Articles

Dumpster diving for whitefish livers

Going the extra mile for a little-known Wisconsin delicacy

by Tom Davis - Wednesday, Jul 27th, 2022

Greunke's Inn in Bayfield, Wisconsin (photo: Greunke's Inn).

One gray, chilly afternoon in late-October, I drove out to the Hickey Brothers’ place to see if they had any whitefish livers—a delicacy, found only in scattered fishing villages on the northern Great Lakes, whose fans are almost cult like in their devotion. A friend from Iowa who’d fallen under their spell was arriving to hunt grouse and woodcock and I knew he’d go weak in the knees if I told him that sauteéd whitefish livers were on the menu.

Pursuing a carbon neutral fly fishing industry

Can an industry entirely reliant on healthy ecosystems achieve net zero emissions?

by Amanda Monthei - Saturday, Jul 23rd, 2022

Dave McCoy speaks to anglers and shop goers inside Emerald Water Anglers in Seattle, Washington

There’s a hydrologic shift happening in the world’s watersheds, one that is profoundly impacting the way rivers flow and how fish exist within increasingly variable and unpredictable environments.

Salmon farming’s dirty business

A new book looks at the “dark underbelly of our favorite fish”

by Tara Lohan - Friday, Jul 22nd, 2022

Salmon farm in Scotland (photo: SumOfUs / CC BY 2.0).

Sometimes all it takes is a single photograph to change someone’s mind or inspire them to take action. For Catherine Collins and her husband Douglas Frantz, that was a photo of a yardstick plunged 32 inches into filth below a salmon farm near Port Mouton, Nova Scotia.

Paradise trashed

Once little-known public lands gems are falling victim to throngs of unethical outdoor goers

by Chris Hunt - Friday, Jul 15th, 2022

Photo: Chris Hunt

For the first time ever, I called a law enforcement officer for the U.S. Forest Service to report some significant vandalism on public lands managed by the Forest Service in eastern Idaho.

Everybody has a breaking point. I reached mine last week when, while driving out of McCoy Creek on the Caribou National Forest, I noticed that a rock face had been defaced by some love-struck moron who scribed, in bright white paint, a big heart followed by the name of his sweetheart — “Cathy.”

Lucky girl.

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