Rogue Angels

Snow Snow Go Away!

2008-12-30T06:42:00.000-08:00

That is me there fishing on the Skagit Last March...freezing!!!!

Leaf and Duke.

2008-12-29T00:21:00.001-08:00

Rogue Angel Leaf and Duke, originally uploaded by k8.Rogue Angels.

Rogue Angel Leaf and Duke harvesting...I can only hope to be beside her someday in one of these shots.
photo courtesy of Erik Argotti www.e-argottiphotography.com

Joy

2008-12-25T12:28:00.000-08:00

"Joy is our goal, our destiny. Joy is what happens when we allow ourselves to recognize how good things are...."

"Joy demands that we have the audacity to embrace the knowledge of just how beautiful we really are and how infinitely powerful we are right now-without changing a thing- through the grace that is consistently born and reborn within us."

-Marianne Williamson

Merry Christmas Everyone, Thanks for everything! I wish you Joy.

My Slab of the Month

2008-12-23T11:01:00.000-08:00

Feeling ambitious I went out to shovel snow yesterday...quickly, like 3 or 4 shovel loads, I realized shoveling with a small square dirt shovel was ridiculous..... my ambition flittered into the sky while my imagination started piling snow in one spot........yes, piling it right in the middle of the driveway....maybe it was my Mork and Mindy get up that started orbiting my mind into outerspace.....
......suddenly I saw a beautiful rooster fish, wait no it's a chum salmon, oh no, its actually a brown trout, a beautiful trout, sleek, wild adipose fin, monstrous trout....life-like....

.....well, I got a whitefish?....

Gingerbread Trout

2008-12-22T13:36:00.001-08:00

ginger bread trout, originally uploaded by k8.Rogue Angels.

Rogue Angel Jenny coming at us with some holiday artwork to feast upon.

Angel Posts

2008-12-19T11:38:00.000-08:00

Rogue Angel Ade posted an entry about fishing with the angels on her blog, The Female Angle:

http://femaleangle.blogspot.com/2008/12/girls-just-wanna-have-fun.html

Check it OUT!

And there is an awesome post about this Angel Camille, on Ryan's blog, The Big Pull,

http://thebigpull.wordpress.com/2008/12/16/the-camille-chronicles/

Just another day amongst Angels....

Red Cheeks

2008-12-18T13:28:00.001-08:00

Rogue Angel Kateri, originally uploaded by k8.Rogue Angels.

Casting in the Dark

2008-12-18T13:21:00.001-08:00

IMGP0548, originally uploaded by k8.Rogue Angels.

The Angels take on the dark and cast into the night....

Around the Fire

2008-12-17T11:11:00.000-08:00

After a long day fishing on the river in the rain, wonder what the Angels talk about around the campfire?

You guessed it, Casting and Fishing.

Smoking Fish

2008-12-16T12:38:00.000-08:00

I am smoking fish and read somewhere it is good to take notes so you can refer back to them later.... Here's my notes:

Using Dry Brine, pack the fish in. 3 pts brown sugar to 1 pt rock salt. various unnamed seasonings until it smells good...eventually the dry brine sucks the moisture out and melts and wa la:

Go to Monday night football at the Peacock Bar and drink $1.00 Pabst on tap. Drink other various $1.00 drink specials based on the game...bartender tells you you either have to drink faster or stop participating in the drink specials....there were alot of moving violations....the Browns really sucked last night and the Eagles were throwing like g........golfers. Play a round of Big Buck Hunter Safari....tell an old hippie codger meat is organic....

Take fish out of brine a bit over 24 hours later....have serious hesitations, to rinse? or not to rinse? choosing both options....

Where is my expert fish smoking friend when I need him? And why did the temperature have to drop below freezing right when I am about to fire up the smoker? And where is my advil?

More fish smoking upd8s to follow, feel free to leave advice, as I know smoking fish elicits opinions equal to politics and religion...btw did I mention I listened to the election on the radio while driving to fish BC?

