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Voices from the River: Twelve hours
TU's Brian Johnson, the Steelhead Whisperer, and Scott Yates at the end of the steelhead season on California's central coast. By Sam Davidson The steelhead season ended almost exactly the way it began. I spent both the opener and the close at the same place, with the same crew. With the same results. Which is…
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Voices from the River: Squid ink and tortas
Snapper over squid-ink risotto. In the middle of nowhere. by Chris Hunt My new friend Ed from Alabama told us, without hesitation, that we had to have at least one meal at the Leaky Palapa. "It's a little oasis in the middle of nowhere," he said. "I can't describe it. You have to see it…
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Voices from the River: Book connects kids with fly fishing
By Brett Prettyman The reasons we fish are as numerous as bugs on the water during a Mother’s Day caddis hatch. Chances are the vast majority of us got started flinging flies, dunking worms or throwing hardware with the help of parents or grandparents - and, for those lucky ones, both. Fishing isn’t only important…
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Voices from the River: Have bike, will shuttle
The author's 30-year-old Raleigh mountain bike, complete with a custom camo paint job, has been his primary shuttle "vehicle" on most of his Virginia river floats. By Mark Taylor “Psssssssssstttttt…..” That was the sound of air escaping from the rear tire of my mountain bike, a sound followed by the “whu, whu, whu, whu, whu…”…
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Voices from the river: Fishing in the desert
The Arroyo Seco River. By Sam Davidson Not long ago, on an unseasonably warm Saturday, I went fishing in the desert. Well, technically the Arroyo Seco River isn’t desert—the fishable section flows through a rugged canyon sheathed in cha parral. But it might as well be in the desert. It’s hot and dry there much…
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Voices from the River: The voice in your head
By Chris Hunt The late August rain provided the symphony, a tinny drum beat on the camper's roof and walls, while I sat at my "kitchen" table tying up a gawdy pink streamer. Parked beneath the bows of towering yellow cedar and Sitka spruce in a lonely Forest Servi ce campground on Prince of Wales…
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Voices from the River: My broken heart …
By Rachel Andona My broken heart. Or broken arm. Same difference when your passion in life is fly fishing. But let me go back to that beautiful, refreshing morning. It was winter in the valley and it was Christmas Eve. With all of the stress that comes along with Christmas festivities I needed a break,…
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