Tribute to a Trout Bum


The world seems a touch emptier, the campfire's glow a shade dimmer. But the waters whisper his stories still. The riffle’s songs carry an echo of his wry observations, each breeze through the willows a reminder that his words live on. The literary current he set in motion will meander through the hearts of those who seek solace in wild places, carving a love for fly fishing into each soul it caresses. With every tight loop, every flawless drift, every rising trout we’ll remember. And with every wade we’ll honor a life lived in tune with the rhythms of water and the poetry of the fly. The river flows on, though, it will never be the same.  

We’ll miss you, John. 

In this week’s edition:

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Image by Dan Favato

IN THE RIFFLES

Image by Bob White

I picked John Gierach and Bob White up from the Salt Lake Airport on a March evening, and I'm certain I did an awful job of containing my excitement.


Through some friends at the Flaming Gorge Chamber of Commerce, I'd arranged to have John and Bob treated to three days of floating the Green River below Flaming Gorge Dam, so long as I wrote a story about the adventure. That night was my first time meeting either of them, but I'd interviewed Bob over the phone for a story a few months before. The only interaction I had with John was a few emails and a phone call the week before the trip that went something like this:


"Hey John, this is Spencer Durrant. So, uh, do you, uh, need anything for the trip?" I asked.


"No, I should be fine," John said.


"I like a lot of emerger patterns this time of year, especially if the blue-wings hatch early like I think they will," I said.


"Yeah, I've got a few emergers," John said.


"Do you think you have enough?"


As soon as I said it I felt my stomach flip. Did I really just ask John freakin' Gierach if he has enough blue-wing emerger patterns? How many of his stories about blue-wings have I read? And how often does he write about fishing the South Platte, for goodness' sake? 


To his credit, John just laughed, said he was set with flies and that he was excited for the trip. I hung up, feeling every bit the fool and hoping I could keep it together when I actually shared a boat with him…


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