Fly Fishing Blog Sipping Emergers

Tie me to the mast

2020-06-09T20:21:00.002-04:00

The Siren singing her song

It’s likely that your earliest fishing memories are of staring into waters near road crossings. Bridges above brooks. Train trestles across rivers. Culverts at tidal marsh outlets.

Bridge pools are the sirens of trouts waters. One is drawn inexplicably towards them knowing that only doom awaits.

You stood at the railing. You saw the fish, they're right there. But, of course, they also saw you. Finning calmly in the deepest slot they dare you to waste your time.

The irrational angler-brain weaves a story about fish that aren't spookable because they're so close to regular traffic. As if on cue a logging truck rumbles across the bridge's wooden deck. Below the pool, the creek makes a turn that provides a perfect casting lane. And there's a rise! Oh, this is so sweet.

You come back later knowing they're there. They’re rested and a sporadic hatch brings them to the surface. At the edges minnows and other fell fish rise but you are not distracted. Near the middle, but just to the left, an occasional suck exposes the trout.

A motorcvcle roars across the bridge. Twin pipes with bored out baffles that make your teeth shake. Asshole. The trout still rise.

A delicate cast of a fly three sizes too big garners the attention of only the minnows and the trout are down as you real in a fish not much large that the Stimulator that caught him.

Patience is not rewarded.

When they come back up the trout are now rising among the minnows. The right fly, a small emerger, lands just where you want it on the third cast. A minnow pecks at it but you are not fooled until another minnow, perhaps smaller that the first, makes an outsized swirl on the fly and again you reel in a fish that cannot bend the fiberglass rod. The trout are down again.

The black flies are not around today. That’s odd given that early June is prime time for the blood suckers. The skeeters are trying to make up for it but after two weeks of black flies a mosquito bite is hardly noticeable.

In all your day dreaming about the potential of water above and below your current perch, you fail to notice that nothing is happening in the shadow of the bridge. The bugs are off and even the minnows have quieted down.

There’s a long drive ahead of you. During the next three hours you cross numerous waters at high speed. Your head swivels to hear the song despite the failure that can only await. Circe was right. You need to get some beeswax.

Hawkish about Conservation

2017-05-30T06:53:00.000-04:00

Conservation Hawks is an organization of hunters and anglers who are focused on the single biggest threat to our sport: climate change.

They've just released their latest video, Convergence, which will be the best 12 minutes of your day.

In conjunction with the video, they're running a prize giveway. You don't have to donate anything to get in on this, but you do have to put on your thinking cap and twitch your typing fingers a bit. Watch the film. Identify your favorite quote. Share the film on social media. Choose a prize. All the details are on their site. You have to get all this done by June 17th.

Of course, they're also trying to raise some money for future efforts. Friend of the blog, Bob White, runs a Musky Madness trip every year. It attracts all manner of people including the likes of John Gierach. You can get a chance to win for $25. You can get more chances if you give a more.

Fair warning: I'm entering the giveaway and I've got my eyes on... well, I'm not going to tell you what prize I want, but it's a good one. I also got my tickets for the Musky Madness raffle. May the ~~best~~ luckiest angler win.

The salmon are not safe

2017-05-26T07:33:00.000-04:00

Who would have thought we'd be posting about this again.

On November 8th, 2016, it was easy to predict that this moment would come. No matter your political affiliation, Making America Great Again would include pandering to mining interests and Pebble Mine is one big-ass mining interest.

On Friday, May 12th, the Trump administration crossed the Rubicon. News broke that the EPA, under Scott Pruitt's palsy hand, paved the way for the Pebble Limited Partnership to restart its quest to dig North America’s largest open-pit copper mine - directly in the headwaters of Bristol Bay’s vast wild salmon runs.

Now I've pontificated on this madness before: here, here, and here and here and here. And when the Obama administration all but killed the thing, I did the happy dance and started dreaming of my next trip to there north. Sadly, the victory is slipping from our hands.

The EPA and Pebble's settlement agreement was a backroom deal brokered between EPA Administrator Scott Pruitt and Pebble. The EPA's own peer-reviewed science was not taken into consideration, nor the requests from Bristol Bay’s Native Communities, fishermen, and hunters and anglers to uphold the EPA’s Proposed Determination.

