It’s a park now, mown green-space and graveled paths owned by the city of Williamsburg Virginia. But when I was a boy, not so much older than my son is now, “Government Property” was a tangle of tidewater forest and marshland where earthen battlements – remnants of the civil war – lay hidden in, Read More
As a younger man I watched the western flank of the Wind River Range rise above me as I pulled into a small ranch outside of Boulder, Wyoming. It was 2003 and my Subaru Impreza was full of camping gear and a saddles. I’d skipped out on college graduation to take a job horse packing in, Read More
“Dada, um… Dada is it raining again today?” asked the five-year-old who’d come to wake me. “I don’t know man. You tell me.” Little feet jumped to the floor and trotted to the window. I knew from the pause what his answer would be. “Yeah… still raining,” he said finally, sounding too solemn for, Read More
Stacks of informative articles and level-headed opinion pieces have been written of late about our slinking progress toward wholesale public land transfer and the ongoing efforts to stop it. See Todd Tanner, Bob Marshall, Scott Willoughby, Ben Neary, Judith Kohler, Raph Graybill, and as always Hal Herring for particularly eloquent examples. What follows here will, Read More
He’s peering skeptically from behind a boulder at a shin-deep seam that looks to be another of his son-in-law’s eccentricities. The koi pond back home in Florida looks more promising. Fishing? Sure, he loves fishing, been doing it all his life. 360 degrees of Gulf Stream blue horizon, a mile of water under the, Read More
We pointed the truck south without a single rod or gun. Instead we had the whole family, one canoe, a weeks worth of food, and visions of life on a desert river. It didn’t disappoint. River living is hard to beat. The pace of life slows down. Water sounds drown-out front country distractions. The gentle rhythm, Read More
So here’s the premise. Matt and I go fishing, with each of our sons. My wife and daughter are at some type of ladies event and Matt just wants to get out. For the record, Matt’s son is 3 and mine is 2. Our kids are intermittently walking, playing with various found implements of, Read More
“Is it still spring break Dada?” asks the four year old at my bedside. “Yes it is son,” I answer into the pre-dawn gloom, then add without hope of success, “so you should go back to bed and rest up.” “Ohhhh yeaaaaaah!” he cheers, then launches into a pajama-clad spring break dance. The choreography, Read More
A blood red sun is about to dip below the horizon. Dogs are in their kennels, collars off. We head down the dirt road, about to put a great trip in the rearview mirror. It takes a couple of minutes but I notice my old man, riding shotgun, still has his vest on and, 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