 The Troutbitten Podcast is available everywhere that you listen to your podcasts. ** Note ** The Podcast Player, along with links to your favorite players is below. Living a fly fishing life, being Troutbitten, is something that you can’t shake off. Your mind always...
 The Troutbitten Podcast is available everywhere that you listen to your podcasts. ** Note ** The Podcast Player, along with links to your favorite players is below. In the last podcast, episode 7 of season 3, we talked about finding your water and finding space. And...
 The Troutbitten Podcast is available everywhere that you listen to your podcasts. ** Note ** The Podcast Player, along with links to your favorite players is below. Every angler wants to fish somewhere new — someplace untouched. We want novel experiences. Something...
There are a few extra anglers on the water these days. It’s a Covid thing. And crowded streams have become a popular subject at the bars, in online discussions and in the fly shops. More fishermen is something that most established anglers disdain. It’s a funny thing,...
Today, I’m proud to announce the launch of Troutbitten videos, in collaboration with Wilds Media. The journey begins with a video adaptation of, “The River Doesn’t Owe You Anything.” This story has been a Troutbitten favorite since it was published in the spring of 2019. . . . The river gives you what you need. The river gives you what you earn.
Eventually, a river accepts new additions. within a few seasons, time and water make the changes to the riverbed. Nature finds its course, and trout respond.
All of our favorite rivers were high, but clearing. Joey is ten years old now, so he knows the drill. We fish, because trout like water. And it’s the water clarity that matters, not the flow so much. We find wadeable pieces of river in almost any conditions, as long as the river isn’t the thin, brown color of Yoo Hoo.
Last weekend, sandwiched between two big days of baseball games and long team practices, we short-planned some time on the water together.
It was a trip to remember . . .
We traded lengths of colored monofilament with the observational fascination and the collector’s bond of middle-school boys.
I’d decided already. I only wanted to know what was possible. Tell me of the fish and no more. I earnestly wanted to track down the rest for myself — whatever the cost — wherever the adventure . . .
The miles of twisting rivers and rambling streams become your home, and each one within the perimeter of a reasonable driving distance is mentally marked as either explored and fishy or explored and fishless. Until eventually, the list of the unexplored disappears . . .