Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.
In "No Shortage of Good Days "John Gierach takes readers from the Smokies in Tennessee to his home waters in Colorado, from the Canadian Maritimes to Mexico--saltwater or fresh, it's all fishing and all irresistible. As always he writes perceptively about a wide range of subjects: the charm of familiar waters, the etiquette of working with new fishing guides, night fishing when the trout and the mosquitoes are both biting, and fishing snobbery, a pitfall he seems to have largely avoided: "A friend and I recently realized that making fly-fishing a way of life instead of a hobby has made us a couple of pretty one-dimensional characters. On the other hand, we agreed we're two of the happiest people we know, albeit in a simple-minded sort of way."
Gierach again demonstrates the wit, eloquence, and insight that have become his trademarks. "No Shortage of Good Days "is the next best thing to a day of fishing.

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.
For the first time, two of John Gierach's most popular fishing books are collected in one volume--a double dose of delight for longtime fans or first-time visitors to Gierach country.
As Gierach astutely observes in "Dances with Trout, ""Fly-fishing is solitary, contemplative, misanthropic, scientific in some hands, poetic in others, and laced with conflicting aesthetic considerations. It's not even clear if catching fish is actually the point." This observation might also describe Gierach's writing--catching fish might be the subject, but most of the fun and (mis)adventure comes well before that point. Whether it's fishing close to home waters (Colorado) or farther afield (Alaska, Scotland, Texas); ice-fishing, tournament fishing, or night fishing; fishing for trout, salmon, carp, splake, or grayling; fishing with familiar companions like A.K. Best or the enigmatic "Zen master among fishing guides"; no detail of the fishing life is too insignificant or too absurd for Gierach.
As he writes in "Another Lousy Day in Paradise, ""The real truth about fly-fishing is, it is beautiful beyond description in almost every way, and when a certain kind of person is confronted with a certain kind of beauty, they are either saved or ruined for life, or a little bit of both." So start reading and be saved--or ruined--by Gierach's wonderful insights into the world around us.

If John Gierach is living in a fool's paradise, then it's a paradise that his regular readers will recognize and new fans will delight in discovering. Laced with the inimitable blend of wit and wisdom that have made him fly-fishing's foremost scribe, "Fool's Paradise" chronicles the fishing life in all its glory (catching your biggest fish ever) and squalor (being stranded in a tent during a soaking rainstorm). In Gierach's world, both experiences are valuable, and both evoke humor and insight.

Fishermen everywhere will understand Gierach's quest to discover and explore new waters (and then not to divulge the best locations to anyone), the unlikely appeal of winter fly-fishing ("the ice fishing shanty served the dual purpose of group therapy and the neighborhood tavern"), how impossible it is to predict the best fishing ("Everything that happens is entirely familiar, but I don't always see it coming"), or even the absurdity of the entire exercise ("day after day, you're casting a fly that doesn't look like anything to fish that aren't hungry and may not even be there"). Braving trips on small prop planes and down "Oh-My-God" roads alike, Gierach and his fishing buddies pursue bull trout in British Columbia, steelhead in the Rocky Mountains, and pike so fierce that a wise fisherman wears Kevlar gloves for the obligatory trophy photo.

But as with any activity that depends on unspoiled wilderness, change is constant. Gierach sees this happening both in the landscape ("You never get to point at a meadow full of browsing mule deer and say, 'You know, all this was once condos.'") and at lodges that now require guests to sign liability waivers ("[I] had a brief vision of herds of lawyers coursing over the tundra in search of litigation"). Just the same, he is always awed by the experience of nature, or as he puts it: "You're on a lovely, remote wilderness river in the Alaskan backcountry. There are people who would make this trip and not even bring a fishing rod."

Musing on the enduring appeal of fishing, Gierach theorizes, "We're so used to the fake and the packaged that encountering something real can amount to a borderline religious experience." Equal parts fishing lore, philosophy, and great fish stories, "Fool's Paradise" may not be a perfect substitute for actually being out on the water, but it's surely the next best thing.

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.
Proving that fishing is not just a part-time pursuit, "At the Grave of the Unknown Fisherman" takes us through a year with America's favorite fishing scribe, John Gierach, who dedicates himself to his passion despite his belief that "In the long run, fishing usually amounts to a lifetime of pratfalls punctuated by rare moments of perfection."
Beginning with an early spring expedition to barely thawed Wyoming waters and ending with a New Year's Eve trip to the Frying Pan River in Colorado, Gierach's travels find him fishing for trout, carp, and grayling; considering the pros and cons of learning fishing from videos ("video fishing seems a little like movie sex: fun to watch, but a long way from the real thing"); pondering the ethics of sharing secret spots; and debunking the myth of the unflappable outdoorsman ("masters of stillness on the outside, festering s***holes of uncertainty just under the surface").
With an appreciation of the highs, the lows, and all points between, Gierach writes about the fishing life with wisdom, grace, and the well-timed wisecrack. As he says, "The season never does officially end here, but it ends effectively, which means you can fish if you want to and if you can stand it, but you don't have to." As any Gierach fan knows, want to and have to are never very far apart.

