Chris Dombrowski

Cracking the code of the elusive permit is a lifetime endeavor for anglers long accustomed to the maddening highs and lows of the pursuit.

Two old friends pull story after story from a river of memories as they once again fish the Michigan waters of their boyhood.

A longtime guide’s love letter to Montana, where rivers are deep with fishing options and the field of play is as wide as the eye can see.

A lifelong infatuation with irascible, beautiful, boulder-leaping rainbows

Justin Rea has a love/hate relationship with a fish that doesn't play fair on the fly

I’m sitting at the Hitchin’ Post in Melrose, Montana, drinking vodka with Jim Harrison, who between sips steals a scant glance at his beloved barmaid Nicole’s rear, puffs from his American Spirit and says: “Do you want to know how you can believe in God?”

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.