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Voices from the River: Road trip
By Chris Hunt As I write this, I’m tucked into a cabin in Island Park, Idaho. We were chased off the lower Hen ry’s Fork yesterday by high water, but found some willing browns in the nearby Warm River, a spring creek that runs generally clear, even after a spring snowstorm that hit the area…
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Voices from the River: What makes a ‘trophy?’
by Kirk Deeter I love catching big fish. How can you not? After all, size is the benchmark that is ingrained to matter most to many anglers. My mother doesn't fish much, but when I call her to say I spent the day fishing, she always asks: "Did you catch any?" Question two… "How big?"The…
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Voices from the River: An ode to the fishing rig
The fishing rig on the banks of Alaska's Chena River. By Chris Hunt It was the first brand-new vehicle I ever bought. I showed up at the dealership, pointed to the model in the catalog and simply said, "Order it." Since that time, it's been from the Gulf of Mexico to the Arctic Ocean. It's…
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Voices from the River: Conservation skills
Dave Sweet of the East Yellowstone Trout Unlimited chapter works to install a new rotating drum screen on an irrigation canal coming off of Trout Creek, a tributary to the North of the Shoshone River. The bypass tube back to creek can be seen on the left side of the canal near Sweet's foot. Thomas…
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Voices from the River: Kiss the fish
By Eric Booton I practice catch and release. I pinch my barbs and tie on barbless hooks when I can. I carry a rubberized net and am an avid supporter of the keepemwet movement. If you ar e following the Trout Unlimited blog I can pretty safely assume that you are familiar with the concept…
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Voices from the River: The Morning Mouse
by Kirk Deeter I wouldn’t have believed it if it hadn’t happened to me. I went fishing the other day and got an early start on the river, not long after sunrise. The air was chilly, and there wasn’t much bug action (at least not that I could see above the surface) so I decided…
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Voices from the River: New water
By Chris Hunt Every move I made seemed amplified in the little jon boat—every time I set my fishing sling down on the aluminum deck or shifted my flip-flopped feet or repositioned a fly rod, it sounded as if I was ringing an off-key church bell. The little boat was new to me, as was…
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