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Terror at Lake Walcott
Terror at Lake Walcott It was just after 3 a.m. when the chaos began. A horrible sound broke the stillness of the night that was like an unopened bag of potato chips popping. It was not. Rather, it was...
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Mother Nature
Mother Nature I walk with tottering steps up the forest-lined trail. Chubby cheeks. Chubby legs. My mother, following patiently alongside, takes my small hand in hers and guides me through the maze of...
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Earn your keep
Fly Rods I am a nobody. I don’t look at myself in fly fishing’s mirror and say, “I’m One Bug Is Fake!” Speaking in terms of writing ability, my outlook is similar. Not that I would have a chance...
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Africa
Africa Africa. To some it is fantasy. To others it is a fulfillment of the quest that only the untamed spirit aspires. The Dark Continent holds more than its share of adventure for those that dare the...
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Morning Down in the Hole
Admit it. It’s funny to hear east coasters talk about “wilderness.” I live along the I-95 corridor, and while we have some amazing fishing and hunting, and some fairly wild places, wilderness it...
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Paddling Isle Royale
Paddling Isle Royale I’m sitting in my kayak under one of only two bridges in Isle Royale National Park. The water is shallow, clear, and lined by variegated and brightly colored stones. No one knows...
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Alpine Glow
Dust sticks to my sweat. Rocks and branches cut through my fragile skin. The cleanliness of my contrived, pampered existence has long since worn off, replaced by a haggard remnant of my former glory....
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Black Ducks at the End of the Earth
If you hunt or fish the same places enough times, over the course of enough years, a script evolves. You go HERE. You do THIS. The animals do THAT. There’s nothing wrong with this script, and our...
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Winter on the Niangua
It is mid-day in January and trout are rising on the Niangua. Wool shod, from top to bottom, I make the fifteen minute drive to frigid seclusion at the top of the Ozark range. As I pull in, the mist...
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Joy
There is a small creek nearby that I often fish in the summertime. It isn’t anything special as creeks go, but something about it has always resonated with me. Maybe it’s the way the willows screen...
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