What can be said about the shortest days of the year in Wyoming? I survived, I guess. And I avoided financial damage by staying off of the internet fly fishing sites and tossing the glossy gear catalogs immediately into the trash. In one brief lapse of judgement, I found myself in our local fly shop…
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I have to say, it was alarming to see two bulldozers moving material in the main channel of the North Platte River just below the Poplar Street Bridge a few weeks ago. This part of the river has always been a source of mild interest for me. Like many of the fly fishermen who fish out of Casper, my…
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Years ago, when I was wealthy, I had two deer stands that overlooked the North Platte River. They were forty miles apart, one up near Bessemer Bend, and one close to Douglas. Both afforded a great view of the river, each was close enough to the water’s edge to hear the trout sipping flies on those…
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This year I drew one of the rare, coveted, “any elk” tags in Natrona County. I’ve been applying for this tag for 15 years. When I saw the results on the computer screen I could hardly believe my luck. I bought maps of the area, made sure my batteries in my GPS were fresh, and hit the gym so that I…
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People who know me know my feelings about dry fly fishing on Grey Reef. I’m agnostic at best when it comes to floating dries along the banks of Bessemer Bend or out at Lusby’s. I’ll go along with it, I’ll stand there with my comrades and pretend that, at any minute, the surface of the river will…
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In the mid-90s I lived in a craftsman two-story within walking distance of the University of Wyoming campus in Laramie. The house was so close to the university that frequently errant Frisbees landed in the front yard. My roommate was Patrick Amelotte, a graduate student of English who had just…
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In a nondescript bungalow in North Casper, Tom Loepp stretches canvases, paints, feeds his cat “Squish”, and goes for coffee with some of his lifelong friends. But, mostly he paints. He paints every day. Through luck and by being in the right place at the right time, I met Tom some fifteen years…
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Between the raw spring snowstorms, and the brilliant sunny days that make you believe winter has retreated for good, I received a phone call from a friend in Sheridan. Mark is one of the few people I’ve met through writing. He and his group of bird hunters saw an article I wrote for Wyoming…
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Most freshman English students will recall John Cheever’s classic short story “The Swimmer”, where our protagonist, Neddy Merrill, attempts to swim home from a pool party by cutting through people’s yards and pool hopping. He makes it, but you don’t need to be an English major to know that something…
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“Squirmy wormies, bead eggs, globules of chenille and antron tied to a hook–how can you call those things flies anymore?” said my friend as he pulled on his waders. We were discussing spring fishing and whether using some of the new fly fishing techniques were hurting the sport. I had recently read…
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