Jack Gartside, He didn't go gently. Yet another one I hate I missed!

“I frankly don’t make much of a living, but I make a hell of a life, ’Jack Gartside invented some of his much-prized fishing flies while using a vise clasped to the steering wheel of his cab as he sat in Logan Airport’s taxi queue, waiting for a fare. Jack died the 9th of December this year, if you fly fish and haven't heard of the man you should read up. He had the guts to put it down the road against the flow, and the fortitude to remain true to his direction. AP

HAPPY HOLIDAYS

When the power of love overcomes the love of power the world will know peace!
Jimmy Hendrix
Until then, may the Armed Forces of the Great United States of America continue to PULL THE TRIGGER!!
Audwin McGee

Poison and Wine, The Civil Wars

My friends John Paul White and Joy Williams singing their song "Poison and Wine" which was featured on Grey's Anatomy episode 609. Congratulations! More great music from our area.

Need I say More!

Thanks JKT for the Pic. AP

YOU SHOULD BE INTERESTED, I THINK

I've been reading "Ngorobob House, Life from the Hill", for a while since my friend Kelvin told me about it. And from the Blog's author Janelle I heard about "Monkeys on the roof". Both give great perspectives of life in Africa, one from Tanzania and the other from Botswana. Believe it or not Africa is a small world when you get to traveling or living there. Just a few months ago I was speaking to a new friend Elemer that I had only known for a few weeks. We met in the bush and got along as friends right off. We came on the subject of another friend (another hunter) that had tragically died up in Tanzania. We both knew a lot of the same people from different parts of the world. The only common denominator was Africa. It seems that, "people that thrive on being out there", eventually rub shoulders at some place or the other, usually on a Hot Dusty Bush Road, a Sheer Mountain Face, or more often during a "late night" at some Remote Backwoods Backpacker Bar. Ap

MONKEYS ON THE ROOF

"NOGOROBO HOUSE" LIFE ON THE HILL

Sheridan Anderson, I hate I missed him!

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I came across and old magazine entry about the death of a fly fisherman, Sheridan Andreas Mulholland Anderson. I had heard of him years before and even have a copy of the Manifesto. I am always sad in a way when I hear or read about a man I missed meeting that I know I would have liked, especially one that died during my lifetime, especially one who died too soon. Here is an excerpt from the piece I found in Drake Magazine." Just like everyone can remember the first time they met Sheridan, almost everyone can remember the last time they saw him. Joe Kelsey, who was on his way from Berkeley to the canyons of southwest Utah, stopped by to visit Sheridan in Vegas in 1981. “By then, there were all these hot climbers sleeping in their VW buses near Red Rocks,” he says. “They were drinking Perrier and doing yoga. Sheridan came in with a bottle of Jack, and plunked down in a chair, and they were all in awe of him. They knew he was one of the greats.” One of the last times Mike Anderson saw him was at their father’s funeral in February 1983; Sheridan was close to 300 pounds, and didn’t look well. “I hadn’t heard from him in a while, other than that drunken phone call every so often: ‘I miss you, I love you, brother,’” says Mike. “He just didn’t take good care of himself.”

On the evening of March 31, 1984, while he was in Vegas, he suffered an acute attack of emphysema and passed away. Mike spread his ashes in the Golden Trout Wilderness near Lone Pine, where Sheridan had spent many seasons exploring the streams and high mountain lakes of the southern Sierra. It was a place he’d hiked before, where he had found peace and solitude—and even found the elusive golden trout, “a leaping, flashing, dancing, bold ray of living sunlight.” He wrote:

Mount Humphreys was blazing away in the late afternoon sun, looking like a colossal throne against the relentless blue sky. I grinned and started laughing. I’m an eagle (I thought), a big, fat, very thirsty, rollicking eagle who was about to spread his wings and swoop down to Bishop and drink gallons and gallons of cold beer."

