====================================================
NAT GREENE CALENDAR
MEETINGS & EVENTS
Tuesday January 11, 2005 - Monthly Meeting: Joe Craig, "Fishing the
Other Streams in England", Lewis Recreation
Center, 7:00 p.m.
Tuesday February 8 - Monthly Meeting: "Fishing the NC Striper and Shad
Runs", Lewis Recreation
Center, 7:00 p.m.
Tuesday March 8 - Monthly Meeting: Special Guest Author Jim Casada. Lewis Recreation
Center, 7:00 p.m.
Saturday March 26, 2005 - Annual Flyfishing Seminar and Spring
Banquet with Special Guest Speaker A.K. Best, Fly Tying Specialist, Author,
World Famous Fly Fisherman, 9:00 a.m. and 6:30 p.m, Cardinal Golf and Country
Club, 5700 Cardinal Way, Greensboro NC
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ANNUAL HOLIDAY SOCIAL MEETING DOOR PRIZE WINNER ANNOUNCED
On December 14th, the flyfishing faithful assembled for the traditional Nat
Greene Holiday Social at the Lewis Recreation Center to swap fish stories and
other lies. As part of this tradition, each year we select a single raffle
ticket from among many, each one representing somebody who attended at least one
monthly meeting during 2004. When the winning ticket was selected, the chatter
stopped... all eyes scanned the room… but as luck would have it, our winner was
not present...
Drumroll please…...
This years winner of a $100 gift certificate award to the Great Outdoor
Provision Company is Lea Thompson. Lea,
please call Neal Mitchell at 336-643-5001
for instructions on how to claim your prize.
Congratulations, Lea!
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SMALL GESTURE CREATES A LIFETIME FLY-FISHERMAN
When Bill Engle of Florence, Ala., handed his old yellow Eagle Claw fly rod
and an automatic reel to an 8-year-old youth and told him to try it out at the
family's farm ponds for bluegills, he couldn't have foreseen the impact of that
small gesture.
"Uncle Bill," as young Anthony Hipps knew him, had created a fly-fisherman
for life.
"No one in my family was into fly-fishing except Uncle Bill," Hipps said.
"That borrowed fly rod got me started. I mowed yards and did odd jobs. By the
time I was 9 or 10 years old, I had saved enough money to buy my own fly rod."
The lad's defining moment as a fly-fisherman took place a year or so later at
a campground near Pickwick Lake, Ala. His family said he could fly-fish from the
boat if he used the trolling motor for power and if he stayed within view.
"I caught some bluegills, then threw a No. 8 black popper near a stump,"
Hipps said. "A huge bulge disturbed the water, and I thought I was hung. The
hang started moving down the bank and turned the small boat around three times.
It was a 51/2-pound largemouth bass.
"I've been ruined ever since."
Hipps' ruination continued at the University of Tennessee where he received
his M.A. degree in chemistry and made spending money by tying flies at tackle
shops for local fishermen.
After a brief stint in Mobile, Ala., he moved to Greensboro to work for
Syngenta Crop Protection as a product chemistry specialist. In 1993, he married
and moved to Lexington since his wife was from here.
While in Greensboro, Hipps fished Lake Jeanette, but after coming to
Lexington, he sought waters closer to home.
At first, he fly-fished at High Rock Lake and had moderate success with
crappie, white bass and largemouth bass. But he often found the lake too muddy
or too bustling with boating traffic for fly-fishing, which requires clear, calm
waters.
At Syngenta, a fellow fly-fishing addict, Dr. Jim Brady, suggested Hipps try
Badin and Tillery lakes, both clearer waters than High Rock.
Hipps first sampled Tillery with Brady. They fished on a cold Saturday in
November and caught only a few perch throughout the day.
As they were about to leave that evening, largemouth bass began schooling on
top. The fish wouldn't hit their spinning lures but readily attacked their
poppers and streamer flies when they resorted to fly-fishing. Together, they
hooked about 25 bass, 11/2 pounds and up.
"You can blame Jim Brady for introducing me to Tillery," Hipps said.
At another Tillery outing on Memorial Day 2002, Hipps and John Slack of
Denton caught 50 striped bass weighing 11/2 to 5 pounds on fly-fishing gear.
Understandably, Tillery became Hipps' favorite fly-fishing lake.
