A TLANTA, YOU NEED TO UNDERSTAND, is not a particularly good fishing town. We have a striped bass run, as well as some nearby mountain fisheries for brook trout, but on the whole, it’s tough being a flyfisher in the Dirty South. When I moved to the city a decade …

T HE INSIDE OF my Buff smells like socks. Five days into a Mexican flats fishing trip, with only the local graywater to wash clothes in, things start getting a little funky.  You notice stuff like this during your seventh hour of standing on a flats boat, like a statue, musing over …

As told on Arkansas’ White River. (This story originally ran in the Winter 2013/2014 issue of The Drake). TAKE A MINUTE to consider your fishing net.  A stick, a hoop, some braided line or rubber bagging–tossed in the car, carried around as luggage, rarely admired or even thought about.  A net …