“Dad, can we go fishing?” Well, of course we can! When one of your college-aged children, whom you now rarely see, asks that, you make it happen. So, off we went for a Labor Day weekend trip to northern New Hampshire, to the same spot where I’ve taught fly fishing to Mrs. T. and all
We are empty nesters for a few weeks and for the first time ever. “Let’s go fly fishing,” Mrs. T. said. “I’d love to learn.” “Really?” So, many moons ago, we booked a long weekend up at northern New Hampshire, at the spot where I taught each of our children to fish. A rite of
I am fortunate to have some fly-fishing buddies who are expert anglers, and one of them organized an outing in Maine. Last weekend, we rented a small house on the river and hauled food with us, as there wasn’t much up there. That area was beautiful. We traversed quite a few dirt roads and saw
The town of Altmar, population 354 at last count, is a curious one. Way up in NY, near Lake Ontario, it is not near anything famous for land dwellers. Syracuse is an hour away, and it is a long 4.5-hour drive from Boston. But, for fly anglers, it offers this: the elusive, brutish and beautiful
I haven’t blogged in a few weeks because, well, not much has happened since the holidays. Our older kids are back in college, work has resumed, and day-to-day life is back in force. I miss the holidays, but it has been good to be productive at work and to get back into a daily rhythm.
Fly fishing in winter isn’t for everyone. The wind, cold and rain can be punishing. It is why few do it, as more rational anglers stay indoors. But, the landscape is hauntingly beautiful, and the river is devoid of people. The stillness in the air is almost ominous, as the birds and bugs are gone.