Off to the Upper Michigan Peninsula

"Successful fly fishing for trout is an act of high deceit; not only must the angler lure one of nature's subtlest and wariest creatures, he must do so with something that is false and no good - an artificial fly. Thus fake and sham lie at the heart of the enterprise. The amount of Machiavellian subtlety, guile, and sly deception that ultimately becomes wrapped up in the person of an experienced trout fisherman is faintly horrifying to contemplate. Thus fiendishly qualified for a diplomatic career he instead has time only to fish. So lesser diplomats continue to grope and bumble and their countries continue to fall into war. The only hope for it all, I am afraid, is for the Lord to drive the trout fishermen into diplomacy, or else drive the diplomats to trout fishing. My guess is that either way we'd be more apt to have peace.: the fishermen-turned-diplomats would hurriedly resolve their differences on the trout stream so that they might return to their fishing, while the diplomats-turned-fishermen would shortly become so absorbed in their new passion they'd never again find time for war".
- Robert Traver

I'm off to the Upper Michigan Peninsula in the morning to chase trout and be chased by the little blackfly. I've asked my pals Candy Minx and the Emperor of Ephemera, Anthony Stagg to guest blog this time around. Some of you will already be familiar with Candy's fabulous blog, The Gnostic World of Candy MInx. If you don't know it, go check it out - I'm sure you'll be a regular reader soon. Who knows what Candy and Stagg will come up with for mister anchovy....stay tuned.

Here are the lyrics for Wade Hemsworth's masterpiece, The Blackfly Song
'Twas early in the spring when I decide to go
For to work up in the woods in North On-tar-i-o
The unemployment office said they'd send me through
To the Little Abi-tibi with the survey crew
CHORUS:
And the black flies, the little black flies
Always the black fly, no matter where you go
I'll die with the black fly a-picking my bones
In North On-tar-i-o-i-o, in North On-tar-i-o

Now the man, black Toby was the captain of the crew
And he said, "I'm gonna tell you boys what we're gonna do
They want to build a power dam and we must find a way
For to make the Little Ab flow around the other way"

So we survey to the east and we survey to the west
And we couldn't make our minds up how to do it best
Little Ab, Little Ab, what shall I do
For I'm all but goin' crazy on the survey crew

It was black fly, black fly everywhere
A-crawlin' in your whiskers, a-crawlin' in your hair
A-swimmin' in the soup, and a'swimmin in the tea
Oh the devil take the black fly and let me be

Black Toby fell to swearin' 'cause the work went slow
And the state of our morale was gettin' pretty low
And the flies swarmed heavy, it was hard to catch a breath
As you staggered up and down the trail talkin' to yourself

Now the bull cook's name was Blind River Joe
If it hadn't been for him we'd have never pulled through
For he bound up our bruises, and he kidded us for fun
And he lathered us with bacon grease and balsam gum

At last the job was over, Black Toby said, We're through
With the Little Abitibi and the survey crew
'Twas a wonderful experience and this I know
I'll never go again to North Ontar-i-o