Mike's Gone Fishin'... Again

I'm afraid that there's not much photographic evidence to prove that July actually happened this year. It was a lost month in any n...

There can be no more damning evidence of my total neglect of this blog than the fact that I haven't posted a photo bin since May. May ,...

What's he doing? He's taking a picture of his reel. And a beer can. He's doing what ? I totally get it. To regular anglers,...

Sometimes I have to kick myself. I'm supposed to be a story teller. A reporter. But more often than I'd care to admit, when looking...

I am captivated by tree-lined shores Sharp-edged delineations between water and sky Where the world turns upside down Where the he...

We banked hard right and lined up the dirt airstrip, barely contained on the small island. No margin for error in any direction, short or l...

It’s no secret that I hate commercial air travel. From the booking to the security gauntlet to the crowds to the litany of little indigniti...

Photo courtesy of Steve Zakur Here’s a dirty little secret about destination angling. More often than not, the fishing is disappointing....

It’s a common sentiment, written about with great regularity, that the packing for a trip is often as exciting as the trip itself. The susp...