In the church of fish, trout are the Buddhists; they live in remote and as like uncomfortable places. They abhor the multitude, inclined as they are to cold waters where no sane animal would swim. There...View article
“Wham! Bam! Slam!” I awoke to clunky vibrations of heavy things being dropped on the plywood floor, unzipped my sleeping bag, and yanked out my snore-blocking earplugs. I reached the cabin’s...View article
I grabbed my home phone on the second ring. “Hello?” “Ahoy, matey!” “Damn. Not another telemarketer. Who is this?” “The most feared and hated...View article
“I am never, ever doing that again!” “Well, I admit you had a small problem,” my best friend, Jay, said. “’A small problem’? Eight months later, I still have...View article
The first time I fished seriously in Canada was at my granddad’s cabin on Lake Kashabowie in 1962. For my inaugural trip, I splurged on one Lazy Ike, one red-and-white Dardevle, and one silver Red...View article
It was the first week in November. Once more I had waited too long to Christmas shop for my wife. I could tell because there were no clothes in her size on the racks, and several workers were putting...View article
Doc's 15 minutes of fame is on the line. There are rare times in a fisherman's life when everything clicks. The weather is superb, a lifetime friend has hooked a true trophy, and...View article
"What's that thing on your sun visor?" the highway patrolman asked. "A radar detector," I replied. "Must not work very well," he said, smiling broadly, handing me a ticket...View article
What begins as a search for a midnight snack soon becomes one of Doc and company's most memorable nights in the northwest Ontario bush. This story's proof that there's more to the fishing experience...View article
