Big, Dumb and Half Blind

  • By: Greg Thomas
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I’m not into numbers as a way to describe the quality of a fishing trip. If I were, half my life has been wasted on Pacific Northwest steelhead, where a tally of one a day, especially during the cold and rainy winter season, is about as good as anyone can hope for.

Yukon

  • By: Greg Thomas
  • Photography by: Greg Thomas
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and a sun that never sets.

Two men, one boat, no schedule,

Way Out

in the Yukon

by Greg Thomas

photographs by the author

Angler's Journal

  • By: Greg Thomas
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All in a day’s work on Oregon’s Deschutes.

 

by Greg Thomas

photographs by the author

 

Angler's Journal

  • By: Greg Thomas
  • Photography by: Greg Thomas
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I don’t fly well, believing that the easiest way to endure the air is to wash down a NyQuil with Maker’s Mark, close your eyes and hope for the best. So I fly, but I’m not sophisticated about it. In other words, I am not the Most Interesting Man in The World. In fact, during flights I often study the attendants’ expressions. If they look calm I’m cool; if their eyes get wide or if the plane hits one of those airless pockets, I sink my fingers into the armrests. Every time a pilot drops the landing gear I look out the window to see if the engines have fallen off. If I were religious I’d cross myself after each landing.

Chasing Mr. Big

  • By: Greg Thomas
  • Photography by: Greg Thomas
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Back to the wall ranch has been on my hit list for many years, dating back to the mid-1990s. I was just out of college, thought I was all that, and could talk my way onto any piece of water in the West.