Cold Fish

A few years back I convinced the fry line manager to let me do my Surly work remotely. They were nice enough to make it seem like I was getting the good end of that deal - though I'm pretty sure some big high fives were slapped after my U-Haul tottered away. Since that time I have called a little town called Decorah, Iowa my home. It's a pretty nice place: 2.5 hours from Surly HQ in Minneapolis, er... *cough* Bloomington *cough*, an hour from the nearest four lane highway, and filled with more Norman Rockwell than you can shake a stick at. Oh, we also have 20+ miles of singletrack about 5 minutes from my front door. We make Mayberry look like a strip mall.

One of the real nice advantages to living where I do is the fishing. I've always enjoyed the simple quiet of drowning worms with my dad, but I've never been one to make a lot of effort to get out on the water. Babe Winkleman I ain't. This all began to change after my relocation. Turns out there are miles and miles of semi-pristine spring creeks up in these bluffs (yes, Iowa has bluffs Jethro) - and lots of them hold trout. It also happens that stalking and catching these slippery devils is both fun and challenging. My shitty lightweight spinning rig was soon replaced by some loaner fly fishing gear (thanks Nate!) Since that time I've been pretty well ass-deep in trying to carve out time to roll out to the creeks and get away from the world.

Here's where two of my nerdy gearhead obsessions come together.

Last Fall I was shown the glory of lightweight camping and dirt cycling by Surly expat, Swervy Sande. After hauling my ass over some real steep climbs dragging panniers and whatnots on my Troll, I dcided that my packing was all wrong. I phoned up the good people at Revelate Designs upon my return and made some investments toward the end of lightening my load. Good people those guys. 

So, I've got the bags. I've got the fishing gear. I live near some creeks. I have a Krampus. Even I'm not stupid enough to ignore the obvious. The Krampus Winter Trout Stalker was born.

I've got the rod and my sling pack full of gear - fly boxes, nippers, leaders, that sort of shit - in the handlebar harness. The waders live in the frame pack, and my giant size 14 ridiculous wading boots are cinched together with a Junk Strap and stuffed into the Viscacha seat bag. I can even fit a couple of road sodas and a sammich somewhere in all that too.

The closest creek to my pad is about three miles as the crow flies and my initial forays into the world of fly fishing by bike have been super successful. I haven't caught much since it's winter and the fishing is harder - and I'm honestly pretty awful at actually catching fish - but the fun I'm having is more than I deserve. Here's a taste of where I end up:

I know. I totally suck. Even I wish that I was me.

Anyway, it all comes back to figuring out more stupid shit to do on your bike, right? I like drinking beer too and figuring out how to mesh that with riding happened a very long time ago. We'll see where this new melding of geeky passtimes gets me.

Oh, and if you'd like a taste of my little town, feel free to join us on June 21-23 for our annual Dirt Burger gathering under the 5th St bridge. We'll ride bikes up in the trails, camp out, and burn stuff. Also, you should come by for one of the Midwest's oldest mountain bike races - the Decorah Time Trials. More information on both is available here: Decorah Human Powered Trails.

Right on,

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