Mozambique Bush, The Last Bastion of Remote Africa

Upper headwater of Lugenda River at Metarica Camp Luwire Safaris

Mareth, my daughter with me at Metarica

Views of the Bush flying in to Luwire Safaris

My Old Casa on the Indian Ocean

My habitat for about a year while overseeing design and construction of a small guest lodge in Northern Mozambique. Note, the custom outdoor restroom/shower complete with view of the Indian Ocean. This was a very satisfying set up. I had a wind generator that kept a couple car batteries charged for lights and a small frig. I had a well drilled and we pumped water with a generator once a day for mixing cement and my shower. The shower water was heated by the sun as it lay in the black plastic pipe that brought it from the big black plastic tank we had erected on stilts. I hung the end of the pipe in a tree limb over the shower portion of my bathroom and installed an on off valve. It was a shower any man would lust after, big pressure, hot water, watching the tide come in in the morning or the stars in the evening. AP

MORE GEAR FOR MAN

WHITES BOOTS, I bought my first pair of Whites boots while working for an Outfitter in Jackson Hole Wyoming in 1977. They were basic Packers and I wore them for years when ever I was horseback. AP



/www.belstaff.com/index.php
HARD CORE STUFF! very nice

GEAR FOR MAN

Came across this site a few weeks ago and marked it. The guy, "Dave" has a great story and more than the story being good, it's also a success. I haven't held one of the bags in person yet, but from the pictures they look substantial enough. If anyone owns one let me know, I've been looking for years for a bag like his large Briefcase to go with "my" rusty AK, but haven't found exactly the one.
www.saddlebackleather.com I like his take on faith as well. AP

David Durante, on the Move!

I met David a few years back while with my wife Sandi, up in Philadelphia at Olympic Trials. She had gotten to know him a few years before at Nationals. Sandi has been involved with USA Gymnastics for years and lectures at their events. Anyway I was completely impressed with the man. He was very humble, genuine and personable, and is always the gentleman. It has been a pleasure following his career and getting to know him and I wish him the best of travels as he takes a very deserving "year off". David has a lot of family in Italy and is traveling around Europe for a year reconnecting with his heritage. I painted David a few years ago for Sandi to hang in her gym "Geronimo Gymnastics" he was nice enough to sign the painting for us and I must say he represents the sport perfectly. Ap here is a link to David's Travel Blog, www.duratejourney.blogspot.com

Mr. Norbert Putnam, A Great One still resides among us!

Saturday, November 14, 1:30pm
Nashville Cats: Salute to Norbert Putnam


Nashville Cats
Alabama-bred bassist Norbert Putnam made his name as one of the cadre of soulful players who created pop and R&B classics in Muscle Shoals in the early 1960s. Putnam moved to Nashville in 1965, and his work graces locally recorded hits such as Joan Baez’s “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down,” Bobby Goldsboro’s “Honey,” Elvis Presley’s “Promised Land,” Linda Ronstadt’s “Long Long Time,” and Tony Joe White’s “Polk Salad Annie.” In addition, Putman is a successful producer (Joan Baez, Jimmy Buffett, Dan Fogelberg), publisher (Danor Music), and business owner (Quadrofonic Studio, Bennett House, Georgetown Mastering). This interview will be illustrated with photos, film footage, and recordings from throughout Putnam’s career. A signing will follow in the Museum Store. Included with museum admission. Free to museum members.
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Diary Excerpts, Lichenge Camp Luwire Safaris, Oct. 2009

Sitting here in a bush camp in Block C of the Reserve and listening to a baboon barking down the way along the banks of the Rio Lugenda, probably at a passing Leopard or probably nothing at all, the air is blessed with a small breeze warm to the touch, the sounds are minimal as the noon hour approaches and most birds and the like that have chattered all morning are looking for a cool place to sit and cool while the noon day heat passes. Januario begins the noonday radio broadcast to the other various camps searching for news, listening to the latest and noting the different requests by others, supplies needed for the various camps stretched up and down the 200 kilometer stretch of Lugenda River that makes up Block C and then to the north in Block A to the border of Tanzania, beyond the American owned Block B. A total distance of over 400 Kilometers that will take you just over four days of very hard driving to navigate end to end..

Its warm but the breeze has started up, hopefully to continue on into the night. Looking out across the river, very low at this time of year and at this particular spot, “Lichenge Camp”, its approximately a quarter to a half mile wide. The main channel keeps to the middle and fingers still hold water going in and out around sand bars and banks that have only come to be seen this month as the water recedes. Four Kudu cows come to drink on the far side as well as a family of warthogs. I’m no stranger to them as they are regulars and often spook each other coming and going down for their afternoon sip.

