PART I: Yellowstone Journals Finally, a bed. Kelly, Wyoming is a very welcoming place post hours of after-work driving, and a dizzying snow storm. After the glam of Jackson Hole, Kelly is quaint and lovely and without fanfare. The small cabin where we stayed was on main street, perhaps the only street in Kelly, and after the night we had sleeping in was required. The ideal, was an early morni …

In my own fishing and guiding - I am a hatch matcher. I would like to think that when a trout takes one of my flies, I know exactly what insect the fish saw my fly as. This game keeps me constantly entertained through studying insects on the water and experimenting with new fly patterns. This has been a busy year of guiding for me, and I want to share some hatch matching stories I had this …

"Billy Baroo" (my fly rod, not the putter) and I have fished together for over forty years. In the early 70’s I bought "Billy", an 8' 6", 5 weight Winston, from my good friend and mentor Emmett Heath. Every penny from a summer of work went into that purchase, and even today the fondness of those anxious months and the years we've since fished ring loud."Billy" is now a "collectors item” along with …

At the end of another increasingly hot Utah summer, crisp cool mornings are a welcome sign of autumn. While it signals the end of another great summer trout fishing season and the prolific hatches that we in the mountain west set our clocks to, fall brings new opportunities. For many of us in the shop we begin to think about the large rivers up north, frosty mornings, and the anadromous fish that …

Fishing local waters doesn't have the glam, solicit the bragging rights, or create the mystic per-say, then... anywhere else.... Yet, they are many of our "true blues". They are the rivers that we grew-up on, the rivers that have given us fish, the rivers that have taken them away, the rivers that have taught us about the hatches, and frustrated us with low lying limbs and fly stealing obstacle …

Fishing the Bitterroot in western Montana was my first time being up in the state. I left the fly shop one evening after work and drove for as long as I could, waking up along a river just outside Salmon, ID — brewing coffee and watching the water pass. Gradually shaking my morning pandiculation, coffee kicking in, I started to come together around Sula just as the East Fork began to take …