The Greenhorn
I had just threaded my line through the guides, attached a fly to my tippet, and was ready to cast when the uninvited fisherman emerged from the curtain of alders near the river’s bend. In a rushed act of desperate deceit, I hooked the fly to one of the rod’s guides, tightened the line around...
It Looked Like He Knew What He Was Doing
I have a friend who casts a fly for neither distance nor accuracy nor stealth. Aside from those limitations he’s a splendid fisherman. It’s not for lack of strength or dexterity or intellect. Warren is a farm boy from Catawba, Wisconsin, and he has the farm-boy frame you’d expect: bone, muscle and gristle. He learned...
Back To School
It starts in August. The giant yellow Blue Bird and Thomas Built buses rise from a three-month hibernation to begin their diurnal shuttle routines. Just a few at first, but then more and more buses awaken each week until the end of September when the metamorphosis is complete. The nation is back in school. I...
