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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…

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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…

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Mastering the Art of Pointlessness

Mastering the Art of Pointlessness

Many action sports, recreational activities, and outdoor pursuits could be perceived as completely useless, when examined by outsiders, and the end result of these types of things often accomplish absolutely nothing. This type of behavior might even be considered psychotic or delusional by some in the field of human psychology. Knowing myself, my pursuit of trout is almost certainly born of psychotic behavior. And that’s OK. That’s exactly how I like it. Take rock-climbing, skiing, kayaking, trail running, and of…

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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…

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