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November 20, 2019

It is generally unwise to state rules in fishing, without qualifiers. I’ve learned so quickly in answering questions from clients on the river. Words like “never” and “always” simply invite instances of “sometimes.” Add a lady to the mix, particularly one with the temp...

June 13, 2018

High water. It’s the bane of any river fisherman or fishing guide, and I’m sure I’ve opened my last three columns bemoaning it. When the rivers blow out for weeks at a time, there are really only a handful of things one can do—swallow depression, fish stillwater, tie f...

March 21, 2018

There are many reasons I fish, solitude being one of the foremost. But I love people, and relish the opportunity to meet new ones, especially those with an outdoor passion. Meeting new people on the water often leads to new friendships, and sometimes the exchange of in...

February 7, 2018

The rapid was still in sight. Its white symphony took first chair to the wind, and the cold followed third—silent and subtle, but heard. I made another cast to a piece of rocky structure. It was labored, with many false casts. Fly line doesn’t shoot through guides when...

February 1, 2018

My eyes snapped open mid-morning. The previous night found me restless—scouring charts, tables; interpreting the forecasts; weighing my options. Tides were slight; the weather, poor. “Cold spell” complaints were being tossed about Southwest Florida tackle shops like li...

July 19, 2017

Kids, they sat there waiting. Just three—an unbalanced number. One can talk to the other two but not with complete comfort lent by another on the periphery. They checked their phones nervously, sipped drinks and chatted half-heartedly, saving the fully robust body and...

July 12, 2017

Adventure-scarred canoes lashed to its pontoons, a fully-loaded DCH-2 Beaver circled one of northwest Ontario’s thousands of jagged lakes to point its propeller parallel along its length. As it began its descent, the unbroken amalgam of boreal forest and shimmering wat...

December 21, 2016

I don’t like killing things.

 
That may come as an unexpected confession from one who loves the sport of hunting, and has a somewhat precipitous body count in the area of squirrels and deer. I’ve got a lot of blood on my hands—not in the least figuratively. No more, tho...

April 5, 2016

“I’m dropping out after today.”

               

The declaration was one part joke, two parts intent, and escaped daily into a warm, bluebird sky from behind a bottom lip bit in collegiate compliance.

...

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