I think of the Bat Hawk we saw the night before as I look down off the bank to the floor of the river below the camp, where as we waded and talked a young Bull Elephant chased us up the bank to the dinning room showing us just how close we can get to nature here.

Not a manmade sound can be heard, only a dove calling and the splash of a Kingfisher fishing for his supper out in front. The Kudu and Wart hogs have returned up the far bank and drifted into the bush to places unknown to me. I look and listen but there is only silence for now as the sun lights the sides of the mountains of granite to my right and a black tail kite floats past.

Imperial Black...A New Blog that might prove to be very cool

Excerpts from Niassa Diary

Niassa Reserve seethes under the heat of November, every tree, every blade of grass, thorn, and animal, looking to the sky for relief, relief that’s sure to come as always this month or next. Not, mind you, without a little or a lot of teasing from the clouds. The birds and animals can feel the change and you might think you can, but not really, you can only hypothesize. Here you have to be born and survive to a proper adulthood if your that fortunate, man or beast. Maybe then you will be granted the knowing of what is coming down the wind, sometime it’s better not to know.

I unfortunately or fortunately wasn’t born here nor did I have to fight to reach adulthood as everything born here is destined to do. Tealeaves were cast, read and the Display Window orchestrated as to effect my wanderings and to this place of wildness I arrived. As I look back beyond the obvious, deeper and deeper into that large dressed window that brought me here, a very complex scene continues to emerge. So I stand and gaze in so as to enlighten myself of all that Niassa is, all that she will or will not become and in this manner I have stepped into a life I will never truly be able to completely embrace as I would like, but just the same what little I have been so graciously blessed to participate in I truly relish as some of the best living I have ever experienced.

Matar's Father's Portrait

My friend in the Emirates, Matar treated me to a wonderful time in the Desert a few years back and I hope to see him in Mozambique this fall. I met his father while seated around a dinner of Baby Camel and other delicacies prepared in my honor and was immediately befriended by him. At the time my hair was long and my beard was a bit unkempt due to my months in the African Bush from which I had been extracated for a little R & R and had ended up in Abu Dhabi. Matar's Father said he took a liking to me because I reminded him of himself when he lived in the desert like the Bedouin with his beard and hair long and wild.
I am honored to paint his portrait. One day I hope to write about a few of his experiences he shared with me while I was there. AP

Moving On

I started this experiment as a way to connect with like minded, barefoot, one-eared, independent types. I realize more each day that we are a vanishing lot. And really.... it is time for us to go. There is very little left to do. The Wild Places are becoming little islands and the water is rising. I watch, read, and listen to those who pull on their explorer uniforms direct from the catalogs and go forth to conquer. But, there is no more conquer, it was conquered generations ago, even before me. I am no frontier forging
aficionado, no not quite. I have occasionally in small wisps of scent filled air breathed a little of what it was like to be the first, but I can really only imagine. I'm not sad or disappointed, no, I remain in my soul one of the ones that would have gone, would have lived a short life to be there, would have died somewhere alone, forgotten to be there. This place of blog, (what a name for something)! This place tried to go hear and there and for the most part has stayed in bounds with the direction. But, I must apologize, for I have ventured into the haziness of the political view and that is not where I want to go with this. Obama and the D.C. Bunch can have it, (Politics that is) they are a waste of time along with the Democrats, Republicans, Independents and the like. From now on I write, share and show what's in my soul, not what hinders it but what it desires. My last Political Post preceded this, hope you all enjoyed it. Remember it's up to US to keep on living it the way our Founding Fathers, Relatives, Friends and Loved Ones wanted us to. We will levitate to greater heights together soon! AP

DECLARE IT!

