By Orlo Dietrich It seems every walk of life has its legends, and certainly fly-fishing is no exception. For anglers who love the graceful symmetry of the cast, solitude and quiet reflection in the most beautiful places in the world, the ability to pursue anything from blue gills in local ponds to billfish in bluewater, …...

By Tom Keer The tangle of roadways that connect Manhattan with the rest of the world has always been a mystery to me. I suppose it’s a maze to everyone save for those who grew up in the Gotham shadows. Not getting lost might have been one of the biggest reasons I enjoyed heading to …...

By Jim Mize Falling in is an essential skill most fly anglers can successfully acquire. All it takes is a lack of agility and a bit of practice. For starters, you might wonder why this is an essential angling skill. That’s a perceptive question that shows your analytical skills. Having anticipated some skepticism, here is …...

By Charles Raymond Hills The old Ford pickup rolled to a slow stop at the spot not too far from a bend in the river where I planned to fish. I lowered the window to look across a broad stretch of river rock which bordered the waterway. Yesterday, Ed, the owner of the local fly …...

On August 26 of last year, Phillip “Flip” Pallot passed away due to complications of surgery. By Larry Chesney As a reader of Rivers and Feathers, you’re no doubt familiar with his skill in the art of fly fishing as well as his stewardship of the wild places he treasured. I had the good fortune …...

By Tom Keer There wasn’t a breath of air to be found anywhere below the cloudy-blue sky. The water’s surface was mirror-slick, and though it was the February full moon, the Full Snow Moon in fact, the dropping Bahamian tide moved slowly and gently like its people. The pelicans. palm trees, and work-boat hulls painted …...

A Texas Hill Country Misadventure By Tom Adkinson Dreams of fishing the Guadalupe, the Frio, the Llano and other streams in the Hill Country evaporated like sweat on a dry Texas day. I had traveled 750 miles from my Tennessee home, but when I opened my main suitcase, I realized I didn’t have the most …...

By C. H. Daniels Words and Images by C. H. Daniels It was a cool, gray day in late January—custom-made for fireplaces, bird dogs, and strong whiskey. Too cool for a light jacket, but too warm for a proper coat. Occasionally, the gloomy, drizzle-laden clouds would part, and wisps of cirrus clouds drifted past streaks …...