Blog

When the Ripples Betrayed the GiantFirst light painted the Calcasieu River in molten gold when my waders kissed the shallows. I paused to watch mayflies dance above the surface – their fragile wings catching fire in the sunrise. My

When the River Whispers SecretsThree hours before sunrise, my waders crunched through frost-kissed grass along the Suwannee's bank. The air smelled of wet limestone and anticipation. I patted the worn

When the River Whispered at DuskGolden hour painted the Deschutes River in liquid amber. I stood knee-deep in the current, my fly fishing vest heavy with nymph boxes,…

When the River Whispers SecretsThree cups of coffee still couldn't warm my fingers as I launched the kayak into the misty Susquehanna. The rubber handle of my spinning reel…

When the River Whispered SecretsDawn arrived cloaked in river fog, the kind that sticks to your sleeves like wet tissue paper. My waders squelched rhythmically as I trudged along the muddy bank of the Mississippi, the aroma of damp earth…