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
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…”
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
There’s an infamous story from my youth. I don’t remember the finer points of the event, or any of the details really, just the “do you remember that one time” stories that my dad likes to throw in my face when the Booton family is together on the river. On a family vacation to Avalanche
By the Seedskadee Chapter Board of Directors Trout Unlimited does many great things across our country, but also faces many challenges moving into the future. One brought up often at state council meetings in Wyoming—and likely across the country—is the age and diversity of the board of the local chapters. Let’s face it, many of
By Chris Hunt Last spring, after a lengthy search, I found the perfect rig to haul my little camper up into the hills around home for weekend fishing get-aways. It was old. It guzzled gas, which encouraged shorter trips, and it didn’t leak or burn oil. It had good clearance, ran like a champ and
By Mark Taylor Back when we were enjoying an exceedingly mild February, plenty of friends were confident spring had arrived early. I knew better and, sure enough, March has been a lion here in Virginia. With actual trips to the river pretty much on hold due to snow and cold, I’ve instead been living vicariously
Helping organize rallies, like this one at the Idaho State Capitol, to show elected officials how sportsmen and sportswomen feel about legislation is an important part of the politics of conservation. Trout Unlimited photo. By Brett Prettyman Waders and work boots are the uniforms people typically think of when they envision Trout Unlimited staffers, members
Snake River steelhead, an Endangered Species Act listed species, will benefit from a collaboration of groups in Idaho that once worked against each other. Trout Unlimited photo. By Kira Finkler Looking around the West, it is easy to find watersheds where people are fighting over too little water. In Idaho, a group of partners decided
Baby Skeena and Baby Morgan on the Kenai River. Photo courtesy of the Williams family By Jenny Weis My dad and uncle fished at our family cabin growing up, my boyfriend taught me how to fly fish, and most fishing trips among my friends were male-only, with no invitation extended to the females. Truthfully, for
By Nelli Williams Saturday winter mornings in our house are usually jolted into motion by a bright-eyed toddler and not-so sleepy Kindergartener shouting, ”C’mon mommy play!” with flapping arms and mini-dances of excitement. Despite a long week at work, I give in with little resistance. In the mind of a 3-year-old, play can’t wait for
Longtime advocate for fishing and hunting and TU grassroots leader Geoff Malloway re-opens the Central Coast Fly Fishing shop. By Sam Davidson To Geoff Malloway, inaction, and its frequent companion inertia, are like poaching. They are a violation of the sportsmen’s code. He can’t abide them. You can see it in his face at meetings
The 8th class of the Bristol Bay Fly Fishing and Guide Academy. By: Jenny Weis There are a lot of things I love about my job. I love working with locals to protect the waterways they cherish and hope to one-day share with their children. I love empowering citizens to contact their elected decision makers
By Chris Hunt You can only be expected to handle this for so long. Four straight days of slate-gray skies and icy rain (and even the occasional snow squall) will wear on the tattered soul of anybody who’s ventured north to chase big pike in a remote Manitoba lake. Sure, you expect a day or
If you’ve spent much time fishing in Montana, you’re probably familiar with Rock Creek just outside of Missoula. While it’s importance to fly anglers has been long known, it’s key role in trout recruitment for the Clark Fork River is starting to come to light. With that in mind, Trout Unlimited brought in Tess Scanlon,
By Chris Hunt In early summer, No Name Creek is Irish green. It boasts a flourish of grass and bright yellow balsam root. Wild iris and sticky geraniums add color to the mix, but mostly, it’s just impossibly emerald green. There’s a spot on a little plateau that overlooks the creek, where native Snake River
As anglers, we are out there in the field, witnessing firsthand the stream closures and warmer waters and burned landscapes. What we’re seeing, year after year, is evidence piling up of profound changes in the air and under our feet.
But at present, I’m not sure about our individual and collective will to respond and take action. It’s human nature to stick to our ingrained habits and mindset, to resist change in our thoughts or routines, short of emergency or catastrophe.
Iron Gate dam, one of the four dams slated for removal under the Klamath Hydropower Settlement Agreement and the KRRC plan. On June 28, the Klamath River Renewal Corporation submitted a major filing with the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission regarding the KRRC’s “ Definite Plan” for removing four old hydropower dams on the Klamath River.
By Jenny Weis Flying low in a DeHavilland Beaver over Bristol Bay, Alaska’s Naknek River, I could see weeds in the clear water, shallow stretches with rocks illuminated by the sun, and deeper pools hiding trout and probably a few king salmon staging to spawn. The window was to my right, and the amost-11-year old
Sam Weis, the author’s late husband. By Jenny Weis My late husband had the fishing bug. He grew up fishing musky, walleye and panfish in the lakes of northern Wisconsin with his dad and grandpa. He eventually expanded his waters to Lake Superior, the Gulf of Mexico, and the driftless region of Wisconsin, picking up
