Leaving The Picket Line
Like remnant pickets, vestiges of an old farmhouse fence, fly fishers line up along the Gastineau Channel shoreline. Their fly…
Category
Walking Alone
Category
Walking Alone
Walking Alone, With Brownies
On either side of the trail through the woods, in shaded pockets in the folds of the open mountainside, and…
A Whale By Any Other Name
Two miles in front of our little skiff, near the south end of Shelter Island, a blast of water erupts…
What Would Phil Connor Do?
It is the first day of July, 2020, but like every other day this summer, the date didn’t matter much…
Walking Alone on Ascension Day
Sitting alone on a trailside bench, I look up at Bullard Mountain. The peak, haloed by dense white cloud, reminds…
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