Fishing was a 10

2008-12-15T13:07:00.001-08:00

Fishing was a 10, originally uploaded by k8.Rogue Angels.

Underwater Coho

2008-12-13T08:19:00.000-08:00

We saw this coho roll, sent a spinner through the bucket, and WHAM!

Really?

2008-12-12T08:00:00.000-08:00

It's still more expensive than gas? Really?

C'mon. Bring it down too. The Angels are out fishing and this is breaking our banks.

However, our minds are far from troublesome things like gas prices, the economy.... christmas presents,
'cause we got one track minds:

Where's your spots?

wish us luck.

All things Steelhead

2008-12-11T09:12:00.000-08:00

Steelhead Closed? Good thing we have the....

Open it up.

2008-12-10T09:05:00.000-08:00

I believe this needs no explanation, ......BUT he couldn't have done it without us....
;)

55°56′29″N 130°3′16″W

2008-12-09T08:35:00.000-08:00

Before this last hunting trip.......I was steelhead fishing.
I came home from Alaska, got a few things in order, bought my silver destroyer a snazzy new camper and headed north. It seems like ages ago. It was not. I don't know how I could cram so much into such a short period of time..... I've been perfecting that for years I guess.
Once in northern Canada, when the invitation to drive even further north and close to Alaska popped up I most certainly jumped at the chance, you know I've been *missing* Alaska. So we packed up the camper and drove northbound straight into winter. This cold snowy season has descended here just like in King Salmon....snow is everywhere and I am lock her down into four wheel drive even on the highway.

Naturally we stop and fish a bit...
The cold blows bitterly and spews snow. We are dancing around the river in a black and white movie.

Marginal success sprinkles over us....

With a stroke of genius, someone tells us about Hyder, Alaska and how it is customary to go the bar in Hyder and get "Hyderized". We decide it is fully necessary to get Hyderized. We excitedly chatter about bacon cheeseburgers, tap beer, did someone say "karaoke?"...the anticipation surges as our mouths water for beer and burgers and a warm stinky bar.
Busting down the road we pass bear glacier...

In the dark:

and make it into town:

Obviously we have sipped a bit on the ole...

It is necessary.

Walking into this one horse town pulls us straight into the days of Miss Kitty and Marshall Dillon. I am sure we would not be welcomed by those two tonight.

We straggle over to the Glacier Inn to see only a light on. If you have ever seen someone utterly devastated, it is nothing compared to crushing the dreams of five steelhead fishermen that have chattered incessantly for hours of burgers and beers and hopes of being hyderized...the energy is enough to devastate a normal person for life. Frantically I am searching for a way in. I spy a tiny tiny little bell and a small handwritten note:
"Ring bell for Service".

Of course I ring the bell.
And suddenly a darling older lady is running through the bar towards the door!
A blanket of doom lifts from the crowd as she opens the door and asks if she can help us.
I nervously tell her,
"We want to get Hyderized."
The split second felt like eternity until she stirred the pot with her arm and said,
"I can do that" and opened the door to our demise.

As we step inside, time warps around us. The walls are papered in money. Canadian and American, ones, fives, tens, twentys....some looking so ancient if you pulled on them the whole wall would come down. Tattered aged and brown with hand written notes and names. This Inn had obviously brought cheer to many a traveler.
As we saddled up to the bar, the sweet older lady was racking up glasses on the counter. I wasn't sure if she was going to stop and my stomach dropped at the thought of having to take several shots of liquor from a mystery liquor bottle wrapped in paper....she handed us each a small glass of water (for chasing or throwing up in) and a shot glass of mystery liquor #1. Everything burned.
And we all started laughing, we have been hyderized!!!!

How one and a half hours can feel like a whole evening is undoubtedly due to being "Hyderized", two hundred and fifty dollars later, and a few bills that ended up on the wall with our names....

Needless to say, the sweet lady's daughter drove us across the border, past the laughing guards and to our hotel....the rest is campfire talk.

