May 19th, 2026

She fell in love with an airman when she was 18 years old and left her home in rural Germany to start a life in America. She went to work in restaurants, helping with custodial duties and supporting kitchen staff. Eventually she would manage restaurants across large spans of the Bay Area and her work ethic would eventually attract offers from other industries. She built a family while simultaneously building a career in business to business sales. She would do so well, that her husband’s dreams of moving back to Alaska would become realized through professional expansion. She established her company’s brand in the Anchorage area and helped them to monopolize the market there. To this day, they are still the biggest player in the industry, in South Central Alaska. 

In her time, she would shake hands and rub shoulders with some of the most prolific names in American business. Due to her ambition and growth, a husband would be able to retire early and raise his boys in the Alaskan backcountry, as he had always hoped. Her family would travel the world and experience different cultures, climates and geography. Her sons would grow to pursue their own paths to success, through their own means and, armored with the work ethic they inherited from her example.

She was something from a comic book. Something surreal. I’ve never in my life known a single person with an equal work ethic. She was driven, and she provided a life any family would be lucky to have. I can’t even begin to formulate the words to express my appreciation for everything she did for me. 

I love you so much Mom. Be at peace. 

This week’s creative piece is called “No Tears in Heaven” and ironically, I wrote it with tear filled eyes. Thank you to everyone who has reached out in support over the past 10 days. I love you all.

No Tears

I imagine a warm ray of light has broken through the intermittent cloud cover and your smile is amplified by its vibrance while you watch on, as your beloved patriarch reaches to the sky with the fly rod in his right hand and crouches down with his left hand to grab his trophy by the tail. The elephantine Chinook sports a chrome finish, accented by a dark green back and boisterous black spots. The entirety of his palm disappears under the critter’s massive gill plate when he plucks it from the glacier blue wade and hoists it to chest level with all his might; being sure to express an exasperated “dad noise” for effect. With their chins almost touching, you make note of the tail that still folds on the ground and realize the two warriors are nearly of equal length. 

Prior to getting started this morning, he did as he always does, and set out a hospitable little camp for you to enjoy your day from. The chase lounge that looks like he might have smuggled it from the Captain Cook Hotel’s pool area, and a cooler containing a single block of ice, a box of Franzia, soda waters and a handful of snacks. Of course, he remembered to bring the Nora Roberts novel you’ve been recently working through. It’s from that comfortable perch where you’ll set your glass down and reach for his Nikon. You’ll snap another photo for this year’s album before adorning your german heritage enriched matriarchal tone and warn him, 

“You’ll cut that up into steaks, not fillets. I like the Kings as steaks better than fillets.”

From behind his mustache a subtle smile will crack open and you’ll see it more in his eyes than from his lips. He’ll heave the mammoth fish onto the table of the cleaning station and carry out your instructions to task. It’s late June and the sun will be up all night. You’ll have to keep an eye on the clock when you return home to the cabin, or he’ll be out far too late tending to his yard and garden. Though, it will be nice to have the latter part of the afternoon to yourself, so that you can cook in the kitchen without disruption. You’ll package the salmon steaks into freezer bags and process them in the vacuum sealer. Then you’ll start a spaghetti sauce and saute some clams for dinner. As their shells begin to open, you’ll discard the ones that refuse to surrender. About that time, you’ll call him in to wash up and set the table. He’ll set out the simple but aesthetically pleasing white and green porcelain plates featuring silhouettes of bull moose. Then he’ll retrieve two Nachmann crystal glasses from the neoclassical vitrine stationed near the south window of the dining room; where the sun can most effectively showcase the beauty of the multi-colored array of imported diningware you’ve collected. He’ll set aside his caveman-like modus for an hour, so that the two of you can drink a bottle of aged Silver Oak from hand crafted Bavarian crystal, and engage in a deep conversation about anything and everything… or nothing. He’d do that for you. He’ll always do that for you.

He’ll collect your plate when finished and set to work on the dishes but, only after returning to the fridge for a cold Budweiser and a return to masculinity. He’ll finish up in the kitchen while you make yourself comfortable at the corner end of the couch, turn on the television to find reruns of “The Commish” and you know he loves that show. You’ll pick up where you left off the night before; whipping multiple strands of tri-colored yarn into intricately detailed crocheted stitchings to eventually make up another large and heavy blanket to be stored over the back of a couch or chair, until guests arrive and a spare bed needs to be materialized. The sound of water from the sink faucet quit emanating from the kitchen a while ago, signalling the dishes were done but, he’s still in there clattering dishes and opening cabinets. You know what he’s up to, but you still love that reminiscent feeling of surprise and appreciation you only learned about when you met him, so you’ll try to convince yourself to wonder. When he finally emerges, he’ll be carrying a fresh glass of wine in one hand and a small cutting board littered with after-dinner treats in the other. He’ll place the tray on the coffee table before you and hand you the glass before reaching into his back pocket to produce another cold Bud. 