Damn I Hate Politicians and Colonoscopys

I'm not embarrassed, I just a few months ago had a Colonoscopy. No big deal, it's recommended for men past the age of 50. So laying there, a bit groggy after the procedure, I had a little time and during the progression of the contemplation of many things, one interesting thought breached the power of the anesthesia and burst out of the deep wrinkles of my numbness. The thought was as follows. How remarkably similar Mr. Obama, his deftness at reading a teleprompter, all his policies and rhetoric and how he treats his dog, etc. etc. are to a Colonoscopy. Please permit me to explain, if I may.
First, they tell you it is necessary, good for you and all that. Then they tell you what's going to happen and what possible problems might arise, but all and all it's what really needs to be done and it needs to be done soon! They try to make you as comfortable as possible before they start. They wrap warm blankets around your body and feet while asking you the final few pertinent personal questions and last but not least they put you to sleep. What's the similarities you say? Well first off this is no cut directed at my doctors and wonderful nurses that took care of me. But in keeping with Obama's plan for mankind you wake up and your not really sure where in Hades you are. You didn't really feel a thing but your pretty sure you just had an ass reaming. Um, After which, and Just like our new government policies your going to be wheeled down the hall to recovery. It's all about the recovery, and rehabilitation. Like our country is recovering right now and will be fore ever, this recovery is from an ass reaming, which in this case has been facilitated by the last and absolutely the greatest care giving politician in our country's history. Notice I said the last, as I believe America has no more to give! No not one righteous man or woman left to become our leader. No not one coming up in the wings, no one yearning to serve his fellow man, citizen, illegal alien etc. except to personally gain as much as possible for his or herself and all fellow "conformists" who assist and continually conform to the whims of popular secular thought to further their own individual personal agendas. Back to the procedure, they tell you you should have this done every year on an on going basis. Oh Boy! an ASS reaming every year now and forever. I thought to myself at least I can make that call "myself" when next year rolls around. Then I heard Obama talking on the tube over the last few days about health care. He told me that when his Health Care Bill passed that he would still allow me to pick or choose my own physician. Did you hear what I said? He will allow me to pick my own physician. Thanks B.O. but the day you get to where you can allow me to pick my own physician will be the day I move out of YOUR COUNTRY cause it will no longer be my country. Not that I believe this will happen no! I don't think you are a very wise man, and I am going to hide and watch you prove that to the world. I also don't think that you are going to take our country from US. Remember, there are more of US than there are politicians, I mean all politicians! Maybe there are more liberals now than US, notice I didn't say Republicans, or Conservatives, I'm no longer neither, no, I said US! We are none of the above, we are those who know what's coming if you continue. You lately have sided with the Honduran president who, as I understand was underway to change the Honduran Constitution so as to allow himself to remain president of Honduras without a democratic vote. This speaks volumes about you Mr. B.O. Are you thinking the same thing for yourself? Why would you say something like that? Why wouldn't you flex your backbone and stand up for something? Your smooth ole boy! You are for change, I believe it, you don't have to say no more, you say volumes when you keep your mouth shut. Only the volumes are nothing but slander against our CONSTITUTION! Cease and Desist!!!! AP

More Chronicles of Deliberate Thought or Pictures

BILLY REID ON STAGE







SOMETIMES I JUST LIKE TO LOOK AT OTHER PEOPLES STUFF, HERE'S SOME OF MINE JUST FOR ENTERTAINMENT. . AP

Again, a Little Consorting Going On

The South is good to me. I've lived in and out and around here off and on for most of my life. There's not too many places you can live that's got woods, creeks, a big river, swamps and as much room as this area does to just get out and roam. You got your fishing, hunting, etc. etc. but more than all this you got your "Amigos". I've always been blessed with great friends here at home. I got friends all over this place we call earth but I always look forward to coming home and catching up with my Southern Brothers.
I can leave my place swing by Billy Reid's if its not too early and have a conversation with him and Pappy. On the other hand, in the late afternoon I might go stick my feet in the cold waters of Cypress Creek at David C's house and cast a Clouser to a Small Mouth then wade on down a few hundred feet on the other bank to Robin's and have him cook us a Pizza in his Creek Side Pizza Oven. I picked up my good friend J Kelvin T at the Muscle Shoals Airport this morning. He'd flown up from Birmingham in his Beechcraft to look over a design project I'm overseeing for another Southern Brother, Allan R.
Then there are all those brothers and sisters that make music in our area, the older and more "mature?" Muscle Shoals Swampers, David, Kelvin, N.C. Scott, Jimmy, Patterson, Jason, Mac, Gary, Rodney, James, Cindy, Larry, Angela, Lenny, Shane and the rest keeping the Muscle Shoals Sound alive and well. I was over to Fame this morning to talk to Rodney and got to say hello to Gary and Larry. Gary always gives me a hug, what an entertainer and song writer and Larry Byrom, well you should google him sometime. Anyway that's it today, just wanting to hear myself think some more, share a few thoughts, see where it goes. AP Larry Byrom
Fame2.com Gary Nichols>