7 months, 39 days....

2008-12-08T08:30:00.000-08:00

Big Bright Chinook, eh?

....Now where's those steelhead......

Christmas List?

2008-12-07T08:00:00.000-08:00

Wondering what to get me...I mean her, for Christmas?

A handmade fly wallet by Mac Rowdy of course!
They normally don't come soaking wet, but I just crossed hell's half acre and hell's moat up to my neck, so things got a bit sloppy....no worries, it is back to perfectly wonderful again.

Mac says you can get 20% off your order, AND get it by Christmas if you use the code:
KTAK
www.flywallets.com

And Spey Angel posted her Xmas List http://femaleangle.blogspot.com/2008/12/all-i-want-for-xmas.html

Going Dancing with the Fish.....

2008-12-06T08:59:00.000-08:00

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

These Rogue Angels are outta here for the week, we're going dancing with the fish.
I've got articles posting all week while we are gone!

Day Three or Opening of Doe Season

2008-12-05T10:06:00.000-08:00

Third Day....Dad and I form a game plan to hunt the upper field one last time. This time we have my 13 year old niece accompanying us for the hunt.
Dad and Meredith are going to take the lower landing as we call it while I plan to situate myself to watch the whole woods line at the bottom of the field. No pushing around the big buck this morning...I will patiently wait for him to come or any other deer that walks my way....Today is the opening of doe day. Several other buddies are hunting in various parts of the property, and today is all about reducing the overpopulated herd and securing meat for the winter.

It is as cold as it has ever been this morning and I think I see frost accumulating on the toe of my boot. Ingeniously we stuck hand warmers all over ourselves, toes, hands, back, and I am actually feeling okay. I am so confident that this is my morning, I stole one of my dad's flasks...I want to make sure he gets a sip after I shoot my deer.
I wonder if he noticed it missing?

I watch a nice buck galavant directly below me along the woods line and curse its position. Shooting in this direction is off limits as there is a house at the bottom of the hill....and although you can not see it, it is there-so no shooting. I patiently wait for him to saunter up the hill into the thickets...it is out of sight...suddenly it spooks and bounds down the hill in the direction of the no shoot zone. I realize that that noise is my heart pounding in my ears at the same time I see the twitching of deer ears nearly 15 yards from where I am sitting. Haven't I learned this lesson before while steelhead fishing? ......Don't step into the water......always fish the water at your feet first....this incredible feeling of sitting so close to a small deer that doesn't even realize I am here brings to mind this stellar time I fished the Skagit River with my crusty old fly fishing mentor. He just kept drilling into my head to fish in close.... fish your feet....pay attention to the water....and leaves me to swing a fly through a tiny little window of a bucket, never casting more than 35 feet. I must say I thought it a tad ridiculous, especially after having spent time with steelheaders who go for the longest cast with the heaviest tips and the craziest flies....the only reason I had an inkling of confidence in this position is because I BELIEVED. I truly believed, I BELIEVED it was MY time, MY turn, MY river, MY steelhead gently holding in this tiny tiny tiny little bucket on this MASSIVE river and I BELIEVED I was going to hook up.
Well of course I freaking hooked up! Not a soul around to help me land this beauty, I lost it at my feet quickly rising to ride on top of the world. My ego buddy danced around in my head and reminded me of all the things I did well and how skilled I was becoming at fly fishing for steelhead. My crusty old friend came around later and reminded me how much I still had to learn....It was my first steelhead on the swing....and here I am about to take down my first deer of the season and it is literally at my feet. I am fully aware of the beating of my heart and the deep sound of my breathing as I slowly raise my rifle. The young buck is standing behind a bush ignorantly unaware of my presence and happily munching on the leaves around him. Hours posed as minutes pass while I hold the buck in the scope, slowly raising my head to see its position and lowering it again to the scope. Finally he steps beyond the bush and presents the opportunity for a kill shot, I pull the trigger, no wait!... I know better....so I take another deep breath, set the sights on my target, slowly exhale, and squeeze the trigger. Several "Oh my god I am so sorry but thank you so much for this life and the food that will nourish us this winter" go through my head before they turn to deep deep appreciation prayers for the kill. I have never so closely and deeply known my prayers were heard loud and clear. Ever.