He’ll crack it open and extend it your direction and announce in the most horrific American accent, “Probst!” 

You’ll meet his beer with your wine glass and remind him how much you love him. He’ll return the sentiment with that same subtle but triumphant smile he sported after landing the King then, set about making camp in his chair and recognizing the episode currently playing. “This is a great one,” he’ll proclaim. He’ll watch on at a steady pace of one beer for every episode that plays and, once your eyes have tired from focusing on your craftwork, you’ll capture one last kiss goodnight before heading off to bed. He’ll remain in that chair – a force of habit after decades of raising boys – knowing that one or both will eventually wake up sometime around the 23:00 hour and he’ll watch an old movie with them, there in the living room, until they’ve fallen asleep again on the couch. Once he’s confident they’ve crashed for good, he’ll shut the production down and cover them in one of your homemade blankets, before joining you in bed. In five hours, he’ll be awake again. Back to work, and purpose, and the existence you both cherish so much. You’re together now, and the suffering is through. There’s no pain. There’s only love. 

There are no tears in heaven.

Valhalla

Ryan, Stu and I have been quietly working on something in the background and, to call it a life-changing experience wouldn’t do it justice. Nestled within a beautiful little maritime community deriving from nomadic vikings of the 19th century, glacial waters and mountain streams serve to create a web of anadromous salmonid super highway systems. We arrived at the beginning of the month and settled in for the long & arduous task of establishing an outfit; totally independent and fueled by nothing more than ambition and grit. We succeeded in our efforts as we acquired a large live-aboard vessel and an inflatable jet boat to launch from it with. 

Once established, the real work began. We ground it out hard on the rivers, competing against the cold & wet elements to find migrating Steelhead. It wasn’t for nothing. We found the runs we had been looking for and we adjusted our methods until we found the swing and fly they would fixate on. 

Now, I am confidently taking bookings for the 2027 Spring Season. 

Come with me, into an extremely secluded rainforest, to hunt one of the last truly wild strains of anadromous Steelhead; totally and entirely uninhibited by any pseudo-aquaculture development programs. You simply won’t find a more pristine run of these elusive salmonids and places like this, where the opportunities come by the bushel, are quite the anomaly in the Steelhead Angler’s natural world.

It’s for all these reasons we call this magical venue “Valhalla.”

I spent all of April hunting these unicorns and in those long periods between fish; when the coastal fog rolls in from the sound and saturates your entirety in a salty mist, and the chill of a mountain spring imposes its frigidity on the bones in your feet, the culmination of it all might inspire you to wonder what true happiness is. I’ve come to understand that it’s different for every one but for me, it’s something both difficult and simple. It’s hard but it’s not complicated. 

True happiness is a long, maddening journey riddled with challenges and adventures which eventually lead to meeting the best kind of people in a foreign and dangerous arena, and an eventual triumph over the type of being that only few will ever experience. 

It’s the uncertainty and self doubt that lingers in your back pocket, next to a very thin wallet, weighted by an immeasurable type of hope, and bound to the task before you with determination and discipline. It’s you found in your lunch sack and is now securely stowed in your pocket that reads: 

“We miss you already and I’m positive it will get worse, lol. We are grateful for all you do for us, even when it means you’re gone like this.” 

It’s loading into a pickup at 19:00 and setting your bearing in cohesion with a westbound wind. It’s navigating the rural network of intermountain highways in the dark and watching the morning light around you grow in intensity as it floods the Columbia River Gorge. It’s an 08:00 text from your partner asking “How far did you make it last night?” and a response that reads, “I didn’t stop last night, I’m still pushing.”

It’s a two hour nap in the parking lot of Multnomah Falls, a hike to the top, and the reminiscent tingle of Stinging Nettle on the skin of my arm. It’s sushi in Portland, another overnight push into Seattle and a visit to the Space Needle. It’s a rush hour commute in a metropolitan area that spans from downtown to uptown, and all the way to the coast. It’s a traffic stop by a very patient highway patrol officer, and all the help needed by the maritime crew to get a hapless man and his accompanied vehicle loaded onto a gigantic, northbound ship.  

True happiness is a sun setting on a horizon that might cause a man to wonder if the world ends there at the edge, and a few whales coming in close enough to welcome you into their home, as the monstrous vessel carries you into a dark unknown. True happiness is that first evening aboard, when you can’t settle your mind from the excitement of wondering what the world will look like when you wake. It’s an early morning sun rising behind you as you stand in the cool air on the sky deck positioned at the bow of the boat, and mountains and waterfalls surround you in every direction while the ship captain cautiously maneuvers through a tight channel between land masses.  

It’s landing at 23:00, settling in, and wading by 07:00 the next day. It’s meeting the local wildlife officer and he already knows your name and outfit. It’s a town of people so hospitable and welcoming, you feel less like a stranger and more like an old neighbor returning from a long period of absence. 

