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
By Eric Booton It’s called Dolly Alley for a reason and we NEVER skip it. You’re not guaranteed to hook up, there are no guarantees in fishing, but if we are headed to the Kenai, you can guarantee that we are stopping at Dolly Alley. Among the rivers and streams that we frequent as anglers,
Garza’s Creek, a tributary to the Carmel River. By Sam Davidson I’ve always been more of a shower guy. I like the feel of running water. I will stew in a hot spring or steam bath once every few years. But clamber into an in-home bathtub for a soak? Maybe three times since I was
By Kirk Deeter I love off-beat, impossible-to-answer questions like these: What fly pattern do you think has caught the most fish in the history of the world? What do you think is the most common fly in the boxes of anglers throughout the world? Of course, I always get the “If you had ONE fly…”
By Chris Hunt Declan’s not quite 4, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t understand that his dad is dying. I’m sure he realizes that things are a little different with his father. The rest of us wander his world with little in the way of fanfare—we arrive on our own two feet and, a while
There is a 3-pound bass and two 18-inch trout holding under this forked snag. Seeing them is one thing. Catching one is another. By Mark Taylor I got back to my home office from lunch today to find that my copy of TU’s new book, “Trout Tips,” had arrived. This had been a working lunch,
By Eric Booton It’s spring again and it’s hard to sit still. I am at the point where I am hoping for one more powder day on skis but would be more than content with the warm weather and soft water. I was at a similar point last April. The snow was starting to melt
(Above) The Lost River Range rises in the distance. Photo by Rachel Andona. (Below) The campfire, where winter washes away. Photo by Cameron Hunt. By Chris Hunt I’ve been known to push the season. As a newspaper reporter some 25 years ago in Buena Vista, Colo., I showed up to cover an April town council
By Eric Booton I don’t consider myself a big drinker. There are few nights that I will have more than a beer o r two. But there is one thing I truly enjoy about my days on the water. And that is indulging myself in a nice, refreshing gulp after that rush of the first
The end of great day of ice fishing on the St. Louis River in Duluth, Minnesota. Brett Prettyman photo. By Brett Prettyman DULUTH, Minnesota — You learn a lot about someone while sharing a space the size of a row of three airplane seats for eight hours. A dd fishing chatter to the mix, particularly
By Randy Scholfield Here on the Front Range, where plains meet mountains, winter weather is always unpredictable, a hit-and-run affair. We might get a foot of snow—and three days later, it’s 70 degrees and you get a hatch of Boulder dudes in shorts and flip-flops. For the past week, we’ve been having one of those
Who taught you a respect for the river? As an interviewer it’s a simple question, right? Ten years ago, I would never have imagined paying attention as I do today when a father and daughter speak about a family tradition of loving and respecting the river. Things change, people grow and we develop a game
By Josh Duplechian This is hands down the coldest my feet have ever been. Honestly. Remind me, why am I here again? Yes, that’s right for the annual sufferfest tradition we call fishing for steelhead off of Lake Erie. Sliding out of the warmth of the local breakfast joint and into our snow-filled parking spot,
by Chris Hunt It was bright blue when I first crawled into it as a 12-year-old kid. Its paper-thin nylon hardly seemed sturdy enough to stop a breath of wind, let alone protect its occupants from whatever it was that wandered the woods at night. That wispy little barrier, though, provided real emotional security for
