• 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.

It shouldn’t take a holiday for us to raise our glass to the mothers in our lives, but they certainly deserve one. Giving birth is an impressive feat in itself and would be sufficient to warrant it’s own holiday. However, the cumulative amount of work, love and devotion that goes into raising a family, 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

He wants to catch a fish. That’s great, right? Well, let’s set aside for a moment all the warm fuzzies – connecting a boy with nature, passing on our proud American sporting heritage, igniting the light of wonder in a child’s eyes, forging resilient father son bonds through blah, blah, blah etc. – and, Read More

Have backpack rides and fish shows lost their appeasement power? If demands for greater participation are chipping away at your USOB, consider deploying a faux fly rod. This bit of DIY stream-side gear can provide the time and elbow room you need to put the sneak on that rising rainbow around the bend. Here’s, Read More

During the gap after the shotguns are put away and the water is still frozen over I get restless.  Thoughts go to summer days with fish rising to dries or wading in ankle deep water in saltwater locals.  As the water opens I jump at the opportunity.

I’d never seen a strike like it. The turbid water was sluggish all afternoon, and the action slower still. Glide after riffle, run after pocket, pool after hole, each held its silence in turn. Top water? Zip. Dropper rig? Uh-uh. Deep drift? Nada. Strip a bugger? Swing a bugger? Bugger and a worm? Whiff,, 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

Finding the seam between currents, and threading your fly just there, is the difference between playing with Pisces and enjoying the view. As hard hunting and fishing fathers, we’re stalking a similar sweet-spot – the balance between passionate pursuits and happy home-lives. Sometimes we nail it, sometimes we miss. Weeks go by when we’re, Read More