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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.
I’m not sure which was more embarrassing, tethering some red string to a hook and calling it “fly tying” or resorting to the worm and calling it “angling”.
Blonde hair juts out like straw from underneath a truckers hat. The hat is pulled down tight and underneath a pair of eyes peer intently at the water from behind a pair of dark rimmed glasses. “Hit it” comes a voice from the rower’s seat, as the rod simultaneously thrust towards the sky coming tight, Read More
“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
What I see through the spotting scope: Tack sharp definition Vivid, true to life colors Full-pop contrast Edge-to-edge clarity Unbelievable light collection What he sees: “Dada, Dada he’s… he’s looking right at me… with gold eyes” “Look it, he has some furry on his um… some fur in his beak cause…um… cause he hunts, 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