The weather here on the Gulf Coast of Texas is still dark and wet, with thunderstorms the last two mornings and visibility of perhaps a mile. Watching the ten day forecast on WeatherUnderground , there are two partly sunny days out of a chain of cloudy, stormy, gray predictions ahead. Last Sunday, the sun did … Continue reading Getting Closer
The last two weeks on the Texas coast have been like this. I have not caught a fish while in Port Aransas. I had another tourist offer the sage old advice, "A bad day of fly fishing is better than...". As was trying and failing to cast with the wind blowing my running line out … Continue reading Foggy Feelings
I spent Tuesday afternoon on the Firehole river in Yellowstone National Park. It was reputed to be "on fire" (yuk yuk) by the West Yellowstone fly shops, and I've long wanted to fish the stretch where geysers are steaming away stream-side. I walked and waded for about five hours, but the afternoon started with me … Continue reading A Bad Day of Fly Fishing is Better Than…
Nearly three months of Montana and it is beginning to feel like the end is near. I'm back on the water I started at, The 50 Mile Riffle. If I were to do it over from the start I would have been up here at the beginning of June at the latest. It seems like … Continue reading Back on the Madison River
1010.16 miles at 1.4 mph. That's what Garmin's track has to say about my travels since I turned it on leaving Reno on June 21, 2018. Not including the prequel spent in the high Sierra of California or the week in Reno waiting for news about my Dad. He died on on Father's Day, back … Continue reading A Thousand Miles, Thirty Days
When I started my fly fishing adventure in 2015, I did not have any particular goals or targets in mind, beyond spending time on some iconic waters of the West. In total that year I fished 57 distinct bodies of water, including the visit to Florida at the end. I've stumbled across seasonal highlights without … Continue reading Chasing Bugs on the Madison
Seven hours walking along the banks of the Henry's Fork, standing in the current, looking at bugs and birds. Almost nothing was going on in the water, until a explosion of action for 15 minutes or so nearing sunset. Huge drakes popping off the water and fish gulping them down all around me, while rain … Continue reading Seven Hours at Last Chance
