By Chris Hunt The low grumble in Phoebe’s throat grew into a steady growl, and her floppy ears perked up. She stared across the Little Greys River Canyon in the fading twilight, clearly interested in something across the river. “Hush,” I said instinctively, nursing a gin and tonic and staring into the flames that were
New water is always exciting, and, while I’ve fished Idaho’s Salmon River a lot for steelhead over the years, I’d never poked into the river’s extreme upper reaches at the base of Galena Summit, where the Sawtooths spread out to the northwest. My thought—and, frankly, my hope—was to get into some native west slope cutthroats
A “half-pounder” steelhead from northern California’s Trinity River. My buddy Sam and I met at the Fly Shop in Redding, Calif., eager to make the springtime drive over the Coastal Range to a little cabin on the banks of the fabled Trinity River. It was the tail end of steelhead season in northern California, and
Tom Reed with a nice Firehole River brown trout. We’d walked maybe a mile away from the bike trail that crosses the Firehole River, just upstream of the Fountain Flat parking area, putting a bit of distance between us and the last couple of anglers we wandered past that early June day several years back.
All photos, unless noted, by Hansi Johnson
Combat fishing in Alaska at its finest. By Dave Atcheson My reasons for fishing vary. Sure, sometimes it’s utilitarian; to fill the freezer, but more often than not it’s about the experience. It’s about connecting to the outdoors, to something larger than myself, the sense of peace and relaxation that only comes streamside. This is
A Bear River cutthroat landed at Bear Lake in Utah. Courtesy Paul Thompson/Utah DWR. By Brett Prettyman As a kid my boundaries were marked by street names. Pinehill Drive. Arrowhead Lane. Vine Street. State Street. The borders eventually expanded to counties, forests, states and countries. While driving over a mountain pass recently I realized at
By Chris Hunt The thermometer on my dash read a cold 33 degrees. The calendar claimed it was June 13. Sadly, both were accurate. Welcome to Yellowstone. As I topped Craig Pass heading north, snowbanks still lined the Grand Loop Road, and more was falling. My wiper blades could keep the the white stuff off
A tight-lined nymph produced this and several other wild Spring Creek browns for Mark Taylor during his recent visit to the popular Pennsylvania stream.
By Mark Taylor Scenic and peaceful, this place was not. We were walking on the shoulder of a busy highway in Eastern Pennsylvania, Joe Baylog leading the way. We were in the area working on a film project on TU’s work with the state’s Unassessed Waters Initiative. Baylog, president the Forks of the Delaware chapter,
By Travis Banta It is safe to say we are a fishing family. Grandpa Lee crossed the Madison River to his favorite fishing hole in an old 1940’s era Ford pickup. Grandma Margaret hated that bridge because it was essentially a couple of 2×12 boards and she didn’t like guiding the tires of that old Ford
Wes Gwaltney, president of the New River Valley of Trout Unlimited, fishes the West Prong of the Pigeon River near Gatlinburg, Tenn., in late April. Even as damage from 2016 fires remains, the forest in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park is greening up with the arrival of spring. (Mark Taylor photo.) By Mark Taylor
By Josh Duplechian Frank is a man with a knack for organization. His black Richard Wheatley fly boxes are neatly arranged in order of size, color and pattern. Frank pinches barbs on all his flies, most of which are either elk hair caddis or nymphs. He is not much of a big, chunky streamer fan.
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
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
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
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
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
By Mark Taylor The linear shape protruding from my truck door looked strange and out of place. “What the heck is that?” I thought. I followed the item with my eyes and noted that it went toward the tailgate, where my buddy Sam stood. He was preparing to put a reel onto a fly rod.
By Chris Hunt I’m an unabashed fly guy, so much so that I’m probably part of that snooty long-rod culture that inadvertently looks down their noses at bait fishers. But I have nephews and a niece who have yet to really get into fishing, so I’m coming to grips with my tweedy issues and making