It’s the feeling of soggy hands gripping the cork of a spey rod, the 100th anchor and D-Loop you’ve cast in a morning, and the optimism that boils in your gut when you notice that perfect swing for the first time. 

It’s all the work, and sleepless seasons, and personal challenges, and despair; culminating into an opportunity to chase something perceived by many as an impossible endeavor – and in the halflight of a mountain canyon, while standing in knee high water, it’s the vindication that washes over you when a chrome anadromous fish, still littered with sea-lice, bursts from the current and performs an array of the most beautiful acrobatics you’ve ever witnessed. 

True happiness is confidence in knowing your future isn’t a vast abyss of the unknown any longer and that with surety, you’ll cut your plot here and make something of yourself and your team, for the next generation to inherit and steward, as you have. It’s landing that awe inspiring, jaw droppingly beautiful fish with the help of your best pal and mentor, and a slow motion video when it’s released that truly illustrates the gravity of the moment by the look on each of your faces.  

That’s what true happiness looks like for me. I can’t know what it looks like for you. It could be a duplicate of everything I described or, it could be something entirely different. What I do know for sure however, is that you will find it in Valhalla. You couldn’t miss it if you tried. 

Come with me, to a very special and absurdly wild place. Let’s explore what true happiness looks like together.

As of right now, I have some limited availability for the Fall season of 2026 and I am currently booking Spring of 2027. For many Steelhead anglers, the concept of dozens of opportunities per day is foreign but, that will change once you’ve experienced Valhalla. Beyond steelhead, we also target the entire gamut of migrating Salmon and in the Fall, we also offer trophy sea duck hunts! Give me a holler by filling out the form below or, reach me via my “About Me” page. I’d love to fill you in on the details of our trips.

My partners at Adorama are having a killer sale on Canon/Sony bundles!

Eden

Crystalline purity and a sense of familiarity with the primal world wash over your feet as you step into the wade, eyes fixated on an elephantine shadow holding tight against a boulder that resembles the last remaining evidence of the primordial era from which many of the fish you’re targeting could attribute their origins.

In the trees above you, monkeys and jaguars watch with curiosity, at this bipedal critter they’ve never witnessed before, as it moves with intention to stalk an apparent prey.

Your cast is deliberate and accurate. The ostentatious profile and luminescent coloring of your streamer streaks through the atmosphere just above the glassy surface of the current and impacts the water with a type of force that, in a moment of focus and anticipation, seems equivalent to a brick being dropped from the tree limbs above. The monstrous culmination of feathers and steel leader swing before the unsuspecting, warmwater predator and in a fit of instinct beyond its own control, it explodes from off the boulder it rested near in an exhibition of raw, natural power as it brutally thrashes into your fly and destroys any semblance of the peace that lingered around you in this secluded venue just moments ago.

A fight ensues and in the subsequent desperation to triumph over an opponent you’ve likely never tangled with the might of, you learn more about yourself than you had originally fathomed. The wild theater around you becomes more familiar and you begin to feel the intrinsic connection between the primitive nature of predacious animals and the sanctity of truly wild places. With a sudden awareness of your position in the hierarchy that exists there, an acuteness settles in the forefront of your mind. A renewed stewardship of your own identity.

It happens in those moments, deep in the jungle, secluded from all things you know of modernity and, in sync with the wilderness you were created to hold dominion over.

That is the powerful realization that comes of experiencing Eden. That is the life changing perspective that falls upon the exclusive few who will enter this venue with an intrepid spirit to pursue these carnivorous, river dwelling dreadnoughts of the ancient world. A connection to the deep jungle not only instills a warm memory in sport, but also, it cultivates an acute awareness of the long arduous process of which our ancestors climbed from a middle position in the food chain prior to building the modernity that surrounds us all in our typical daily lives. Eden is not a vacation destination, it is in itself a journey to a moment of authentic and unbridled actualization. It’s a venue to feel real in a world so unfamiliar with reality.

Exclusivity is a part of what makes this place so special. By experiencing Eden, an angler joins a small group of people who have witnessed the true, uninhibited wilderness.

I think about this upcoming trip every day. I have only three spots still available and I would love to share it with you. All the details can be found in the “Adventure With Me” tab, on the “Jungle Predators” page. I hope you’ll join us!

Cocos Keeling

I’ve been dreaming of this fish for the majority of my life and, I’m excited to finally be making the journey to the remote island of Cocos Keeling with some great friends. The crew at Hello Backing are hosting our group for 6 days of hunting the Giant Trevally and a number of bycatches. Among them are large Bonefish, Parrot Fish, and Triggers. As always, I’ll be there for the incredible experience but also, I intend on photographing the entire trip in depth to support plenty of literature to share here. 

We have two spots left available on this trip. Reach out for more details.

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