Matching the Hendrickson
- By: Chris Santella
FOR ANGLERS IN THE EAST AND MIDWEST, THE
appearance of Ephemerella subvaria is a sign that spring—and more important, trout season—has arrived in earnest. This mayfly—in many venues, the first good hatch of the season—is encountered from southern Appalachia through Pennsylvania, west to Michigan and Wisconsin, and throughout New England as far north as Maine. In the southern part of its range, it might occur in April; farther north, it appears toward the middle or latter part of May.
Emergers Decoded
- By: Bob Wyatt
- Photography by: Carl McNeil
WHERE YOU ARRIVE AFTER A LIFETIME OF FLY-FISHING depends to a large extent on how you start out. By the time I was into my late teens and tying flies that looked like the ones in the books, I reckoned that a fly riding half-sunk in the surface was at least as effective as a well-cocked dry fly, even if I didn’t know why. Over time, that hunch strengthened into a conviction that a fly in the surface film is far more deadly than one perched on its tiptoes.
Rainbow and wrong way
- By: John Gierach
Reuben didn’t like the looks of the weather, and this is a man who’s squinted at plenty of threatening skies before climbing into the front seat of a float plane.
Adventure's Where You Find It
- By: John Holt
In a fly-fishing world where nymphing for carp is considered high sport, as it should be, actively seeking mountain whitefish, except in the winter months, is considered at best déclassé. Mention of trips to favorite whitefish holes generates expressions of incredulity and disgust. As the Doors so aptly said, “Faces look ugly when you’re alone.”
Into the Wild
- By: Grant Wiswell
There’s a moment during any do-it-yourself trip when you have to wonder, Am I ready for this? I asked just that as a floatplane that delivered me and a few friends into the remote Alaska landscape disappeared over the horizon. That’s when the reality of our adventure hit me—for six days we would have to be self sufficient while searching for big leopard rainbows on the upper Copper River, near Bristol Bay.
Legally Poached
- By: Greg Thomas
- Photography by: Greg Thomas
I was halfway through a pitch to fish two different rivers in two days, one of which flows through highly private lands, when my potential partner, Jeff Wogoman, asked, “Are we going to get shot at?”
Postcard From Homosassa
- By: Chris Santella
- Photography by: Tosh Brown
p>It was on the flats of Homosassa that the first giant tarpon was landed on a fly. The angler was Lefty Kreh; the year, 1971. A long procession of saltwater angling luminaries, inspired by tales of Lefty’s success, soon followed, among them Norman Duncan, Steve Huff, Stu Apte and Billy Pate. By the late ’70s, word was officially out. “Back in the good old days, it was not unheard of for the best anglers to jump 50 fish in a day,” my buddy Mac McKeever shared during one of our long phone conversations leading up to my first visit. “You don’t hear reports like this anymore, but the big fish are still around. An angler named Jim Holland, Jr. landed a 202.5-pound fish in 2001, just north of town. I’ve seen fish pushing 200 pounds swim right past my boat. To know that your fly is a few feet away from a fish like that is incredibly exhilarating . . . whether they eat it or not. When they do eat, it’s remarkable. ”
Cold Fish
- By: John Sherman
Fly Fishing Top 10 Colleges
For some, it’s the roar of the crowd in the Big House—100,000 strong, all bellowing for the maize-and-blue. For others, it’s the irresistible attraction of the opposite sex. They claim Ole Miss’s campus-wide speed limit is 18 miles per hour because that was Archie Manning’s number. But one look at the co-eds strolling the pathways and you’ll know the real reason. And then again there is actual academic achievement (it turns out that this often-overlooked factor has some bearing on future employment, if you’re into that kind of thing). Whatever your main motivation, there’s no denying that choosing a college is a heavy decision.
Seychelles
- By: April Vokey
There are many ways in which I relax. Admittedly,fishing is not one of them. In fact, it is not at all the appeal of “ease” that draws me to the sport. Truth betold, since the day I was born I have needed adventure to flush my cheeks and sparkle my eyes. I have needed the uncertainty of what’s around the corner to spark my interest, and it just so happens that in fishing, there are a lot of those corners.
