trout

A father and son share a love letter to trout, art and fleeting time spent together.

A pair of friends embark on an ambitious mission to raise a steelhead on a dry fly in winter. A hopeless proposition? They'll soon find out.

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

Climbing mountains for fish is a spiritual endeavor for the author, whose parents pointed him toward a fuller way of life on Montana’s Northern Cheyenne reservation.

A father-son relationship is strengthened during a fishing trip to New Zealand, as the young man prepares to leave home and the elder contemplates a new phase in their lives.

Two guides embark on a “Jungle Creek” expedition in the southwest Alaska bush before their summer work season begins. Their holy grail is an untouched rainbow fishery.

Editor Bill Sisson walks you through the Fall 2017 issue of Anglers Journal.

Five writers unravel why these fish became their favorites

The fly fisherman has ‘this thing’ for browns rising to mayflies

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

Tiny trout and memories of young love swirl in ribbons of light and shadows in a pool beneath the cedars

Her paintings of trout trumpet her passion for color and her love of fly-fishing.

Horses graze in a pasture at Los Torreones Lodge in the Simpson River Valley. The Andes tower in the background.

There’s a spot in Chilean Patagonia near the confluence of two rivers, one aquamarine-clear and the other the color of earthen tea, where Pancho Salas and his family call home.

At the risk of offending the people I fish and break bread with, I’m just going to say it: I don’t get Michigan in the winter.

It’s clear from the moment I arrive that there aren’t enough dead bugs on my windshield or dirt on my car to be perceived as a serious fly angler here.

A long escarpment of red sandstone and shale near Hole in the Wall.

The worst part about driving through most of Wyoming is having to look at it. The state’s office of tourism dissembles.

Here at last was an almost-virgin, freestone stream that looked like the streams that Arnold Gingrich, Ray Bergman and A.J. McClane had written about.