Greg Thomas

It’s still fall, and winter is on its way, but it won’t be too long (just a few months) before Montana’s first significant hatches begin. Fortuitously, some of the state’s best early season dry-fly fishing occurs in the far western portion of the state, in and around Missoula, a trout addicted town surrounded by five blue-ribbon rivers and what...

With the first winter storms barrelling across the country, it may seem early to consider your next trip to The Great Land. However, to secure a spot during Alaska’s 2024 season, especially if you want to chase those big rainbows on surface patterns, now is the time to plan. There’s good reason to do so. During Bristol Bay’s early season, meaning June...

There are a few things I distinctly remember from a trip to Washington State’s Grande Ronde River, foremost a fellow fly-fishing writer accidentally slinging a nasty string of split-shot right into my face. I covered my forehead with a hand, then took it away. Hand, covered in blood with big drips painting the bottom of the drift boat. “Are you ok?...

I know a woman who caught five permit the first day she fly-fished the salt. Another asked me what to do in Belize and returned to Montana, just days later, packing photos of herself with a 40-pounder. But those stories aren’t the norm. I’ve watched a man purse his lips, shake his head and say, “Uh, permit! Don’t get me started. Fished them for...

When you live in the Northern Rockies, you put up with cold temperatures and inclement weather for half the year. That dedication earns you a five or six month window of pure bliss between May and the end of October. To leave the Northern Rockies during that timeframe, when hiking and biking and fishing and camping and hunting are the things to do...

Washington state’s Upper Columbia River landed on the fly-fishing landscape a couple decades ago, and the first man on the spot was Jack Mitchell. Mitchell is well established in the Evergreen State, having built his empire on the Yakima River and other locales including the Klickitat River and the Olympic Peninsula. But he’s never been one to stand...

I was nine hours into the drive before I realized that Cline River isn’t actually a town and, instead, is a simple outpost in the Alberta wilderness. There’s a motel, a campground, some old-school gasoline pumps, a small convenience store, a restaurant...  and nothing else. The restaurant was key because I wanted to get something good for a birthday...