Laced with fishing stories and a guest appearance or two from the inimitable A.K. Best, Gierach's book offers advice on tackle selection, reading water, casting technique, and small-stream scouting. Photos and drawings.

Once an angler masters a graphite rod, his interests often move on to the original fly rod, pliant bamboo. Until the mid-twentieth century, nearly all fly rods were bamboo. By the 1970s, fiberglass and graphite changed the world of fly-fishing. But more and more anglers are seeing bamboo rods in retail outlets, and want to give them a try. With this book, John Gierach, one of the nation's top fly-fishing writers, provides a philosophical guide to the angler who seeks this new "old" method. Gierach discusses how bamboo rods are built, how they differ from graphite rods, and how using one will change a fly fisher's approach to the sport. Fishing bamboo might be the pinnacle of fly-casting skill, and this book will help take you there.

While most of us fly-fish to escape from daily life, for John Gierach and his friends fly-fishing IS a way of life. They are trout bums. But John Gierach is also an exceptional writer. The essays in Trout Bum are reflective, bitingly humorous and enormously wise in the ways of fishing and men. In vivid, unforgettable detail they recount the emotional, spiritual and tangible adventures and pleasures of stalking trout in and around the Rockies -- day in, day out, from season to season, with friends and alone. John Gierach's essays join the literary tradition of angling classics like The River Why, and A River Runs Through It.

Witty, shrewd, and always a joy to read, John Gierach, "America's best fishing writer" (Houston Chronicle) and favorite streamside philosopher, has earned the following of "legions of readers who may not even fish but are drawn to his musings on community, culture, the natural world, and the seasons of life" (Kirkus Reviews). "After five decades, twenty books, and countless columns, [John Gierach] is still a master" (Forbes). Now, in his latest original collection, Gierach shows us why fly-fishing is the perfect antidote to everything that is wrong with the world. "Gierach's deceptively laconic prose masks an accomplished storyteller...His alert and slightly off-kilter observations place him in the general neighborhood of Mark Twain and James Thurber" (Publishers Weekly). In Dumb Luck and the Kindness of Strangers, Gierach looks back to the long-ago day when he bought his first resident fishing license in Colorado, where the fishing season never ends, and just knew he was in the right place. And he succinctly sums up part of the appeal of his sport when he writes that it is "an acquired taste that reintroduces the chaos of uncertainty back into our well-regulated lives." Lifelong fisherman though he is, Gierach can write with self-deprecating humor about his own fishing misadventures, confessing that despite all his experience, he is still capable of blowing a strike by a fish "in the usual amateur way." "Arguably the best fishing writer working" (The Wall Street Journal), Gierach offers witty, trenchant observations not just about fly-fishing itself but also about how one's love of fly-fishing shapes the world that we choose to make for ourselves.

Discover the answer to life’s most pressing problems through the joy of fly-fishing from master philosopher John Gierach, “the dean of fly-fishing” (Kirkus Reviews), who is “arguably the best fishing writer working” (The Wall Street Journal). Once again, John Gierach tells the world why the pastime of fly-fishing makes so much sense—except when it doesn’t. In this “shrewd, perceptive, and wryly funny” (The Wall Street Journal) book, he recalls the joys of landing that trout he’s been watching for the last hour—and then losing an even fatter one a little later. Joy and frustration mix in Gierach’s latest appreciation of the fly-fishing life as he takes us from his home waters on the Front Range of the Rockies in Colorado to the fishing meccas all over North America. From fishing lodges in Alaska to memories of the local creek in the Midwest where he grew up, Gierach celebrates the indispensability of the natural world around us.

Tactics for fishing high country lakes, the conflicting currents of high mountain streams, and the ever-changing waters of beaver ponds Cutthroats, brook trout, goldens, rainbows, grayling The best weather and seasons to fish and the tackle and flies to take into the high country

"The mountains--any mountains--can make you pay for your fishing with time, shoe leather, exertion, and even disappointment. But they usually give back more than they take in terms of solitude and a sense of adventure that you just won't find on more civilized waters." --John Gierach

Fly-fishing in scenic and remote mountain waters is a special kind of fishing, explored in depth by veteran fly fisher John Gierach. Along with "Fly Fishing Small Streams" (0-8117-2290-2), this guide, Gierach's first book, now in print with Stackpole Books, explains how to find the best waters and how to fish them to the best advantage.

From the irrepressible author of Trout Bum and The View from Rat Lake comes an engaging, humorous, often profound examination of life's greatest mysteries: sex, death, and fly-fishing.

