Well I guess I should thank Matt for inviting me to contribute. I should also apologize for not doing it sooner. It's hard to sit down at a computer when the fishings hot and there's empty spaces in the fly boxes.  I guess I'll start with a mini Bio first.  Matt has gotten most of the high points down as far as who I am and where I come from.
     Grew up in Hawaii and was addicted to fishing from the very beginning.  Spent most weekends growing up catching anything that could swim in Pearl Harbor with a cane pole.  Eventually graduated to exploring the reefs and sandy beaches on Oahu with spinning and casting gear.  A little after highschool I took up spearfishing and put down the rods.
    After joining the Army I was stationed in NC where I took up fishing for bass and catfish to fill the gaping hole left by being transplanted from my home island.  It was during this time that I was first introduced to the world of fly fishing.  A buddy of mine invited me to the Great Smoky Mountains for a weekend of trout fishing using fly tackle.  I'm not going to lie here folks, at first I was hesitant to give fly fishing a try.  "You mean catching those little fish using that girly long rod and whipping it back and forth?" I mused. Against my better judgement I said what the hell and went along on the trip   He provided everything minus the waders, which I rented locally.  After a brief description and impromptu casting lesson, I was pointed out a fishy looking run and told to go forth and apply what I had learned.  The proverbial "trial by fire."  Not completely sure what I was doing I gave it a try and low and behold, I landed my first trout!  This wasn't some majestic 20 inch brown caught on a 22 bwo dry fly during an evening hatch.  It was a 13 inch stocked brown trout caught on a gold hare's ear nymph around noon.  But the experience stuck with me and awakened some unseen force within me.  Little did I know that a simple invitation and single stocked trout would alter my fishing path forever. Man I make it sound like I'm about to go on some epic journey to throw the one ring into the fires of mount doom. But that's neither here or there.  Where was I?  Immediately following that trip I ordered an entire setup of fly rod, reel, net, waders, even a spiffy vest for my one flybox of around a dozen storebought flies.  I knew that I wanted to give this fly fishing thing a real go at it.  I attempted to flyfish at every chance I got.  I tried to reproduce that first experience in the smokies like a junkie chasing that first high. Soon after that I was shipped off to Honduras for a year where the flyrod collected dust.  Yes I know what your're all thinking.  I didn't know you could fly fish in the ocean. It was later that I learned  Honduras is home to some of the best salt water fly angling in the world.  I'm still kicking myself in the butt to this day.  I chalked it up as a life lesson and moved on since then.
      After my tour in Honduras I found myself in upstate NY, which looked nothing like New York City.  Give me a break I grew up on an island in the Pacific and hadn't traveled outside of the state.  Everything I knew about NY came from TV and movies.  I quickly learned that New York is considered the birthplace of American Fly Fishing and is home to some world famous rivers and creeks.  What better place to begin my journey to Fly Fishing fanatasicm.  I was stationed at Ft. Drum, which is conviently located at the doorstep of Adirondack Park.  It was here that I met Matt working behind the counter of a fly shop in Lake Placid.  We quickly became friends after learning he was a Army engineer with the NY National Guard.  After that I'd make the drive to fish on the weekends on the West  Branch of the Ausable.  Matt also introduced me to Smallie fishing in the Saranac Lake region.  Along the way I was introduced to several other Fly Fisherpeople who I consider Mentors and friends including Rachel Finn, Mike Gray, Evan Bottcher, Wayne Walts and Al Conklin of Troutfitter in syracuse, and  Vince Wilcox.  I was also fortunate to fish for stripers off the coast. If  I couldn't  fish in the Adirondacks I would head south to the Salmon river and fish for lake run steelhead and salmon.  Under the tutelage of Malinda of Malinda's fly shop and several staff members of Whittaker's fly shop, I became familiar with fishing  the great lakes tributaries.I was stationed in NY for five years but actually physically present in the state for 3 years due to overseas deployments in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Those two years spent in the desert didn't hinder my thirst.  I focused my efforts on fly tying and casting using real rods and an echo practice rod.  After returning from my most recent tour in Afghanistan I spent the fall and part of the winter of 2011 fishing my old haunts in which would become my last season in NY.  I sadly said goodbye to my friends and started a new chapter by driving all the way across the US to Washington State.
     So now I find myself here in the present, exploring the West and applying what I'd learned from my former Jedi masters.  I've realized I'm learning something everyday out here.  I've linked up with new fishing friends young and old alike.  Stefan Woodruff, Craig Hettinger, Craig Chittenden, John Hughes, and others that have grown up in the West and have fished the Columbia drainage for years.  I've been able to fish a tailwater in Colorado and plan to fish in Montana this summer.  I call my homewaters the Yakima River and it's tributaries. Within our area there are plenty opportunites to tangle with bass, crappie, and other various warm water species.  There are nearby basin lakes which hold hard fighting rainbows, browns and the occasional tiger trout.  As well as the world famous western steelhead rivers on the other side of the Cascade range. 
    So that's who I am and my current journey leading up to this point in my fly fishing career.  Hopefully I can pass along some experiences and tips that have aided me and my quest for the perfect fish.  Once again thanks to Matt for allowing me to babble on his blog about my obsession with fly fishing.  At this point I'm suppossed to make some kind of catchy sign off statement.  Like "stay classy San Diego." I haven't thought of one yet, but for now I'll leave you with "Honey Badger don't give a S*&%."

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