Naturally after inspecting, etc I go fetch my father. As he walks towards me with more pride and happiness than a newborn's father, I pass him the flask and he takes a nip. (this is a relative term) Hugging me he calls me a rascal for stealing his flask.

We walk over to my kill and begin the ceremonious process of gutting. I sickly have photos of all the processes in some way shape or form, but I believe I will save those for some crazy hunting only blog some day....it is not for everyone.

But in defense for all those turned off by hunting and such, my father's property is literally OVERRUN with deer. Fish and Game Biologists flatly told his neighbor that he needed to take over a dozen deer off his 100 acres of property this year for the health of the land. The deer completely destroyed my mother's garden this year, this was the first year she ever did not have even one tomato. We also have seen a three legged deer. (Justin took care of that one) And lastly, we use almost everything. The hides get taken to a local taxidermist who makes a living from them and trades my family sweet corn, we butcher and freeze the meat for eating through the winter. And my family's three dogs eat the scraps as well as get meat frozen for eating in the late winter months. (Happiest dogs on earth)
Grinding up the scraps to make burger:

Oh Did I forget to mention that this means I'll be sitting in THE DEER HUNTER chair now?

Look what Yuhina painted!

2008-12-04T11:00:00.001-08:00

Ak Char, originally uploaded by k8.Rogue Angels.

...from one of my photos!

High in the Sky

2008-12-01T13:12:00.001-08:00

tree stand, originally uploaded by k8.Rogue Angels.

The Tree Stand in the third game field.

Turkey Bow

2008-11-27T20:24:00.001-08:00

Turkey Bow, originally uploaded by k8.Rogue Angels.

those are supposed to be turkey feathers.....I did not fulfill my dream of shooting a turkey on thanksgiving....this time.

Day Two...

2008-11-25T07:31:00.002-08:00

Upon waking just before 5 am, I feel well rested....well, sort of...I mean even more so than any other morning...oh that's right, I went to bed before midnight this time. I feel awesome albeit a bit groggy....my body is not sure what to do with more than 4 hours of sleep. I begin the layering process and walk downstairs to greet my dad...he is chipper and wide awake as usual, working on his breakfast of champions... ramen noodles. I grab a schwill of coffee (this is a new thing for me) and rummage through my mom's cupboards for a morning snack other than soup...my layers are starting to suffocate me so I grab the last bits and walk out onto the porch to finish dressing. My dad comes out behind me and we walk the short distance to the barn where he has turned on the kerosene heater and warmed the place up. This is no ordinary barn. My dad converted a section of the barn to an insulated whiskey bar coupled with tools, workbenches, chairs, well let's just say it is a cool place...think of your fly tying mess of a desk but instead of feathers they have been replaced with ammo, guns, whiskey (well maybe that is on your desk too), cups, beer cans, and nails.

Dad and I have what we think is an incredible plan to sit in a perfect site for deer on the upper field. It is like deciding what run you will fish first thing in the morning, weighing in where fish have been caught, the river levels, choosing the fly to seek and destroy....We have chosen to hunt together this morning and I am thrilled to be hunting at my dad's side... picking up hunting tips...having an extra set of eyes on the field. We roll up into our spot and today is even colder than yesterday. I threw on my patagucci down jacket this morning to combat the cold and shoved myself into grandpa's coveralls again. Rummaging through the shed I found a rabbit fur hat and now feel confident I can stay warmer....My dad threw me an old wool blanket for extra measure.
Before we get into position, I have a great idea to slowly walk my way towards our chosen spot, hopefully driving up the buck I ran into the previous morning. So I trudge over the hill to the corner of the field and wait a few minutes for light to peek over the treetops.

