Macks Canyon is literally at the end of the road. It is also the place where I typically started my steelhead seasons on The Deschutes. The road to the campground was a tire eater consisting of dust and the sharpest … Read More
Prologue-Truth In Fishing Stories My father has several little black books with an entry for every steelhead he has caught since the late 1950’s. These little knickknacks of a passed, more personal era of advertising have the names of auto … Read More
Infinitely oblique syllogisms determined Avery Simmon’s every moment that he spent with a fly rod in his hand. He was stalwart in following the fly fishing catechism that had been drilled into him during a much slower, easy decade when … Read More
The wind had battered the Cessna 207 like a tennis ball at Wimbledon for the entire nine-minute flight to Moraine Creek. The wind was rarely a safety issue, the nervous fly fishermen who sat in front of me who gasped … Read More
We are guilty of doing silly things on and off of the water. I fish with lots of different people, some very experienced and some not. My assortment of fly fishing companions exhibit a commonality of head scratching goofy habits … Read More
The Freemasons have nothing on many fly fishermen when it comes to ritual and secrecy. The 17th level Grand Royal Poobah Caddis Caster tends to wear this self-anointed title with a customary frown and a fiery glow of standoffish contempt … Read More