When I was a senior in high school, I learned to fly fish with my dad in the mountains of North Carolina. We had a place up on Beech Mountain and I guess because A River Runs Through It just came out we had to do what every white guy it America was doing- big … Continue reading
I was the oldest child, an oldest son. I’ve been accused of the things that come along with pecking order- the biggest piece of the candy bar, you name it. I never reconciled through the politics of birth order until my third son, Sam was born. That made my second son, Forrest, a middle child. … Continue reading
There was a silver fox, flocked in a surly beard and thick mud flap around his collar that reminded me of Kenny Rogers. He was right there in the Desperation Pool. When we pulled up in the truck, there were only about four or five cars in the upper lot– the Subaru over on the … Continue reading
All week long little vibrations tickled me in the leg while I was working. I’d pull out my phone to see texts with a trout in a net, my friends ten year old horsing in a moderately hefty Brookie, or some forgotten stream that looked familiar. My good buddy, Russ, travels a lot in his … Continue reading
This afternoon I took a ride with my Dad. We got stuck in traffic on I-85 South for awhile and started cussin’ all the politicians that pay a visit to 52 different churches a year that voted against our new highway. We talked for a bit about a business we share, mostly positive– but a … Continue reading
My son left his stick on the lacrosse field. He beat himself up because every last penny of his allowance for the whole summer went into that thing. He spent hours looking among the internet and asking players from the local college, which shaft? which head? how do I lace it? He soaked it the … Continue reading
Hey am-ego, you like tit-teez? What a question, I mean how I am I supposed to answer that? No? A no just like I swatted at the hombre in town trying to sell me a Baja blanket. No- because my seemingly innocent teenage brother was standing beside me. And no my dad and my new … Continue reading
I confess, I really wanted to title this post “Whorehouse Trout Fishing”. A few friends have a place in the mountains, they’re golfers. My usual M.O. for a golf weekend is to find out if there is a place to fish and do a bunch of cooking while the others guys are on the course. … Continue reading
Little Video from our Dental Sportsman Society 5th Annual Pheasant Hunt— ROOSTER! Continue reading
There is nowhere on earth you that does not have a place to fish– seems God made it that way to keep men in the pursuit happy. When a batch of my oldest friends put together a guys trip to Kiawah Island this month– I found some water to cast to. Sure, we had lots … Continue reading
