Anglers Journal celebrates the best writing, photography, illustration, design and sporting art on the topic of fishing. Come join some of the most prolific fishing editors and writers in the industry for the best angling experience on the water.
It’s standard to get plenty of emails, texts and calls in fall when the fish in New England are on the move. Reports come from a boat captain, a young guy who works at a tackle shop and a longtime fishing friend who has a beach cottage in Quonochontaug, Rhode Island. You also hear plenty of second-and third-hand accounts that are usually too old to act on. The best intel comes from putting your own boots on the ground and fishing regularly. But you can’t be everywhere. My wife sent me into a gyration one afternoon in November when she texted me a video she had taken, titled: “Stripers going berserk on bait.” She had been photographing birds in a salt marsh when she passed a tidal creek pock-marked with…
Michael Carr is an English teacher and writer from New Jersey who chases stripers with a fly rod whenever and wherever he can. He is working on a collection of fishing essays in the off-hours between hikes, pond trips and driveway hockey with his sons. Michael writes about Martha’s Vineyard guide Jaime Boyle. Retired Miami lawyer and award-winning photographer Pat Ford has held two dozen world records during decades of fishing. Pat writes about the magic of Key West in “Heaven’s Gate,” and his photos appear in several places in this issue, including the “Tension” opening spread. Tom Lynch is a photographer, surf fisherman and the owner of Angry Fish Gallery in Point Pleasant Beach, New Jersey. His images have appeared in The Fisherman, On The Water, Big Game Fishing…
A MAN AND HIS NAMESAKE FLY Great article and photos. You’ve captured Bob Clouser’s very heart and soul [“One Fly To Rule Them All,” Fall]. I’ve known Bob for many years, and I’ve said it before: Everyone should have a friend like Bob Clouser. I am so happy that he and Jackie found each other, and I know there is a smiling face in Heaven who feels that same happiness. Bob Mead A wonderful tale about a fine fellow angler. Lenny Lee “Bobby knows the Susquehanna better than anyone alive,” said fly-fishing legend Lefty Kreh. I grew up fishing for smallmouth with with my dad, Bruce Brubaker, on the Susquehanna off Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Memories of fine times and proud catches that will never fade. Terry Brubaker AN IMPORTANT CHOICE A great…
The Optimist By David Coggins Scribner Most anglers should be optimists. Perhaps even the grumpiest man on the dock is at his core a person full of hope. David Coggins is one of these hopeful anglers, and through global destinations, his readers realize that optimism is not restricted by geography. Each chapter of The Optimist focuses on a specific locale and a technique or environmental situation that keeps Coggins slightly off balance, always remaining hopeful. While not a neophyte in any sense of the word, Coggins isn’t too proud to reveal his disappointments with well-timed humor. One such instance takes place on a river in Canada, when Coggins finally lands an Atlantic salmon after days of tough fishing, and the guide was “very careful not to allow me the comfort…
Corn and soybean fields are the last scenery that blows past my SUV as I turn left onto a country road in the heart of Virginia’s Eastern Shore. It’s late August, and humidity hangs in the air as a dragonfly goes kersplat! against my windshield. A tractor rumbles by as I pull over to figure out how I’ve become so lost. It’s not the backdrop typically associated with tarpon fishing, but that’s what I am here to do. I sort my bearings and make my way to a remote launch ramp where longtime friend and tarpon devotee Kendall Osborne is rigged and ready with his Dragonfly Emerger, a 16-foot flats skiff that’s perfect for the skinny waters where we’ll hunt for silver kings among marsh-lined bays, guts and creeks. Osborne…
For some years now, my good friend and exemplary charter-boat crewman Larry Grimard and I have embarked upon an oyster-gathering expedition to the muddy banks of Maine’s Damariscotta River. Grimard studies his charts to determine when the lowest tide will occur on an afternoon in November. This time he emailed me early in the month with a terse, “The 14th is the day. Meet me at the secret parking lot at 2:30.” Grimard knows the Damariscotta well. He has spent decades on the river lobstering and fishing, and for a long time he had a “personal use” oyster lease, growing the mollusks for personal consumption and to barter with neighbors for fresh chickens or venison sausage. We met at the appointed place and hour. It was a nice afternoon —…
