Stalking the Conejos
"Creeks are 'dear to my heart,' as my grandmother would have said, and since I don’t have a spare heart to turn to, I’m glad to know there are hundreds of thousands of miles of them: more than I could fish in thirty lifetimes."
Atlantic Salmon fishing in New Brunswick...
Night of the Hex
Big bugs bring big expectations.
Food for Thought
I had one of the best steak dinners of my life on the outskirts of Valentine, Nebraska. It was at a family restaurant called The Bunkhouse, one of those places designed to feed the locals as well as snag passing tourists in season with the usual corny western motif and a “Little Cowpoke Special” on the kid’s menu. There were a few paved parking spaces out front, but my friend Ed and I were towing a bass boat, so we drove around back to the enormous dirt lot reserved for campers and 18-wheelers. A hot wind was blowing out of the east across a pasture and a truck stop and there was dust in the air along with the combined aromas of cow flop and diesel.
On the Beaches of Baja