Life In Black And White by Mark Usyk
We drove down the road, pulled into a fishing access pull off next to the river, and the two of us did our best to dredge the bottom of what open water we could find while JP, camera in hand, recorded the morning for posterity. The trees were heavy with snow, evergreen branches weighed down with white precipitation hung low, again the river and surroundings seemed to be a black and white photograph.
Margaritas By Mark Usyk
We only had three tenths of a mile of trail to get to the river, but that was the issue in my head. We had an entire three tenths of a mile to get to the river, and this kayak cart was a cheap piece of crap. I knew it. The kayak knew it. Every rock on the trail knew it.
No Shoes...No Problem by Mark Usyk
A couple times as we reeled in to move on or to change the fly simply because we were bored with such easy fishing and wanted to try to find the wrong fly to make it more challenging, brook trout attacked practically at our feet just as the fly was lifted from the water and I decided that perhaps I should be doing a figure 8 with the dry fly at the end of my rod tip like you do for musky at the side of the boat.
Snowshoes By Mark Usyk
We Weren't Born To Just Pay Bills And Die by Mark Usyk
...And He's Not The Same Man by Mark Usyk
Where Are There Any Bait Shops Left Around Here? by Mark Usyk
As we walked the dirt road in the rain, felt soles beneath wading boots hushed our steps. We remarked about all the worms lying about on the road, joking about all the flies fly fisherman tried to force feed to trout. Someone said it and we all laughed. “Trout like worms. They like worms you know.” I laughed and we carried on comically about it, but I was thinking of something else in my mind.