A Blanco Honky Thanksgiving

The Ambassadors joining us at the Blanco table this Thanksgiving day enjoy a good power chow as much as anyone else. But don’t expect to find the usual Turkey and fixings on our plates. Thanksgiving Dinner Blanco Honky style reflects the diversity of those at the dinner table, underscoring the true importance of the day: family, friends and fishing.

Blanco Honky Thanksgiving Day Dinner Menu

Beverages of Choice: Wild Turkey Bourbon, Scape Goat Beer Hors d’oeuvres: Whitefish Spread and CrackersSalad: Richard Simmon’s Garden Deluxe Salad

Appetizers: Raw Prince Edward Island Oysters

Main Course: Alaskan King Crab Legs
& South Carolina Steamed Shrimp
Desert: Sexual Chocolate

Leftovers: Whitefish Bagels
What’s on your menu this Thanksgiving Day? Whatever it is, we hope you take time to give thanks for all the good and even some of the bad this year. After all that’s part of what comes along with your friends, family and of course the fishing!! So raise your glass, offer a toast and enjoy the day for everything it has to offer!

The Dancing Outlaw

Nearly three decades ago, we sent a team of Blanco Honky Ambassadors on an exploratory trip out into the wilds of Appalachia. Armed with no more than a camera, a bottle of lubrication, and a few fly rods, the team’s mission was simple: find and film the fish, and don’t return until you’ve discovered something special. After a few years with no word back from the team, we wrote them off as communists.

However, recently we received a mysterious package containing a reel of film along with a note requesting money to secure safe passage across the West Virginia border back into civilization. Based on hand writing analysis we believe this package to have been sent from missing ambassador Bob (pictured adjacent circa 1979).

For nearly three decades these ambassadors have been entrapped by a tribe of white-trash. In an effort to blend in and spare their own lives and heterosexual orientation, they’ve seemingly embedded themselves’ within the confines of an abstract culture of tap dancing, household chemicals, and Elvis Presley.

After reviewing some of this unbelievable footage we were able to draw the following conclusions: (1) Evidently, as it turns out, these ambassadors hadn’t defected to Mother Russia after all! (2) We’re probably partially to blame for not reporting their disappearance a little earlier… or at all. (3) Even though he didn’t seem to mind at the time, we probably shouldn’t have put Shackleford under strict orders to wear that Cosby sweater for the duration of the expedition.

Thus with an overwhelming sense of guilt weighing heavy on our conscience, Blanco Honky desperately began searching for ways to bring our boys back home. Once our efforts to contact the U.S. Embassy in West Virginia seemed hopeless, Blanco Honky took it upon itself to launch a rescue operation. Unfortunately, Chuck Norris wouldn’t return our phone calls either.

Thus in a last desperate attempt to raise money for the safe passage of our once-lost ambassadors, Blanco Honky has put together a DVD from the footage captured by our imprisoned ambassadors of which 100% of the proceeds will go towards their safe passage home. We’ve posted an extended trailer of some of the footage below to further underscore the gravity of the situation.

Bucket Mouth of the South

Blanco Honky prides itself on having a top notch team of Ambassadors. These Ambassadors are among the most talented anglers in the world today. That's all good and fine. But the qualities that make Blanco Honky Ambassador truly unique don't have anything to do with fishing at all. These ambassadors' lives are as colorful as their personalities, and that's what makes a Blanco Ambassador stand out in a crowd. Anyone can fish. But that doesn't mean you want to fish with just anyone. Our team of Ambassadors have been hand picked for the intangibles, for all the good things that can't be taught or learned. Because sometimes, you either just have it, or you don't. One such Blanco Ambassador recently submitted a field report. We've taken the liberty to share some of the excerpts, photos and good advice.

