In the back seat of my car my fly rod is still strung up with the big streamer I'd last used in October in a desperate, Hail Mary attempt to catch a smallmouth bass before winter's onset. It was cold, the wind was howling and I gave up after the time it takes to drink one beer. Now I'll settle into my
A dozen years spent mostly indoors might be about enough for this outdoorsman.
Just A Lovely Day
What is the most important milestone in an angler's career? Most fly-fishers would probably tell you it's that usually awkward, always triumphant, moment when you hook and land your first fish on a fly. My own first fly-caught trout came from the Little Beaverkill, just upriver from Junction Pool in
There's nothing like a hatch of huge insects to bring out the kid in a fly fisherman. For one thing, most of the larger bugs trout feed upon are around only in late spring and summer, the seasons we all associate with carefree playtime. But there's more to it than that. For instance, whenever you see
Here's a trivia question for you: Who said the following, and when? And where? The ancients wrote of the three ages of man; I propose to write of the three ages of the fisherman. When he wants to catch all the fish that he can. When he strives to catch the largest fish. When he studies to catch the most
I'm lucky enough to be able to fish with guides from time to time. Most of my guides during the past dozen years have given me an enjoyable, occasionally unforgettable, outing, and I have almost always learned something from each of them. The guide-client relationship in general is a fascinating one.
I don't have a sister, but if I did, I'd want one just like Susan Williams Beckhorn, whose big brother is FR&R Conservation editor Ted Williams. In celebration of Ted's 60th birthday this past summer, Susan surprised him with a self-published book of his fishing adventures as told by about 50 survivors
Although some authors manage to make it look easy, writing a good short story is damn hard work. In fact, it's been my personal experience that writing even a bad piece of short fiction is no champagne brunch on the beach. Then, when you impose upon a writer some zany restriction--such as that his or
My catch-and-release habit has been so reflexive for so many decades that it is difficult for me to accurately remember the battle of emotions I underwent to reach this point. But as near as I can recall, just prior to my C&R conversion the devil on my left shoulder was arguing strenuously against the