When I remember my best days of hunting, the memories dawn mostly cloudy and gray. I’m thinking about the gray days and cloudy skies preceding a storm. Every hunter knows that animals sense and instinctively move in advance of a storm. And I think the same urge...
The secluded river and soul-quieting snow…together they would cast just the right spell for losing himself while regaining a sense of belonging. Day 1: I am all by myself in the canoe, maybe on this whole river given the time of year and the fact that for days...