Hipps said one of the best times for fly-fishing at Tillery is from late fall
through mid-December if the water remains clear and if the water temperature
stays above 50 degrees.
Hipps' enthusiasm for fly-fishing extends beyond his fishing experiences.
He's a member of the Nat Greene Fly Fishers of Greensboro and occasionally
teaches fly-fishing to beginners.
"The club meets the second Tuesday of every month, and the meetings are free
and open to everyone," he said. "At times, the club holds fly-fishing classes
for beginners of all ages at a nominal fee."
Hipps said anyone can learn to fly-fish. He knows of one father and son who
learned to fly-cast in the morning and went fly-fishing in the evening.
"The average person can learn it in a day if he or she is willing to work at
it," he said.
"Women tend to learn quicker than men because they're more willing to listen.
"A significant number of our members are female, and we have certified
fly-fishing instructors, both male and female.
"Fly-fishing is really growing; it's not just a trout fishing thing. There
are tremendous fly-fishing opportunities in North Carolina."
Strong words of passion sparked by an old borrowed fly rod.
Tony Garitta
Davidson County Dispatch, November 19, 2004
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OZARK TROUT
It was Joe Craig who introduced me to the hyper-selective brown trout on the
special regulations section of the Smith River in Virginia. It was there that
Joe taught me how to use size 24 blue wing olives and 16 foot long leaders
tapered to 8x tippet. It was also there that I watched an 8 inch brown trout
come up and refuse a perfectly presented and drifted fly. While the Smith River
browns proved to be selective, supremely frustrating and challenging, I did
manage to hook and land four small trout during our initial outing. At the time
I had no idea that this frustrating experience would provide a valuable
education that would lead to success and tremendous satisfaction on the White
River in Missouri.
I was invited to be a demonstration fly tier at the Federation of Fly Fishers
Southern Conclave in Mountain Home, Arkansas October 1-2. Robin suggested we go
to the conclave, but also take a week of vacation in the Ozarks around Branson,
Missouri after I had finished my conclave duties. I jumped at this opportunity
because I had read about the flyfishing opportunities in the Missouri Ozarks.
Through our timeshare service we booked into Ruark Resort in Branson, which is
right by Lake Tanneycomo.
Don’t let the word “Lake” fool you. Lake Tanneycomo is actually a tailrace
river blue ribbon trout fishery with only the lower portion being a lake. The
upper 12 miles is river that flows either slow or fast depending on the
generation from Table Rock Dam. Table Rock Dam is one of several hydroelectric
dams on the White River.
At the conclave I had a lot of fun demonstrating how to tie the soft-bodied
popper and meeting some great new people. Dave and Emily Whitlock gave a
wonderful slide presentation on fishing for trout in Chile. Wanda Taylor,
Constance Whiston and several other of flyfishings notable people also had
seminars. Two fly shops/guide services from Branson had booths at the conclave;
Angler’s and Archers Flyshop and River Run Outfitters. When I took a break from
tying I picked these guys brains about the trout fishing in Tanneycomo.
Both shops were very free with advice and information about Tanneycomo. They
both were in agreement that the fall fishing was very good. They provided phone
numbers to get the dam generation schedules and gave me maps with the locations
for public access to the river marked. They also told me that to be successful I
would need to fish very small nymphs such as bead-head zebra midges in size 16
and 18 under an indicator. They didn’t think dry fly fishing would be very
productive.
Robin and I toured Branson on Sunday. There is a lot to see and do in Branson
for the whole family. It is a tourist town with world class shows, museums, and
outstanding restaurants. It also has a plethora of shopping opportunities from
outlet centers to shopping malls. We took in four music shows during the week
and they were all outstanding. We even toured the world famous fish hatchery,
which has several huge brown and rainbow trout in the 20 plus pound range.
Finally, on Monday I got to go fishing. During breakfast I called the dam
authorities and found out that generation would begin at 1:00 PM. That meant
that I would have about 5 hours of fishing time. Robin wanted to visit some of
the shops so she dropped me off at the boat landing and public fishing access,
about 400 yards below the dam. She would pick me up for lunch at 1:30.
