• 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.

  • 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.

  • 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.

  • Banded

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

Sitting atop a cliff-band, the elk had run straight at him. He practically had to shoot out of self defense. Once hit, the bull fell over the cliff ledge. A grizzly fed on the gut pile overnight but with the help of friends the meat was all packed out the following day.

I grew up with the gun knowing that it would always shoot where I pointed it, for better or for worse, so I should make sure I was pointing it where I needed it to shoot.

There are a ton of great hunting dog breeds out there but most of us settle on one or two. From that point on we espouse the virtues of our particular breed with little regard for logic. Heck, I had a person recently spend thirty minutes explaining to me why Border Collie’s are the best bird dog period.

Why does the simple act of pulling gear from it bins and shelves deliver such a thrill?

We fired up the engines in the inky dark. A heavy chop blanketed the bay. We cinched our jackets tight against the wicked wind and faced the stern so we could breath. Then it was headlamps and knee deep muck, marching, lugging decoys and cut branches, to build a blind. As night gave way to, Read More

Immerse yourself in the acrid musk as you approach a now still, and now still bleeding body, a clean bullet hole, like a lance wound staring at you.

Shouldering a shotgun I had never fired, with an unfamiliar safety, was not a recipe for success. My excitement likely contributed to my clumsiness. Fortunately, the opportunities were abundant and I soon settled in.

By two p.m., with the rain coming down in sheets, the patient resting comfortably, my football team getting clubbed like baby seals on national television, and the dog looking downright vindictive, the right play was feeling a little claustrophobic for all concerned.

Days go by without as much as a peck. Doubt begins to creep in. Are there any fish in the river? Should I change flies? Is my swing too fast…too slow? Why does my rain coat leak?

Once you’ve cut and paste it into your own document, all you need to do is customize it fit your plans, preferences and personal gear inventory.