Coach managed to luck into a very small brown just upstream from this very picturesque stone monolith along the venerable B.S.
The Captain, traveling en bandito, landed what he said was a trout...
Coach personally witnessed Captain hook into a whopper just downstream, it took a cress bug just long enough to make a short run and a greyhounding leap before leaving us standing there looking stupid.
The road crew scavenging for lunch, couldn't even find a robin to graze upon. (Curli, Johno, Stew and Captain.)
Multiple trips up and back along 81 eventually led us to a robin where we, except poor Stew, enjoyed the bottomless buckets of fries and poor excuses for burgers.
Sufficiently refueled we landed at the L.S.R near this lovely picnic pavillion. No hooks, one miss and a Minion business card left in the mailbox for Hagn's Log.
I leave you in the ring of the rise...
with the Dean.
Till next time, soon!
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