Here the river is about 60 yards wide and shallow enough to wade across when
the dam is not generating. During non-generation only the main middle portion of
the river has appreciable riffles and current flow as rock ledges block the flow
along the edges of the river. I could see several trout rising and feeding on
top in this dead water along the banks. I watched these trout while I strung up
my rod and added tippet to the leader. While I was setting up my gear one of the
guides from River Run Outfitters was launching his drift boat. We had met
previously at the conclave so I asked him about the trout I was seeing feed on
top in the slack water.
This guide was very friendly and told me that those fish in the dead water
were indeed nice fish, but very hard to catch. He suggested that I tie on a #18
copper-ribbed bead-head zebra midge under an indicator and fish the riffle water
in the middle for the best chance at success. That was the technique his clients
would be using. He even gave me a couple of used flies from his drying patch.
They would prove to be a valuable gift later in the week.
Prior to his arrival, I had already tied on a 2-foot section of 8x tippet and
a #22 parachute Adams dry fly. I told him that I really wanted to give those dry
fly sippers a try before going to the nymphs later if that didn’t work. In fact,
I wanted a shot at the rainbow trout that was feeding on top just 6 feet out
from his beached drift boat. He said “go ahead and take a shot at it”. So
without even stepping into the water I cast the fly, which landed about two feet
in front of the trout. The fly barely moved in the almost dead water. The trout
moved toward the fly, lifted up and sucked it right in. I set the hook, the reel
screamed, the fished jumped skyward and the guide applauded. A few minutes later
I slid the net under this beautifully colored 14 inch rainbow, removed the
barbless hook and watched it swim off.
I am not a superstitious person by nature, but I have learned from past
experience that it is usually bad luck to catch a fish on the very first cast.
Technically, this was not the first cast. While waiting on Robin to get dressed
I had cast for the bluegills in the small creek that ran beside our room. At any
rate the “first cast curse” would not come to fruition on this trip. By using
the long leader, small tippet and small fly techniques Joe Craig had taught me
on the Smith River I was able to have 3 wonderful mornings of incredible dry fly
fishing.
That first morning I caught 14 rainbow and 4 brown trout on dry flies. Most
were 14 to 18 inches long. The biggest trout was a 21 inch rainbow that ate a
#22 cinnamon ant in 4 inches of water right next to the bank after a perfect
cast. When hooked, it streaked across the long flat and jumped right in front of
the guide’s anchored drift boat in the middle of the river. I worked this fish
close to me three times and each time it would take off again on a reel
screaming run. I dared not put too much pressure on it with 8x tippet. After
some maneuvering, coaxing and much praying I finally brought this fish to the
net, measured it and released it. This would be the biggest fish I would land
this week. I would lose a much bigger one on the same flat that cut the tippet
on a rock. The guide and his two clients tipped their hats and I waved back my
appreciation to them. They were in good spirits as their nymph/indicator rigs
were also scoring well on the trout.
I found that the best way to approach these top-water sippers was to stay on
the shore, stay low, slip up the bank and make precise cast to individual
feeding trout. These fish were feeding in water that was extremely clear and
often just 4 to 16 inches deep. As long as the wind stayed down, I could catch
these sippers. Dry flies that worked were #22 parachute Adams, #20 sparsely tied
black elk hair caddis, and #20-22 ant patterns. A long leader, 8x tippet and
accurate cast were necessary to get positive results. When the wind got up in
the middle of the day, the top-water feeding stopped and the dry fly didn’t
work. Then, nymphs and streamers kept me in good action, albeit from typically
smaller fish. Robin and I both enjoyed some excellent morning dry fly fishing
during our weeklong stay. However, there is another greatf fishing opportunity
on Tanneycomo you need to try.
On Thursday afternoon, Robin and I rented a fishing boat from Lilley’s Trout
Dock. This is an old time fish camp with fishing boat rentals, canoe and kayak
rentals, hotel lodging, a great fly shop and a restaurant. It is located on a
country road about 5 miles downstream from the dam on the outskirts of Branson.
We had been told about this camp at an ice-cream/hotdog restaurant the day
before. While we enjoyed wonderful milkshakes, the proprietor of the restaurant
had noticed my flyfishing hat and asked if I had any luck. He was an avid
flyfisherman and enthusiastically told us that we just had to try renting a boat
from Lilley’s and fishing the middle portion of the river. He pulled out a map
of the river and marked where we should fish, what depth and what flies worked
best. He recommended wooly buggers, scuds and bead-head zebra midges. He was so
excited to share with us that we decided it was worth a try. I thanked him by
giving him a few of my soft-bodied poppers.
