I was in a gloomy mood. Changing seasons, earlier sunsets and, of course, the inevitable prediction of that first high-country dusting of snow had me in a funk. Couple this with the constant challenges life throws in for seasoning, and it’s a recipe for the blues
In my cusped hands dripped a lustrous jewel. Its belly was streaked pink, and the rest of its body speckled in luminescent hues of amber and bronze. The overall effect was that of a fine watercolor, hand-painted by a master. It was a gem of a fish.
Fly fishing is arguably the ideal pastime for someone with obsessive tendencies. Inches matter on the stream, as do thousandths when it comes to spools of tippet or fly-tying thread. A guy I once fished with said he never saved leftovers from home-cooked meals; it was a sanitary thing. Sure
Stewing in the sun and smoke of the late-August afternoon, even the temptingly titled Shady Island River Park was overmatched. Cottonwoods lining the shore of the Gunnison River offered only modest relief as the mercury climbed north of 95 degrees, and soon enough the haze of Colorado’s largest recorded wildfire would overcome our little oasis as well. To make matters worse, the water was too warm for fishing. The harsh realities of climate change were suddenly inescapable
Armed with mountains of scientific data, Trout Unlimited is starting to dig into reconnection and stream restoration efforts in a large, important watershed in western North Carolina
Late summer and early fall offer some of the season’s best dry-fly fishing on small creeks in the east. This isn’t hatch-matching fishing. It’s terrestrial season
Our best grizzly sighting happened on the last day just 8 miles from the border. We were excited and walking fast. My cousin Ethan was walking ahead and staring at his phone. He apperantly did not notice the bear walking up the road. After we caught his attention, his first thought, he later told us, was “Oh cool, a bear.” Followed shortly by, “Oh crap, a bear!”
