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December 2016 - Volume 25 Number 2
The Mayflies of Lough Arrow
A ex-pat Californian, an artist, and fly fishing.
By Bill Barich
The Dinner Bell
This fly is close to a sure bet for trout feeding at the surface.
By Andy Guibord
Yvon Chouinard: Keeping It Simple
Implementing a philosophy of life.
By Jerome Buckmelter
Horseshoe Meadows South: Finding Gold
High Sierra hikes for backcountry trout.
By Peter Pumphrey
Lake Almanor Wakasagi
How to hook trout when a lake contains pond smelt.
By Rodney Stoke
Crafty Flies: Effective Fly Patterns Made with Inexpensive Craft Store Materials
And we mean really inexpensive.
By Steve Duckett
Mayflies: A Primer
For many of us, the mayfly is the iconic bug we seek to imitate.
By Michael Checchio
Trout Fishing in Dirty Water
Tips for succeeding when a stream is muddy.
By Michael Malekos

Click here for Doug Lovell's
February 2010 Good Fight article

Click here for Drew Braugh's
March 2011 Good Fight article about the Fall River - page 1 / page 2

Reflections on Wet Glass

Gusts of rain slap against my office window, and the pines outside dip and then bow deeply to the force of the storm pushing through the forest. A character in a novel once said that when the wind blows, the world seems larger. Or maybe itís just that we are reminded of our true size, which is small.

As with the wind, when we step into a river or wade into the surf, we feel the physicality of whatís around us, experience relentless, immense power at work. There is also an elemental, sensual factor ó the current pressed against our legs, the handís flesh braced against a rock ó that tells us intimately that we exist. What an extraordinary, lucky thing that is.

An observation made by a character in another novel: every augmentation is an amputation. Or put simply, our tools, our devices, divide us subtly ó or less than subtly, as with iPhones at the dinner table ó from what exists around us and even from ourselves. Which is not to say we should spurn the benefits of our technological age, but instead realize that when we gain, we may lose, too.

Outside, yellow aspen leaves twirl through the yard and cling wetly to the fence, walls, the deck. If anything, the rain is coming down even harder, drumming heavily against the roof. This is not a day to go fishing. Or rather, this is the perfect day to go fishing, if one seeks not only solitude, but to be wholly present in the world.

A low, gray, tumbling sky, a lake like gunmetal roughened by rain, wind. Itís good to be here, now, laying out the first long cast, immersed in the moment, connecting.

     Richard Anderson
     Publisher and Editor

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