Every angler has his or her favorite knot.
Lakeport's Derek Thorn continued on his Rocky Mountain high, as he cruised to a convincing win in the NASCAR K&N Pro Series West Toyota/NAPA Auto Parts 150 at Colorado National Speedway last Saturday night.
If I were to attach a word to this summer it would be "context," though, really all summers are about context.
Several years ago, while fishing with a newcomer to the sport, he hooked a striped bass and brought it into the boat.
The true mark of a relaxed mind is losing track of the days.
Last Wednesday I awoke and saw two of my Tucson buddies casting into the river in the semi-bright pre-dawn light.
Bruce Bochy wasn't willing to go with the small sampling size and make Yasiel Puig an All-Star, though he might have been tempted to change his mind after watching the rookie sensation do a little bit of everything in helping the Dodgers to a win Sunday in San Francisco.
Last night I was sent to the store to pick up some items that we needed at home. Out of the 10 items I purchased, I ended up finding four of them once I started to put my newly-purchased items away.
The Los Angeles Lakers want Dwight Howard so badly they put up billboards urging him to stay in town, then got Kobe Bryant and Steve Nash to get on bended knee before him.
When planning an Alaska itinerary for college friends, it is important to consider things like safety.
Coming home from a camping trip is never easy.
The first time I fished with Rob Jackson was close to a decade ago.
When working out an itinerary for mom's retirement trip to Fairbanks and surrounding areas, I had to fit in a float on the Chena River for Arctic grayling. Naturally, a very late ice break up and torrential rains had the Chena swollen to the point the guide called to say the float was in serious jeopardy. I had never fished the area I had no clue what I'd do if the float didn't happen. If the Chena was blown out, then everything else might be unfishable too.
Five years ago I purchased a 75-gallon fish tank from someone selling it on Craigslist.
Editor's note: Only a portion of Lund's column ran in Wednesday's Bulletin. Here it is in its entirety.
I first became addicted to archeology in the summer of 1948. I was a youngster camping along the headwaters of the Mokelumne River with my parents. One morning I knelt down to clear away some rocks on the ground so that I could play marbles, when one of the rocks caught my eye. Upon closer examination, I discovered that my "rock" was really an Indian arrowhead made of shiny black obsidian! I was hooked on archeology from that point on. Collecting arrowheads became a family obsession. We eventually assembled a pretty significant collection of artifacts in our Indian Room.
Like a lot of those reading this, I used to take every fish home to be cooked up for dinner. After a while, I got tired of having to clean fish after a long day of fishing so I just threw them back. Once I started tournament fishing, I'd always throw them back in hopes of catching them again during a tournament.
We anglers are a fortunate bunch. We belong to a brotherhood and sisterhood of helpful gregarious souls who are almost always willing to chat with a stranger and share local fishing information. The past week, I've found myself out in Salt Lake City, accompanying my wife at a genealogy conference. Usually my trips to the Salt Lake area are in warmer weather without snow on the ground. On an ordinary trip, I'll end up fishing the either Provo River or the Green River for a couple days, but this trip I figured it would be too cold and ...