Monday, November 30, 2015

A Streetlight of a Moon

It was Thanksgiving morning, pre-sunrise, close to the Northeast Cape Fear, and my brother and I trudged through the flooded millet field, out to the duck blind.

"Dang that's a full moon… don't even need a flashlight," David said.

"Yeah… it's shining like a streetlight…"

Sunday, October 11, 2015

No Place like the Wood Duck Swamp

It's a crisp 50 degrees, there isn't much cloud cover, and the breeze is practically nonexistent. Certainly not prime conditions, but we'll take it.  We get Skynryd's "Swamp Music" on the stereo in the truck on the way out there, out to the public flooded timber.  It's a nice easy drive, the cool pre-sunrise dawn whipping through the cab.

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Salt Fix

Since mid May, I'd been living up in Washington, in the big city, with all its people, buildings, monuments, ever-confusing traffic circles, its Metro system, and not nearly as much fishing as I'd have liked. I was wishing I was fishing.

Thursday, May 7, 2015

Roanoke Rockfish Roller Coaster

Welcome to the ol' Roanoke Rockfish Roller Coaster.  Wait in line for the ramp.  Hop into the line of boats on either side of the main channel.  Drift in line, down, down to Big Rock.  Motor back up.  Hop in line.  Do it again, and again, and again, if the hot sun doesn't fry your skin too much and if the heavy 350 grain line and strong rockfish don't turn your arms to jello.

Sunday, April 19, 2015

Sambo the Pup

Sambo's a good pup.  He's a pup, even if he is about 10 years old.

Monday, April 6, 2015

Sunday in the Salt Marsh

Friday was more than breezy.  Saturday was more of the same.  Throw some rain in there and time spent with the family - walking and biking and eating and drinking and eating some more.  Not much of a window for hard fishing, and the time that was there proved fruitless for a fly-only (most of the time) kind of guy like me.  Haven't broken out the old Penn rod and reel for a while.  Sunday was Easter.  Church then lunch.  Didn't hit the water till 3 or 4.  It was less than mid tide, and I decided to not run too far, checking out what my brother and I've called Mullet Creek since we were little.  A ways down there's a deep hole, with a bit of an undercut bank that reminds me of a trout stream where a big brown could be hiding, waiting to pounce on a sculpin.  Can't see the bottom even with the clear cold water of early April.  I hoped for a tug.  Out there in God's real church.  A big black drum or speck.  Nothing.

Friday, February 20, 2015

GEOBASS: They're living the dream

These guys have got it right.  Traveling the globe.  Fly-fishing.  Exploring.  Traveling.  Living the ultimate angling adventure.  If you haven't already, watch some of their episodes.

Here's the most recent, from Brazil:

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Curse? Addiction? Or Blessing?

The clock says 2:00.  In the morning.  The clock's tick keeps on ticking and all you can do is think.  Your mind's way too active and you try to force yourself to sleep but you can't.

And even though you aren't going fishing in the hours that will soon unfold, you're thinking about fishing.  You're tired, you need sleep, but your brain doesn't seem care.

You're thinking about hauling through the salt marsh, running in just inches of water, weaving your skiff through the creeks like a rally car driver on a dirt track.

Tuesday, January 27, 2015


Hunters and anglers are superstitious.  We get caught up in a ritualistic way of doing things.  That's the way we're supposed to do it.  The way we always have.  The way we always will.

Sunday, January 25, 2015

Post Season Blues

That's it.  It's done.  Duck season 2014-15 is no more. Time to morph into fishing mode.

It hasn't been the most productive season… but it's still been good.  Probably a record number of hunting days, especially around Chapel Hill.  First season using the Mergy… aka the Gheenoe. Started my duck log after the first split.

Saturday, January 24, 2015


This past summer I was a guide at a Colorado guest ranch.   Smith Fork Ranch.  Great experience.  Whole lotta work.

Great fishing.  Great friends.

Since I'm backtracking again, I'll let the photos do most of the work...

Rio Grande

We're starting by backtracking.

Not quite a year ago, a group of eight friends and I went on what would be an abnormal spring break for a many college kids.  One that didn't consist of crushing beers and getting sunburned on a warm beach.

What we did was a 33 mile float down the Rio Grande, through the Boquillas Canyon in Big Bend National Park.  Flew into El Paso and rented cars.  Drove five hours to Terlingua, got to Far Flung Outdoor Center.

It was dark when we got there, so we set up our tents in the parking lot.  In the chill of the next morning, we rented four canoes and hit the road.