Bristol Bay provides 14,000 American jobs and $1.5 billion to the American economy with the 30 - 60 million wild sockeye salmon that return there each summer. But that doesn't matter to those with a short-term view of things.

It's time for us to get our shit together and act.

Please take action and call EPAS Administrator, Scott Pruitt to tell him compromising an irreplaceable ecosystem, a fully sustainable food supply and some of the greatest sport fishing on earth is unacceptable.

The Office of EPA Administrator, Scott Pruitt: 202.564.4700

A free Bonus just for you!

For a dive into what’s at stake in Bristol Bay, the producers of The Breach, an award-winning documentary, have made their feature film available for the next five days for free through this link here: THE BREACH

To take further action and to stay informed visit: SAVE BRISTOL BAY

Salmon River Steelhead

2016-12-31T12:31:00.003-05:00

The steelhead fishing up in Pulaski can be challenging, especially for the novice. Those who have success often find it's feast of famine, but that is some of what keeps folks coming back, year after year.

Recently, long time steelhead and salmon anglers have been more often heard to pine for the good old days. While anglers are used to hearing stories about how the angling was better yesterday, last week, or forty years ago, sometimes there is more truth in these yarns than may first be apparent.

At the foot of bridge at Altmar, one can find Malinda's Fly and Tackle Shop. Malinda Barna is the owner and she has been a keen observer of the fishery for many years. Malinda recently posted her thoughts on why the fishery has fared poorly (there's some science involved) and what can be done to improve the angling.

Note that she's not going to recommend ways that the chinook and king runs can be made better, she's taking the big picture view about what anglers want (to catch fish) and how to make it better (make more fish available for catching). I've two posted links below to the same article. The Vedavoo piece has some commentary that has not been my experience, but that does illustrate a condition I've heard from others.

Take a read. Share your thoughts. Act.

Thanks to the Amberjack Journal and Vedavoo for posting her article.

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Additional Info (Thanks Tony B. and Bob S. for bringing this to my attention)

Invasion of the Great Lakes: Quagga mussels least known, most dangerous invader

NY State DEC Annual Reports for last few years (read the highlight reports ...especially 2012 she refers to)

No Pear Tree

2016-12-10T09:05:00.001-05:00

It's fly tying time of the year, though I am going to get out and scout a small stream in a bit. Despite it being well below freezing I can't help but be outdoors when the possibility of catching a trout exists.

One material I love to use on flies is partridge. I'm always looking for patterns to add it to and tips for using this versatile material. I recently stumbled on the video below. It's the basics of using partridge. While I think I've got these covered, I wish I had these tips when I first started tying. So, if you're new to soft hackles, give it a quick watch. Not only are these tips good for partridge, but the techniques can also be used with other soft hackle materials (e.g. starling).

One place where I disagree with the video is on packaged/strung partridge feather. Don't buy it. For $3 you'll get a package containing two useful feathers plus two ounces of useless fluff. I recommend buying a skin for about $30. It will last you years. If anyone knows of a supplier of strung partridge that is any good, please share.

Driving Song

2016-10-05T07:46:00.000-04:00

"That song from middle school pops up and you suddenly remember awkward interactions, and for a fleeting moment recall things that weighed so heavily but today seem so ridiculous and unnecessary. As you grow older the fears that creep in are totally different -- getting fat, going bald, kyphosis. Worse, the realization that we aren't actually immortal."

That's Pete McDonald from the latest Drake. Get you some Drake. It's worth it.

Now I have to go figure out if I have kyphosis.

Get Wild

2016-09-27T15:36:00.002-04:00

Finally an Orvis Ad that I like.

When we get together again, this time next year

2015-12-29T12:08:00.002-05:00

"...we go to awesome places with our friends, and make friends with places that are awesome..."

Steve Duda is the editor over at Flyfish Journal. He's done me the favor of publishing a few of my essays and always had a deft editor's hand massaging my meanderings when they needed it.

He shows his own talents with a pen in this essay on that fundamental question: Why do we do it?

Get up early, fish late.

