new arrival, I headed to Bergstrom Airport to gather the love of my life.  Tam managed to sneak off to fly down to spend the weekend with  me.  Not a bad conclusion to our thirty-fifth year of marriage.  Love you, Tammy-thanks for thirty-five amazing years, and here's to thirty five more.