The people at Lilley’s were very friendly and gave good fishing advice, which
confirmed what I had already been told by the restaurant owner. The boat rental
was $45 for a half day of fishing. It was fully outfitted with 15 horse Evinrude
motor, livewell, paddle and landing net. A trolling motor was added for an extra
$5. We pulled out from the dock and motored upstream as suggested. We fished by
drifting downstream and casting toward the bank along the outside bends of the
river. No fish were rising so I started with a #18 bead-head zebra midge
suspended about 2 feet under a foam indicator while Robin cast a #8 black wooly
bugger.
For the first 100 yards of drifting it was slow with only a couple of missed
strikes. Then I started connecting with the zebra midge. The indicator would
drift and then slowly disappear under the surface as a fish would take the fly.
I caught four 12-16 inch rainbows and one 14 inch brown trout while Robin
couldn’t buy a bite on the wooly bugger. She was getting frustrated and told me
to rig her rod with a midge and indicator like mine. While I was rigging her rod
she started fishing with my rod. I heard a loud giggle and looked up to see a
deeply bent rod as Robin fought a nice rainbow trout. It took me over 30 minutes
to get her rod rigged and get my rod back because I had to keep stopping to net
fish for her. In that time she hooked and landed 6 trout, the biggest a fat 17
inch rainbow.
Now, both of us were finally rigged with bead-head zebra midges and indicator
system. For the next two hours we were into fish constantly. We didn’t keep
count of how many we caught, but we never lacked for action. Several times we
had double hookups. During one double hookup, Robin landed a beautiful 16 inch
rainbow just seconds before I landed a 19 incher. We brought both fish into the
same net together. This fishing proved to be even better than the restaurant
proprietor had advertised. The bead-head zebra midge was the only fly we needed.
We quit fishing at 5:30 fully satisfied with the number and size of the fish we
caught.
The bead-head zebra midge is tied on a scud hook. It has a bead head, body of
black or olive thread or floss, and is ribbed with fine copper or silver wire.
It takes about 60 seconds to tie one. I think that they will work on our waters
as well.
We found the trout fishing in Branson to be better than advertised. While the
town is a tourist destination, you can be in the wilderness 10 minutes from the
hustle and bustle of down town. There are tremendous river and lake flyfishing
opportunities for bass and trout. The world famous shows are as good as any
Broadway production. We ate great food in some wonderful restaurants. We highly
recommend the Shoji Tabuchi show for an evening you will thoroughly enjoy. This
is a destination that the whole family can enjoy. The locals are friendly and
glad to have you visit. The local fly shops are equally friendly, helpful and
give accurate advice. Robin and I are already looking forward to a return
vacation to Branson, Missouri. I hope y’all will give yourself a chance to enjoy
this beautiful area yourselves.
God Bless and Tight Lines
Anthony Hipps
----------------------------------------------------
WHEN DUTY CALLS
Sometimes I think I’m living right. My job this year has been stressful with
only two possibilities for relief. One was to complete a long and complex
project. The other was to attend a scientific meeting in Vail, Colorado where
rumor has it the fishing is pretty good. I actually tried not to go. Honestly. I
couldn’t, after all, appear too eager to be sent to the Rockies in the summer,
all expenses paid. But a friend who was number one to go just became a father
and, heck, someone had to represent the company. So in August I packed my
fishing gear, I mean clothes, and headed for the airport.
Vail lies in a narrow valley bisected by I-70. The town was founded in the
1950’s as a alpine resort and the forested mountain sides are streaked with
groomed ski trails, now cloaked in a summer coat of green grass. A small stream
that washes against the base of the hills is hard to see, obscured by chic shops
and exclusive condos of the rich and famous. If you wander among the monied
environs with the eye of a fly fisherman, you will find Gore Creek, a gin-clear
stream with a self-sustaining population of wild browns. A few miles west of
town Gore dumps into the upper reaches of the Eagle River, a tumbling pocket
water stream that conceals deep holes home to large browns. Meeting or no
meeting, I had my work cut out for me.
