The Sporting Life

  • By: John Gierach
  • Illustrations by: Bob White
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The goal of fly-fishing isn’t just to

Sporting Life

  • By: John Gierach
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Marginal conditions can bring their own reward.
A FRIEND CALLED FROM TEXAS. HE WAS standing at the crest of a hill where he’d walked with his second cup of morning coffee to get a cell signal. He’d driven down there from his place in western Colorado to deliver some

Sporting Life

  • By: John Gierach
  • Illustrations by: Bob White
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Ice Out Bozeman

A gathering of fishing guides livin’ the dream.

Sporting Life

  • By: John Gierach
  • Photography by: Bob White
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WE WERE DRIVING OVER A DIRT-ROAD PASS THROUGH Wyoming’s Salt River mountains: two muddy wheel ruts running next to the stream we’d fished that afternoon, which this high up the drainage was narrow enough to straddle. It was near sunset on a clear September evening, and as we started down the back side of the pass the valley ahead of us was a bowl of purple shade trimmed in gold. Doug reached over and turned on the GPS unit in the pickup. A meandering red line stretching to a digital horizon appeared on the screen and a female voice said, “Street name unknown.”

Fireproof

  • By: John Gierach
  • Illustrations by: Bob White
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IT WAS THE KIND OF BONE-DRY, 98-DEGREE day that makes the enameled blue Colorado sky feel like an anvil on your head. It hadn’t rained in a month and everything was wilted, from the junipers and cottonwoods to the sleeping cats draped over the porch railing like dishrags. And taking up most of the northern horizon was the immense plume of smoke from the High Park fire, with slurry bombers swarming it like flies.