I was fishing what we called the “Nursing Home Hole” of the Farmington River in New Boston in early spring of 1972. My father’s fishing buddy, Barbara, was with me as we worked this large, wide and deep spot in the river. I don’t recall where my Dad was…upstream? Working at Milhenders and thus not
Broken Promises
I promised myself that I would not do three things if I went fishing today. Then I went and broke two of my three promises. As mentioned in a previous Blogflyfish article, a week from today I will undergo hip replacement surgery. It’s questionable whether I should be out trying to wade around in a
Phở-get About It
I woke up early to hit the river and had high hopes. During the past few outings, I saw a few dozen trout each time. Newly-released wards of the state, no doubt, but it was fun to feel the rod bend. Could be angler error, but I haven’t seen any big, wild fish this winter.
Ask the Pros – Marlborough 2023
During a recent blog team outing with Joel Watson and Dave Hyde, the three of us remarked how lucky we are to have found a passion for a sport with such a tight-knit community. Football players or guitarists may work their entire lives or spend unimaginable amounts of money for a brief moment with their