Fly fishing, travel, conservation, culture
Chris Hunt is a former award-winning newspaper journalist who now writes about fly fishing, travel, conservation and culture for numerous outlets. He's been recognized for his work by the Outdoor Writers Association of America, the Associated Press, the Society of Professional Journalists and the Idaho Press Club. He lives in Idaho Falls, Idaho, and blogs daily for Trout Unlimited. His work has appeared in Field & Stream, the New York Times, Hatch Magazine, The Fly Fish Journal, TROUT and numerous other publications.
It went something like this...
"There was a barbecue somewhere in Port Isabel over the weekend, and the folks sitting around drinking Shiner had quite the story to tell while the pig finished up in the pit. It was the kind of barbecue I would have loved—sunshine, great weather, good people … some great food and beer. Just good friends enjoying one of those patented South Texas winter days before the throngs of tourists and spring breakers show up and generally throw everything into chaos. I'm guessing it went something like this..."
Don't put your fingers in the lake ...
Henry squeezed my son’s shoulder and looked the boy in the eyes. His expression sobered. “When we get to Kudeniuk,” he said, “don’t put your fingers in the lake. I don’t even wash my hands in it.” Henry’s expression never broke. Cameron started to laugh, assuming the guide was pulling his chain. But Henry slowly shook his head. “They come out of nowhere,” Henry said. “One minute, there’s nothing. The next, they’re grabbing your hand. I’m not kidding.”
Don't make a sound...
"Cast," Fabian said to me. "Quickly. Cast." I loaded the 8-weight with one back cast, threw in the haul and sent the Gotcha flying about 80 feet. The fly landed just at the nose of the big bone, and I let it sink, immensely satisfied with my effort. "Okay. Strip," Fabian said. And then silence. I looked down at the little man -- a good 16 inches shorter than me -- who now had put his hands around the edges of his glasses. "Wait," he said. "It is a stick." I had delivered the best cast of my life to a stick. We laughed. A lot.
Not all dream trips go as planned ...
Sweat was beading up on my forehead as I tussled with the shoulder straps of my waders. Then the zipper. Then the goddamned wading belt. I uttered every iteration of the mother of all swear words, beginning it with the usual prefixes and ending it with all sorts of creative suffixes as I hurried to de-wader on the banks of Chile's pastoral Palena River. I groaned in agony. My gut seized. As emergencies go, this was about as urgent as it gets on the river without life and limb at stake.
"Son of a ..." I swore. The waders finally fell to my ankles and I hurriedly dropped over the log.
Mosquitoes like this tug at the loose strings of your soul
That’s when they came. They’d show up out of nowhere like a squadron of Messerschmitts suddenly appearing over London. One second, you’re in the free. The next, they’re buzzing around your face, biting you through your fishing pants. They’d crawl up inside the hood of your rain jacket that you’d pulled tight to keep the little bastards out. They’d buzz around your ears, making you dance and dart. Imagine four anglers waiting for a canoe ride at the end of a portage, jumping around and swatting themselves in some twisted Northwoods version of the Funky Chicken. These Canadian mosquitoes were ruthless. “There must be 50 of them on your back,” my fishing buddy Mark Taylor said to me as we got in the boat at the end of an amazing day of fishing.
“Well, for the love God, get them off!”
Fly fishing Alaska's Dalton Highway
Was it worth it? Was it worth the price of a camper, the expense of 10-ply tires and tucking myself into an RV shower on a daily basis? Was it worth the road time, the viewscape often received through the windows of an SUV as I hustled to get from one spot to the next? Was it worth the cost of Canadian gasoline, fries served with gravy and dragging a summer’s worth of belongings through mud, over rocks and through rain, sleet, snow and midnight sunshine? You’re God-damned right it was.
Fly-fishing has its sacred waters the world over. Yellowstone National Park claims some of the craft’s most storied destinations. Casting in the Firehole River is like going back in time to when bison roamed nearly every meadow in the West. Restored to their natal streams after near extinction, native Arctic grayling can once again be plucked from icy water at the foot of breathtaking waterfalls. Meanwhile, a daylong hike into true wild country rewards an angler with a chance to catch trophy native cutthroat trout on a lonely mountain lake. Local journalist and experienced angler Chris Hunt crafts both a guide and homage to Yellowstone’s iconic and wild trout.
Idaho's clear flowing rivers are world famous for fly fishing, but finding that elusive perfect spot to land a trophy in the vast wilderness requires a lot of time and knowledge. Fortunately, writer, angler and conservationist Chris Hunt has traveled to some of the state's most idyllic areas to find the best fishing the Gem State has to offer. Adventurous anglers can follow his directions off the beaten path to enjoy excellent scenery and even better fishing. Brimming with expert tips and seasonal strategies for each location, this handy guide will find its place in a dry pocket for every successful excursion.
Customer review: "This book is packed with plenty of depth. I'll give you a few examples. First and foremost, Chris repeatedly writes about the importance of protecting the precious creeks and rivers that hold wild trout and other fish. The theme of conservation resonates throughout this book and makes you want to do more to preserve these wild places and finite resources for posterity."
Who works with Chris?
Travel and tourism partners
Chris works with travel and tourism organizations all over North America to achieve high-quality writing, magazine and digital feature packages and shareable online media content. Here are just a few of his trusted travel and tourism partners.