Search Month: August 2025

You stink — It’s the wader funk | A letter to a lonely friend

Dear fishing buddy,

I considered slinking away quietly from our fishing friendship. But I’ve decided to give you a chance by addressing the issue head on, because good friends are honest with each other. You smell like old sauerkraut and raw sewage. Whatever vile rot festers inside your waders has decayed down to a new level of repulsion.

The three words that best describe you are as follows, and I quote:
“Stink! Stank, stunk!” — Dr. Seuss (You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch) . . .

Fish and Film – Tight Line to the Indicator Nymphing – Broken Hand Suspenders (VIDEO)

Late summer trout fishing in the Northeast can be challenging. But I’ve had good mornings by choosing cold water and staying open minded to the trout’s patterns and habits. Surprisingly, the best fishing has been found in deep, slow water that still has flow. The dry fly bite has been off, but the nymph fishing has been excellent.

PODCAST: The Blue Liner’s Bible — Bigger Trout, and Streamers on Small Streams (S16, Ep5)

This one’s about using streamers to find the biggest trout in the smallest waters. Our job for this episode is to highlight the changes we make, or the different strategies we might have, for fishing streamers in small waters vs the bigger ones.

Where to Find Big Trout | Part Three: The Special Buckets

Somewhere in your favorite stretch of a river there’s a depression at the bottom. It’s wide enough and long enough to hold a trout, nose to tail. It’s as deep as the trout is tall — or a bit deeper. The river flowing over this depression in the riverbed is fast enough to bring a continuing buffet of food. And the water comes with the right shade, ripple or depth to offer good protection. This is a special bucket. Let’s break it down . . .

Where to Find Big Trout | Part Three: The Special Buckets

Where to Find Big Trout | Part Three: The Special Buckets

Somewhere in your favorite stretch of a river there’s a depression at the bottom. It’s wide enough and long enough to hold a trout, nose to tail. It’s as deep as the trout is tall — or a bit deeper. The river flowing over this depression in the riverbed is fast enough to bring a continuing buffet of food. And the water comes with the right shade, ripple or depth to offer good protection. This is a special bucket. Let’s break it down . . .

Fishing Tempo

Fishing Tempo

Much like a musician might play the same song Largo or Allegro, an angler can fish methodically, even and calm, or he can fish the same meandering series of undercuts with earnest intensity, cutting through water at twice the pace and delivering the fly with acute precision.

Both have their beauty. Elegance is found in either approach, if an angler is on their mark.

Hell-Hot Sun and the Strawberry Moon

Hell-Hot Sun and the Strawberry Moon

I’m not a big fan of summer.

It’s the heat. Thing is, you can’t really get away from it. If you want to be outside in all seasons (and I do) you have to somehow make friends with or tolerate the weather. Against the cold of winter, you can add layers to fend off most discomfort, but in the summer heat, once the shirt is off and the flip flops are on, your done — that’s as cool as you’re gonna get. So there’s no option but to mow the grass, play baseball and have the family picnic in a thick, wet blanket of summer heat. People still tell me that I’ll get used to it. I doubt it.

The same people also tell me how much they love summers. I don’t believe them. I think they like the idea of it, and they like the parties, the parades, the fireworks, the longer daylight hours and the lax work schedules. But the actual season? The weather? Nah. Bitching about the heat (like I’m doing here) seems like another common summer recreation from the list, and I see a clear majority looking for the next air conditioner, cold lake or swimming pool.

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Fish and Film – Post Cicada Blues (STORY & VIDEO)

Fish and Film – Post Cicada Blues (STORY & VIDEO)

I fished hard. I fished enough that I was almost satisfied . . . until the next morning. I walked and waded nearly a hundred river miles in those six weeks. I caught about eight-hundred trout, fished just one pattern, went through two dozen cicadas and never tied on another fly . . . until today.

Because it really is over.

I’ll miss the simplicity of shirt pocket fishing. I’ll miss facing off with some of the best and wisest trout in these rivers, day after day. I’ll miss the confidence in fly selection, knowing exactly what fly to use, all day long. And I’ll miss watching our selective, cautious wild brown trout turn into sharks for a two-inch top water fly.

And I’ll do it again . . . in seventeen years.

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