Richard Donnelly

I went fishing last spring with no intention of catching fish. I just wanted to see Gilbert Creek. Immense spring rains, six inches in one night alone, scoured and scored the valley, overturning trees, collapsing banks, burying springs. My cherished brook trout stream had become a wasteland of sandbars and mud. When I saw the creek I said one word. Perfect...

I have friends planning a two-week fly fishing trip to Alaska. This is a dream destination, of course. A sort of Shangri-La for the angler featuring huge fish, wild country, and endless water. They asked if I wanted to join them. I declined. I said I was busy. I didn't admit the whole idea wore me out. The list-making, the plane tickets to Anchorage. The...

On the first of January winter fly fishing opens in Minnesota. I broke out the waders and retrieved fly rods, carefully stored. I checked line and tied new tippets. I screwed studs into soles, found gloves and hats, gassed the truck, and charged my phone. Then I took a nap. I was tired. Plus, it was ten degrees below zero. Have you stood in a creek in that...

The other day I sat on my porch cleaning fly line. There is not enough time to do these things. If the day is sunny and wind-free, you want to be on the water. If there are thunderstorms, your spouse expects you to stay inside working on your 110 year old house. Does a 110 year old house need work? Yes, about 110 years’ worth. Neglecting to clean line is...

For some reason people think I catch fish. A fly rod is always in my pickup. I wear fisherman’s polarized glasses, rain or shine. I have a cap with a huge Royal Wulff stuck in it, and maybe this is the giveaway. People think I’m a real pro. The fact is I can’t get that sucker out, no way. No one ever sees me with fish. That doesn’t stop Lance from...

For a quarter mile West London Creek flows through a campground with trimmed lawns, a swimming pond, swing sets, fire rings, and picnic tables. The local Trout Unlimited chapter has been busy, removing beaver dams and downed trees. The water runs clear and deep and tumbles through well-placed, rocky chutes. It looks like a trout creek ought to look, but...

Side by side, we fished the spring Baetis hatch on Minnesota's Whitewater River, one of the great Midwest trout streams. Not liking something, Eddie paused to check his tippet. He clipped off a fly and shortened the line, then opened a fly box. He had caught six trout. I caught none. I looked over his shoulder the way a man reads another man’s newspaper...

I am a fly angler, and like a lot of sportspeople (and what are we if not sporting) I will find, pick up, and throw away the occasional plastic bottle. Or aluminum can. Or rusting Honda 125 motorcycle gas tank. How some of this gets in the river I do not know. I do this for myself as much as others. Fly fishing is done in beautiful places, and it represents...

The other day two kids walked by the porch with cane poles and a two-pound goldfish. You heard right. Someone threw a mess of goldfish into Lake Pepin where they mixed with carp. Birds of a feather, as they say. Or fish of a fin, in this case. With nothing to limit growth the fish just got bigger and bigger. One boy carried the goldfish by the mouth. It was...

As I age, a disturbing fact is emerging: I take more chances. Why? I want to catch bigger trout. Bigger trout live in nasty, unpredictable places. They hide under ledges, in deep holes, behind boulders in fast moving water, or at the base of old dams choked with submerged branches and swirling with undertows. Big trouble. And big trouble means big fish. I...