• Steelhead, Dean River British Columbia.

    The Steelhead With A Thousand Faces

    Maybe if I take five more steps, throw one more mend, skate one more fly, a hero will appear, armored in chrome, and dance to the music of my singing reel.

  • Grey Reef section of the North Platte

    The Birth of A Fishing Town

    Calf deep now in the cold river, Trent’s completed his prelude of silky false casts and is ready to start the show in earnest.

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    In The End, Style Might Be All We Have

    Over the course of 6 trips, in and out, and nearly 40 miles, I question whether or not it’s worth it.

  • Photo by Steven Brutger

    Banded

    Folding neatly the greenhead splashed soundly onto the water. The old lady made quick work of the retrieve.

We were kicking around the morning’s successes and failures, and crunching roadside gravel under our wading boots enroute to the truck, when Latane froze stock still, sudden enough to alarm me. “You alright?” I asked. “Hole… Lee… Crap,” came his hushed reply. “Huh?” I asked. “Pig,” he breathed in a reverent tone. I stepped, Read More

Pulling rubbermaid tubs down from shelves in the garage, I begin to sort gear. Sleeping bags and pads, water jugs, cook gear, the list goes on. Consulting a google doc I slowly pull the group gear we are responsible for and the personal gear our family needs. In less than a week we will, Read More

He’s a blue-chipper, a top seed, the defending champ. Fish don’t count wins and losses. But by the record kept in pounds, inches and days in the water, he’s undefeated. It’s a single elimination world, and he’s still in the game, with a bellyful of losers. I’m a hack, a part time amateur, nobody’s idea, Read More

We’ve been two days without a fire in the wood stove. Small shoots of grass are poking out amongst the brown thatching of last years growth. Patches of coarse grained, dirty snow can be found on north facing aspects, but otherwise the ground is bare and sodden. I’ve been expecting fish to creep from their, Read More

On the canyon wall, midway between the rim and the river, there is a jutting ledge with a great view. I like to stop there on the descent, rest my creaking knees, and see what’s to be seen in the cold blue channels below. On arrival my eyes drop immediately to the river to scan and probe, Read More

We stared at each other for two minutes in the crisp morning air as the sun peaked over nearby hills. The adolescent moose made the first move, circling around knobby knees, nose to the ground, like a dog setting its bed, once, twice… Then it charged. With a two year old on my back, Read More

The daydream has her in the backcountry, nose to the wind, quartering through the brush. The day’s work has her in the backyard, butt to the snow, holding through a sit stay. We’re laying a foundation and “making haste slowly”. I keep reminding myself of that as we build basic obedience inch-by-inch. The long days, Read More

The girls decided to stay in the truck. Hand in hand we walked up the shallow ridge going over our game plan. We needed to be quiet. It was important to follow directions. Plugging your ears was ok. Being sneaky was our goal. Peeking over the ridge we spotted them, right where we anticipated, Read More

The gauchos of Patagonia know a thing or two about meat, and more than their fair share about staying well fed in open country. It’s only natural than that the tradition-rich South American cowboy culture invented asado. You don’t have to live your life horseback in the highlands to appreciate this immersive culinary experience, Read More

  My motions are fast. Thoughts of work, family, the next fish or any number of other distractions cloud my mind. I barely see the big picture, let alone the details.Small, unheralded details provide the texture for our world. Each nick on a shotgun has it’s own story. Every feather on a bird, or spot, Read More