What Esther Garcia meant for fishing

Growing up in New Mexico, I took for granted that there were fishing spots where no one would want to go. Steep hikes, brush and snags everywhere, places that required too much work to get to.  “Joke’s on them,” was my thinking; if only people knew that it was so much more fun than work. The people who knew…

Fly Fishing and Backpacking the Bob

Those of use who have the good fortune of living in the West might take for granted the public lands at our doorsteps—we literally have millions of acres of American lands spread out before us that offer some of the best fishing and hunting on the planet. And a lot of that acreage is designated…

For the love of the Animas

By Ty Churchwell No one in Durango nor Silverton, Colo., will ever forget Aug. 5, 2015 — the day of the Gold King mine spill that sent 3 million gallons of ugly, toxic mine water down the Animas River in southwest part of the state. To say the accident was highly visible is an understatement. In today’s digital world, photos of the orange…

The Beetle, the Hare’s Ear, the old man and the cutthroats

Years and years ago, while attending college in western Colorado, I drove up the shoulders of the Sawatch Range between Salida and Gunnison as far as my old VW Beetle would make it on a road it had no business traversing. After reaching a stretch of two-track I could no longer navigate, I pulled the…

The decade of recovery

I often think of my life in decade intervals. The first ten years was the goofball phase; 11-20 years old involved anything with a ball; 21-30 was consumed by conservation—you get the idea. If we are lucky, we will get eight or nine of these opportunities to think about the new decade in front of…