Guy time

Funny how four days can seem like an eternity at one time (like the first four days we had Jack & Joe home from the hospital) and yet feel like the blink of an eye at another. Last week's fishing trip fit into the latter category (thank God!). I snagged Jason from Burbank airport on Tuesday evening. He actually made it despite his flight being canceled and being cavity searched in Dallas before being allowed on the plane. We were on the road by 9:00 on Wednesday and pulling into our campsite by 3:00. What an incredible place. I'd love to be back up there at this very moment. Here's a few pictures for your amazement/amusement...

The whole crew:

We fished at Sotcher the whole time. First day at the lake Steve was The Man with a nice fish. Day two he had a near limit (sorry, no picture). I caught a single but both Jason and Milad put in a respectable showing with a couple fish a piece. Dean had one hit his line so hard that it darn near pulled his whole rig into the lake but he was busy scratching himself and it was gone. Which is a shame because that was all the action he'd get for the rest of the trip.

On day two we took a ride into town for some supplies. We stopped to have a look at the Minarets. They're the pokey mountains in the far distance.
After our trip into town Jason and Milad decided to go for a hike to see the postpile and Rainbow falls. Here's a picture of the Postpile that I poached off somebody's site (whoever you are, please don't sue me, just tell me to take it down and I will) Here's a picture of Rainbow Falls (ditto on poaching the picture).

The rest of us decided to go for a nap. I know what you're thinking, ladies, but forget it. He's taken.


Day three found some interlopers in our spot so we moved to the opposite side of the lake and found a real nice spot on a sandy beach.
Here’s Jason, giving the thumbs up after dropping a very satisfying deuce.
Here’s me & Jason on the shore.

Here’s Milad, full of hopes & dreams about the big one he’s about to catch.

Here’s Dean, full of donuts & Yoo-Hoo, and without any aspirations to actually catch a fish.

Here’s Steve, full of anger & resentment that Milad has stolen away his title as “The Man”.

Here’s Kiko, stuffing his piehole with various cardiac arrest inducing treats.


Here’s Kiko consoling Steve, “Eets okay, Esteeve, jou weel catch a feesh. Jou are steel dee mang!”

When Kiko's attempts at consoling Steve didn't work, he tried to distract him with various gymnastic feats.

Meanwhile, Milad was taunting us by catching fish both big and small.


The sun was setting and it was time to call it quits.

We stopped for a final photo of Milad with his haul. A fisherman has been born.
We broke camp the next morning and hit the road. That drive always seems to take twice as long when we're going home. I occupied myself thinking about next year's trip, though, so it wasn't all bad.