Morning Down in the Hole
Admit it. It’s funny to hear east coasters talk about “wilderness.” I live along the I-95 corridor, and while we have some amazing fishing and hunting, and some fairly wild places, wilderness it ain’t. The Mid-Atlantic, in particular, is a region where getting to wilderness is better defined by the number of small-ish states you...
Earn your keep
I am a nobody. I don’t look at myself in fly fishing’s mirror and say, “I’m One Bug Is Fake!” Speaking in terms of writing ability, my outlook is similar. Not that I would have a chance expand my ego, Mistress Analytics reminds me constantly that my daily readership is paltry, at best. If someone...
Cold Water Canoeing
I was excited to dust off my canoe today as the spring weather reminded me that it belongs in the water, not the barn. My trail companion helped me strap it to the truck, pack a meal, and we were off for a day of exploring. What a familiar feeling it is, paddling a canoe. The fresh...
The Mad Angler’s Manifesto
I speak with the voice of water, rivulet, brook, stream and creek, for the whitewater in lost gorges, boiling cataracts, every place where the souls of wild fish gather to remind us of the power of hydrology. I speak with the name of rain, with the soft lips of condensation, even the dew which gathers...
