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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.
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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.
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Banded
Folding neatly the greenhead splashed soundly onto the water. The old lady made quick work of the retrieve.
Who cares how they get there, so long as they get there?
Hazard lights flash in the middle of the road. Car doors are left open. The passengers are nowhere to be seen. Everyone seems to be following suit as rental cars, RV’s, and people of all ages and nationalities are scattered in what looks like an apocalyptic scene. But no one is running for their, Read More
Somewhere deep in the unknowable past one of our ancestors looked at this creature and thought… I’m going to eat that. God bless him.
I was standing in the worst looking duck habitat I had ever seen and I didn’t even have decent waders. That was fine. I was chukar hunting. I didn’t need waders. Or ducks. It was January, the end of upland season was looming, and I had been wrecked by a cold for the last, Read More
Legend has it that William Carlos Williams left a masterpiece of American poetry by way of apology and thank you note to his hosts after raiding their icebox. We should all be so kind.
Cruising down the two lane highway the world lights up with colors only seen during the first few moments of the day. Looking back I take a final look at the sunrise as I pull the boat towards the river.
If you recognize these symptoms, please, seek help immediately at your nearest skeet and trap range, dog hiking trail or tailwater. And remember, you’re not alone.
Shot’s and Bonefish, Barracuda, Tarpon and Permit filled our days. Cold beers quenched our thirst and the living was easy.
Who needs analysis and second guessing? Not my kid. He’ll stick with giddy wonder, thank you very much.
At the Murray, Lefty Kreh, George Anderson and a who’s who of the fly fishing world look down upon the patrons. It’s mid afternoon and the bar is lined with seasoned guides, young fishing bums, and a few more well to do anglers who have long since retired from their day jobs.