g_smolt 

g_smolt spends winters running trap lines deep in the Alaskan interior and his summers relocating “nuisance” crocodiles in the Nile River Valley.

g_smolt bowls a perfect “300″ 60% of the time.

g_smolt has his pants tailored with an extra crotch panel so as to not affect his award-winning roundhouse kick.

g_smolt once beat a yeti at checkers.

g_smolt can suck the chrome off a bumper.

g_smolt endorses Archie comics.

It wasn’t the planes that got him, it was g_smolt killed the beast.

Gaper 

Gaper will never ever write anything here himself. This is because he fancies himself a writer, and writers are lazy.

Wallace Taylor
WT@busterwantstofish.com

Wally greases his hair with motor oil, rarely shaves, and chews on match heads to keep the biting flies and leeches away.Wally angles for trouts mostly but he has a short attention span so he occasionally ranges the flats, sloughs and beaches up and down the Cascade Range and across the Columbia Watershed.

Salty
salty@busterwantstofish.com

Ah, I grew up in New England, slinging bait for trout and bass. I didn’t develop the aficion for fly fishing until I lost my virginity while A River Runs Through It was playing in the background. It was quite the religious experience I assure you and I had my conversion to the fly consecrated that night. I’ve bounced around a bit since those heady days, doing the salt thing down in Florida for a while, hence the name. Now I live in the Arizona borderlands, on an endless quest for water and fish. In my off time I am currently writing two volumes Selective Grayling and Selective Bluegill.

Wook (muthafusticus modernusticus)
wook@busterwantstofish.com

Wook lurches after fishes in the Central New York hinterlands, battling snow devils, howling packs of rust belt coyotes and great clouds of vampire bugs. Pennsylvania’s much more pleasant, really, and the trout are bigger, so you should go there. Wook enjoys defenestration, syncopation, smartassery and Smuttynose Old Brown Dog. Wook assumes you can swim.

Smithhammer
smithhammer@dontexpectaresponse.com

Smithhammer’s dual PhD’s in submarine architecture and gastrointestinal acoustics have only served to prove his father right. He should have listened to him all along and taken up a lucrative career as a fishing writer instead. To further his misdirection, he lives at the nexus of trout nirvana and spends his time cruising dirty ditches and reservoirs whilst mumbling to himself, like that guy in the theater with the dirty trenchcoat and the brown paper bag. Friends rarely take him up on offers to go fishing anymore.

Thee
thee@busterwantstofish.com

Inventor of hardcore punk neo-classic olde tymey garage rock gangsta fyshyng (with an angyle)™, thee is holder of several world records, knower of a coupla good jokes and owner of a by-god-authentic squeezebox. Thee endorses Maxima, American Spirit Tobacco, Rainer Beer, B&W Monitors, Kay Banjos, Koss ES-1 sequencers, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists and learning how to type. In a recently uncovered former life, Thee has been a bicycle-riding Pope. Fo’ reels, holmes. Bring ID and a baggie for yr teef.

bacon_to_fry
bacon@busterwantstofish.com

bacon_to_fry swings flies for stuff that comes up the local rivers after eating stuff and getting big and badass and pissed somewhere else much saltier. This stuff rarely works and he secretly hates himself for repeatedly doing such foolish stuff so often. He believes the pedal steel is really the siren song of banished angel-sluts. Special manimal powers include a markedly trained ability to lie while looking directly into your eyes and projectile Rainier vomiting in steelhead camp, but only as a means of curing hiccups. He maintains aquaseal and babywipes will get you further in life than duct tape (and much happier), has probably met someone who got to at least third base with your sister and writes all this from a lesbian coffeeshop because “You never really know.”

creeklover
creek@busterwantstofish.com

“3 hours to the Gulf, 3 hours to the mountains”Alabama is where creeklover calls home. Raised on chitlins, polk salad and sawmill gravy; he is BWTF’s only denizen(he hates this fucking word with a fucking passion, btw) of Dixie. Naturally he’s a bass-man because of the surrounding ’scape. creeklover loves it when teh old folk tell stories. He also believes drinking and horseshoes are the perfect marriage. He’s scared shitless of inclement weather, especially nado’s. creeklover believes there is nothing wrong with wearing stripping guards while fishing bass poppers, even if the locals might give you funny looks. Talents include rowing whitewater while shotgunnin a beer to tying rubber legged dragons with his eyes closed to cropdusting very sizable crowds on command. Besides fishing his hobbies include: hunting(mainly birds), fly tying, cycling, tailgating at SEC foosball games, and keg stands.

banknote
banknote@busterwantstofish.com

banknote loves the van livin’. A fresh block of ice and a full tank of propane excites his soul. He’ll fish for steelhead and trouts, mostly, but sometimes he catches other stuff. Increasingly frequent riverine distractions worthy of photographic record have, of late, left his fly dangling longer than it used to. banknote likes beer, bourbon, and food that tastes like something. His wife makes him drink wine and he likes that, too. Even whites. He likes to grow vegetables, pick things that grow in the forest, and plank grill hatchery fillets smothered in a garlic-caper sauce.

Epol

Epol is in charge of procurement. He works in the boiler room. Actually we think maybe he lives down there. He’s quite clean, but you should keep your hands and feet away from his mouth. While generally harmless, we can’t stress enough that doing Elephant Man imitations within earshot of Epol is a good way to find out what the bidness end of a spanner tastes like. We don’t see him much, but just feel better knowing he’s down there somewhere.

Coach Knight’s Goddamned Guide Service