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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.
Turns out you can learn a lot from a six-year-old with a book. You may even land a whole new way to enjoy the beach.
I started shooting in the spring and slowly began to get the hang of things. Summer travel put a dent in my practice schedule and scouting has been non existent. Now I’m scrambling to get ready.
Clearly fish can sense when one’s focus is trained, heart and soul, on a drift, and as importantly when it’s not. Something about our attention, or maybe our intention, is tipping them off.
Six days, five nights and one of the most impressive rivers in the lower forty eight. Cut through the Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness, the Middle Fork of the Salmon is as good as it gets.
Not every day has to be a hardcore adventure. Sometimes you just need to move.
Will the family all in on the action we caught fish until we were too tired to continue. Satiated, we roasted marshmallows over a fire, discussed the finer points of making smores, weather or not fish have tongues, and why we can’t hunt domestic cows.
I have to imagine the U.S. Olympic skeet team’s training regimen is a little more disciplined. Of course, they’re gunning for something altogether different.
When I began my apprenticeship as an alpinist, someone told me, “to be successful in the mountains, one’s ability to suffer is mandatory.” Turns out it’s helpful in elk hunting too.
I’m not suggesting you spend the dory fund on lawn-care equipment. But lets give credit where it’s due.
At times I effortlessly bomb casts with confidence, fishing with the certainty that the next swing will connect. Then it all falls apart. I blow my anchor, get tangled in running line, try to muscle the cast.