Ten ways we think about the sport.
Fly-fishing’s zeitgeist has always been molded by teachers and dreamers, a community of like-minded travelers. The journey is shared, and we’re invested in passing along the knowledge we’ve accumulated.
The rugged and awe-inspiring Rocky Mountains are our backyard. Our business ethos will be grounded in equal parts history, reverence and stewardship of this one-of-a-kind resource. That doesn’t mean we’ll ignore our Midwestern roots, striper fishing on the east coast or redfishing in Louisiana, but it does mean this is home.
Pick up some garbage on the river, donate to a conservation organization, support public lands, keep your fish wet, educate yourself about where your water comes from and how it’s protected. It doesn’t really matter what you believe, as long as your concern equals action. The only way to protect these beautiful places we like to inhabit is by fighting for them.
At its core, the sport of fly fishing is grounded in the notion of nearly endless iterative exploration, and every angler is the author of their own story. Yes, taking cues from experts is a proven method to speed up your learning curve, but at some point, you’ll start tying your own flies, marking maps to avoid the crowds and jumping on planes to see what’s around the bend. Every journey winds its unique path through the woods, limited only by time, commitment and imagination.
Hotter summers, lower water and more fishermen have turned the lazy summer float into a five-alarm circus. Does catching fish still matter? Of course, but today, a longer-term focus should prioritize sustainable experiences: resting runs, avoiding the heat of the day, spreading clients out, keeping fish in the water, less trips, not more.
In 1936, Henry (Lee) Wulff, the Catskill writer and conservationist, penned the now famous line, “Game fish are too valuable to be caught only once.” At the time, he was thinking about his beloved Atlantic salmon from Newfoundland and Nova Scotia, but he might as well have been talking about every anadromous, pelagic and salmonid species in 2024. The planet is home to eight billion people, and if everyone went out today and kept a fish, there wouldn’t be any left for tomorrow. Let’s take care of the resources we have, and there’s no reason to think our sport can’t grow and flourish.
Kea Hause, the iconic fly-fishing mensa from Colorado’s Roaring Fork Valley, once said about being a guide, “The public waters you fish are a privilege, not a right, and plain old respect goes a long way.” As our resources contract, it’s important to find ways to work together.
Fly fishing is a sport rooted in exploration, innovation and creativity. Our media brand will reflect this adventurous spirit.
Fly fishing has always fostered a deeply optimistic and innovative mindset. The kinds of people who view every challenge as an opportunity. And while some may opine about the golden days, how good it used to be, we think fly fishing’s best era is ahead.
Stripping squid flies on the Vineyard rip at dawn, watching the bear dogs run off another grizzly in eastern Russia, long afternoons floating the Alberta plateaus, and when you least expect, a large brown pokes his snout above the surface to inhale a well-placed terrestrial. Like you, we’re a brand that thinks about grabbing the dogs, loading the truck and getting lost. Does the right equipment matter? Sure, but our experiences will ultimately define a lifetime perspective.