There’s just something about wading into a cold stream with a fly rod. After many years away, I’d almost forgotten the feeling. Last spring, however, I started reading Vermont River by W. D. Wetherell. It’s a memoir about fly-fishing, a kind of love story about a year in the life of a devout fishermen. It was just the sort of book to rekindle my pursuit of trout waters. And about this time last year, I bought myself a new pair of waders.
Continue reading “Some New Waders and a Stringer Full of Fish Books”