My first explorations took me to the confluence of the two streams. I knelt
below a small pool where one, then two, three, and four browns were feeding. I
threw in a small, wet black ant and it was greedily accepted. The fish was about
a foot long and gloriously colored, obviously stream bred. My first cast in the
next pool was also greeted with enthusiasm, this time on the part of a thirteen
incher that was so dark at first I thought I had a brookie. After a third fish,
my evening came to an abrupt end by the clumsy wading of an angler who
materialized from nowhere.
The next day I went below the confluence to try the Eagle. I had to carefully
pick my way down a boulder-strewn hillside to access the water. Along the way I
crossed a small canal which turned out to have several small browns actively
feeding and three quickly ate a small elk hair caddis. Then I hung a small
generalized emerger off a dry yellow stonefly and took a fish from the Eagle
proper. Because it took the nymph I switched the dry to a
rubber-bodied/rubber-legged mutant grasshopper/-stonefly thing the fly shop said
was hot. They were right. I lost sight of the thing in a foam line but the rod
arched when I lifted the line; a gorgeous fifteen inch brown I had engulfed the
rubber abberation. A few minutes later a gray streak moving side-to-side over a
light colored rock caught my eye. I spent nearly thirty minutes trying to put a
nymph in its face: changing flies, lengthening the tippet, adding split shot. I
was about to give up thinking I had wasted a lot of time on a stick when it
grabbed a Whitlock’s red squirrel nymph and cleared water twice, each time
coming down with a satisfying “thwack!"
My next outing was spoiled by two locals. I had slowly worked my way into a
pool on the Eagle where black midges drew sporadic rises. It was tough work,
trying to straighten out a long, fine tippet in the stiff breeze. As I waited
out some strong gusts, the largest beaver I have ever seen suddenly appeared,
swimming downstream through the center of the pool. I estimated body length at
four feet exclusive of the tail and the head was nearly a foot in diameter. By
looks of the lodge literally plastered against the far bank, I was trespassing
in his backyard. He smacked his tail against the water and disappeared into the
lodge. I decided to wait and let the pool calm down but out he came again, this
time with a youngster hitching a ride on his back. Now both beasts swam around
and finished the fishing for good. The large one even became aggressive and I
had to drive him off with my wading staff.
The conference ended mid-day Thursday so I had the entire afternoon off. I
concentrated on nymphing the Eagle, this time above where Gore Creek met. The
water was off-color from frequent rain squalls and this afternoon was no
exception. It rained more often than not. I was surprised to find a small
pheasant tail nymph was accepted readily in the muddied water, mostly by browns
up to a foot or so. My chief problem, aside from the weather, was finding
appropriate holding water amidst the boulders and riffles. The river was
forgiving enough that when I drifted the fly through what looked liked good
holding water, I was usually greeted by a take.
The next morning I left early for the Frying Pan River near Basalt, about an
hour and a half west of Vail. The famous stretch below the dam is quite small, a
tumbling, pocket water stream with few pools. Red rock walls and bluffs define
the narrow canyon where thick-trunked cottonwoods shade the water. The tailrace
is renowned for huge trout that grow fat on Mysis shrimp washed out from the
bottom of the reservoir. You can sight fish for pigs. What struck me, though,
was the blatant distinction of how the resource was divided between the monied
classes and everyone else. The entire stretch is only a few miles long and the
best parts are labeled ‘No Trespass.’ I saw several guided groups on the very
best water, likely part of a private retreat you might find in the back of an
Orvis catalog. The rest of us put up with infrequent parking and are often
clustered tightly enough you have to keep an eye on the next guy’s backcast.
Just because you can afford fly fishing tackle and the SUV to haul it around in
doesn’t mean you can access water flowing from a dam built with public money.
The precious resource the Frying Pan became inevitably led to segregation based
on economics. Money rules. The ‘Pan’ separates the “haves” from the
“haves-a-lot.”
My working class background and the idea of being snagged by an errant cast
drove me beyond the tailrace, above the dam, to the river upstream of the
reservoir. Instead of expensive homes, an occasional rundown shack or trailer
bordered the narrow road. Signs like “Arnie says drive 25” and “Howdy” over a
tiny church’s front door told me I had definitely left the upper crust behind.
The river here is very small and has a lot in common with Smoky Mountain
streams. I found a bumpy place to park and suited up. The next two hours were
spent rock climbing in my waders. I thought the fish wouldn’t respond to dries
until the sun warmed the frigid water but they eagerly took an elk hair caddis
drifted over likely lies. The fish were smallish browns and rainbows to twelve
inches and they way they slashed at the fly showed just how fierce the
competition for food was in the headwaters.
