The morning started at 5:30 with a couple sausage, egg and cheese breakfast wraps, coffee and an apple fritter on the ride to a permit-on...

I pull up my chair most mornings and find no words. The sun is up. Traffic is purposefully outbound. I watch. Drink coffee. Listen throug...

10, 9 and 7 years ago. Swaddled and warm in their loving mother’s arms, just hours after their respective births. Brand new in this great...

The Pere Marquette was a lesson in the art of disciplined optimism. This is not sunshine-and-puppies optimism. This is not a-bad-day-on-t...

One trip. Three videos. All from the same footage. No…not win, place and show. Win, win and win. Big props to the editorial-stylizations ...

It’s been a while in the making, but Pulp Fly, Volume 1 is finally here. This eBook anthology of stories written by fly fishing writers i...

Then all of a sudden, there we were. Straight from the airport. Three of us and a drift boat and a river unhinged and in the trees. Gusts...

Flight, flight, Grand Rapids by 10 a.m. I’ve been told Michigan knows how to welcome a fella. All I can tell you is that I’ve been workin...

Back in late-April of last year, Grant Taylor, Dean Milliman and I got together to do an advertising/awareness campaign for a local (Upst...

It’s nineteen degrees and still dark. By dawn it’ll be colder. Overnight we were bombed with the season’s first real powder and it’s stil...

Until 5,500 years ago this river lived a small existence. Long before glacial melt had its way and rammed the sonofabitch clear through t...

My home office has got some hellafied built-in bookshelves. As a matter of fact, those bookshelves and the barn were the two things that ...

The breeze lies on the water. There are two red canoes with four people in blue life-jackets paddling with silver & black paddles. Maples...

I was just recently diagnosed with Tourette Syndrome. More specifically full-blown Tourette Syndrome. The full-blown part (which sounds d...

A few classics from back in the day, inspired by music and road trips. And women. THE AIR ON BOURBON Her voice was enough to make me walk...

To prepare, I’ve started cutting and splitting fuel for the stove. A few weekends now spent with my dad’s old 16″ STIHL chainsaw and seve...

And sometimes you throw a punch that starts from your toes and finishes with you standing over him saying get up…I’m not done with you yet.

The weekend of November 4th brought a pretty heavy frost to the Salmon River near Altmar, NY. It also brought over a dozen combat veteran...

I had just walked back from my stand to the truck to meet the kids. Dressed in sweatshirts, jeans, muck boots and still sporting bed-head...

It was a morning like any other morning on the water. Then it wasn’t. Big nasty pike got a whole jaw-full of strip-set-streamer-and-eight...