Sin City Gold
This post has been inspired by the numerous text messages, e-mails, and social media PM's from friends of mine wanting to see the trophy that was collected on Saturday night in Las Vegas, NV. Super-sorry to have to disappoint you.
A Deliberate Life - Part Two
September has long passed. The seven-degree air and new-fallen snow on the boughs of the backyard fir trees seems so far removed from the dry heat of the desert canyons we camped in just a few months ago. Those canyon-river days are just below the surface, though, and if I close my eyes against the winter scene outside, I can be back there in just a few short moments.
Kickoff
This post has been a long time in the works. Not the mere writing of it, really, but the getting-into-place of the "necessaries" that all combine to make the post even possible.
Henry's Fork
We had truly been smiled upon these past eight days. Someone up there must really, really like us. I can't explain it otherwise. I closed my eyes and turned my face to the sky, soaking it all in once more, taking one long breath. The water here was slow and slick. Only the warm breeze of the afternoon made its surface imperfect. And yet, still incredibly perfect. I turned back around to look at that one lone tree, half a mile off on the plain.
South Fork
Neither Matt nor I were moving very quickly this morning. It actually felt pretty nice not to have to be geared-up before sunrise, hustling out of the hotel with camera bags and peanut-butter toast. We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, got the room all squared away, loaded the Highlander and checked out of the hotel. Our drive to Idaho Falls would take about four hours. On the other end of it, we'd be meeting up with Colby Hackbarth of Kast Gear, and fishing with him on the South Fork of the Snake River.
Back to September
It's amazing how new events and re-adjusted priorities in the day-to-day routine can put an abrupt halt to the enjoyable process of writing and sharing stories and photographs right here.
River X - The Second Day
The morning of September 3 saw Matt and I all geared up and standing in front of the hotel in a state of bleary-eyed readiness when Rebecca pulled in to pick us up. We were a man down today.
The River of Secrets
I never suspected that I would have found myself flyfishing for trout in what struck me as such a harsh climate and unlikely location on the map. I am, quite frankly, still in amazement that those fish not only exist among that landscape, but seem to flourish. Brown trout.
Idaho on the Fly
What an incredible, inspiring, whirlwind journey. At one-thirty this morning, I reluctantly returned to Rochester, New York from a ten-day "creative expedition" in southern Idaho and Oregon.