
Fishing Junk Water
What started as the sketchiest junk lake turned into something much harder to leave behind


A funny, honest take on snowshoeing for the “real you” not the expedition you. Learn what you actually need, how to pick the right size and bindings, and why walking-speed winter can be the season you start to love.

Winter hiking doesn’t have to be extreme to be safe and fun. This guide gives you a simple system—how to pick the right trail, dress in layers, pack a small safety kit, and know when to turn around—so you can enjoy cold-weather miles with confidence, not stress.

Fly Tying? You want me to tie a fly? No way. I can’t even darn socks. I knew I had enrolled in a fly fishing school, but I never thought about the fly tying aspect that would accompany my studies. School started and there I was, my instructor persuading me to give it a try. Reluctantly I went to the tying area. With a heavy heart, I tried my hand at tying my first fly, and managed to make a large and splendid bug. That disheveled fly went on to startle many fish, but one showed interest; all was

It was late March and my husband, no longer able to resist the call of fishing, had taken us to the Poconos. Like the rest of the residents of the North East we felt the call of spring. We were all tired of the gray days, the snow and the cold. We were seriously wishing for sunshine and warmth and trout. That day, we drove up to the mountains from South Jersey with the promise of temperatures in the 60’s. Even so, there was still snow on the ground, patches of ice on the edges of the streams an

When Josh and I found out we were having a little girl, we both cried tears of Joy. Josh won’t admit that, but I’m telling his secret. I cook his meals and am the mother of his children. He can’t get too mad right? Besides the “She’s never dating”, “She’s never leaving the house” spiel, he said three things to me that day that melted my heart. Through the tears he told me “I really want her to be proud to have me as her father.” “I’m going to work really hard to be the husband to you that s

"All women are b**ches and liars." Those were the exact words out of an older man’s mouth a few years ago when my partner and I were fishing on a famous Lake Ontario steelhead river. When this man first approached us, thanks to our completely gender-neutral appearance, he just seemed a little jealous that we had been out-fishing him and he wanted us out of “his space,” but when he figured out we were women, he began blurting out a rant about how horrible women were, including his own mother. Thi

My earliest memory is learning how to draw a house with perspective. Since then I’ve been hooked on art of many kinds. From taking courses while I was in college in printmaking, glass forming, pottery and sculpture to fine art, graphic design and jewelry making, art of all kinds has always inspired me. I graduated with a Bachelors of Fine Arts in Illustration from the Rochester Institute of Technology without the clear sense of personal style that many of my peers had evolved. I could draw anyt

I have water in my veins, a common thread, starting from when I was a young girl growing up on the shores of Wild Fowl Bay, off of Lake Huron’s thumb of Michigan. It was a great place to explore woodlands, wetlands, fishing, sailing and swimming. You could not keep me out of the water then and it continually pulls be back now. As an adult, I am constantly being pulled back to the need for water, sort of a “Fish out of Water.” I have lived in a suburb of Illinois, not far from Chicago and the

Sliding down cellar doors, slapping a hand ball against cement stoops, drawing on steamy, black asphalt with chalk bought at the corner deli…these were my day-to-day adventures growing up in Queens, New York. Any sign of greenery was sparse: four sycamore trees that lined our corner row home, a 10’ patch of “grass” in our tiny yard, and the occasional dandelion that found its way into the cracks of the endless sidewalks. Skies rarely brightened beyond a smoggy, pale blue and the only likeness o

This fly was created for the Great Lakes, but is at home in the saltwater, a bass lake, a smallmouth river, swung for steel or in a trout stream. We tie Ice Wing in like EP for an EP style baitfish. A little tricky to get the hang of at first, this fly is worth the mess it makes. Tie one on today! American Shad - Ice Shad from Dun Magazine on Vimeo.

My husband and I are fly fishing partners and owners of an antique fishing tackle business called Angling Artifacts. We reside in and operate our business in Los Angeles and we find it a challenge to locate beautiful, unique and productive fly fishing spots nearby where we live. For that reason, the majority of our fly fishing trips have been in the Northwest part of the United States, however, we feel fortunate to have fished beautiful waters in the Adirondacks of New York, the Rocky Mountains

My mother grew up on the water. As a little girl, she played at its banks, watched the water change with the seasons and celebrated spring’s return. As she grew, she recognized the animals that depended on the river for food, those that flew overhead, hopped about and that swam in it. She grew stronger swimming in the river’s current like the very fish that she caught and fed her. She was the girl that became the woman who taught her girl Who became the woman who taught her girl to love the wa

Like all anglers I have my bucket list of place to fish. What describes your bucket list? Is it a certain size of fish? Is it a species? Is it a destination? For me the bucket list focuses more on destination and type of fish than the size of fish. I am always interested in catching a new species in new waters. In 2008, unbeknownst to me, I happened to stumble upon a perfect bucket list destination. Two new species: West Slope Cutthroat and Bull Trout. I discovered these two species were fou

Hi. My name is Isabella, but everyone calls me Bula. I’m seven years old and completely in love with fly fishing! I started with short walks with my mommy and daddy looking at the water. I love water and swimming. The best part about it was seeing all the really cool stuff in nature, deer, turkeys, beautiful trees, flowers and Brook Trout on our many trail walks. I’ll never forget the first time I saw my daddy casting and placing a caddis dry fly on the water, at the right spot and saying to

Thinking outside the box can come naturally to anyone. You have to allow yourself to come up with many ridiculous notions to let the scintillating schemes come forward. The trick is to recognize the ridiculous from the possible. One fall day, many moons ago, I brushed by some milkweed plants ripe-n-ready to dispense seed on the trail to my favorite section of wild brook trout waters in the White Mountains of NH, the Wildcat River. I was so eager to see those fiery bellies of the males in ful