John Gierach's quest takes us from his quiet home water (an ordinary, run-of-the-mill trout stream where fly-fishing can be a casual affair) to Utah's famous Green River, and to unknown creeks throughout the Western states and Canada. We're introduced to a lively group of fishing buddies, some local "experts" and even an ex-girlfriend, along the way

Contemplative, evocative, and wry, he shares insights on mayflies and men, fishing and sport, life and love, and the meaning (or meaninglessness) of it all.

John Gierach is a highly trusted and trustable opinion-maker in fly-fishing. People take what he says to the bank. While most of Gierach's writing is essay-style and reflective, here he gets down to the nitty-gritty: how he ties his favorite flies and why he thinks they work so well for him. There is, thus, an instant reader connection: "Gierach's patterns are good enough for me." Few anglers will skip knowing what a master angler and thinker prefers for his fly box. This title covers a gamut of patterns essential to trout fishing in a variety of circumstances: dry flies, wet flies and nymphs, and streamers. Gierach's legion of fans of his regular magazine column will be highly inclined to buy this title.

"After five decades, twenty books, and countless columns, [John Gierach] is still a master," (Forbes) and his newest book only confirms this assessment, along with his recent induction into the Flyfishing Hall of Fame. In A Fly Rod of Your Own, Gierach brings his ever-sharp sense of humor and keen eye for observation to the fishing life and, for that matter, life in general. Known for his witty, trenchant observations about fly-fishing, Gierach's "deceptively laconic prose masks an accomplished storyteller...his alert and slightly off-kilter observations place him in the general neighborhood of Mark Twain and James Thurber" (Publishers Weekly). A Fly Rod of Your Own transports readers to streams and rivers from Maine to Montana, and as always, Gierach's fishing trips become the inspiration for his pointed observations on everything from the psychology of fishing ("Fishing is still an oddly passive-aggressive business that depends on the prey being the aggressor"); why even the most veteran fisherman will muff his cast whenever he's being filmed or photographed; the inevitable accumulation of more gear than one could ever need ("Nature abhors an empty pocket. So does the tackle industry"); or the qualities shared by the best guides ("the generosity of a teacher, the craftiness of a psychiatrist, and the enthusiasm of a cheerleader with a kind of Vulcan detachment"). As Gierach likes to say, "fly-fishing is a continuous process that you learn to love for its own sake. Those who fish already get it, and those who don't couldn't care less, so don't waste your breath on someone who doesn't fish." A Fly Rod of Your Own is an ode to those who fish that "brings a skeptical, wry voice to the peril and promise of twenty-first-century fishing" (Booklist).

"Trout Bum" is a fresh, contemporary look at fly fishing, and the way of life that grows out of a passion for it. The people, the places, and the accoutrements that surround the sport make a fishing trip more than a set of tactics and techniques. John Gierach, a serious fisherman with a wry sense of humor, show us just how much more with his fishing stories and a unique look at the fly-fishing lifestyle.
"Trout Bum" is really about why people fish as much as it is about how they fish, and it is ultimately about enduring values and about living in a harmony with our environment. Few books have had the impact on an entire generation that "Trout Bum" has had on the fly-fishing world. The wit, warmth, and the easy familiarity that John Gierach brings to us in "Trout Bum" is as fresh and engaging now was when it was first published twenty-five years ago. There's no telling how many anglers have quit their jobs and headed west after reading the first edition of this classic collection of fly-fishing essays.

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.
In "Still Life with Brook Trout, " John Gierach demonstrates once again that fishing, when done right, is as much a philosophical pursuit as a sport.
Gierach travels to Wyoming and Maine and points in between, searching out new fly-fishing adventures and savoring familiar waters with old friends. Along the way he meditates on the importance of good guides ("Really, the only thing a psychiatrist can do that a good guide can't is write prescriptions"), the challenge of salmon fishing ("Salmon prowl. If they're not here now, they could be here in half an hour. Or tomorrow. Or next month"), and the zen of fishing alone ("I also enjoy where my mind goes when I'm fishing alone, which is usually nowhere in particular and by a predictable route"). On a more serious note, he ponders the damaging effects of disasters both natural and man-made: drought, wildfires, and the politics of dam-building, among others.
Reflecting on a trip to a small creek near his home, Gierach writes, "In my brightest moments, I think slowing down...has opened huge new vistas on my old home water. It's like a friendship that not only lasts, but gets better against the odds." Similarly, "Still Life with Brook Trout" proves that Gierach, like fly-fishing itself, becomes deeper and richer with time.

