- By: Dave McCoy
Washington is home to the magnificent Pacific steelhead and five species of salmon that have brought anglers to the Evergreen State for more than 100 years. All the famous anglers, from Roderick Haig-Brown to Steve Raymond to Enos Bradner, et al., have thrown lines here trying to raise those massive steelhead and salmon to flies.
- By: Michael Salomone
by Michael Salomone
- By: Greg Vinci
by Greg Vinci
- By: Jeff Erickson
By Jeff Erickson
- By: Chris Santella
- Photography by: Brian Grossenbacher
I once asked photographer and angling adventurer extraordinaire Brian O’Keefe what advice he would offer young people who were interested in working in the fly-fishing industry. “Don’t be the guide,” he advised.
- By: Stephen Camelio
Singer-songwriter, snowboarder, actress
. . . and always an angler.
Pinning down musician Greta Gaines, whose new album—Lighthouse & the Love Impossible—came out in May, is no easy task.
- By: Chris Santella
FOR ANGLERS IN THE EAST AND MIDWEST, THE
appearance of Ephemerella subvaria is a sign that spring—and more important, trout season—has arrived in earnest. This mayfly—in many venues, the first good hatch of the season—is encountered from southern Appalachia through Pennsylvania, west to Michigan and Wisconsin, and throughout New England as far north as Maine. In the southern part of its range, it might occur in April; farther north, it appears toward the middle or latter part of May.
- By: Bob Wyatt
- Photography by: Carl McNeil
WHERE YOU ARRIVE AFTER A LIFETIME OF FLY-FISHING depends to a large extent on how you start out. By the time I was into my late teens and tying flies that looked like the ones in the books, I reckoned that a fly riding half-sunk in the surface was at least as effective as a well-cocked dry fly, even if I didn’t know why. Over time, that hunch strengthened into a conviction that a fly in the surface film is far more deadly than one perched on its tiptoes.
- 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.
- 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.”