Camp Food

  • By: John Gierach
  • Photography by: Judith O’Keefe
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IN ERNEST HEMINGWAY’S 1925 short story “Big Two-Hearted River,” the protagonist, Nick, sets up camp after a long hike with a heavy pack that makes him desperately hungry. So before he goes fishing, he cooks a reckless meal: He mixes a can of pork and beans with a can of spaghetti and eats it slathered with ketchup. He says to himself, “I’ve got a right to eat this kind of stuff, if I’m willing to carry it,” something every backpacker who’s lugged cans of food miles into the woods has thought.

Angler of the Year: Chris Hayes

  • By: Chris Santella
  • Photography by: Jim Klug
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On arrival for my first visit to Belize’s Turneffe Atoll, I stepped off the boat a little dazed, partially from a long day of travel from the West Coast, and partly from the six or so Belikin beers I’d consumed en route. After fishing my laptop out of the drink (a result of those aforementioned Belikins), I shamefacedly shambled toward the main lodge where I was greeted by a short, trim gringo with a soft voice and even quieter demeanor—Craig Hayes, Turneffe Flats’ proprietor.

Kudo

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Over the past decade or so, I’ve tried just about every alternative to felt soles that has appeared on the market. The results were always disappointing; in my experience, felt surpassed them all by a comfortable margin, and studded felt was the very best.

Sometimes a guy just has to do Winter Steelhead Camp.

  • Photography by: Greg Thomas
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Call it crazy.

There comes a time for every angler to grow up, supposedly. We’re expected to give up the weeklong road trips with buddies; now vacation time is parceled between in-laws. Extra income no longer accumulates in the “tarpon fund”; it is divvied between college savings accounts.

Chasing stripers on the Monomoy flats

  • By: Tom Rosenbauer
  • Photography by: David Skok
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p>Miles of grass beds were covered with pure white sand from the outer beaches, spoiling one productive habitat but forming another. Striped bass soon habituated to cruising the clear, shallow water in search of warmer temperatures, not to mention crabs and shrimp, and perhaps to escape predators. People knew the fish were there, but catching them by the conventional methods of trolling or throwing big plugs was out of the question. In fact, most boats on Cape Cod—other than the skiffs used by clammers—couldn’t handle the shallow water and treacherous shoals.