• 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.

“Where are you going Dada?” asked my four year old as I rounded up layers, snacks and a water bottle. “Fishing,” I said. “Oh yeah,” he said knowingly, like it had been his idea to begin with. “With Ollie’s dad.” “Nope,” I said “Not with Ollie’s dad. All by myself today.” “But um… Cause, Read More

Regardless of the situation there is likely a single malt to match. Learning about the various distilleries, expressions, production methods, and the unique taste every batch produces is what I find fascinating about scotch. So here’s a virtual tour of what’s in my cabinet today and a few notes about each. Maybe it will give you, Read More

“Oooo, cool Dada! Look it!” declared my four year old as we organized fishing gear on the tailgate. “Oh yeah?” I asked, half listening. “Yeah. Do you keep your Hot Wheels in here?” It was a non-sequiter even by his standards. I looked up from my streamer box and found him wrist deep in the, Read More

Torrential rain pelted us like a prize fighter. Electricity in the air caused our rods to buzz. After 14 hours it looked like our hopes were dashed as we retreated into the forest. On any other day I would have packed it in and headed for home. But we huddled amongst the conifers in, Read More

Plink. “Yup.” She doesn’t suffer fools lightly. Plank. “Uh Huh!” Nor half hearted drives to the hoop. Plunk. “Who’s your Mama?” And heaven help the neighborhood boy who wanders into a backyard skeet shoot without his A-game. He’ll leave well fed, but also bewildered, red-faced and ashamed. Her sons – strapping athletic types –, Read More

Temps soar towards sixty. Small patches of snow linger on the banks. For February it’s a heatwave. My sinuses are clogged and my head is in a fog. Sweat builds on my brow as the heat builds inside my jacket and crawls up my neck. Cold water lapping at my calves provides some respite, but, Read More

First the cold becomes more concentrated; not colder exactly, just pushier than the frigid press everywhere else. It doesn’t happen every time I wade to the waist. Like that noise your car refuses to make for the mechanic, it’s maddeningly inconsistent. But when this focused discomfort does turn up –always at the same mid-thigh point, Read More

It stayed packed for five months, always in the truck or near the front door, usually with a dog curled next to it. Carried through lush bottoms full of wild roosters, and over high sagebrush plains in search of sage grouse, it acquired blood stains from chukar, and the unmistakeable smell of scotch from a leaky flask. The, Read More

Hands down, bar none, the single best investment you can make. Frankly, I can’t afford not too.

Only an hour from home we get a cheap hotel room. My mistress insists on leaving the toilet seat up. She farts and snores all night long. Subtle twitches and whimpers indicate good dreams. I toss and turn as the the wall mounted heater turns on and off, on and off. As blackness turns to grey, Read More