-
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.
First we want to catch a fish. Next we want a lot of fish. Then we want to land the fish.
First we want to catch a fish. Next we want a lot of fish. Then we want to land the fish.
Extended backcountry trips are part of the fabric of my DNA. My wife is no different. When we had kids there were no intentions of throwing that part of our lives away. Admittedly, we were rocked as much as anyone with the birth of our daughter and it wasn’t until she was two that we decided to head, Read More
I can’t explain how – call it fishy ESP– but clearly fish can sense when one’s focus is trained, heart and soul, on a drift, and as importantly when it’s not.
At night the desert is home to the trickster. Tonight we invade his territory.
I’m not a very good fisherman. At least not by the standards of the company I keep. Numbered among my friends are more elegant casters, craftier fly tyers, smarter fly selectors, more intuitive water readers, and more graceful presenters than I ever dream of being. Heck, on any given day, those superior abilities are, Read More
A thick frost covers still green grass. Clouds are building and a wet snow should be falling in a couple of hours. The wood box is back in the house and the first match of the season is about to be struck. It will be in the 70’s again over the weekend but the, Read More
“Is the otter awake Dada?” asked my four year old, sleepy eyed and soft as he strolled onto the little sand beach. He’d silently navigated fifty yards of forest between the tent and me, and materialized at the tree line as casual and unaffected as he would have in our kitchen back home. “Good, Read More
A slight wind blows from the east. Just enough to put a steady chop on the lake. In the west, the sun creeps toward the horizon making a sharp glare. Squinting into the water, visibility is next to nothing. Standing on the bow, the drift boat became a skiff. Tamarisks became mangroves. A reservation reservoir, Read More
The tenderloins were the first to go. The backstraps weren’t far behind. You then spent the rest of the year whittling your way through the sirloins, round steaks, roasts, and burger meat, keeping one eye on the calendar and the other on the inventory. This year you were going to pace it just right. But, Read More
Whether mark Twain said it first or not, truer words have rarely been said. Across the drought stricken West they’re more appropriate now than ever, despite this year’s unseasonably wet summer. If you’ve spent much time outside this year, it’s hard not to recognize that something strange is going on. In the last three months, Read More