by Steve Duda - Friday, Jul 5th, 2024
I couldn’t see. A half-dozen headlamps were blinding me. They were right in my face.
“Step back, dudes. I need to get a better angle.” Murphy shouldered through the crowd. He was holding a beer in one hand and a couple dental tools—that tiny, round mirror thing and the lethal, two-headed probe—in the other.
by Richard Wilson - Thursday, Jul 4th, 2024
A steep decline in Atlantic Salmon numbers has prompted the Norwegian government to ban salmon fishing on 33 rivers in the southwest of the country. The move was taken at short notice and may spread to other rivers. The Norwegian Environment Agency says this year’s salmon run is well below half of what it should be — and that 2023 returns were 30% down from 2022. The rivers affected by the ban include the world-famous Gaula and Orkla.
by Chris Hunt - Wednesday, Jul 3rd, 2024
Some might consider the Pale Morning Dun to be the mayfly they think of when they think of mayflies. It’s not particularly flashy. It doesn’t get overly large. It’s honestly not much to look at, with its thin, yellow hue. But the PMD might be the most important mayfly there is when it comes to trout fishing. In all its forms, from its nymphal larvae to its loud-and-proud dun, the PMD is a widespread mayfly that very likely makes up one of the largest percentages of a trout’s diet on any number of freestone and tailwater rivers in the United States and beyond.
by George Daniel - Tuesday, Jul 2nd, 2024
The act of catching a memorable fish is the product of a series of small miracles. First, the right fly pattern needs to be chosen, followed by an effective presentation. Then, a willing fish needs to take the pattern. Finally, the angler must properly set the hook and play the fish. These events are interrelated, and success is difficult to come by if all four are not done correctly. The focus of this piece is on setting the hook—one of the most overlooked aspects of successfully landing a fish.
by James Joiner - Friday, Jun 28th, 2024
I’ve spent much of my life writing for money and, because I’m a whore, all too often I’ve mined the things I love for subjects. One of these things is fly fishing, though I readily admit I’ve never written about it very well. I’ll also admit that, despite a lifetime of trying, I’ve never actually fly fished very well, either. This is part of the allure of worthwhile pursuits, that even when you do one with some level of occasional proficiency, the next day can be a completely different situation.
Luckily, taking photos of fly fishing is easier. Beautiful places, rugged individuals, humanity vs nature, eye-wateringly vivid fish captured on aesthetically pleasing, intricately tied flies … I want to say it’s harder to take bad fly fishing pics than good ones, but a quick scroll through Instagram proves otherwise. I’ve spent countless hours crouched by all manner of water swatting bloodthirsty insects with my camera while comrades wave sticks and lines around. The waving may as well be performative. As a photographer, a failure to hook up doesn’t impact my catch of easy-to-sell images for brands, media, and even fine art prints.
TL,DR: as any experienced writer knows — don’t @ me, photographers — making quality words is exponentially harder than quality pictures.
Yeah, I’ve dabbled with the keyboard. Plucked low hanging fruit for mags I worked at or ranted for odd niche fishing publications but, as Kenny Rogers crooned, ‘if you’re gonna play the game boy, you gotta learn to play it right.’Therein lies the problem with writing about fly fishing: Doing it right. Because most don’t.
A big barrier for aspirational fly fishing wordsmiths looking to stand out is the preexisting murderer’s row of actual literary legends. Titans like Hemingway, Harrison, McGuane, Brautigan, and Arnold Gingrich — whose book Esquire editor-in-chief David Granger gifted me on my first day as a staff writer — leave a mountain of unfillable wading boots. In the modern era, writing about angling has become a trope. Bookstores ‘sports’ sections and our glossiest print mags bloat with awkward men (and it’s always men) wrestling with their father’s memory, humblebragging about trips or fish most of us will never experience, egomaniacally chasing nostalgia in their later years, or eulogizing lost dogs with the misplaced confidence of a man whose friends ‘like’ all their Tweets. For the reader, these stories scratch an itch, discussing a pastime we, a target audience, is obsessed with. Yet ultimately most are instantly forgettable.
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