Articles

Blood sacrifice

Heaven and hell in search of pre-runoff brook trout on the edge of Yellowstone

by Chris Hunt - Wednesday, Jun 1st, 2016

Photo: Rueben Browning

It was to be a stealth operation, quickly arranged and executed.

On a brilliant mid-May afternoon, I just couldn’t help myself. Punctuated by the knowledge that the sun is setting later, I knew it was feasible, after a day spent toiling over the the computer, to drive a bit farther and see if that little-known brook trout stream on the shoulders of the Pitchstone Plateau had cleared up enough to make a few casts possible.

Stoned

Big bugs, big fish and the big buzz that goes with them

by Kris Millgate - Tuesday, May 31st, 2016

A Lower Deschutes River salmonfly (photo: Arian Stevens).

Both of my boys fished the stonefly hatch before they could walk. That’s my oldest with bulging eyes and bug on hand in the picture below. I can only imagine what’s going on in that brain of his that can’t verbally form cuss words yet.

The rest of us can cuss and always do when we miss a fish, but the beauty of the stonefly hatch is you won’t miss much. Fat fish are eyes up in feast frenzy fashion when you hit the hatch just right.

Wilderness carp

Confessions of a carp bum

by Chris Hunt - Thursday, May 26th, 2016

Photo: Chris Hunt

I rested my river-chilled feet on the warm rocks of the small campfire, an iced gin-and-tonic spritzer in hand, helping me push the season as quickly as I could. The desert, lush and alive this time of year, cascaded my little camp with a chorus of wild tunes ranging from the shrill aria of the mud swallows to the cacophony of hoots, grunts and whistles from the waterfowl padding through the shallow waters just a few dozen feet away.

Of browns and bugs

Fishing through Colorado’s new national monument

by Kris Millgate - Wednesday, May 25th, 2016

Brown trout are abundant in the Arkansas River including the stretch running through Browns Canyon National Monument.

I’m in Browns Canyon National Monument. It’s Colorado’s corner of newly protected public land. The Arkansas River is its lifeline. I’m fishing that lifeline from a raft rowed by Colorado permit pioneer Bill Dvorak.

The river is running too low in my opinion, 300 cubic feet per second (CFS), but my opinion doesn’t count here. This isn’t my home water. It’s Dvorak’s.

Hidden hollows with dark pasts

Exploring marks left on West Virginia's Cranberry Wilderness

by Matthew Reilly - Monday, May 23rd, 2016

Photo: Matthew Reilly

I’ve always been drawn to wild places. It’s where the world makes the most sense. And when the beauty of wild trout—rising where they should, to a fly offered by one practiced in the art of grace and respect for such things—agrees with the surroundings, all is as it should be.