No More Mr. Nice Guy
He just wasn’t going to take it anymore: the snow and cold and bass that seldom grow much bigger than your bait. No. The time had come to pull out all the stops in one last-ditch, hell-bent-for-whatever quest for a trophy bass… a gut-wrenching, arm-busting, heart-pounding wallhanger of a fish.
Creel Empty, Heart Full
Far too often we as sportsmen become blinded by the end result of a hunting or fishing trip. Blinded so that we miss much of the beauty and adventure of the journey. I recently went on a fishing trip that yielded and empty creel, yet was filled with rest, adventure...
Fishing Premonitions
Though I continue to believe omens, signs or premonitions are total baloney, I did note some rather convincing portents while fishing the Wisconsin River one spring evening. Some people put a lot of faith in omens, signs, premonitions or whatever you choose to call...
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...
Birthday on the Manitou
As I watched, my resentment began to leave and I knew that, whatever the reason for his coming in, it must have been very important. While casting the long riffle below the pool, I became aware that I was not alone, that someone was there on the river with me. It...
The Brook Trout’s Province
Newfoundland and Labrador’s crystal-clear waters teem with brook trout, a telling testament to this unspoiled land.
A Cole Creek Diary
It tumbles off the east face of Big Back Mountain, leaping and flowing down its stony, laurel-lined course as it has for eons. Dad and I had fished its lower reaches when we’d first moved to Tennessee back in the early sixties, and many times we had talked about...
Last Cast On the Dogwater
Big fish, big fish on the end of his line! Oh Christ, what had I done? I used to see old Artemis Hovle now and then as he slowly tapped his way along East Water Street, his white cane exploring the uneven surface of the brick pavement between the Post Office and...