“I took my wife and kid fishing the other day, and we wore ‘em out!” reports this southerly stationed Blanco Honky Ambassador (pictured atop of the page). “Warm fall days are actually good for more a whole heck-of-a lot more than Margaritas and taquitos... whether my wife says so or not”. "The Mrs. (pictured 1st para on right) had good time catchin 'em all dang day. And Junior (pictured adjacent) caught himself a big ole bucket mouth almost as good as mine... I sure do love fishin dem lil popping bugs!"

Evidently these “warm fall days” though sparse, really do provide ample opportunity to catch some of our favorite warm water species. Imagine that! Warm days = Good warm water fishing. So if you’re growing bored of buckets of Margaritas and hot tamales, hit the water for some bucket mouths and brim!!! Thanks for the report Mr. Ambassador, you have a lovely family!

Sunday Sixer

Every now and then, a good honky gets suckered into a Sunday afternoon of football and stays off the water. It happens to the best of us: sofa city. If you were old enough to watch football during the 1960's and 1970’s and remember it; you’re probably finding yourself in this situation a little more often than you used to. With this in mind, we’ve compiled a Sunday afternoon throwback six-pack… of sixties and seventies beer commercials that is. Hopefully you’ll enjoy this dose of nostalgia. Check out how sixties and seventies-tastic these commercials really are and make sure to get back out on the water next weekend!!!

1.) Schlitz Beer and the Commodores- Need we say any more?

2.)Grain Belt Beer and a hot dog- This is a little gross, and definitely weird.

3.) Schlitz Treasure Hunt- Yes, we realize we've already put Schlitz on the list. But they did have a prolific marketing campaign during this era in time; and just check the level of drama going on here, pretty intense.

4.) Olympia Beer Musical- This sixties commercial stars: peace, love and harmony.

5.) Blitz Weinhard's Best Beer in the Country- This is the man's man beer. The one that loggers and commercial fisherman choose over all else... see for yourself.

6.) Pabst Blue Ribbon Fall Harvest- This is just as cheesey as the rest of these commercials, but how could you have a throwback six pack without PBR?

"Epic Hatch": Fly Shop Guy Hatch Report

.....THIS JUST IN OFF THE BLANCO HONKY WIRE……..
“FLY SHOP GUY” REPORTS A "WICKED-BAD" MOSQUITO HATCH GOING OFF JUST SOUTH OF THE OTHER FLY BIN. DATES STILL AVAILABLE, BOOK NOW! COME CATCH WEST NILE OR ASIAN AVIAN FLU DURING THIS EPIC HATCH. DON’T FORGET TO BRING YOUR DEET; AFTERALL: WHAT’S THE WORRY OF TOMMORROW IF YOU GET EATEN ALIVE TODAY?


WHILE YOU'RE AT IT, STOP BYE THE SHOP TO BRAG ABOUT YOUR UPCOMING TRIPS TO FAR OFF EXOTIC DESTINATIONS. “FLY SHOP GUY” PROMISES TO ACT REALLY INTERESTED AS HE TIES AN ALBRIGHT KNOT FROM YOUR BACKING TO YOUR FLY LINE. REALITY: YOU THINK HE’S INTERESTED IN YOUR PERMIT STORY FROM LAST YEAR. IN TRUTH, HE’S TRYING TO REMEMBER IF HE LEFT HIS CREDIT CARD AT THE BAR LAST NIGHT. “HAVE A WONDERFUL TRIP AND BE SURE TO TAKE PLENTY OF PICTURES”, FLY SHOP GUY JUST LOVES SEEING WHERE EVERYONE ELSE GETS TO GO AND FISH!!!

Combat Fly Fishing: A Veteran's Day Tribute

Combat Fishing: Excerpts from an interview conducted by one of our Blanco Honky Ambassador’s with an U.S. Army Sergeant pertaining to his fly fishing experiences while in Iraq*

You are a fly fisherman and a soldier. You were being sent to the desert to fight in a war. What possessed you to fly fish?

