Measure Up
I wish I had a photo of that moment. I don’t. You’ll not be able to see it. I’ll not be able to forget it.
The Drake Magazine Fly Fishing Homepage Content
I wish I had a photo of that moment. I don’t. You’ll not be able to see it. I’ll not be able to forget it.
I recently received an AA unity chip for four months sober. In an episode of The DrakeCast with Elliott Adler, I spoke often about “the curse” Clyde has been in my life. Today I realize much of that curse had less to do with the car than with my own attachment to the chaos surrounding it.
There’s a certain solitude and wonder that only public lands can provide. It’s freedom in its most tangible form. These places have given me some of my strongest memories, but it is no longer safe to assume they’ll remain public forever.
There is a holler high in the hills of East Tennessee, guarded by an ornery old ass named Festus. His bellows shake the walls of the valley night and day as he protects his livestock and property. Donkeys are stubborn and strong-willed guardians; known to fight off all manner of danger to protect their herd. Festus looks over a group of about forty cattle and is warden to a small creek that borders the pastures he roams. A small creek with big trout.
Daybreak on the last day of the March Merkin permit tournament in Key West. The sky is virtually cloudless, the winds light. It’s not what Nathaniel Linville and Ian Slater had in mind. “We like it when it’s tough out,” Linville says. In 2024, he and Slater had won the Gold Cup tarpon tournament in horrific conditions. “Our strength is outlasting and outworking everyone else when it’s like that.”
I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to split western hemlock. Especially a piece with knots and badly twisted grain that is still a bit green. But I have. Our remote Forest Service cabin in southeastern Alaska was pretty well-stocked with stubborn piles of it.
Each winter around the first week of January, Steve hand-delivers the wooden cigar box. Previously filled with premium Nicaraguan Padrons, the box now holds premium hand-tied flies. Steve always comes through for our Penn’s Woods West TU chapter Great Fly Sale fundraiser. Collecting the donated flies for our annual event offers a glimpse into the lives of our local tyers. Most deliver their patterns and prototypes by way of plastic fly boxes and containers to organize them in sets. Six flies for five bucks.
When I picture flyfishing for tarpon, the first thing that comes to mind is the setting. I see turquoise flats stretching to the horizon and then melting into deep blue, all of it rimmed with thick green mangroves. That’s not where I ended up.
I saw the man with the machete first. He was leaning on the fat end of a downed mangrove that was blocking the way upstream. He stood on a branch chopping away, but his efforts had produced only a slight notch in the tree. There were three others waiting in the boat, the youngest resting the butt of an automatic rifle on his knee. Their uniforms gave them away as members of Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez’s National Guard—as notorious as the waters they patrolled. The State Department estimates that 200 metric tons of cocaine makes its way through the country annually, much of it through this vast river system, which extends into Colombia.
Take any Colorado stream-access battle that has taken place this century, and a small, relatively unknown but politically connected nonprofit has likely played a role. The secretive Creekside Coalition has fought for much of the past thirty years to keep stream-access laws in Colorado from becoming anything like those in Montana, where the public is allowed to recreate in its rivers and streams up to the high-water mark
For those of you who subscribe to the Drake Magazine, you’ll notice it’s been a while since we’ve heard anything about Clyde, the magazine’s 1974 Mercury Marquis that travels the country. This car invites mishaps, cops, and adoration from anyone who sees him. But where has he been, and what’s he been up to? Today on the podcast, we speak with writer John Agricola to check in on Clyde and hear about his latest adventures.
In this episode of The DrakeCast we head to the backwaters of the Mississippi River to attempt a northwoods cast and blast, chasing a dinner of pike and squirrel from my newly refinished Gheenoe. As a committed catch and release angler, this was a new and somewhat uncomfortable experience for me. Later on, we’re joined by outdoors writer Patrick Durkin to contextualize our mission and talk about the fluctuations in hunting and angling participation over the years.
In this episode of The DrakeCast, we sit down with Drake Magazine founder and editor, Tom Bie, to talk through the Fall 2025 issue of the magazine. We’ll provide some background information on the stories we ran, why we ran them, and hear contributor Mike Fitzgerald read his essay that we both thought was fantastic.
The press release arrived October 4, 2024: “Cox Enterprises Acquires Loop Tackle.” Atlanta-based Cox Enterprises Inc. is a 127-year-old, privately held, global media and automotive empire worth around $30 billion. Its purchase of a relatively small European flyfishing brand seemed odd. But, free country and all that.
As a teenager I had a habit of riding my bike down to the beach of my dying hometown in the dark, before the orange glow of streetlights faded with the break of dawn. This usually happened in early fall when the chinook started showing, often following a light rain that barely raised the creek flowing into the harbor.
