Jesus fed the multitudes with two fishes and five loaves. I’m not sure I’d shoot for His ratio, but I think the moral of the parable is clear. Man does not live by trout alone. Bring a good boat lunch.
He’s down there. That’s beyond dispute, an open secret. Any fool can look at that deep, dark, juicy run and know, without further evidence, that it holds fish… lots of fish… big, fat, healthy fish. The only question, really, is what you’re going to do with that information once those fish have ignored your, Read More
“Did you know those things are like… way old?” the shop kid said of the soft hackled flies I’d asked for. “I hear they still work though.” “Yeah, I’ve heard that too,” I said. Had I not already felt so unfashionable in the hip, resort-town fly shop I might have mentioned the old Guy, Read More
The world keeps a ledger Coach Mack said . Where you stand in life is nothing but a simple accounting of your decisions to that point. You gotta think about that bottom line before you make up your mind…
He’s a blue-chipper, a top seed, the defending champ. Fish don’t count wins and losses. But by the record kept in pounds, inches and days in the water, he’s undefeated. It’s a single elimination world, and he’s still in the game, with a bellyful of losers. I’m a hack, a part time amateur, nobody’s idea, Read More
On the canyon wall, midway between the rim and the river, there is a jutting ledge with a great view. I like to stop there on the descent, rest my creaking knees, and see what’s to be seen in the cold blue channels below. On arrival my eyes drop immediately to the river to scan and probe, Read More
“There’s a pile of fish down there,” said Steven from the passenger seat, indicating the river below with a nod. “You’ve got that right,” I agreed, assuming he was just making conversation. We were, after all, crossing a Blue Ribbon stretch of the North Platte. Wyoming Game and Fish Department Assistant Fisheries Supervisor Mark, 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.
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
They’re hell on a hay crop, and they wreak havoc in the garden, but I don’t grow alfalfa and my wife tends the veggies. That leaves me free to enjoy a pure and purely selfish love of grasshoppers. And about this time of year, anglers in my part of the world can reasonably expect, Read More