My own growling stomach told me I had to do something about lunch. A nasty
looking storm front further encouraged me to seek shelter in the car. I drove
back to Basalt and passed through a hail storm on the way. The only bar
(“bistro,” pardon me!) I found served tuna steak sandwiches and four dollar
beers on a granite countertop. I passed on wine at six dollars a glass.
After lunch I looked for new water to try and discovered the Frying Pan and
the Roaring Fork merge right in town so I headed for the latter thinking the
water would be bigger. It was, and more powerful as well. I realized I had to
find slower holding water after nearly losing my footing in unexpectedly swift
current. Two good browns told me I was finding the right places but swirled
under my foam-bodied hopper and didn’t take. A third did but was foul hooked.
While trying to figure out what wasn’t quite right about the hopper, a fish
swirled close by, along a seam of quiet water adjacent to the mainstream. Then
another and another. I didn’t see any insects flying around so I put on a dry
caddis emerger, an X-caddis, because caddis emergences are not usually
accompanied by an increased presence of adults, unlike mayfly hatches. My hunch
worked but I missed the first fish. The next few connected solidly in quick
succession. Now I had the fly, I just needed water of the right depth and speed.
Unfortunately these conditions were not widespread and I had to hoof it. I began
covering promising water lacking signs of feeding fish and they came readily to
the fly. At one spot I missed a nice fish and, turning around, was lucky to spot
one suspended in a pocket perhaps five to six feet deep. The current ran
downstream and then clockwise back up so it was difficult to get a drag-free
drift. I made a cast with what I hoped was enough slack in the leader to give me
a good drift. Just at the point when I thought the game was up, the fish
surfaced like a submarine under a foam line and sucked in the fly. It was a big
fish and wide red bands down its flanks gave it away as a rainbow. He pulled
hard but stayed in the hole, never breaking for open water. I finally beached
him on a gravel bar. It was about eighteen inches long, two and a half pounds,
and it took the fly deeply. As I removed the fly with forceps, I saw faint
orange streaks on the underside of the mouth, suggesting a mixed ancestry. This
was definitely the fish of the trip and the culmination of my day. Looking
upstream, the river now was mainly shallow riffles. I toyed with a few browns
(or they with me) in a side channel but the day had come to an end. I hiked up
to the bridge in the center of town and made the long trek back to the car.
My feet, and especially my arches, were sore from hours of rock-pounding and
even the tiny rental car seat felt comfortable. A soaring canyon on the upper
Colorado River along I-70 lifted my spirits as I wound my way back to Vail,
giving me a feeling of wonderment and the freedom to enjoy it. That’s a lot to
feel on a business trip. I represented the company well and made some contacts
that may prove valuable in the months to come. But this trip was also my
introduction to Colorado and its fishing. The landscape was more restricted than
the vast expanses of Montana and Wyoming but the wild trout were just as
demanding. I brought all my experience to bear to cajolae those fish into taking
my fly. What struck me most about Colorado, though, was the widespread
privatization of the rivers. I know there are private stretches everywhere and
no trespassing signs are not restricted to the West but it still saddens me to
fine trout water cordoned off for a privileged few. It is true you can hire a
guide and plunk your butt down in great looking water but money can’t make you
understand and appreciate the game. The skills of fly fishing take years to
learn and its rewards are savored slowly. Money isn’t good for everything.
Jim Brady
===================================================
2003-2004 NAT GREENE FLYFISHERS CLUB OFFICERS
Greg Peters, President
656-7379
632-2366
greg.peters@syngenta.com
Neal Mitchell, Treasurer
643-5001
cell 706-1123
nealmitjr@msn.com
Jack Patterson, Board of Directors
674-9700
664-7776
jwpatterson@worldnet.att.net
Linke Combs, Board of Directors
282-7040
632-7572
lccombs@earthlink.net
Al Spicer, Board of Directors
855-1325
373-7087
alspicer@yahoo.com
Lorraine Rothrock, Trip Coordinator
288-9976
272-3962
cell 707-3761
lbrothrock@mindspring.com
Cindy Spicer, Banquest Chair (and a darn good one at that)
855-1325
703-5632
cell 406-6171
cspicer@BBandT.com
