A fishing trip across Canada introduces a passionate group of fly tossers to some amazing places, but their most lasting memories are of the people they meet.
Richard Stanczyk is growing impatient. We haven’t caught a bonefish. “One thing I have not figured out in 67 years of fishing is how not to catch fish and still have a good time,” says Stanczyk.
The first time I ever paid to go fishing was when I took a trip to Iceland in 1980. I had never fished for Atlantic salmon and was looking for some romance, as well as for a new experience in a new land.
Our wives told us: If you catch a king, kill it, and we’ll turn it into ceviche tonight. They said: We’ve got all the fixings at the house, then went downstream to fish for trout. Two beautiful women, late in the long Chilean afternoon, about to work up ample appetites.
Fighting has made him a better fisherman; fishing has made him a better man.
The evening began like a fishing daydream. The sun was dropping. The flooding tide and a cool wind were roughly aligned.
My mind was unconsciously running through the 20 other places I would no doubt have been better off standing.
Dick Goin’s long battle to restore salmon to Washington’s Elwha River is the subject of the recently released full-length film The Memory of Fish
When packs of sailfish are working baitballs off Isla Mujeres, the fishing and underwater photography can be otherworldly.