Back in 2004, during my first tour over in Iraq; I remember that the 1st thing you see flying in on the plane are all these lakes and palm trees. Being a fisherman you immediately notice the water and think ‘fishing’… Despite all that ‘fishy’ looking water, the first year I was over there I caught nothing. But once I knew I was going back, I knew I was going to try again to catch something.

How in the world did y’all get a hold of fishing equipment while in the middle of the desert?
I bought a 9 weight on ebay for $89. I left all my nice stuff at home…. I just wanted something to knock around with and not have to worry about having to leave behind or anything.

Did you know what you were going to be fishing for while you were over there?
No, not at first. The first fish I noticed were Carp, but carp didn’t interest me… I did like to fish for this Silver fish called an “Asp” (a snook/ largemouth type fish) that I think is in the carp family.

Were you fishing in ponds, lakes or rivers?
They were these artificial lakes commissioned by Saddam after the big Iraqi oil boom in 70’s or 80’s. If you have control of water in a desert, that really says something; you have a lot of power…. The lakes are fed by the Tigris River and the fish are also found in the river… If you took down all the sandbags and military equipment and put up a bar; it’s a tropical resort in the middle of the desert. It’s really beautiful.
Did any of the Iraqi population or Iraqi security forces see you fly fishing and if so, how did they respond to seeing a soldier waving around the long rod?
They would definitely stop and watch. Most of them would wait until I caught something and then ask “could we keep?” and I would give them the fish to eat. I wasn’t going to eat the fish so I was happy to give it to them.

Were the areas you fished in, safe and secure areas?
Yes. But even then it was dangerous… Me and my friend Taylor, who had a Hum-Vee, ate breakfast and then were off to hit the water. We were fishing one of the lakes and heard a machine gun pretty close by. Then all of a sudden I look over at my friend Taylor who had hit the dirt. I asked him what was wrong he said, “Did you hear that?” And then I did; bullets whizzing by my head! I hit the dirt as bullets scattered around us and then we ran as fast as we could for the truck and got out of there!

You gave us a casual account of your ‘Iraqi-Big-Fish-Tale’ at the shop the other day, and I asked you to come back today and share your story again. Tell us about the biggest fish you caught:
It was the Sunday during my last weekend over there on our last time out fishing and we decided to try “Lost Lake”. I spotted a Calm section of the lake and started blind casting; and caught two small 14 inchers relatively quickly. …Then I saw signs of mudding and a huge boil. So I thought, they must be feeding off of the bottom. I caught the first two smaller fish on a yellow Clouser and a floating line. Knowing I needed to get deeper for a mudding fish, I added a split shot. I made a cast parallel to shore and let the fly sink. I counted maybe 15 seconds, stripped twice and the fly stuck. When the fly wouldn’t move, I thought I was hung up. So I gave it a big strip and all of a sudden the water exploded and the fish took off 150 yards of backing off of my poor old reel. My rod was instantly bent to the handle… I had to lay the wood to him, at least the best I could. After about 15mins of a man versus fish struggling back and forth and some serious adjustments, the fish gave some tail slaps and a few more runs and then I lipped him.

Just how big was this fish and what was it?
Well I had to lip it with both hands in its mouth because of its size. Thank goodness it didn’t have any teeth. Its Body was as big as my torso and I held it up to my chest with its tail still on the ground which puts it at about 64inches in length and about 16 inches in girth. I would say it was about 50 lbs. I think it was a huge version of the fish we called “Man-Gar”. It had a long snout like a Snook, but its tail and fins are different than a Snook. It was Gold with green spots in every scale. Each scale was a smaller dimed sized scale to that of a quarter sized carp scale. It had a white belly and no lateral line and was a very clean looking fish unlike a carp. He also had big bump like a spawned out sockeye behind its head and a tapered tail. I have to say, its Massive-ness made him a little scary. If you had a beauty contest between a carp and this fish; this fish would win.

Do you have a picture?

No. I was alone when I caught the big “Man-gar”. I yelled for someone to come and one guy yelled back for me to wait. He ran up to me after a few seconds and said “That’s a huge fish!” but then he ran off and I didn’t want to kill the fish so I just let it go.