As I round a huge clump of thorn bushes, I hear my buck. Rustling around on the other side of the thorn bushes. Could it be him again? He stops and snorts and I am certain he is mine. My heart is exploding through my ears and the anticipation of seeing him thrills me...as he again defiantly walks away from me into the woods belonging to the neighboring farm. Optimism prevails as I consider he may come back over the fence line if I stay still and quiet. Fat chance. He snorts and stomps his way out of my hearing....I salute the buck for living another day and say a little prayer about my name on his head... I dive into the field of thorns and work my way around the hillside to my pops. I see no other signs of life and take my place beside Dad.
Having much concern and paranoia that I am not hunting well, I feel relief to sit beside grand master hunter Dad. I am hoping to extract the secrets of sitting still and absorb the luck of being a deer magnet. He just got a ten pointer the other day (five for all us westerners) which is a healthy buck for these parts.
We are both freezing. We are whispering. My dad is standing then sitting. Now he stands again. This hunting stuff isn't so difficult it seems.

(nice pumpkin head dad)
We waited an incredibly long time before we saw or heard anything this morning. Perserverance kicks in and I am thinking about those steelhead days where you begin to wonder if you are just flogging water....is there really anything in there?
Well I am intently watching the field to my left as Dad eyes the right side when I see a twitch of ears in the thicket down below that definitely was not there before. The heart starts racing as I slowly fumble the binoculars to my eyes and confirm it is in fact a doe. Still not doe day.

I watch her amble over into the pines munching on the old blackberries still clinging on and slip into the darkness of the underbrush. I contemplate the three times I had open perfect shots at her. And anyway, I am not sure I really want to kill a doe. My dad asks me if I am sexist...ha ha, I say of course. I really like to release the females, I wish my clients felt the same way about salmon and would consent to only kill bucks. I mean is it not humane to leave women and children? That is unless it is a Jack in which case we all know it's time is up if it grabs my hook. I wonder if I will be so lucky with the next deer that walks in my field of vision. Of course not.

He bounds out of the lower forest fifteen feet from where the doe popped up and sticks his head behind a bush. Really? I pull out the binoculars and call on the eyes of the eagle to help confirm the gender. No clue. Somehow the deer managed to stick its head in the sand and walk around so I had no chance to determine the gender. It follows the exact path of the doe and I have now fully convinced myself it is a buck. I just can not confirm it, so I watch this beautiful animal disappear into the darkness of the pines as well, never seeing its head. Unbelievable.
Their brains must be like steelhead, ever evasive, lucky as hell.

Long Time Gone

2008-11-24T10:42:00.001-08:00

I am not really sure where to start....I am suffering from mental dysfunction brought on by a few bottles of wine shared with a wonderful friend I have not seen in a year...and I have had pretty much an amazing month of adventure....hunting steelhead, hunting deer, traveling, laughing with friends and family and it is not over yet....so I don't know where to begin...
Usually when I pick up a magazine I either flip to exactly the article I want to read, or I thumb through it from the back to the front? Why I do this is incredibly unclear and well, everything right now is a bit foggy, so I was thinking I may just kind of start from yesterday and slowly work my way backwards....back down to my parent's farm, then back across the midwest to Oregon and back up into northern Canada.
Currently I just drove from Baltimore, MD to Washington DC and am propped up in my good buddies'home office. This is the most plush position to be typing. I am going to sweeten the deal with a beer in 2 flat.
There.
I can't think of a more perfect choice than this Newcastle Brown Ale at this moment.
Although I could very well go for a black and blue...

