Intuitive thoughts and tall tales from the field. Fishing, Hunting, and the Great Outdoors.
"Eventually the spring comes and, some time after the worst of the runoff, the elaborate and plague-like hatches of the West’s water bottoms become remarkably apparent. Incomplete and complete metamorphosis characterized insects live out their lifecycle before your eyes: from egg, to nymph or larva & pupa, to adulthood and, the ones that don’t get slurped up by the wild & spotted creatures of the riffle then fly off to spawn the next generation."
"Usually, when I pull down the drive on my way home, I can see Roger and his does digging through the snow to feed on the meadow grass below. They lift their heads and watch me as I carry my tired body towards the porch. Consequently, Roger always walks out to the path to meet me. He watches me as I walk by, surveying my behavior. In my mind, he's just another head-of-household, keeping situationally aware and looking out for his tribe."
"The Big Dog provides, (in an almost poetic sense), such largesse. Christmas isn’t about the gifts we give each other, it’s about the gifts he has given us. It’s about establishing and indulging in an emulation of his everlasting serenity, here on Earth, for a narrow window of time."
"My anecdotal experiences have changed my perception a bit, however. I don’t aim to challenge the assertions of Emerson in this poem. More so, I aim to celebrate them. The man was wise and his words have guided me through both darkness and light. If I could, I would thank him. Because I cannot, I will simply write this:"
"In doing so, I’ve come to understand the critically imperative philosophical roots of some of the most common western sociological convictions, and how they prosper in certain environments or head-spaces. Consequently, I’ve come to see there are two paths before every man who comes up in an affluent society and in an ironic condition of unfortunate intrinsicality and serendipity, there is little anyone can do to prevent the inevitable end in which each path eventuates. One path defines the people who are holding candlelight vigils and peacefully mourning today. The other leads to those who are dancing in the streets, enunciating “we got Charlie in the neck!” through manic cackles and demonic celebrations."
"From the middle seat view of my glass boat, I’ve learned much about people but more so, I’ve learned much from people and, that’s really what these words I’m writing now are about. I love this gig for many reasons but, more so than any other, is the fact that I am directly plugged into a network of fellow anglers who bring to the table their experiences from a lifetime of engaging in this sport. I’m the true benefactor and I simply don’t harbor the adequately creative mind to conjure words profound enough to authentically emulate my gratitude. Just know that I appreciate you all."
"It didn’t seem right. It felt almost sacrilegious; breaking the peaceful and perfect, pellucid, glass surface of the lake in the early morning, dim glow. In my mind, I pictured the huge and varying array of colorful Nachtmann crystal tumblers and carafes my mother cherished and kept in a glass display in the dining room when I was growing up. For another moment I imagined the almost unfathomable horrors that would have fallen upon us, if my siblings or I had ever smashed one and disturbed its picturesque surface character, in the same manner I was currently inflicting on the lake’s pristine topwater. Tentatively, I assumed the thought was giving me chills but I soon realized it was the icy, barely thawed, bone and muscle chilling contents of the water body that I was being physically made aware of, as I waded in to catch the boat, in the superficial effulgence of a headlight I nabbed from my work truck before heading out that morning."
"I reached for my 85mm and began photographing Tristan as he leaned backwards against the fish’s resistance and demanded its submission. Eventually the lunk capitulated and I remember thinking “what a bucket” when I witnessed the net webbing stretch like the legs of an Armstrong figurine. Hud must have thought something similar because he returned the netted mass of aquatic critter to the water and, when he did, I noticed the net’s handle straighten in relief. We anchored the skiff and I hopped out to get a better shot. This was a memory I didn’t want to let slip by."
“One-by-one, as my loved ones arrive, I'll gift them this thing I've made and they'll smile at the sentiment. "You haven't changed a bit" they'll proclaim through tearful elation and an appreciation for the newly realized absence of pain. “Imagine that,” they’ll speak as their naked feet wade through ancient crystalline glacial waters and upon split granite, “no suffering.”
“We’re blue collar guides, my dude. We’re not operating out of a five million dollar lodge with loft railings so clean a surgeon would feel comfortable operating on top of them. We’re not backed by some hoity-toity, over priced fly store where rich dudes find excuses to burn their Silicon Valley cash. We have no... Continue Reading →
Authentically Wild Out West 