Riverside is a new video series from Troutbitten. It’s a place for sharing some of the latest articles from Troutbitten and streamside thoughts . . .


Riverside is a new video series from Troutbitten. It’s a place for sharing some of the latest articles from Troutbitten and streamside thoughts . . .

Fishing is a story . . . On a summer morning of fishing, I fish terrestrials in two different ways — first as a dry fly and then as a nymph.
The concepts of terrestrial fishing are largely centered around the dry fly. And I show that in the first half of this video. Target the edges and fish some of the middle stuff along the way. But the terrestrial fishing mindset — the concepts and strategies — are effectively taken over to a nymphing rig as well, often producing more and larger trout.

Fishing is a story . . . On a cool morning in August, I visited a favorite stretch of Class A water, with no plan but to see what the trout wanted to eat. In a few hours of fishing for wild trout, I fooled fish with nymphs, dry flies and streamers. This versatile approach is not only enjoyable, it’s often necessary. Because meeting trout on their own terms is the only way to make the most of a river. Cover water. Find feeding fish. Test theories . . . every day.

The Troutbitten Fish and Film series is here. Fishing is a story. It’s the woods and the water. It’s the trout, and the rivers that draw us streamside. And at its best, good fishing is a mystery to be solved with observation, theory and technique.
The new Fish & Film series from Troutbitten aims to tell that story.

There’s a process of evolution in our fishing that cannot be rushed. It’s better off being accepted. And yet, it might take the wisdom of age to ever understand that.
I’d argue that most anglers pursue fishing for the time-out-of-mind experience. Many styles of fishing allow for it, but surfcasting draws me in unlike anything I’ve ever done.
I think it’s the waves . . .
Accomplished and skilled fly fishing requires that you give part of your life to the river. That’s evident in the first few trips, and I think the depth of all this surprises would-be anglers. It intimidates some, and it captivates others . . .
I don’t know another time when I approached a slot with so much confidence. Better. Slower. This was it. At the end of the fishless drift, my certainly wasn’t questioned, it was simply re-informed. “Need more weight,” I said. It was an unforgettable, prove-it kind of moment . . .
An account of our last and favorite day in Patagonia . . . We walked the banks and waded through it all — a new slate for memories, a new proving ground for tactics.
This is one of the most amazing times to be on the water. Fishing through a snowstorm rekindles memories, ingrained from the novelty of tracking flies and fly line through the optical mystery of falling snow.
. . . This morning, I’m leaning on my favorite set of forgiving flies — just a handful of patterns I’ve noticed that our notoriously picky trout are more willing to move for and eat. These are patterns that draw attention and perhaps curiosity, but also don’t cause many refusals.
The willingness to meet luck wherever it stands, to accept what comes and fish regardless, is the fundamental attribute of die hard anglers, regardless of their region or the species they chase. We fish because we can, because we’re alive, willing and able, and because we mean to beat bad luck just as we did the last time it showed up.
Fishing captivates us because it provides two of the three things we need to be happy — something to work on and something to look forward to. What’s the third key to happiness? Someone to love. And for the angler, we’d be wise to choose someone who loves us back, enough to care about and listen to our fishing stories.
I’m thankful for all of this . . .