I was fishing in Yellowstone just days ago. Searching for trout and grayling while Goldeneye and Rudy ducks fed within casting range of my fly rod. My feet ached from the cold water but I didn’t want to move. Stepping out of that lake meant the trip was over. The fishing rod cased. Wading shoes … Continue reading
Even the airport feels like a fishing lodge. Heavy wood beams accented by black iron hardware. All framed the mountains staring through giant windows. I instantly felt at home. We were in the Gallatin River within a few hours. A swift, clear stretch just minutes from the bar where we fueled up on Kokanee and … Continue reading