With the wry humor and wit that have become his trademark, John Gierach writes about his travels in search of good fishing and even better fish stories. In this new collection of essays on fishing -- and hunting -- Gierach discusses fishing for trout in Alaska, for salmon in Scotland and for almost anything in Texas. He offers his perceptive observations on the subject of ice-fishing, getting lost, fishing at night, tournaments and the fine art of tying flies. Gierach also shares his hunting technique, which involves reading a good book and looking up occasionally to see if any deer have wandered by.

Always entertaining, often irreverent and illuminating, Gierach invites readers into his enviable way of life, and effortlessly sweeps them along.

Brilliant, witty, perceptive essays about fly-fishing, the natural world, and life in general by the acknowledged master of fishing writers.
"Once an angler has become serious about the sport (and 'serious' is the word that's used), he'll never again have enough tackle or enough time to use it. And his nonangling friends and family may never again entirely recognize him, either." In other words, he (or she) will have entered Gierach territory. And fishermen who choose to brave the crowds at the big hold, commune with the buddies at the "family pool," or even wade into questionable waters in the dark of night are sure to recognize themselves in "Even Brook Trout Get the Blues."
Whether debating bamboo versus graphite rods, describing the pleasure of fishing in pocket waters or during a spring snow in the mountains, or recounting a trip in pursuit of the "fascinatingly ugly" longnose gar, Gierach understands that fly-fishing is more than a sport. It's a way of life in which patience is (mostly) rewarded, the rhythms of the natural world are appreciated, and the search for the perfect rod or ideal stream is never ending. It is not a life without risks, for as Gierach warns: "This perspective on things can change you irreparably. If it comes to you early enough in life, it can save you from ever becoming what they call 'normal.'" "Even Brook Trout Get the Blues" will convince you that "normal" is greatly overrated.

Fly-fishing's finest scribe, John Gierach, takes us from a nameless stream on a nameless ranch in Montana to a secret pool off a secret creek where he caught a catfish as a five-year-old, to a brook full of rattlesnakes and a private pond where the trout are all as long as your leg. As Gierach says, "The secret places are the soul of fishing." Hearing about a new one never fails to entice us.

And so Where the Trout Are All as Long as Your Leg transports the reader to the best of these places, where the fish are always bigger and the hatches last forever. After all, it's these magical places that Gierach so vividly evokes that remind us how precious -- and precarious -- are the unspoiled havens of the natural world.

"In the world of fishing there are magic phrases that are guaranteed to summon the demon. Among them are: 'remote trout lake,' 'fish up to 13 pounds,' 'the place the guides fish on their days off,'" writes John Gierach in this wonderful collection of thirteen essays inspired by a fishing trip to Rat Lake, a remote body of water in Montana. Once again John Gierach does what he does best -- explain the peculiarities of the fishing life in a way that will amuse novices and seasoned fly fishers alike. The View from Rat Lake deftly examines man in nature and nature in man, the pleasures of fishing the high country, and the high and low comedy that occasionally overcomes even the best-planned fishing trip.

Some typically sage observations from The View from Rat Lake:
"One of the things we truly fish for [is] an occasion for self-congratulation."
"In every catch-and-release fisherman's past there is an old black frying pan."
"We...believe that a 12-inch trout caught on a dry fly is four inches longer than a 12-inch trout caught on a nymph or streamer."

C. D. Clarke says he was born to paint and fish and hunt, and he’s done just that over his lifetime, capturing memorable times on the water and in the field on canvas and finessing that passion and pastime into a laudable career. This magnificent book of his work features 200 paintings, tableaus of color, light, motion, and possibility, created over the course of forty years fishing and hunting in the world’s most coveted destinations. Clarke prefers to work en plein air, and on site he fills sketchbooks with scenes that inspire the oils and watercolors he later refines in his New Jersey Highlands studio. At an early age Clarke discovered the work of the wildlife artists Ogden Pleissner, Chet Reneson, Thomas Aquinas Daly, and John Swan, and they influenced his style. Clarke’s work is featured in galleries and museums nationwide and he exhibits at the most prestigious wildlife art shows and festivals. He is regularly featured in the top wildlife and sporting publications.

With wry humor and rare insight, The Habit of Rivers tells the story of Leeson's passion for rivers, trout, and fly fishing, and his experiences as a newcomer to the Pacific Northwest - "the land of unceasing seasons." Leeson looks beneath the surface of fly fishing to explore questions that engage most fishermen: What is the strange gravity of a trout stream? Why are we so irresistibly drawn to rivers? Why does fly fishing seem such an aptly suited response? Above all, The Habit of Rivers is a book about ways of seeing the wonderfully textured world that emanates from a river. In pursuing these paths, Leeson finds everything from salmon, steelhead, and trout, to drift boats, art, insects, gravity, death, philosophy, books, fly tying, and microbreweries - and links them together with an intelligence that is provocative, witty, and illuminating. The Habit of Rivers begins with a deep respect for trout and trout streams, and ends in wisdom earned by hard and faithful attention to the natural world.