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Chile looming

The Andes keep watch over the famed trout waters of Patagonia's Los Lagos region

by Chad Shmukler - Friday, Oct 5th, 2018

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Patagonia is a vast region of dramatic landscapes that most commonly refers to the Andes-influenced areas of both Argentina and Chile. Reaching from the Barrancas River in the north, which borders Argentina's famed Mendoza wine country, all the way south to Tierra del Fuego at the continent's most southern reaches, it is a region of wildly diverse geography. Depending on where you are in Patagonia, you might find yourself surrounded by desert, steppe, canyon lands, fluvial plains, glaciated mountains or dense rainforest. In Chile's Los Lagos region, you'll find the latter. Verdant, green rainforest predominates, rich with every imaginable form of coniferous growth and Jurassic deciduous flora. Ever-present and looming above are the steep, imposing, glacier-strewn peaks of the Andes, keeping watch over the forests, rivers and lakes which draw their life from the mountains. Above, the Futaleufu River courses through a tight canyon before rounding a bend (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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Anglers ply the waters of Lago Yelcho, not far from Yelcho en la Patagonia Lodge, which sits on the lake's shores (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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Towering above the lake is the Yelcho glacier, from which the lake and the nearby river draw their names (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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Fishing the almost 50 square mile, fjord-shaped lake is accomplished almost exclusively by boat and often involves casting into deep, translucent blue-green waters that bathe logjams and other structure along the shore (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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The Yelcho and many other glaciers which cling to the Andes peaks that overlook the lake create a seemingly endless array of silted creeks and streams which flow into the lake. The union of these opaque, glacially-influenced flows with the lake's crystal-clear waters provide another angling target (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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In the nearby Yelcho River, the situation is reversed. Rio Yelcho's deep, swift, glacially-tinged flows frequently meet with the clear waters of feeder creeks (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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Areas of the river where clear inflows and structure coincide can be trout hotspots, where anglers from Yelcho en la Patagonia and other nearby lodges frequently pluck stunning rainbows like this one (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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The Andes keep watch on the pastoral Palena, too, where one of its peaks periodically emerges from rolling storm clouds (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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In the Palena, big, streamer-eating brown trout predominate (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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Though the mountains are always looming throughout the region, it is easy to imagine that it is the mighty Futaleufu River—prized by anglers and rafters alike—for which they hold the highest regard (photo: Chad Shmukler).

futaleufu river - fly fishing - andes mountains

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Throughout its course, the Andes guard the Futaleufu with towering ranges and steep cliffsides (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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With the magnificent glaciers, rock faces, cliffsides and escarpments of the mighty Andes constantly drawing the eye, were it not for the region's bounty of trout—whether those that cruise the shores of Lago Yelcho in hope of a plump damselfly to pluck from the surface or the aggressive rainbows and browns that patrol the Rio Yelcho and Futaleufu—it might be hard to find a reason to look down.

Jersey shore

Its beaches along the Atlantic are the crown jewel of New Jersey's myriad angling opportunities

by Greg Koch - Wednesday, Feb 28th, 2018

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By most, New Jersey is thought of as a concrete badlands, conjuring an image of a landscape predominated by stacked and twisted highways, smokestacks and warehouse distribution centers. And in many parts of the state, that image holds true. But from where the mighty Delaware courses through its mountainous reaches in the northwest to its pinelands in the center of the state to the largemouth bass ponds that dot its south, Jersey is rich with angling and outdoor opportunities. Its crown jewel, however, are its beaches along the Atlantic Ocean, which run virtually uninterrupted for 130 miles from New York City to Cape May, offering anglers shots at a dizzying array of saltwater species—weakfish, bluefish, flounder, striped bass, tuna, even the occasional redfish and much more (photo: Greg Koch).

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As a result, anglers flock to New Jersey's beaches in droves, not just in its summer months—when anglers are left to navigate their way around beachgoing crowds—but throughout the year. Chasing schoolie stripers in late autumn and winter means gearing up for the cold (photo: Greg Koch).

