Tag Archives: Time

Mountain, Moon and Snow

I was ready to fish the Blue Ridge Mountains, but the National Park Service had wisely closed the Shenandoah waterways to fishing due to the extended drought conditions in central Virginia. On Thanksgiving morning my son and I climbed Turk … Continue reading

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The Grey Ghost of April

By mentioning the grey ghost I’m not referring, on this occasion, to the famous streamer pattern of trout flies first created by Carrie Stevens (the artist of Rangely, Maine, and not the Playboy model). I’m referring to the passage of … Continue reading

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A Diminished Thing

On the last full day of summer, I experienced a somewhat inspirational event. It was a simple event but one that I could not have known earlier this year, prior to surgery on my spine in August. My brother and … Continue reading

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Another Glance at Greylock

As a kid I spent a decade growing up on a hill near Albany, NY and had a backyard view of both the Catskill Mountains, to the west, and the Berkshires to the south and east. You could say that … Continue reading

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The Way to Cross Fork Creek

I don’t find it with a map alone, or with a GPS or through some recollection of a printed fishing guide. I’d never recognize it in the pages of Cross Creek, written by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, nor would I hear … Continue reading

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Three Branches, Opening Day

Opening day for trout in northern Pennsylvania offered excellent weather and an opportunity to reacquaint myself with the headwaters. For 35 years I’ve fished three branches of the Genesee (the East, Middle, and West) on the April opener for the … Continue reading

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On the Road (Once More)

[Sorry, Jack & Willie, for the blog post title… The rivertops are winter quiet now, so I thought I might serve up something different here–  a few memories from my road of life. Also, the accompanying photos are reflections of … Continue reading

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The Caddis Hour

The Caddis Hour is not so much about fishing as it is a state of mind. I visited a stretch of Genesee River that I probably hadn’t waded in a decade. It was mid-morning. River pools, low and thirsty, were … Continue reading

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Gray Hair and Grizzly Hackle

Ever since I joined several outdoor organizations and started to attend their regular meetings in the 1990s, I’ve been hearing a general complaint: Look around this room. Our hair is gray. We need some younger people, bright new faces interested … Continue reading

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The Home Stretch

I was fishing the home stretch of a local river, a favorite section of the headwaters, a place where I could hang my fishing hat, or fly rod, on an aging log and feel as comfortable as a dog beside … Continue reading

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