I find the Hendrickson dry-fly hatch to be out of reach, usually. In my early days, it was self-inflicted, as I focused on tightlining and wets. Then, when I got into dries, a myriad of obstacles got in the way: wind, water that was too high, older anglers arriving early to claim the dry-fly spots,
Ode to Pocket Water
Pocket water, how I love you, let me count the ways, You’ve saved my net from uselessness on, oh, so many days. Your lovely seams, rocks, and cuts do constantly provide Many sublime places for trout to lurk and hide. Your bold boulders break the roiling river’s rage As brookies rest from currents and their
Happy to Be Back
I received my first vaccine shot a few weeks ago, and I immediately planned a fishing trip and rallied the blog team for a separate jaunt to Maine. It was thrilling once again to ponder travel and new possibilities. These vaccines have been miracles, and I cannot imagine where we would be without them. Last
Heart Revelations
Many times, fly fishing reveals what my heart is like. Mostly, it’s not a pretty sight. When I say my heart, I mean the part of me that’s the real me, what’s at the core of my being from which the joys and sorrows and everything in between emanates. It’s the true me, without all