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This time of year, you won’t find lifeguards and swimmers on the beach. Instead, fishermen line the shore, hoping to hook into a bass (photo: Greg Koch).

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Anglers share New Jersey's salt marshes, dunes and beaches with its wildlife—including harbor seals, diamonback terrapins, deer and millions of shorebirds, such as osprey and sanderlings [seen above] (photos: Greg Koch).

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Glassing the water in search of birds feeding on baitfish. Where there’s bait, there’s bound to be bigger fish (photo: Greg Koch).

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The clouser minnow is a staple of every fly fisherman’s flybox. Many days, you don't need anything else (photo: Greg Koch).

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With New York City's skyscrapers looming in the distance, anglers cast in hopes of hooking up a schoolie bass. More often than not, when the fish are there, the hookups come—fast and often (photos: Greg Koch).

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Though schoolies (a term used to describe a bass in its first two years of life) are most common along the beach through Jersey's winter months, bass upwards of 30 pounds are regularly taken from the beach throughout the year (photos: Greg Koch).

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A break in the action means a break for coffee and the hope that fish start blitzing baitfish once again before the day is done (photos: Greg Koch).

Greenland rising

North to the land of reindeer and char

by Earl Harper - Wednesday, Nov 8th, 2017

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Greenland, the largest island in the world. Three times the size of Texas, but with a population of less than 60,000 people, it is one of the least populated countries in the world. Though Greenland’s ice sheet still covers around 80% of the island and is almost 10,000 feet thick in places, Greenland’s ice is melting at an astonishing rate due to anthropogenic climate change. Greenland's ice sheet is so thick and immense, that it literally deforms the earth's crust. But with melt season starting earlier each year and lasting longer, the sheet has lost over a trillion tons of ice in recent years. As a result, the bedrock below the island nation is experiencing uplift. Greenland is rising (photo: Earl Harper).

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As you approach the town of Maniitsoq, little islands are scattered around like mismatched pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Homes here are colorfully painted, some say to help brighten the dreary winters. Others claim the myriad hues originated with building kits delivered from Scandinavia in the 1700s—where buildings were painted a particular color based on their function. The tradition in both locations has continued, even though color no longer designates use (photos: Earl Harper).

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Many of Greenland's rivers have large numbers of sea-run Arctic char. The Kangia River—seen here— is one of them (photo: Earl Harper).

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Fish are plentiful and usually not difficult to hook. But plentiful and easy to hook doesn't necessarily translate into easy to land (photo: Earl Harper).

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Swinging flies through deep pools can produce char in the 8 to 10 pound range (photos: Earl Harper).

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A sculpture formed from the rib bones of a whale overlooks the North Atlantic. Greenlandic Inuits have been dependent on the island’s resources for some 4,500-5,000 years. Fish, birds, land and marine mammals all contribute to provide food, clothing, shelter, and tools (photo: Earl Harper).

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Reindeer remain one of the most important natural resources in Greenland. The large deer are a vital source of meat and hunting reindeer has long been an important part of Greenlandic history and culture. Because of their antler size, which in relation to their bodies is the largest among the deer family, many trophy hunters pay for the opportunity to harvest reindeer—making them also an important part of the tourist economy (photo: Earl Harper).

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Death gives life to the people. Out of respect for the animal, every part will be eaten or used. It is common practice for hunters to share the bounty with elders and others in the community who are not capable of going out on a hunt for themselves (photo: Earl Harper).

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Anglers gather at a small base camp perched above the river to meet, eat lunch, change clothing or drink hot coffee (photo: Earl Harper).

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Char enter Greenland's rivers at varying times. Fresh runs of fish bring bright, silver char like this one—especially on incoming tides (photo: Earl Harper).

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Fish that have been in freshwater for some time take on late summer and autumn spawning colors that often seem impossibly vivid (photos: Earl Harper).

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At the end of the day, hikes back to the lodge can be somewhat long and rife with elevation changes, but one can almost always count on fresh wild blueberries for sustenance along the way (photo: Earl Harper).