Thanks for your time today Sergeant. We appreciate you sharing your story with us, and we appreciate you and your service to our country.

*This interview is an abridged version of the original published work. This has been edited and re-published containing some previously unpublished excerpts with the expressed written permission of the original author. As per the author’s request, the names of the interviewer and interviewee have been withheld. All content, including photography is original and authentic reflecting accurate accounts as depicted by the interview subject.

Below is a sketch of what a "Man-Gar" might look like. This sketch was created by an un-named Blanco Honky Artist-Ambassador from the descriptions provided in the interview. Have you seen this fish?

Presidential Permit

This past week's presidential election proved to be a pretty big deal. It also proved to be pretty stressful. Being an active member of civil society, we decided to try and do our part to help. We here at Blanco Honky thought, perhaps we could help the candidates themselves'. And afterall, "What better way to relieve stress than Permit fishing right?" Exactly. Blanco Honky has been widely recognized as an international player in conflict resolution; a "cooler" if you will. Like Patrick Swayze in Roadhouse. We have been highly regarded for our forsight and insight into such similar situations. Take the the Castro takeover in Cuba; we had ambassadors out in the Bay of Pigs putting Batista on Tarpon.
Anyhow, given President-elect Obama's expressed intent to "do a little fly-fishing" after the election, and Senator McCain's history of bipartisanship; Blanco Honky sent the two former candidates on a fishing excursion in Key West this past Thursday. Ahh!! You thought McCain was sulking in his Arizona home and Obama was strategizing in Illinois: think again! They were Permit fishing and we have the pics to prove it!

We sent Palin along to pole the boat thinking she might look good in a bikini. Unfortunately, It seems as though fair-skinned Alaskans prefer to cover up on the water. The day of fishing proved reflexive of the electoral college. Have a look at the size of the fish and be judge the winner for yourself. The best thing that came from the trip wasn't Palin in the Bikini, or Obama landing a 35 pound Permit on Sandy's Cracked Crab, or McCain getting excited about "the eat" of his 5 pounder. The real thrill was that a good time was had by all, and that on the water, differences were set aside, and Blanco Honky's mantra of Contagious Colloquialism wasn't just embraced by these three but engaged, thus hopefully furthering the betterment of our world for the next four years to come. Cheers Honkies- Get your Permit on!

1 strike, 2 strike, 3 strike Pike!!!

When DNR reported an increased presence of pike in our local trout waters, Blanco Honky wasted no time in dispatching a tactical response team to the scene of the incident. Three Blanco Honky Ambassadors set out on a typical search and destroy mission with one objective: seek out as many pike as possible, and kill them all.

The mission was pretty straight forward, a two day float with 8 weights and lots of big ugly flies. But as in any expedition, ill-preparedness, and the unexpected can spell disaster. The following is a transcript from the journal kept by one of the Ambassadors during their adventure:

Day 1
8:00am: We’ve just put in, and the three of us are in high spirits as we all have high hopes for another successful conquest.

9:00am: Ambassador #2 is on the oars and just cracked his first beer

9:05am: Ambassador #1 and myself have just cracked our first beers

10:30am: No pike

11:15am: Ambassador #1 has just landed a 4lb squawfish

12:30pm: I’m on the oars and Ambassador #2 moves to the stern

1:45pm: Ambassador #1 is beginning to slur his speech. Still no pike.

3:30pm: Ambassador #1 has successfully scared all of us with his casting, and has been demoted to oarsman. I switch to the stern, Ambassador #2 moves to the bow. Still no pike, the mood shifts from fishing to drinking.

5:00pm: I knuckled out a dump while we held in an eddy, pretty groadey. Still no pike.

6:30pm: Ambassador #1 has begun to get loud due to intoxication and refuses to get off the oars despite his turbid rowing. Still no pike.

