Browsed by
Tag: British Columbia

Going with the Flow: The qualms of a working man

Going with the Flow: The qualms of a working man

Life, I have come to realize, is unpredictable, and unrelenting. Like a mountain stream, we do not control the flow of our lives; instead, we are immersed in it, amongst it, shaped by it. There will be riffles, pools, and tailouts; waterfalls and canyons. But always flowing, always moving, towards some end that can not be determined; for it is the unknown. ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————– This thing called life happened to me this summer. After trying my hardest to pretend it didn’t…

Read More Read More

Canada Day Forecast: Sunny with a Chance of Trout

Canada Day Forecast: Sunny with a Chance of Trout

A Canadians Guide to catching fish in the crowds. Today, our great Nation turns 149 years old. Happy Birthday Canada. Although that seems like a long time, it really is quite young as far as nations go; I kinda see Canada kinda like some young adult, maybe in its early 20’s, just coming into it’s prime. While the US is like a over-egotistical, well established professional in its late-to-early 30’s that thinks they are the best, while not wanting to…

Read More Read More

Mastering the Art of Pointlessness

Mastering the Art of Pointlessness

I suppose I should begin by thanking everyone who is reading this. You are either here because A) you are my friend and I have pressured you incessantly to pretend to care about fly-fishing, B) You accidentally clicked the link and are now reading and not sure why, or C) you are a passionate fly-fisherman and you match the description of our social media callouts guilting all passionate fly-fisherman to get off their asses and into some of the best…

Read More Read More

Welcome to the Society of Uncompromising Anglers

Welcome to the Society of Uncompromising Anglers

I remember being a young child of maybe 10 or 11, trekking through the thick brush near the bank of a small trout stream in the Rocky Mountains of British Columbia, with my Dad, my Brother, and a small spin-rod in my hand. We had just caught endless tiny brook trout in a small pond that I will always remember. My father thought he would challenge us with some moving water, and although I now forget the name of that…

Read More Read More