2015-11-23T20:18:00.000-05:00

No fish for you

2015-08-25T08:41:00.001-04:00

I haven't been fishing much lately. Weekends seemed to be filled with unpacking from the last business trip, doing laundry, reacquainting myself with my wife and sons, packing for the next business trip and heading to the airport. I have been fishless for at least a month. Maybe more. Maybe lots more.

The bummer is that local fishing has been good. Smallmouth are hot on the Housy. The Farmington has settled into its summer mood: miniscule flies to sipping trout in the slow water, euros to aggressive fish in the fast water. Streamers and mice at night have also been reported to be good sport. I've been hanging out at LGA, RDU, ATL, BOS. No sport to be had in the land of tarmacs and jet fumes.

Fortunately, some folks are getting out and writing about it. Singlebarbed has posted a fine piece about not taking the fishless fishing trip. Not only does he tell a good tale of not fishing but provides some valuable tips for recognizing the fishless trip well before you get sucked into driving a thousand miles to not catch carp (or any other species on any duration trip).

Water, Water, no where

2015-07-19T08:50:00.004-04:00

Thomas Buschatzke

I was reading an article in the New York Times this morning about How the West Overcounts Its Water Supplies and I came upon this little gem.

Thomas Buschatzke, the director of Arizona’s Department of Water Resources, acknowledged that pumping from wells could dry up streams, but said the current law kept the two resources separate, and “it would be a huge upset to the economy to do away with that.”

Thomas Buschatzke is the poster child for water idiocy in the west. Let me rephrase his statement so you, gentle reader, can understand it.

Thomas Buschatzke, the director of Arizona’s Department of Water Resources, acknowledged that pumping from wells could dry up streams, but said the current law kept the two resources separate, and [“we'd rather avoid a huge upset to today's economy due to our blatant disregard for the obvious and instead drive full speed at a catastrophic future that won't be my problem because I'll be spending my state retirement benefits in a place that has plenty of water”]

To be honest, little surprises me about Arizona politics. And I'm not at all surprised that politicians pass real problems on to the future while solving imaginary problems (see: immigration) today. I don't live in the west. Part of that is due to the fact that there is a stunning disregard for water reality. Americans need to get serious about the use of water resources or they're not going to need their guns to protect themselves from the federal government. They're going to need them to guard their aquifers.

Got Grip?

2015-07-01T06:05:00.000-04:00

I'm not very good at gear maintenance. I've never washed my waders or cleaned a fishing vest. I think that their general funk and dingy exterior are as important as the sweat stains on a favorite fishing hat. There's likely mojo in all that and I'm not going to mess with it. I have been known to clean and grease a reel that has gotten too gritty but that's the extent of the time I've spent worrying about gear condition. Thankfully, most gear is constructed worry free.

Last weekend I fished the Housatonic River. The river has been abnormally low and warm this spring on account of sparse rainfall and the growth on the river's bottom is the slick greens and browns that one doesn't normally find until early summer. And that means I was slipping and sliding like crazy. My wading staff, usually a high water accessory, was put to good use.

It wasn't until I was tossing my boots on the milk crate in the garage that I wondered about the condition of the cleats on the bottom of my Simms G3s. I've been using a combination of Simms AlumiBite™ Star Cleats and ice screws for the past few years and usually only get a new set when I get new boots. That regimen seems to be far too infrequent based upon the use I've been giving the boots over the past year. Both the ice screws and the Star Cleats had been worn flush with the tread of the boot.

So, off to the Simms store I went for two more sets of cleats. This morning I installed the shiny new cleats and put in a few ice screws from my lifetime supply for good measure. I'll test the arrangement out this evening on what I'm hoping will be a solid spinner fall. My casting may not look elegant, but at least I won't be horizontal. Check your boots. Get grip.

Off Color

2015-05-17T07:22:00.001-04:00

Overnight rain had tried to do it's part to foil Saturday fishing but the real impediment to angling was a handful of chores that had to be completed. By early afternoon I was wadered and standing above a bend pool trying to decide if I should fish here or head to a tributary that might be clearer. According to the rocks, the water was down about two inches and while it wasn't muddy I couldn't see bottom; not opaque enough to chase me away but gloomy enough to lower expectations.

