Posted on 24 July 2009.
Posted on 02 June 2009.
May 1, 2008! The last time I have fished on a river. Cancer came calling at my door and I went through chemotherapy and radiation in the attempt to rid my body of the deadly disease. For one year I’ve looked out my kitchen window to see my kayak calling me back to the waters I love; back to the beautiful creation God has handed to man for enjoyment. My fly rod and casting reels collected dust and I slowly watched the months pass by with nausea, vomiting, fatigue, weakness, shingles, blood clots and peripheral neuropathy. I kept looking at articles and websites related to river bassing and longed for the day when I would get to return, but I had bigger things on my mind as survival, family and friends took center stage. Continue Reading
Posted on 14 April 2009.
By Phillip Potter, aka TarDevil
Driving to the river recently I passed an elderly fella walking by the road and he raised his hand to me as I drove by. Got me wondering about salutations, waving, acknowledging folks ya don’t know – never met and perhaps never will. Just a friendly nature? The desire to impart a wee speck of goodwill and a warm “hello?” I dunno, do you? Continue Reading
Posted on 02 April 2009.
By: Phillip Potter, aka TarDevil
On a beautiful June day in 2007 I came to two important conclusion; 1) flyrods and sunglasses are perfect tools for something other than catching fish, and 2) ALWAYS bring my camera.
I ached all over. I was so sunburned I glowed. But it had been a satisfying day… not particularly productive (three smallies and several green sunfish caught and released) but six hours of blessed solitude on a gorgeous day. Continue Reading
Posted on 31 March 2009.
By Phillip Potter, AKA TarDevil
Fly fishing has garnered the image of an elitist sport, reserved for the privileged with means and time to burn. The words “fly fishing” typic-ally conjure images of gents and ladies resplendent in the latest attire and equipment from the top shelves of the Orvis warehouse, deftly casting immaculately crafted imitations under directions from reputable well-paid guides to hungry rising trout. Continue Reading
Posted on 09 March 2009.
It was an annual ritual; my father and I flew west every August for a week of fishing and camping with my cousin Troy. We floated the famed Deschutes river for rainbows, waded the Salmon River for steelhead and fished for sturgeon in the Columbia. After several years of cramming a smorgasbord of adventures in one week, the three of us decided the most enjoyable and productive of our outings was casting from the north jetty at the mouth of the Columbia for a variety of fish, depending on the tide. Continue Reading
Posted on 21 February 2009.
By: Derek Porter (AKA Boyscout)
The month is July and it’s already hot by 10 am. I am drenched in sweat after paddling 2 miles downstream on a river in South Carolina. As a bonus, there is no car waiting at an access point down river. Why not another car waiting? Because this is a solo trip and I will have to take out where I put in. However far I go, I will have to paddle back upstream against the current to my car. Another factor becomes clear; there are no houses (with helpful people) anywhere near since I am surrounded by the beautiful forest of Sumter National Forest. Continue Reading
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