We Weren't Born To Just Pay Bills And Die by Mark Usyk
As The Crow Flies by Mark Usyk
Now I know I’m a fisherman. I’m very aware that the word of a fisherman is to be taken lightly, or to be taken with a grain of salt, or to be completely disregarded in some instances, say, when hands are held out and the statement “It was this big” is uttered. But...
The Power in a Cast by Mark Usyk
But as he handed me the rod back I felt a hand on my elbow and turned to find an older gentleman in a wheelchair with his daughter behind him. With a stubby unshaven face of light gray and tinted prescription glasses he looked up at me with a smile and tried to say something. “I’d like…” He didn’t finish his sentence but nodded his head positively. “You’d like to try?” He smiled bigger and nodded some more. “Yes!”
Familiar Waters by Mark Usyk
I had a fly box full of streamers, a box of nymphs, and a box of dries, but I knew the streamer caught in the hook keeper above the cork handle would probably be the only thing I’d fish. I’d grabbed the small pack with all the fly boxes out of routine, nothing more. There wasn’t much concern for variety in the decision. I just didn’t seem to care about much of anything. I was going through motions. I walked knowing where I’d end up, but without a plan and little concern for anything involved. It was hot. At least I could stand in the water.