The Tar Heel Outdoorsman

We drove from Cashiers, turning right onto NC-281 off of US-64. Shortly, we pulled into Gorges State Park.  The parking lot to Rainbow Falls was packed... two park rangers were working parking duty... We kept driving, though, on the Chestnut Mountain Road.  And unlike the packed paved parking lot, the dirt mountain road was almost totally empty.  Besides one other car, we had the place to ourselves to explore.   The drive isn't a fast one.  It's a sit back and enjoy it one.  It's about 6 miles, one way, from where the pavement ends to the Horsepasture River.  It's a soak in the mountains and the rocks and the trees and the leaves rustling in the wind and the small streams gurgling past.   You'll need a vehicle with a little ground clearance, though you don't need anything too crazy.  You may want four wheel drive, though I don't think it's necessary, due to some loose rock and gravel.   You'll...

This past summer I returned to Wyoming.  I've finally gotten around to typing a word or two about it.  

The Toyota truck's odometer gained more than 1,000 miles in the days before and after Christmas. Rolling down both country roads and interstates alike.  Wilson to Creswell.  Creswell to Knotts Island.  Knotts Island back to Wilson.  Wilson to Wilmington.  Wilmington to Laurinburg.  Laurinburg to Charlotte.  And finally, coming full circle, back to Wilson on the day after Christmas. But almost as soon as we were back, we were gone again.  Now it was off to Belize.  We'd never really done a big family trip like this, and thankfully, there'd be some fishing involved.  With my brother, my mom, two of my cousins, and their mom, we'd be flying to Belize City, and then hopping on a Cessna Grand Caravan and flying half an hour out to San Pedro on Amber Gris Caye.

The week truly began a day early.  Not Sunday the 18th, but Saturday the 17th. Opening day of the final split of duck season.

The attention that I've paid to this thing has been nonexistent since May. May was when I drove out to Wyoming to work as a fishing guide at A Bar A Ranch in southern Wyoming.  May was the last time I wrote something on here, and honestly, I haven't really got a good excuse.   But it sure is damn hard to spend time typing when you could be out on the water.   ...

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:

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.