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Lucky anglers, toasting the day with whiskey and cigars, will be treated to a show of the Northern Lights before they leave Greenland behind (photo: Earl Harper).

The Savan

Floating Kamchatka's everything river

by Earl Harper - Wednesday, Sep 27th, 2017

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Anglers travel to Kamchatka, almost without exception, for one reason: its plethora of trophy wild rainbows the likes of which aren't found anywhere else on the globe. The Savan isn't Kamchatka's numbers river or its big fish river. Or maybe it's both. The river's unique combination of plenty and size gives anglers a little taste of everything (photo: Earl Harper).

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Whether to the Savan or another of the peninsula's seemingly countless rivers, all trips into Kamchatka's wilderness pursuing its wild rainbows start here or another heliport like it. Here a mechanic and engineer perform a pre-flight inspection on a Russian MI-8 helicopter before takeoff (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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The helicopter touches down at basecamp, which will become home later in the trip. Anglers making a float down one of the Savan's tributaries, the Ichanga, are exchanged for weekly supplies here as well. A short 10-minute flight to our first night's camp ensues, affording tantalizing views of the river all along the way (photo: Chad Shmukler).

Fly fishing savan river - kamchatka, russia

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After breakfast the first morning, angler Gene Kennedy and guide Santos Fernando Madero pore over fly boxes deciding on a first offering to the Savan's waiting quarry (photo: Earl Harper).

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Anglers and guides head north from camp for a short hike. 10 minutes or so later, we turn toward the river to ply its waters (photo: Earl Harper).

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There's no more exhilarating way to catch a Kamchatka rainbow than on a mouse pattern. Here one of the finest fish of the trip, a thick shouldered 27" rainbow grabs a mouse swung along the banks of one of the Savan's myriad side channels (photo: Earl Harper).

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It's impossible to convey the heft of a Kamchatka rainbow. Pictures show off their size, but fail to do justice to their mass. These are not the trout you know (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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The late afternoon sun and the fact that this chum hen is fat with eggs means she'll be headed back to camp with us where her roe will be harvested for dinner (photo: Earl Harper).

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Once the eggs are harvested, they're placed in a cheese cloth to drain, after which they'll be salted (photo: Earl Harper).

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Back at camp, the chum's roe become an appetizer served on dark Russian bread and paired with a bit of vodka (photo: Earl Harper).

savan river - kamchatka - russia - fly fishing

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The diversity of the fishing on the Savan is staggering: tight, tree-choked braided channels, expansive flats, riffles dotted with islands, boulder lined runs and burly rapids. Each bend in The Savan seems to offer something entirely new (photo: Earl Harper).

savan river - kamchatka - rainbow trout - russia

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And a seemingly endless supply of Kamchatka rainbows to admire briefly before being sent back to chase mice, parr and the rest of the Savan's bounty (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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Fishing the lower river means daily excursions from basecamp via jetboat. Each day we travel farther downstream and encounter a whole new face of the Savan (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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Basecamp is simple and rustic but well appointed with comfortable beds, a dining and living area and, most importantly, a hot shower. Watching it grow smaller as the crew waves goodbye on the final day of our two weeks on the Savan means it's time to leave the river behind. It also means it's time to start planning a trip back (photo: Earl Harper).

#NowOrNeverglades Photo Contest: The Winners

All the selections from this year's entries

by Chad Shmukler - Wednesday, Feb 22nd, 2017

Here's a great example of why grip-and-grins suck. Look how much more this runner-up shot from photographer Justin Hamblin gives us, without giving us a full look at the fish, virtually any look at the angler, or any idea of whether this is a big fish, small fish or so on. But who cares? There's so much more to see.

This year's photo contest (okay, last year's) marked a lot of firsts.

It was the first time that we announced the winners of our annual contest in the following calendar year, due to an amalgam of issues. That's something we hope never to repeat again.

It was the first time that the selection of the grand prize winner prompted a discussion on whether the rules of the contest need to be updated (more on that later).