Articles

Built by godly men

Carp are beautiful and mirror carp, bred by Trappist monks, may be the most beautiful of all
Photo: Chris Hunt

Every fly fisher that takes the leap and opts, voluntarily, to start slinging flies at carp eventually arrives at a moment of clarity. The garbage fish that have found their way into nearly every drainage ditch, irrigation canal and city settling pond in the country over the last 190 years becomes less onerous, more appreciated … even valued.

Stiff competition

And just like that, without another word between us, the contest had begun
See any? (photo: Chad Shmukler).

"Keep your eyes peeled for any heart-shaped rocks," I called to John as we walked down the riverbank. The section of river we were fishing was so remote that it likely had fewer visitors over the course of a season than most places had over a single weekend, raising our odds of finding something good.

"I look for them in every corner of the world I visit, so I can bring the best ones home to my wife."

Review: Thomas & Thomas Paradigm fly rod

The new Paradigm is a 21st century recreation of an iconic T&T classic
Photo: Chad Shmukler

When we planned the trip, some eight months out, we had anticipated our timing to be near perfect. If things went as they should, we’d be hitting the water during the ideal week, just as springtime mayfly hatches really started to kick off — rousing the trout from their lingering winter lethargy, sending them in chase of the sort of bounty they hadn’t seen in more than half a year. We’d spend the week casting delicate dry flies to eager browns and rainbows on the region’s spring creeks and lake-fed freestoners.

Winter redfish

Kayaking for coldwater redfish on Louisiana's Barataria Estuary
Photo: Mike Sepelak

I have no idea why Capt. Danny Wray decided to wait for us at the Bridgeside Marina in lonely Grand Isle, La., that chilly December morning. I just know that he did, and I’m thankful for that.

Climate, coronavirus, and the assessment of risk

There are things to keep in mind when swinging from grapevines
Photo: Laura Betancourt / cc2.0.

When I was a kid, my friends and I had the run of four or five hundred acres of timber on the ragged edge of the bluffs overlooking the Mississippi River north of St. Louis. It was a marvelous playground with opportunities for diversion, recreation, and moderate to serious injury that were limited only by a kid’s imagination.

Pages