Upstream I found the water clearer and fished a dry-dropper rig. I placed a flashy fly on the bottom hoping it would distinguish itself in the gloom. It was the first time I had fished this stretch since winter and the modest run off had moved a few things around. For years the river has been trying to decide whether to carve a new channel from a former braid and it seems settled now that the old channel will remain. That braid has always looked fishy but I've never found anything there.

The bend that has had it's flow restored is well known to locals as a reliable spot. The years of lowered flow sanded up the far bank and I found it the better location to cast into the head of the pool. The dropper quickly brought the first trout of the day to hand. I fished the deeper recesses of the hole hoping for some fatter cousins but they resisted my charms.

Upstream is another big pool but the fast water in between holds fish and the second came in the soft water not far from the start of the run. It's one of those spots where the stream goes straight when it would seem that it should arc away. There's something about that far bank, perhaps a piece of ledge, that resists the water's efforts. So, you get a deep fast run which is a nice way to mix it up from an angling perspective.

The big pool above, where Jonny took a surprisingly big brown a few years ago had been reordered as a large stump guarding the head finally dislodged. I expect things are going to shift significantly once we get another good rain. I should have fished it down with a wet but for some reason I decided to fish up without changing rigs. Perhaps it was laziness. Or maybe hope.

The small tributary was clear and I wandered upstream when I got to it's mouth. I fished quickly moving from spot to spot making a few casts. I had switched to a dry and hoped that the fish were looking up in the clearer water. By the time I got to the old bridge, perhaps a quarter mile of water, I knew of my delusion and switched to a nymph rig sporting a small pheasant tail beneath a large BH pheasant tail.

Purple. The new black.

There's a spot that I think of as "three fish hole". It's a marvel of hydraulics that holds trout reliably though it looks so nondescript that I only discovered it by accident. On a trip to the stream a few years ago I resolved to fish every bit of the water, fishy or not, to see what I might find. It turns out there were things to discover.

On the first cast I get a brown trout on the smaller PT. A few casts later I get another. The third trout eluded me though it didn't stop me from casting in the water long after I should have expected results. I fished the pockets above with no luck though it was all just prelude to the next fishy spot.

At the bend I cast the nymph rig to the foot of the hole but my eye was on an overhanging branch that provided a sheltered spot near a root ball. There was no way the nymph rig was getting in there without making a hell of a racket so I put on a purple Adams and cast side arm under the brush. I was a bit disappointed by the lack of results. These small stream trout are generally less discerning so anything buggy will usually do. I was worried that my choice of purple had perhaps gone a bit too far from something recognizable as food. But then I flubbed a cast and it landed in the softer near seam. And a brown smacked it.

I suppose I should have discerned that the soft water was the more likely holding spot in the higher flows but that's hindsight talking. Maybe it was just a bit of luck, something that all anglers can use from time to time.

Serendipitous Trout

A disease resistant Elm planted by Trout Unlimited to help shade the bank during future generations

A line of trees planted eight years ago help shade the stream today.

Ent roots.

Thursday's Calendar

2015-04-28T08:22:00.000-04:00

May 2014. Streamer Hatch.

Friday I float the Delaware with my buddy Bill. Saturday, we'll wade a bit hoping that the slowly warming conditions of this long delayed spring might turn on the bugs in a way we haven't seen yet. And while I'm at the desk tying flies and fantasizing about the two days of angling, my eye is on the calendar, Thursday's calendar to be exact.

Somewhere in Thursday's calendar is the hope of a few hours in the evening for casting to impossible fish at the lodge's eddy. But with two plus hours in the car I won't get there before last light unless Thursday's calendar can be wrestled to the ground and forced to submit time between conference calls so I can point the fish sled towards Hancock. Somewhere in there is hope. I just have to find it.

Sink Tip Addicts

2015-04-27T14:42:00.000-04:00

Streamers Inc from scumliner media on Vimeo.

Where have I been?

2015-04-14T10:07:00.001-04:00

Every place and no place at once.

January was a blur of work and fishing in frigid weather on the Farmington. Egg patterns brought enough fish to hand to make it all worthwhile though there were moments when my fingers and nose, burned from the frigid wind, may have disagreed.

