If you’re a cutthroat trout enthusiast, you know the stories of extinct cutthroat trout that really weren’t extinct. In stories almost too hard to believe, we’re told of the tenacity individuals displayed in moving trout from point A to points B, C and beyond. Anders Halverson records such stories surrounding the rainbow trout in his [...]
The chutzpah of the fish led to an interesting day reflecting on the Native American act of touching the enemy without being harmed.
Most people tend to turn their face toward Mecca, but in a blatant disregard of protocol, I turned a blind eye toward Mecca and rode on. Actually, truth be told, one eye was on Mecca and the other was on the road. OK, OK, sometimes both eyes were on Mecca and I was lucky to not crash and burn.
“Can I see your license?”
I handed Mr. Tan Polyester Pants my license.
“Are you awake? You seemed to be weaving all over,” he said as he glanced at my license and looked through the windows at the boxes lining the rear of the SUV and stacked on the folded-down half of the rear seat. He seemed to step back and notice the sag of the rear end of the vehicle and debating with himself what the relationship was between the sag and the boxes.
“Could you tell me what’s in these boxes?”
Day 2 of the Appalachian brook trout quest was the day I was most worried about in the planning stages. We were looking for the northern strain that day and we wanted to fish the Rapidan River to do it. The Rapidan has great historicity when it comes to fly fishing and it’s supposed to have a good population of brook trout. But most of what I read mentioned that accessibility might be an issue—3 to 4 miles of vigorous hiking just to get to the stretches with the fish, then the actual fishing mileage, followed by a 3 mile hike back to the vehicle, uphill. We were on a tight schedule, and that just wouldn’t do.
By popular demand (if you can call one request “popular”), here are some photos from my second trip to “Chalkstream” this past Wednesday and my first trip to “Bonneville Creek” this year.
The humiliating day of skunkage in King Kong sized proportions gives way to the Intermountain West’s finest “Chalkstream” containing some sizeable fish. This angler was there for an incredible day of biking, beauty and dry fly excitement during a prolific hatch.
The entire mix created a carnival-like atmosphere—the worst kind of traveling carnival that stalks America with the worldly pleasures only carnies can provide small towns. For Dan and I, this was the gateway to our worldly pleasure too: Salvelinus fontinalis, the brook trout. Specifically, the southern Appalachian strain.
I am pleased to announce a magazine that stimulates the heart and mind of the angler. Rise Forms: Fly fishing’s literary voice, seeks to publish work that conveys both the passion and contemplative nature of fly fishing through high quality, literary articles.
Would you like to win a new book that is hot off the press? I have one I’m giving away. Learn how to get your name in the drawing.
The following is an introduction to this new book, based on a reading of the preface only. I have a quest. The quest involves answering several related questions. I won’t list them all, but the following two questions should give an idea as to the basic gist of them: Do fish suffer when they are [...]
Last weekend was the annual trip to the South Fork Boise River. The fishing was excellent, with enough 16″-20″ redband trout surface feeding and brought to hand to slake my winter fishing drought. Wish you were there.
I’m just dying to get on the river, but the weather and prospects for local fishing in the winter is pretty low. In anticipation of the new season, I bring you something a little different: me reading the post to you.
The ezine version of Cutthroat Stalker is hitting the virtual stands today. Get your free copy and give me feedback (please).
The temperature inversions in our valley have one positive affect: some incredible hoar frost (radiation frost) builds up. As I wait for ice and joints to thaw, and fish to move, I walk the valley. Exchanging fly rod and flies for tripod and camera, I stay as close to water as I can. Stalking scenes [...]