The Home Bases Book for Colorado is done

Done. Turned in the manuscript this week and am now finishing up the photos to send. I always hate and love the book by the end.

New books from Mark and Amy Williams: Durango and Telluride

Interview about NHAS's Second Book, Paintings on the Wall

Interview with Mark D Williams

Seattle Washington Fishing Failure

While I was at a three-day conference in Seattle, Darrin and I thought we'd get in a little streamwork after putting up with notetaking and bad PowerPoints. No luck. The weather hovered in the high 30s and low 40s, the rain was typical Puget Sound drizzle for 24/7 and the rivers were high and cloudy. Great.
If we'd have had more time to hook up with a flyshop / guides, we'd have been able to hit somewhere for something but we were in time-constrained, do-it-yourself mode. Next time, right?

Hotel Aiguablava, Costa Brava, Trout Streams

I’m not sure there is a prettier place in Europe. Aiguablava is on the Mediterranean, the east coast of Spain, just south of the border with France. Catalonia.
You might know the Costa Brava (the Brave Coast), the crowded beaches of Lloret de Mar and Tossa de Mar, the Roman ruins of Empuriabrava, the history and architecture of Girona, the majesty of the mountain setting Montserrat monastery that purportedly holds the Holy Grail. But the isolation and undeveloped beauty of Fornells, Begur and Aiguablava in the northern Costa Brava is where I go. Close to France. No crowds. Breathtaking beauty --- rocky cliffs, emerald water, mountains sloping into calm bahias.
Amy and I stay at the Hotel Aiguablava. The whitewashed hotel sits on a rugged cliff that juts out into the blue-green cove and the mountains sneak right up on the hotel. The grounds are green and flowerful and peaceful. In the late afternoon, I write about the fishing in eastern Spain. The odds and ends fish you catch in the shady rocky coves. The trout that fill the clear mountain streams. I write with the buttery garlic breath of Fornells crayfish I had for lunch. Sure, I had sweet juicy fresh cherry tomatoes and fresh bread I dipped in olive oil, and cheese we bought in a wheel from a local vendor in town that tasted smoky and creamy. Amy is in the room getting ready; we’re going to the beach this afternoon.
On the beach, we’ll see folks of all shapes and sizes, bathing suits of all cuts and types (yes, including the Speedo bikini for men, a big player on Spanish beaches). After we’re burnt to a crisp, we’ll take tapas at this bar on the beach, in the shade, with the breeze, the bar with the pa amb oli (bread with olive oil and tomatoes) and spicy chorizo sausage and the plate of assorted olives I like so much. And then I’ll catch the evening hatch on a nearby clear stream. And that’s kinda what fishing vacations are like in Spain --- a series of sun and meals and drinks, a variety of meals and drinks, broken up by a few hours angling and then back to meals and drink.
I fished one day with Bruno, after the daily Hotel Aiguablava breakfast we won’t dare miss, the Aiguablava breakfast in the windowed dining room that looks out over the Mediterranean. Bruno stands about 5-foot something, short and muscular, forty-something going on eighteen, a child-like wide-eyed view of the world, a bundle of raging electrons, never still. Impish smile. A fishing guide in warm months, a ski instructor in the cold months. We were to fish in the Segre River drainage in eastern Spain.
Heavy rain had put the main stem in spate form so we drove up the mountains, through the mountains, through a toll road and came to a tiny village where a feeder river flowed right through the heart of town. The water was too narrow, too skinny to hold any fish worth all this trouble.
I was wrong. In a big way.
The Llobregeta River. Town of Llobregeta. This feeder to the famous Segre River flowed weakly and green through town, a good fifteen feet below the street and sidewalk. I peered over the edge and looked down and I lost my breath. Trout everywhere. Everywhere.
Five across the river holding in water so shallow, two dorsals break the surface. At least four of them are in the high teens, one might be over twenty and I’m being conservative. There were dark silhouettes by the chute of water falling into the big pool where four more trout outlines finned.
Bruno and I entered below town and throughout the day and into the evening, stopping for a leisurely lunch of tapas at the only bar open in town that day, we each caught fifteen or more fish. We took turns at first, I missed more than he; we each made long casts to rising trout, sightfishing in six to twelve inches of water, long flats. The takes were explosive in the shallow water and the thick trout kicked out the fly easily in this thin water.
The longest trout I caught was in the high teens but weighed more than your usual rainbow. Girthy mean trout, rainbows and browns, all caught on dry flies. Bruno lost one trout we saw hanging in a two-foot wide run that was scary big, several pounds. He lost it when the brute shook his head and broke him off like he was a Catalonian downing a plate of paella. BTW, Bruno knows this little bar with some of the best local wine in the region.

Contacts:
Gourmetfly.com, Nick’s cell phone number, if you call from the US or from Spain, dial International code access + 33.6.83 25 8409. His email address is nick@gourmetfly.com, www.gourmetfly.com
Hotel Aiguablava, www.aiguablava.com
Costa Brava Tourism, Girona, www.costabrava.org

excerpted from my book So Many Fish, So Little Time (Harper Collins)

One of my students published in Southwest Fly Fishing

Local student published at 16

Teen merged love for fishing and writing
By Laura Rice
Tuesday, February 03, 2009 at 3:49 p.m.

AMARILLO -- At sixteen years old most are driving a car, planning for prom and maybe thinking about college. But one local teen is seeing his name in print.

Cylar Brown is pretty quiet and not one to brag about his accomplishments, so ProNews 7 will do that for him.

When Cylar walked into Mark Williams' class at North Heights Alternative School this fall a book about fishing was one of the first things he noticed. A book that just happened to be authored by Williams.

Williams challenged Cylar to write himself.

Three hundred words took months to write but after researching and editing they submitted an article to a magazine... not even revealing Cyler's young age.

An hour later, a "yes" from a national trade magazine: Southwest Fly Fishing.

"I have 30 year old friends who have been in the business writing for newspapers and regionals," said Williams. "It's amazingly difficult to get into a national publication."

Cyler credits his hard work for the payoff.

"Somewhat luck... but I worked really hard at it," he said.

His story is now inspiring other students at North Heights.

"They'll say there goes that guy that published in a national magazine," said Williams.

But, more importantly, it ha given Cyler a clear look at what the future could hold.

"Seeing my words in a national magazine, other people are going to be reading... it's just something I never could have dreamed of doing," said Cyler.

He's proud of his work and so is his family, particularly his grandma. Good luck finding a copy of Southwest Fly Fishing here in Amarillo.

"She bought I don't know how many," said Cyler. "She has a stack at her house of all the magazines."

This will not be the last you will hear of Cyler.

He and his teacher are now collaborating on a chapter for a book.