February began with a little light knee surgery followed by physical therapy and whining. It took longer than I thought to get back into fighting shape but by the end of the month my right leg was doing what it was supposed to do without much complaining. I didn't bounce back as quickly as from the knee surgery a decade ago but then someone did mention I'm not getting any younger.

March brought upper and lower GI prodding by various and sundry medical professionals. At least they told me they were professionals. And no fishing. And, fortunately, no medical conditions that can't be solved without some minor medications and ~~drinking habit~~ dietary changes.

While I haven't scribbled anything here in some time I've been sporadically writing for Hatch Magazine as well as The Drake and The Flyfish Journal. Writing for these outlets has been financially satisfying (you, dear reader, are notoriously frugal) and, more importantly, has caused me to slow down and write what I consider to be some better pieces. You can judge for yourself, but you'll have to go out and buy those magazine before they're off of the news stand.

Over the past few weeks I've stumbled upon these little gems.

What may be Tom Rosenbauer's best podcast. Ever. The Ultimate Streamer Podcast.
An exquisite piece on remembrance and angling by English Jonny over on the Culvert
The nostalgia of mud season at Fishinabarrel Pond is almost too much. Quill Emerges, Snarling. With syrup.

There's no promise I'll be back here anytime soon but at least you know that I remember that this place exists and if you add yourself to the mailing list (link at upper right) you'll at least hear from me when I am back.

Even though it's mud season in much of the northeast, the hills are getting the red blush that tells you leaf out is not far off. I walked along some small streams with a rod over the past few weeks. I've seen some fish and caught none. The good fishing is just ahead. I'll see you on the water.

After this long winter, my back feels like that.

Winter has placed two trees in the middle of a fine run.

Mud season has come to the Pootatuck

At the end of the year

2014-12-31T13:19:00.000-05:00

Thanks for sending along "Hendricksons" for our review. It has its moments, and it carries strong feelings of familiarity for all us aging anglers. Therein lies its charm, but also its drawback: it's simply too familiar an approach, into far too familiar a topic, to elbow its way into [Insert name of famous journal]. - Editor

As the year waned I was consumed by urgent professional matters that seem to have evaporated opportunities for angling, heck, for much of anything other than email and PowerPoint. I see that my last post was in early October which was roughly the last time I wrote for Hatch Magazine and fell into a black hole of work. Being in the middle of the holiday season, work has moved to the background and I've been able to refocus on the important things: family, rest, sport.

I sat in a blind last week waiting for geese to fly. We saw some geese but the only shot we took was at the bull. It was good to be among sportsman again talking about nothing more consequential than whether we needed more dekes and if that was a crow or a hawk on the far treeline; consensus was a hawk.

My boots, muddy from the cornfield, got a proper cleaning when Ann and I took Ripley for a walk in the woods. Sam and I got them dirty all over again yesterday as we spent a few hours wandering on the trail. There's something to be said for having opportunities to get wet and muddy. It feels a whole lot more like living than what we do most days. Tomorrow I'll be on a stream hoping for a winter trout. It's good to be out again.

I've been in a bit of a writing funk. I'm not sure if that's due to the urgent, stressful matters at work or if there's something else at play. Regardless the words have been slow in coming though I do have several half-written pieces that I should probably be polishing up. I've set some time aside today to write and clean my office. I'll probably get more of one done than the other but at least I set off with the right intentions.

In this stack of writing there's a piece of fiction I wrote two or more years ago. It sat with an editor for almost a year as he promised to put it "in the next issue". It turns out his publisher didn't like it as much as he did. We eventually agreed to set it free. Since that time it's been with several other editors. Some sent quick declines, others sat on it and one, the author of the quote above, made it clear this piece wasn't publishable.

In May I sent it off to yet another home and since I haven't heard back I'm now confident I've exhausted opportunities for financial renumeration. I'll have to be satisfied with the renumeration of knowing that someone other than a few editors have read the piece.

So, to end the year, I present Hendricksons for your reading pleasure and critical review.

I hope you enjoy the piece. Have a happy and safe evening tonight, and I wish you all a prosperous New Year!

Little Things

2014-10-09T06:14:00.000-04:00

Articulated streamers designed to imitate large meals are all the rage lately especially with the crowd that likes large fish. I suppose that includes most of us, though once you try casting those beasts you might reconsider. That is, until a large trout slams the thing, then it's all worthwhile.

