My cast is horrible (due to the wet sock tied to the end of the line), a slow sinking fly line, and the heaviest fly rod I have yet to handle. After an hour my shoulder feels like jelly on burnt toast.

Photo: Copi Vojta

Bears, bugs, wind storms, clients from hell, back and olfactory-breaking (latrine cleaning) labor, infrequent fishing revelations (as it should be), and a healthy mix of well-written yarns all recounted with copious detail and a refreshing honesty.

Pick any pattern you like, or ask the boys at the shop, then tie it bigger. Like rusty spinners four or five inches long. The best time of the year is now until the hatches taper.

This vintage film from the IGFA Museum's library was reproduced by Costa Del Mar in partnership with the IGFA. The idea was to remind people how great fishing stories were in yesteryear, before equipment and technique formats became so prevalent in outdoor shows.

We posted some beautiful bluegill and bass ...

After a long winter of standing in horizontal snow and breaking ice out of guides, this time of year calls for a blue water or muddy water trip. I'm a fan of the muddy water.  Thanks to Thomas Clennon and the first carp of the season on a dry fly, Highway 17, and rubber legs.

I just wrote a twenty-minute rant about crawdad traps, bluegills, and massive bass on Copi’s and my last outing, then lost it all. This is not uncommon at the World Headquarters, where, as you know, we play it fast and loose.