I am currently up in the city as a mid-vacation break from spending time with the family and visiting my dear old friends that live in the nation's capital. My family has a farm about three or four hours south of here down in Virginia. It is where I grew up...
My pops and I have been hunting for the last few days in our upper field on the farm. Every morning we drive up to the top of the mountain and he boots me out before sunrise and sends me to find a good spot to view the lower part of the upper field:

DAY ONE-
Day One and I am dressed in every layer I have ever bought for steelhead fishing plus a super stylish coverall get up that my grandpa used to wear. Add a short little orange bolera and a sweet orange hat, and watch out runway.
But I am not out here for looks, so I sling the sexy new rifle my dad bought for me to use:

Yeah, that's right. My dad who doesn't believe in buying things for his children..."it builds moral character and work ethic if you work for what you get"... bought a rifle for me to use while deer hunting this year. So instead of the SKS I used last year, this year I am sporting a sexy new Remington 243. Light, accurate, and powerful little weapon. And mind you, I relate to my dad very well on this note, as with fly rods, reels, and tying materials it is with guns, you can NEVER have enough. EVER.
So stumbling through the dark and thorny field with a headlamp, I curse the 6 foot thorn branch that is grabbing onto my leg and won't let go, as I glance up I see two shining bulbs....is that? oh yeah, deer in the headlamp.
It is staring right at me as I hold it in my weak headlamp light. Neither one of us is moving. Suddenly realizing that I have at least 15 minutes until legal shooting light, I begin to wonder how long a deer can stand staring into the light. Then I am praying that this big animal in front of me ten yards is a buck....because today is buck day, not the doe opener yet, two more days before that happens.
I know that a deer can stand staring into a light for five whole minutes at least...because at five minutes, it snorted (great, its a buck) and proudly walked away. Yup, walked away into the dark as I stood there helpless, disappointed, and thoroughly excited about the run in.
I go through a full minute of wondering what to do and feeling completely clueless before I begin trudging through thickets to find a good viewing spot. My dad warned me that I may have to move again once it gets light, so I choose a small cedar to lean up against that sits atop a knoll and gives me a view of both left, right, and the woods below me. As sunrise begins to peek over the ridge, my imagination quickly jumps into overdrive and I swear I am surrounded by deer like Santa Claus at the mall.

Light blushes across the horizon and once my eyes adjust I realize I am in fact not surrounded by deer, not really by anything except thorn bushes...I slowly look around and see a better vantage point about 20 feet above me, so after waiting a bit, I move slowly up the hill. My new spot is awesome. Tucked behind some thorn bushes and up against a tree I am confident the deer gods will shine on me.
But now I am freezing. Its freaking cold. I think about whether I get this cold steelhead fishing....hmmm, I can't remember actually....pretty sure I do, so why does this seem colder than standing in freezing cold water hunting fish?
My body is shutting down I think and my eyelids are drooping....I wonder if this is what happens right before you die of hypothermia, your breath becomes shallow and you fall asleep before your body goes rigid and frozen....I am not sure what I did for three hours to keep myself awake...imagined deer, searched for them with painful slowness, thought about seeing one, thought about steelhead, thought about buying a new rod, the 13'9" Loop Multi that I need, then I consented to let my lids droop permanently for just a few minutes....now before you go judging me falling asleep on the hunt, you should know a thing or two about my dad. He parties. period. He keeps me up late drinking bourbon and beer and wakes me early to hunt. Come to think of it, this is really no different from steelhead camp. More on that later.
So I catch a bit of shut eye and wake to my dad standing fifteen feet from me saying
"You ain't gonna shoot a deer sleeping"
as a white tail bounds into the woods off to my left.
Great.
My dad is very kind about me sleeping on the job, as he knows damn well he is the reason for me being overtired. And he also knows damn well that the guys back at the barn are going to give me the largest ration of shit for falling asleep so he doesn't have to say a word.
Upon arrival back at the barn two of the guys have deer already hanging and skinned and the shoveling of shit my way begins.
Several schwills of W.L. Weller get put away, beers come out, and everyone is laughing and telling stories....from today's hunt, to last year's hunt, to stories about other hunts....and of course giving me a ration of shit that I earned.

That is Gene on the four wheeler, and that is my dad in the background. If you are wondering about what he is holding, you are right.
This is the middle part of the farm:

Day Two tomorrow.