Highlights
Sporting Life
- By: John Gierach
- Photography by: Bob White
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.”
Rainbow and wrong way
- By: John Gierach
Reuben didn’t like the looks of the weather, and this is a man who’s squinted at plenty of threatening skies before climbing into the front seat of a float plane.
Adventure's Where You Find It
- By: John Holt
In a fly-fishing world where nymphing for carp is considered high sport, as it should be, actively seeking mountain whitefish, except in the winter months, is considered at best déclassé. Mention of trips to favorite whitefish holes generates expressions of incredulity and disgust. As the Doors so aptly said, “Faces look ugly when you’re alone.”
Legally Poached
- By: Greg Thomas
- Photography by: Greg Thomas
I was halfway through a pitch to fish two different rivers in two days, one of which flows through highly private lands, when my potential partner, Jeff Wogoman, asked, “Are we going to get shot at?”
Postcard From Homosassa
- By: Chris Santella
- Photography by: Tosh Brown
p>It was on the flats of Homosassa that the first giant tarpon was landed on a fly. The angler was Lefty Kreh; the year, 1971. A long procession of saltwater angling luminaries, inspired by tales of Lefty’s success, soon followed, among them Norman Duncan, Steve Huff, Stu Apte and Billy Pate. By the late ’70s, word was officially out. “Back in the good old days, it was not unheard of for the best anglers to jump 50 fish in a day,” my buddy Mac McKeever shared during one of our long phone conversations leading up to my first visit. “You don’t hear reports like this anymore, but the big fish are still around. An angler named Jim Holland, Jr. landed a 202.5-pound fish in 2001, just north of town. I’ve seen fish pushing 200 pounds swim right past my boat. To know that your fly is a few feet away from a fish like that is incredibly exhilarating . . . whether they eat it or not. When they do eat, it’s remarkable. ”
Cold Fish
- By: John Sherman
Fly Fishing Top 10 Colleges
For some, it’s the roar of the crowd in the Big House—100,000 strong, all bellowing for the maize-and-blue. For others, it’s the irresistible attraction of the opposite sex. They claim Ole Miss’s campus-wide speed limit is 18 miles per hour because that was Archie Manning’s number. But one look at the co-eds strolling the pathways and you’ll know the real reason. And then again there is actual academic achievement (it turns out that this often-overlooked factor has some bearing on future employment, if you’re into that kind of thing). Whatever your main motivation, there’s no denying that choosing a college is a heavy decision.
Angler's Journal
- By: Greg Thomas
- Photography by: Greg Thomas
I don’t fly well, believing that the easiest way to endure the air is to wash down a NyQuil with Maker’s Mark, close your eyes and hope for the best. So I fly, but I’m not sophisticated about it. In other words, I am not the Most Interesting Man in The World. In fact, during flights I often study the attendants’ expressions. If they look calm I’m cool; if their eyes get wide or if the plane hits one of those airless pockets, I sink my fingers into the armrests. Every time a pilot drops the landing gear I look out the window to see if the engines have fallen off. If I were religious I’d cross myself after each landing.
Short Casts
- By: Will Rice
When you first take a look at a Stone Bomb, it looks like a lot of other big, nasty, rubber-legged stonefly imitations. Much like its designer, it is not until you dig a little deeper that the fly’s nuances become apparent. What you will find with Frank Smethurst’s Bomb Squad lineup is that attention to detail matters.