The reality is that most of us spend a lot of time casting more modest flies to trout of the more common variety. This time of year the game gets smaller and smaller as we move into midge and olive season. A buddy recently wrote me about a pending fishing trip. The advice was that we'd start at size #18 flies and work our way down until we found the sweet spot probably around #22 or less.

Since we're only seeing small flies hatching, it's not a big leap to assume that's all that's in the water column. And while it might be true that these smaller bugs are the majority of the fauna all those bugs that hatch in warmer months have to be live somewhere off peak. It's no surprise that they're living underfoot.

You can read the rest of this article at Hatch Magazine.

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I'm doing some writing over on Hatch Magazine each week (or so). Stop over there to read my complete articles and more from other great writers.

Casting Distance

2014-10-07T21:09:00.001-04:00

On one of the less storied stretches of the Housatonic River there's a long riffle that pauses twice creating two very fishy places. I've fished this spot regularly over the past few years. While these spots are no great secret, they attract far less traffic for a variety of reasons. First, they're relatively harder to access than other spots. The well worn paths go upstream and downstream. Second, during most water levels they look relatively featureless with little obvious opportunity for holding water. Finally, the folks who fish it keep mum about it.

On Saturday the water was low. I expected some exposed riffle based upon the gage reading but what greeted me when I got there was a surprising lack of water. I was still thirty feet from damp ground and the main current was on the far bank. A short ways upstream an angler sat high and dry upon a boulder that was normally under water. He was just at the edge of the first good spot so I walked upstream over the dried cobble to the second pool.

You can read the rest of this article at Hatch Magazine.

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I'm doing some writing over on Hatch Magazine each week (or so). Stop over there to read my complete articles and more from other great writers.

Strip mining for bass

2014-09-11T08:31:00.003-04:00

As an angler it's easy to get down on the coal industry. What they've done to water and air quality over the centuries is a crime. The industry continues to enjoy the protection of both parties at all levels of government. I suppose that's because we like what happens when we throw a light switch but there's clearly room for improvement in how things get done. Of course, in every cloud there is a silver lining and I may have found one in coal.

West Virginia is the place I most associate with coal mining. I'm not sure why that is. I was going to blame it on A Coal Miner's Daughter but it turns out Loretta Lynn is from Kentucky. It also turns out West Virginia isn't at the top of the list. Wyoming produces more than three times the coal of West Virginia; 388 million tons in 2013 down from 457 million tons in 2008

Indiana is also in the top ten. As America has sought energy independence all manner of taxpayer funded incentives have been lavished on the industry. As a result, Indiana's coal production has increased over the past few years reaching an all time high in 2013 at 39 million tons.

You can read the rest of this article at Hatch Magazine.

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I'm doing some writing over on Hatch Magazine each week (or so). Stop over there to read my complete articles and more from other great writers.

Endless Limited Choices

2014-09-05T11:29:00.002-04:00

Like you, I have too many fly boxes. This could mean I carry too many flies but I doubt it. In fact, I probably have just enough of a selection to always have the right fly. My primary challenge is to recall a specific
fly's existence at the right moment and then find the damned thing.

Most of the fly boxes I own are the new type with foam slots. While they're easier to use than the old style boxes, they invite chaos. I can put nymphs next to dries and midges next to Hendricksons. If you were to look at my "streamer" box you would also find a dozen bass poppers, some damsel fly nymphs and a couple of big honking dry flies among classic and contemporary streamers. Strangely, you would not find a half dozen purple woolly buggers tied last month that should be here but are living in sin elsewhere.

You can read the rest of this article at Hatch Magazine.

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I'm doing some writing over on Hatch Magazine each week (or so). Stop over there to read my complete articles and more from other great writers.

Broken Dial

2014-09-04T09:21:00.001-04:00

It's small fly time on northeast tailwaters. On the Farmington River folks are fishing the trico hatch. A well tied imitation makes a #20 fly seem like a battleship and 6x look like an anchor chain. I like a brown thread body with a tuft of dun colored CDC and a #24 hook. It's one of the rare times I fish 7x. I'd fish 8x if I had any.

