Twelve pounds of Trilene,
eleven months of bassing,
ten miles of walking,
nine holes of fishing,
eight nights of camping,
seven hours of sleeping,
six months of burning,
five pounds of bass,
four kids all fishing,
three weeks of winter,
two Northerner boots,
and one transistor radio.

Life is full of choices.

And when it comes to consumer goods these days, there are way too many for a guy who grew up with one kind of Coca-Cola. I also remember a time when you ordered an “iced tea” and it didn’t take an entire conversation. You just got a glass of tea (no sugar, no lemon, no raspberry, no peach, no green…).

So, anytime I can keep it simple, I’m all in.

That’s why, when it comes to fishing line, I’m a monofilament man. After all, it mirrors my lifestyle; old school, cheap and a creature of habit.

Sure, the myriad collection of braids, fluorocarbons and superlines that span the aisles of department store fishing sections or grace the pages of catalogs or advertise on websites all have their merits. I don’t doubt their effectiveness and have dabbled in their likes over the years but it’s just all too much. Too much decision and too much cash.

For my money, good old Trilene mono in 12-pound test does the job (also use 10-pound on spinning reels). I’ve been doing this for a long time and generally speaking, when you lose a fish it has more to do with the person holding the reel than the line the reel is holding. My Trilene is always up to the task and I’ll take the heat for the ones that get away.

Reels wind up lacking on line by the end of the year so time to ask Santa to restock my stocking.

There you have it, the finale of my latest, mostly outdoor version of the 12 Days of Christmas. May try to squeeze in a few more posts before the year ends and then move on to a batch of wrap-up posts in the New Year.

Happy Holidays to all and talk to you later. Troy

…ten miles of walking
nine holes of fishing
eight nights of camping,
seven hours of sleeping,
six months of burning,
five pounds of bass,
four kids all fishing,
three weeks of winter,
two Northerner boots,
and one transistor radio.

A rundown of some of the 2018 walk arounds at the good old strip mines

We’re staying in the same locale as yesterday’s “nine holes of fishing” and just like walking a golf course, the walk-in strip mines will give you a little exercise as you pursue your hobby. A look at a couple of the local links shows the walking distance around the neatly manicured courses at right around 6,000 yards. A little conversion work translates that yardage into about 3.4 miles. A nice little workout if you’re walking the course along the well-trimmed fairways, paved cart paths and maybe adding a few more yards to the total as you wander the rough in search wayward shots.

In contrast, there is nothing that resembles manicured when you venture out into strip mine habitat to get to the “good spots.” Granted there are a few interior roads that connect the peripheral parking areas but once you stray from those one lane pathways, it all qualifies as rough. And we’re not talking “first cut” type rough to borrow a golfing term. Nope, we’re talking flat out “uncut.”

Note: In the above video I am about a half mile walk from my truck through this same sort of jungle

But it can sure be worth the effort and that’s why I am once again committed to giving it another go in 2019 and racking up a few more miles. Whether the ten miles are registered all at once remains to be seen. However, I am considering a handful of what I have referred to as “stupid stunts” that have been racing around in my brain for more than a few years so time will tell.

Of course, it’s easy to talk tough while pecking away on a keyboard and lurking behind a monitor in the comfort of home on a December night. It’s a whole different ballgame when you decide to walk the walk, stepping off the beaten path into Mother Nature’s version of fescue on steroids. And don’t forget that just like golf, once you walk “out”, you’ve got to walk back “in.”

Time to hit the treadmill.

Talk to you later. Troy

…eight days of camping,
seven hours of sleeping,
six months of burning,
five pounds of bass,
four kids all fishing,
three weeks of winter,
two Northerner boots,
and one transistor radio.

Eight campers camping…six kids in tow is the current record for me and Julie

On the heels of zero days of camping in 2018, it’s time to shoot for a decent batch of outdoor overnights.

Now for the hard part.

When?

Weekends are getting progressively busier as the kids get bigger and weekdays are obviously out during the school year. Throw in that I am foolishly frugal with using my vacation days and well, it takes some work to get away.

Our standard crew grubbing outside one of the two tents it takes these days

Looking back on the year, we did have a couple weekends with good intentions that got foiled. Once it was weather, as tent camping through a series of thunderstorms just isn’t all that much fun. A second false start involved a kid under the weather along with a bumper crop of summertime mosquitoes (had to take my radio inside during many a Cubs game once dusk rolled in).

Maybe we’re simply getting soft and hopefully not just getting old. Whatever the case, I feel a renewed commitment as I sit indoors engaged in the annual battle with Cabin Fever.

Once upon a time, this was camping…

Of course, I’ll be sure to write up a recap of our adventures in the great outdoors as it usually gets a little wild. Talk to you later. Troy