The Little Ones

There is a mental game I have played since childhood. I envision the world through the eyes of a colony of amazing tiny humans. I have assured my husband that “Inch People” are not only real, but perhaps the superior race. Small is the new standing tall. They do not shy away from big challenges.... Continue Reading →

Stream to Steam

Traditionally it would be the catch that goes from the stream to the cook pot. Yellowstone has the famous Fishing Pot Geyser known in times past to have boiled a few feasts of the trout persuasion. We have a growing obsession with a variation on that theme. Nature has wonderfully placed hot springs near mountain... Continue Reading →

"Three-fourths of the Earth's surface is water, and one-fourth is land. It is quite clear that the good Lord intended us to spend triple the amount of time fishing as taking care of the lawn."~ Chuck Clark And, it sure looks like it could rain. The yard can wait.

A Fly Nearby

"O, sir, doubt not that Angling is an art; is it not an art to deceive a trout with an artificial fly?" ~ Isaak Walton There's a fly dangling from one of the rods on the rack above my desk. It is one I tied, one I caught a fish on, and one that now... Continue Reading →

Ten Years Post Echo Dome

It was the summer of 2007. Stephen and I worked hard to physically prepare for an extended trekking vacation crossing the Alps. I couldn’t wait to roll in meadows of edelweiss and dip crusty bread into fondue. But first we had to survive July in Oklahoma. Early summer rains had given way to an unusually... Continue Reading →

Frustrated Shopper

It's happened a few times and I find it frustrating. Women shop for flies, tying materials, line, and fishing paraphernalia too. The adorable little section of women's clothing indicates most guide shops know this. No, I'm not advocating for pink Tenkara rods. I'm merely suggesting you do not ignore the shopper that comes into the... Continue Reading →

"The charm of fishing is that it is the pursuit of what is elusive, yet attainable, a perpetual series of occasions for hope." John Buchan

Stoneflies at the Ankle

A week earlier I’d been instructed to lie on a grassy space with a moulage bruise plastered on my ankle and various puzzling symptoms, allergies, and behaviors to portray. The fellow wilderness first responders seeking recertification that came to my rescue quickly identified my “true” issues and moved on to explore the logic behind the... Continue Reading →

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