8:00pm: We’ve just stopped along the bank for Ambassador #2 to use Nature’s Recliner, he and I switch spots placing me at the stern, Ambassador #1 won’t leave the oars. A consensus is reached to continue downstream in search of a gravel bar to make camp for the night. Not even one pike so far.

8:30pm: The sun has virtually set, rods are down, beers are up, no pike and no campsite.

9:15pm: It is becoming tough to write due to the beers and the dark. No pike, despite an ever persistent Ambassador #2 in the bow.

9:20pm: Ambassador #2 just got a strike!!!

9:30pm: Ambassador #2 has just tea kettled out of the boat unintentionally. Evidently, Ambassador one felt the need for an abrupt cross-stroke and not the need to warn us.

10:00pm: We have found a gravel bar. Now I set out to find firewood while Ambassador #2 limps over to the water (due to injuries sustained in his overboard ejection) and fish by headlamp. Ambassador #1 stays in camp as he has claimed control of food preparation.

11:00pm: Ambassador #2 lands a massive pike. I take pictures. When Ambassador #2 and I return to camp to brag and get dinner, Ambassador #1 is laughing and admits he forgot all of the food but two potatoes, which he managed to eat while we were down photographing the pike.

11:15pm: I open a bottle of bourbon for Ambassador #2 and I. We refuse to share with Ambassador #1 despite his constant pleading.

12:15am: Everyone is exhausted. Ambassador # 1 passed out shortly after the last entry. Ambassador #2 and I are settling into our respective bags for fire watching and much needed sleep.

Day 2
6:00am: We are drifting down the river at an expeditious pace after being awoken by gunfire nearly half an hour ago. After a hasty retreat and lengthy discussion, we were able to figure out that it is the opening day of duck season. No one has picked up a rod yet.

6:30am: We are all having barley sandwiches for breakfast in an effort to combat the growls and stomach cramps that stem from hunger. Still no fishing.

7:15am: Ambassador #1 lets out an audibly fowl smell and announces “It must be from those potatoes I ate last night” and begins laughing hysterically. I take a pull from the bottle of bourbon and pick up my rod.

8:45am: I hook and land a decent pike, we snap a photo and kill the fish. Now I hop on the oars and focus on drinking.

9:30am: Ambassador #2 is complaining about his injury to his shin sustained from last night’s overboard incident. Ambassador #1 and I laugh out loud.

10:15am: Ambassador #1 lands a nice 17 inch brown on a brown and yellow strip leech. We celebrate with a beer toast.

11:45am: Ambassador #1 lands a slightly smaller pike. Drama unfolds: Ambassador #2 leaders the fish and holds it steady for the final execution. Ambassador #1 swings hastily with the $150 wooden Orvis net, as it hits the hand of Ambassador #2 it breaks and the pike begins to flop on the floor. Ambassador #2 is moaning. I take action and quickly finish off the pike with a savage anchor attack. Ambassador #1 is laughing hysterically.

12:00pm: We are ahead of schedule on both our float and our beer supply. The question is raised by Ambassador #1: which will we reach first a) the take out b) the last beer? We all pray it is a).

1:15pm: Ambassador #2 appears to be a shadow of the man that started this voyage. He is sitting, sulking in the bow with one hand on the bottle of bourbon, and the other on his broken net.

2:30pm: Ambassador #1 has switched from pike flies to whitefish flies. After he hooks his first whitefish he asks, “Anybody got a net?”

3:15pm: We arrive at our takeout. As Ambassador #1 reaches his truck, he notices a parking ticket underneath the windshield. Evidently, our shuttle service didn’t pay too much attention to the handicap sign in front of the bathrooms when they parked the truck… or perhaps they did.

4:00pm: We are homeward bound. Half starved, half drunk, and exhausted. Ambassador #1 asks, “What are you guys doing next weekend?” Ambassador #2 lets out a big sigh from the backside of a thigh, and says “I’m free. Can I bring the shingles with me?”