“Once there was a dinosaur and he had zero fish… tra LAAAAAA” sang my four year old quietly to himself, making up the words and melody on the fly. It would have been adorable had he not arrived at musical improv by way of desperate boredom. Hours confined to a small boat with vanishingly, Read More
As a father of four, passionate angler, and incredibly talented photographer, Rob Yaskovic is the kind of guy we admire. He gets big points for raising four children. But it’s Rob’s creative vision behind the lens that first captured our attention. Photography has been Rob’s passion since he was a teenager and he has honed his, Read More
The fly rod was packed, but it wasn’t a fishing trip. A few half-hearted cast early on weren’t cause for inspiration. The kids were happy hanging out on the beach and the fishing prospects didn’t seem great. Then a three day Norte kicked in. Waves crashed relentlessly, churning up the bottom. When the wind finally laid down I figured, Read More
In the spring of 1990 an intruder tried to kill our family. Well, not our family exactly, but the pair of phoebes who nested under our second-story deck each year, and their family – two shell-bound chicks. We’d watched these little grey fly-catchers for three consecutive springs, our faces pressed so close to the deck slats above, Read More
Mom is gone on a long work trip. The pizza boxes are beginning to stack up. The truck floor is littered with string cheese wrappers and doughnut crumbs. Fueled by enthusiasm, and sugar, the kids and I have been getting after it for over a week. We have had a ton of fun, but I’ll, Read More
I heard Steven set the hook from thirty yards downstream. “Fish on?” I asked over my shoulder, unwilling to abandon my own drift just yet. “Uh, you could say that,” grunted Steven in reply. It was the year’s first post-work outing. With the equinox behind us and daylight savings time tacking an extra hour, Read More
We’ve known each other for years. In the days when I spent more time with a belay device in my hand than a fly rod, we climbed together often. But geography and time pulled us apart. So I was thrilled when Toby called and said he wanted to come visit. It was an opportunity, Read More
The sun peeks over the canyon rim, providing light for a few short hours. In the cold and dark hardly anyone visits. But the trout are still there.
Snagged on the second cast I break off my rig. A tailing loop catches my indicator, creating a rats nest I can’t undo. I clear ice from the guides for the tenth time. Coils in my running line catch on a rock. The trend continues all afternoon. On occasion I have a day where, Read More
She is dog-ugly, but I’ve dreamed of getting into her bed for months now. Who am I to judge if she lies right next to the highway, downstream of town and in the middle of an oilfield? So her banks are intermittently lined with junk cars and half-submerged industrial debris… let he who hath, Read More