Despite being saddled with a three-legged burro (clop-clop-clop-CRASH), Juan Pablo “Fish” Quixote was relentless in his pursuit of the Rio Grande Marlin.

Along a fabled stream in Colorado, whose name I feign ignorance, there lives, this very day, one of those gentle anglers who keeps a bamboo in the rod rack, a vintage landing net, a slim steed, and a noble Vizla.

In a metropolis along the hills, exists a stream called the Dirty South Platte, there was, rather recently, a cameraman who kept a graphite lance, swimming nymph flies, a short leader, and a pedal bike.

In a world where float tubes were shaped like donkeys....

Out in the West Texas town of El Paso...

Call me Fish Quixote.

"RELEASE THE KRAKEN!!!"

In a village in Montana, the name of which I have no desire to call to mind, there lived not long since one of those gentlemen that keep a 5-weight in the gun rack, an old, patched pair of waders, a rotary vice and a spaniel for fowling. A cooler of rather more domestic than imported, a tin of dip on most nights, pizza on Saturdays, a dancing girl on Fridays and a card game or so extra on Sundays made away with three-quarters of his income.

My heart was in the Australian backwaters where the trout run free and the water is cool.

Off a beach in the Bahamas, whose name I do not dare to reveal, there lives all the time a school of bonefish, that scornfully eyes a gentleman who keeps a fly rod at the ready, an assortment of streamers and Crazy Charlies, a hemostat, and shooting heads.

You must know, then, that the above-named gentleman whenever he was at
leisure (which was mostly all the year round) gave himself up to reading
books of fly-fishing with such ardour and avidity that he almost entirely
neglected the pursuit of his field-sports, and even the management of his
property; and to such a pitch did his eagerness and infatuation go that
he sold many an acre of tillageland to buy books of fly-fishing to read, and
brought home as many of them as he could get.

White man say his fish is this long...what a liar!

My dear brother, God provides for us knights a new day,with a clear and cognizant mind, unfettered by yesterdays needs, but gives to us a belly emptied of it's contents, only to be replenished by subduing and eating the provisions that God throws our way, so go fish, my dear brother Fish, and use your fly as an attractant, as I begin to prepare for the fry.

"Welcome to Taco Bell, may I take your order?"

"Yes, just follow that sun into the desert, the fish are over there..."

Apparently Carlos doesn't want to give his spot away.

You've all heard the song of the showdown between poncho and lefty, well I am here to tell you that the reason the federallies say they could have had him anyday was because his horse only had three legs, and this is the story of what happened to the forth while chasing marlin on the fly.

one day me and uccnle bob were drinkin and.........

The sun is beating down on my baseball hat, the air is gettin' hot, the beer is getting flat

Onward though the blue desert road Fish quixote and like many great desert explores he dawned his great and trusty stead and long saber. Unlike the many before him his stead be a donkey and saber be fly rod but nether the less the the best tools for the expedition ahead.

They still talk of Fish Quixote, the honest yet befuddled angler who fought fish with a fly rod in a vain attempt to hook and net the Tagged Steelhead, said to actually be Selma, the most beautiful princess ever, cast under the evil game warden's spell, and worth a King's Ransom.

Once upon a time, the best fishermen in all of south texas was challenged by a young hispanic, Fish Quixote.

I absolutely LOVE signing into this blog every day and seeing what topics get attention and response. This one surely demonstrates the creativity and intellectual acumen of its readers. Great job everyone!

Boy, that sure is one ugly horse!

By a stream in Montana, the name of which I will be beaten if I reveal, there stood not long ago one of those gentlemen with bamboo for his rod, a fraying overstuffed vest and furrowed brow, thinking "Madre de dios, did I leave my box of blue winged olives on the coffee table?!?"

The fish is bitting Sancho! a clear signal than We are on the bank.

Meanwhile, back on the family ranch, younger brother Carlos "Pescado" Quixote had an idea for shaking up the family business.

Somewhere in Patagonia, in a place whose name I do not care to remember, a gentleman lived not long ago, one of those who has a bobbin and an ancient vise on a shelf and keeps a tattered feather and a grey thread for tying.

His penance was paid not to the inquisition but by the application of supple bamboo, waxed flaxen chord and a contrivance fashioned from the feathers of a rooster.

"Bee" Cervantes

Fish Quixote went fishing on Friday, 3 consecutive days in a row

Once lived a man who loved to fish and there lived a man who wished he could fish

The old man and the unicorn edged their way closer to the water's edge.

A rider, A horse, one fly rod, the search was on for the best fish taco in all the land.

In a small lodge just outside of Gold River, the name of which I'll not reveal, there resided some time ago, one of those gentlemen who are anything but gentle, a collector of various things, who holds tightly to those of specific values, in his pile are dry flies which have seen better days, small pots of wax, reels of a great age, nets which no longer do and an old burro oft used as transportation to one particular honey hole.

To good fishing, may we all catch our giants!

There would be no time for chasing fish now, the oil was coming and Don and fish had to run down Manuel who could write. Having not filed an income tax from the following year it is was going to take a professional to forge income documents of a phony fishing guide service whose false yearly income would come into play in the enormous lawsuit against BP. Hidden within thousands of real claims, they expected to walk away with enough income for a proper Mexican wedding for the Garcia sisters, a villa for their many children, and a boat to retreat from the villa and the many children.