One of the nice things about tailwater hatches is that, despite all the variables that affect any natural process, they're pretty reliable. The hatches line up to fill the angling year. The fish seem as attuned as the anglers and I've spent many evenings fishing a single pattern. Once you're dialed in, you're set. Mostly.

Freestones, untethered to regular, temperate flows, can throw you more curves. Sure, they have the epic hatches that arrive like clockwork every year -- Hendricksons, March Browns, Alders, Cahills, White Flies, Isos -- but mixed in between and among are all manner of chaos. You can always count on some sort of caddis buzzing about, any number of small stones, midges, and BWOs. And, of course, the main events always overlap. It can make tying something on the tippet a total crapshoot.

You can read the rest of this article at Hatch Magazine.

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I'm doing some writing over on Hatch Magazine each week (or so). Stop over there to read my complete articles and more from other great writers.

Hike your own hike

2014-08-29T08:25:00.001-04:00

Sam on St Johns Ledges. Brutal downhill.
You can see the leg to my walker on in the
lower left.

When you're two miles in with thirty pounds on your back you realize two things. First, thirty pounds weighs more on the trail than it did in your dining room. Second, two miles on foot has no relationship whatsoever with two miles in any conveyance. You also realize that leaving behind the rod, reel and fly box just to save a pound or two may have been the wrong decision though that's an easy regret to have when faced with a startling green pool in a fast moving mountain river. Such regrets will evaporate twenty miles onward when the ounces crush your arches and leaden the spirit.

On a recent Friday evening, my son and I camped along the banks of the Housatonic River. The relatively short hike into the Ten Mile River campground allowed us a jump off point for an early start on Saturday. Sam has aspirations to do a thru hike of the Appalachian Trail after high school. He has read alluring tales of the AT penned by AWOL and Bryson and his mind has been captured with the epic adventure of it all. I figured a taste of the reality of an encumbered walk in the woods would provide data for a more informed decision. We planned to go north as far as we could muster. At a minimum we'd get to test out knees and muscles and equipment against a fine summer day or two on the AT.

You can read the rest of this article at Hatch Magazine.

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I'm doing some writing over on Hatch Magazine each week (or so). Stop over there to read my complete articles and more from other great writers.

Hubris: The Certainty of the Mining Industry

2014-08-15T13:20:00.000-04:00


Mount Polley Mine Tailings Pond Dam. Water almost meets water standards according to mine CEO

There's a tired old joke about discerning lying politicians by observing the mobility of their lips and there is a close parallel to mines and their assertions about the hazards of their operations.

Before a mine can begin operation in the US, owners must submit Environmental Impact Statements (EIS) to the federal government. The percentage of mines that predict low impacts to water quality in their EISs is 100%, according to a 2008 report by the US Fish and Wildlife Service. In actuality, the number that actually pollute ground and surface waters is summed up in the report by a simple phrase: "the majority".

You can read the rest of this article at Hatch Magazine.

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I'm doing some writing over on Hatch Magazine each week (or so). Stop over there to read my complete articles and more from other great writers.

Review: Trout Magazine

2014-08-14T10:11:00.003-04:00

This past weekend I spent time camping along the Beaverkill nestled deep in a fold of the Catskills. With no cell phone service I had the opportunity to get caught up on my reading in between a little trout fishing, socializing and relaxing with the family. In the stack of dead trees that accompanied me was Trout magazine. Trout was fairly high in the stack, well above the well recognized "how to" periodicals. During the past few years I've come to have a keener appreciation for the writers who are closer to the literary end of the spectrum than the "hook and bullet" end. The Drake, Flyfish Journal and Gray's Fly Fishing issue (though I feel it's aging out) are my new staples. Trout's in that class too though that's a fairly recent development.

I first met Kirk Deeter in 2012 shortly after he was announced as editor of Trout Magazine. Kirk's vision for Trout, the in house magazine of Trout Unlimited, was to be of such high quality that folks would join TU just to get the magazine. That sounded awful ambitious.

You can read the rest of this review at Hatch Magazine.

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I'm doing some writing over on Hatch Magazine each week (or so). Stop over there to read my complete articles and more from other great writers.