Stan Beaulier’s pickup, towing a five-owner Clacka, idles by the Grand Motel’s parking lot, which is occupied by our ancient gang-of-four fly-gear fiddlers. A fine young guide, Stan wears sandals for shoe-demanding river bottoms and is frequently laughing while spouting common and Latin names of Wisconsin’s eleven native turtles, cardinal flowers, and five different redhorse species known only to McClane’s.
In this episode of The DrakeCast we return to Alaska’s Bristol Bay with The Lodge at 58* North. This is the second part of a series, so if you missed the first one, go back and listen to Episode #70: A Week in Bristol Bay w/ The Lodge at 58* North.
In this episode of The DrakeCast we head to The Lodge at 58* North for a week of fishing Alaska’s Bristol Bay. In between chasing trout, char, grayling and salmon, we chat with the people who add to this already remarkable place.
I first met Israel on a steelheading adventure in Southeastern Alaska back in 2018 (a trip we documented in an earlier episode of the podcast). It had been a while since we had seen each other so this past summer he drove sixteen hours north to join me on a search for the best fishing Wisconsin has to offer: smallmouth bass on poppers. It took a couple of days but we eventually found an entire river teeming with willing, surface-feeding fish. But seeing as he had driven all that way, on day three, we decided to shift gears. Or as Israel phrased it, “We absolutely waylaid smallmouth all day yesterday on poppers. So we figured why not kick ourself in the [expletive] and try and go after musky today.”
If you’ve ever flyfished for musky, or even seen a video of others doing so, you have in part to credit (or blame, for those of you who caught the bug) Larry Mann and Wendy Williamson. The pair had cut their teeth guiding in Colorado but in the late 1990s familial obligations brought them to Hayward, Wisconsin. “Our friends in Colorado pretty much thought we were crazy,” remembers Mann. “Then they came and fished with us. And they said, ‘maybe not so crazy…’”
In 2021, the Michigan Department of Natural Resources completed the removal of a derelict dam from the Dowagiac River. For the first time in over 120 years, the bottom four miles of the Dowagiac were reconnected with the 150+ miles of water in the main stem and its many tributaries upstream, making this possibly the most dramatically changed river in the Midwest. But whether or not that change has been for the better is still up for discussion. This episode is about how the people, the water way, and the fish have adapted.
In May of 2025, I found myself in a boat with someone who on paper, I did not like. I was on the oars and my nemesis was watching a popper, twitching it every three or four seconds, along a line of lily pads. It was Wisconsin’s trout opener so instead of battling crowds on the small streams of the Driftless Area, we decided to hit a slough off of the Wisconsin River in search of anything that would bite.
Over the years, Bear’s Den Fly Fishing Company in Taunton, Mass., about forty minutes south of Boston, has earned a reputation for knowing not just the best new gear, but also the value of vintage. It’s a robust shop with an unusually wide range of rod brands: Beulah, Diamondback, Douglas, Echo, G. Loomis, Hardy, Nam, Orvis, Redington, Sage, Scott, St. Croix, TFO, Thomas & Thomas, and Winston…
“I don’t really want to talk you into coming here,” said Capt. Joe Dilschnieder, owner of the Madison River Fishing Company in Ennis, Montana, while chatting a few weeks ago. I’m personally not a huge fan of the Madison River, well, mostly the crowds that come to fish this iconic Montana stream. In fact, when I was an outfitter in Livingston, I judged our fishing by how rarely I was forced to make the drive to the Madison. But even back then, I always enjoyed running into Joe. He makes everyone feel welcome, whether on the river or in his shop. I also found Joe’s path to being a fly shop owner and renowned guide on the Madison to be a compelling tale…trout bum makes good.
A sharp sun is pinned overhead, drilling into the back of my neck like a hot desk lamp. I’m alone in a rowboat on a lake, a shallow depression with the sort of soft marl bottom that squelches unpleasantly between the toes. Its shape is the result of glacial waves that once buried northern Michigan in six thousand feet of hard, gray ice. In late June, with a ring of leafy oaks surrounding the lake and the air hanging wet and heavy, the fact that there was even snow here three months ago seems unlikely, and a mile of ice, impossible. When it’s hot here it seems like it’s always been hot, and always will be.
In the late 1880s, a stone mason in Fort Collins, Colorado began building a home out of materials he had salvaged from the decommissioned county jail. After its completion in 1889, this structure would go on to house several mayors, serve as a hospital, and enter the national register of historic places before becoming a fly shop. The shop’s founder had a brother who was a Trappist monk so he named the shop after St. Peter, the great fisherman and disciple of Jesus. Since 1992, St. Peter’s Fly Shop has been servicing, outfitting, and educating Colorado’s Front Range.
On the morning of June 25th, my friend and guide Luke Annear swung by in his truck with his Towee in tow. When Luke isn’t pursuing his third post-graduate degree from the University of Wisconsin–Madison, you can usually find him chasing carp on the rivers of southern Wisconsin. Luke’s guide service, Freshwater Flats, specializes in site fishing opportunities for carp. But that day, we were trying something a little bit different.