Why Fish, Part 1*

I have been fly fishing for just about 2 years, and within this particularly passionate world that means I am basically a beginner. Fortunately, I feel like a beginner, even in terms of understanding why I like to fish at all. Fishing is not an obviously fun thing to do: standing in a cold river, wearing practical but incredibly unflattering clothing, threading tiny pieces of nylon through tiny holes, tying lots of knots, rescuing snagged lines… Not to mention the

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What About Wyoming?

What do you think of when you think about Wyoming? Yellowstone, the Tetons, Jackson Hole, maybe the Wind Rivers? All of those exist in the western half of the state. I don’t know for sure, but I imagine the eastern side of Wyoming is nothing but a flat, icy blast of desolation. But what about the rest of that western half? Mountain biking (and camping) on Teton Pass is huge amounts of fun. The Tetons, Yellowstone and Wind Rivers are

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Dirt Roads are the Best Roads

Gravel, finally. RK releases his seat belt, windows go down, the dogs perk up, lift their heads and stick noses out the window. Gravel and dirt lead to the good places: creeks, trails, camping, real darkness, stars, rocks, trees, views, solitude and quiet. In the roughest bits the truck is put into 4WD and slowly crawls over rocks, ruts, and generally tricky spots. Springs creak, the engine revs, there is an occasional smack of the skid plate on rock. Branches

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The Story of Captain Black

I can’t honestly say that I have had a personal relationship with any trout that I have caught. Each one seems a small miracle to me, both in that I was able to catch it, and in its iridescent beauty. For the moment that I hold it, extract my fly and then release it back to river I am completely absorbed with it and grateful for the connection, but they remain somewhat anonymous even if I give them nicknames for

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How to roll with it and end up with a nearly perfect weekend

We headed up to Wyoming for Labor Day weekend with some loose plans, a few ideas and the potential to fish, ride and camp with friends. After a lazy Saturday AM departure, we set out for a small ranch outside of Boulder, WY that sits right on the bank of the East Fork river. On the way we took a detour up LaBarge Creek which, rumor says, is full of trout. Alas the road was more cratered than drivable and

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