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The quest for Mr. Big
Mr. Big Lived in a deep, cool pool in a tiny, unnamed tributary to the South Umpqua River in Douglas County, Ore. I spotted him for the first time on a chillly early summer morning in the late 1970s, when I was probably 12 or 13. Mr. Big became my obsession. I’ve been thinking about…
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Legacy
The drawing of the trout is from the hand of a small child. The description even more so: “This was the first fish I ever cot [sic] on a rod. When I first felt the feeling of reeling in the fish, I was amased [sic].” In the span of 15 years, Jeremy Brooks’ writing and…
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Mousing the Aniak
Oh, to be Brian O'Keefe for a day last summer in western Alaska. O'Keefe served as Todd Moen's fishing subject in Moen's new short film, "Alaska Fly Fishing with a Mouse," that's been crawling the interwebs with a vengeance over the last few days. And rightly so—the footage of massive Alaskan rainbows erupting beneath mouse…
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Orvis Pro Insulated Hoody
The Russians say that there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing. That’s why I don’t agree with my friends in Arizona who say that the heat of their summer is just the obverse of the cold of our Midwest winters. Nonsense. You can only legally take off so much clothing in…
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Uncompahgre River RV Park is a great fishing launching pad
Let’s say you want to fish in southwest Colorado. And let’s say you’re an adult of a certain age – maybe 50 or more. Have we got a deal for you. Here it is: the Uncompahgre River RV Park in Olathe, Colo. Mark and Michelle at the URRVP pride themselves on providing a comfortable and…
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Management matters
By Garrett Hanks Wolf Creek pass in the San Juan mountains of Colorado serves as the tipping point between the westward San Juan basin, home to the recently rediscovered San Juan cutthroat trout, and the Rio Grande cutthroat’s namesake river to the east. Unlike trout, bear, mule deer and other wildlife are unhindered by the ridgeline; their tracks freely cross the divide. Look north and you’ll notice the burn scar from the West Fork fire of 2013. Setting off south along the Continental Divide Trail, you quickly…
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Ode to the stocker
It was a cold, rainy day in April in the southern suburbs of Denver. I looked out my bedroom window, anxiously hoping the spring squall would go away. I’ll never forget my mother coming downstairs with the bad news. I was dressed and ready to go. Fishing shirt. Blue jeans. Old sneakers. I had a…
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