Thanks to the rain-soaked poke into the backcountry, I know where the road ends. I know where the river meanders along a willow-lined course. I know where to park the rig on the next trip, and where to wander afoot under sunnier skies. I know, too, where the trout might gather and hold, and where to cast that high-floating attractor that will surely be gobbled up by some naive backcountry native cutthroat.
Jock Foot Fantasy
Confidence? CheckTroutwine and Moberg are relatively young, definitely good-looking and clearly rich, each appearing to live a bachelor's fantasy life. They dress like the most confident guys in the room: Troutwine in a spread-collar dress shirt, and Moberg sporting a tight black T. Troutwine, 40, hangs out at a nearby mixed-martial-arts gym; Moberg likes to dive into the cold Pacific and reach for the horizon until he's dizzy and disoriented.
Troutwine's black-on-black Lamborghini Gallardo occupies the best space in the lot beneath the pair's 3,000-square-foot glass-framed headquarters, which has a sublime view of Malibu's Surfrider State Beach. Moberg drives a near-500 horsepower, custom-tuned BMW M3 that can give Troutwine's Italian job a run for its money. "Sheriff's deputies pulled me over one day, and I wasn't even speeding," says Moberg, 35. "I was just accelerating, and you could really hear it. The deputy saw my business card and said, 'You must know Chad Troutwine.' " Fast cars beget such introductions. 2ff7e9595c
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