by Matthew Reilly - Thursday, Jul 20th, 2023
Several hours into day two of our musky hunt, a satirical air still hung about the boat. My friend and fellow musky nut, Rob Rogers of Deep South Outfitters, summarized it perfectly as we shoved off into a steady downpour and biting wind under a leaden sky–conditions we’d both been hoping for.
“Why the hell do people want to do this?”
It’s a valid question.
by Tim Schulz - Wednesday, Jul 19th, 2023
“Where can I catch a big trout?”
I sometimes field this query from fishing friends who seemingly mistake me for someone smart enough to know and dumb enough to tell. Our subsequent dialogue generally transpires like a scene from All the President's Men:
by Jon Tobey - Saturday, Jul 15th, 2023
The extra weight proved problematic, after trying to shoot the line somewhat unsuccessfully, George automatically tried to backcast. In his rush, he snagged the line in the fir, bending the aspen rod like a bow. Just as this was registering, the line released and shot forward, the jewelry flashing like a shooting star in the gloom.
George could no longer see the fish, but he pulled in rote, knowing this would be his last cast for the night. Bump. Bump. The wily bruiser was at it again. Perhaps he was blind with age? Bump. The lure was almost at the end of its arc and George could no longer see where the line met the water when suddenly the water erupted. Like a train coming out of a tunnel, the fish hit so hard he pulled the entire line into the air.
George gave a mighty heave to set the hook and tried to use his right hand on the line to slow it down while simultaneously palming the reel with his left. Suddenly he realized that his system had so many weak links that he didn’t know how to play the fish. Maximus began zooming around the pool in great ellipses, George playing and taking line as best he could. The force of the fish was amazing.
Like his dad, he began a constant dialog with the beast. “Oh, Max, dad was right, you are going to be the world record, don’t make this hard.”Oblivious, the fish raged around the pool. Within fifteen minutes the mountain light was completely gone.
“Easy boy, you stay out of that snag. That’s right, come to papa.” George reeled furiously.
by Chris Hunt - Tuesday, Jul 11th, 2023
Northern pike are native to Alaska. Just not all of Alaska. Thanks to Ice Age geology, the southern third of the state was spared from the toothy, salmon- and trout-eating predator. It was believed, until very recently, that the only pike found in south-central Alaska are there thanks to illegal stocking, likely initiated by anglers in the 1950s who liked the prehistoric fish so much, they planted them in rivers and lakes from Anchorage south to the Kenai Peninsula.
by Tom Davis - Monday, Jul 10th, 2023
Troy Galow hadn’t planned to hunt that January day a few years back. But a friend of a friend was looking to shoot a “cull buck”—a nice but non-trophy animal, basically—and Galow, who makes his home in Liberty Hill, Texas, and has a deer lease on a ranch in the South Texas brush country, was happy to do what he could to give the guy his chance.
After dropping him off at one of the two Atascosa-style box blinds he maintains on the property, Galow parked his truck a little distance away and walked back. The guy was standing at the foot of the ladder, looking up.
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