Trout tagged posts

* Pro tip: It’s all about the sharp knife.  Try LamsonSharp – it’s made in the U.S.A., comfortable in the hand, a good weight and delicate enough to work great on game birds too – think goose, duck and pheasant!

By Kascie Herron

I never look forward to the first day of the fishing season. I know, I know, call me crazy, but hear me out. It’s usually a $&*t show and I’m a hot mess. I’m not a super proficient angler as it is, but on the first day out I’m pretty rusty and the whole experience only highlights my status as an amateur. My line gets tangled; I lose about a dozen flies and a few feet of line; I break off nearly every fish that bites (if any bite); maybe a rod gets broken. By the end of the day some tears have been shed and my boyfriend and I pretty much want to kill each other. The first day out fishing is just one we must get through in order to move on and enjoy the rest of the season together.

But this year things went a little differently...

By Jill Alban

It’s May in Montana. And my husband and I have entered what we affectionately call “the crazy season.”

I’m not sure if it’s because of the long, cold nights that have us inside playing Scrabble through most of December and January – but once spring hits, we’re a little giddy. Grant wishes on his lucky star and puts in for the special moose or sheep tag that might just be in the cards later this year. I bike down to the farmer’s market to buy the jaunty, bright green starts that will turn into endless bowls of salad in a month’s time. We pull out the calendar, plan our backpacking adventures, and make grand goals to plant an herb garden or build a greenhouse in the long summer evenings after work.

And, of course, I pull out my fly box...

By Britt Lamotte

Of all the things you can go crazy over – name anything – I am a sucker for dirt. I have to dig it up, mix it up, push it around and cover it up with plants, and then make sure I don’t spend all my money in the process. The plants are expensive, but the dirt much more so. In fact, I don’t even have a square foot of dirt to my name yet – it’s rented. Blame the economy, blame my love for expensive organic coffee but we are still renting, and our rented home is packed full with bikes, dog vests, fishing rods and reels, guns, ammo boxes, archery bows, pheasant feathers, boats, tents and backpacks. Everything we could want for adventure. Everything but the dirt.

We’ve started looking at available properties and weighing the pros and cons of building our own house o...

By Wendy Martin

Mom and King Salmon

One of my earliest memories is sitting at the front of my parent’s Zodiac boat in a tiny lawn chair, zipping along the Gulf of Alaska to find that perfect fishing hole. I was about 6 years old and I loved every minute of it. With the salty air spraying me in the face and the smell of old fish scales at the bottom of the boat, I would scan the shore for bear and moose.  I think of this memory often and smile to myself.

When I was older, my parents admitted to me that I was actually tied to the lawn chair, and that the lawn chair was secured to the boat, and that I was only up there to weigh the bow of the boat down. Still, I had fun.

My mother is third generation Alaskan, and she taught me all I needed to know about fishing...