Replacing Moonshine With Flyline

Replacing Moonshine With Flyline

Arriving at Headwaters on the Soque farm in northeast Georgia is like stepping back into a world that has quietly eluded the encroachment of progress. It’s an easy 80 miles from Metro Atlanta, but it might as well be a thousand. When you arrive at the farm in...
All Writers Are Liars

All Writers Are Liars

All writers are liars, whether reef-fishing miles offshore on the Atlantic or fishing through a hole in the north country ice. The smokestack of the hulk gloomed from the depths, barely visible when the July sun ricocheted off the surface of the sea. Halfway to the...
Tomorrow’s the Day

Tomorrow’s the Day

Tomorrow is the moment he’s been waiting for. Tomorrow the fisherman will emerge from his annual six-months’ hibernation, which began with the close of last year’s trout season, and head once more for that favorite pool he has brooded about all winter. Tomorrow – nor...
Zane Grey in Print: A Collector’s Guide

Zane Grey in Print: A Collector’s Guide

There are many facets, some of them controversial or even contradictory, to Zane Grey’s career: oddball youngster with an overbearing father, exceptionally skilled collegiate baseball player, disillusioned dentist, struggling and often depressed young writer trying to...
Carrie Stevens: Rangley’s Favorite

Carrie Stevens: Rangley’s Favorite

Over the years, one category of fly has truly impressed me with its consistent ability to produce violent strikes and exceptional fish. It’s called the eastern streamer, and it’s found in two basic forms. One is a gaudy abstraction known as an attractor; the other, a...
Release the Grease

Release the Grease

There are things in this world—rare, fine things—that no amount of money can buy. I’m not talking about intangibles: love, happiness, a satisfied mind. I’m talking about palpable objects of desire, things that exist in the realm of the senses but are simply...
No Sporting Chance

No Sporting Chance

The glass buildings shimmered the mirage of a hot morning sun, but winter’s grasp hadn’t yielded to the warmth of spring. February had ended all too abruptly, too fast, with the promises for tomorrow yet undreamt. In the alley below, a cold wind rushed through. It...
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