Issuu

H2O Magazine-trimestrale di pesca, turismo e tempo libero. Tariffa R.O.C.: Poste Italiane spa - Spedizione in abbonamento postale - D.L. 353/2003 (conv.in L. 27/02/2004 n° 46) art.1, comma 1, CN/BO In caso di mancato recapito inviare al CPO di Bologna per la restituzione al mittente previo pagamento resi. Contiene I.P..

COWBOYS, HORSES AND YELLOWSTONE CUTTHROAT / DISCOVERING FISHING IN THE SUSA VALLEY / LAND OF FISHING XCALAK FISHING / ART IN FISHING: YUSEI NAGASHIMA / SHE TIES FLIES: ARTISTRY MEETS ANGLING / A FLY FISHING JOURNEY IN MONGOLIA / THE HISTORY OF WADERS / ST. BRANDON – WHERE DREAMS COME TRUE

H2O year I • number 1 • WINTER 2025 Director Responsable Sara Ballotta Director Editorial Jess McGlothlin GIORGIO CAVATORTI Editorial board Giorgio Cavatorti Via Verdi, 30 42027 Montecchio Emilia (RE) COVER PHOTO: Jess McGlothlin collaborators on this issue: Javier Peña, Barry Langley, Bob Mole, YUSEI NAGASHIMA, Erin Hyde, Alex Burnett, RASMUS OVESEN, Anders Ovesen, Ricardo De Stabile, Alberto Zanghieri Art Director AND GRAPHICS: OMAR GADE, VALENTINA SCARABELLI, ANGLINGCONSULTING.ONE Press: Tipografia Bona Digital Print, Torino Editorial Photographer: Alessandro Seletti, ALBERTO ZANGHIERI Social Media Manager: Fulvio Oliva Translators: Rossella Catellani, Elisabetta Longhi Authorization of the Court of Bologna No. 8157 of 01/02/2011 Poste Italiane S.p.A. – Subscription Postal Delivery – 70% – ROC authorization No. 20825 of 10/03/2011 – DCB Bologna Single copy: €14.00 - Back issue: €14.00 Copyright © 2008. All rights reserved. Reproduction, even in part, is prohibited without prior authorization from the Editorial Office. Unsolicited photographs and manuscripts will not be returned. For any information regarding the trips featured in the magazine, please contact the Editorial Office: INFO@h2oflyfishing.com info@cavatortigiorgio.it

Editor note

Jess

elcome to the winter issue of H20 Magazine, your globally-growing source for hosted travel, high-quality fishing photography, and travel tales. I’m excited to be working with the team as the USA Editorial Director, and to be joining the international anglers which are part of this community. With more than 16 years experience working in the fly industry in the U.S. and around the globe, including managing lodges in Russia and Belize, it’s a pleasure to strengthen ties with the European community. In this issue you can find features on some of the world’s best fly-fishing destinations, as well as our event and trade show calendar. If you see the H20 team at an event, be sure to stop by and pick up our Best Lodges 2026 catalog, so you can start dreaming of your next fishing destination. Every issue is crafted to both inspire and educate, as well as support our industry partners. Welcome to the winter issue—and I hope to see you on the water at one of our favorite destinations sometime soon! Jess McGlothlin, Editorial Director, H2O Magazine

Giorgio

20 Magazine officially lands in the United States, joining its well-established European editions, with an exceptional leader at the helm: Jess McGloghin, editor and seasoned traveler with extensive experience in the world’s top fishing destinations. With her international background—from Caribbean flats to Amazonian rivers and the most iconic lodges in North America—Jess brings to H20 Magazine USA an authentic and expert perspective, telling the story of fishing as travel, exploration, and conservation. Under her direction, the magazine will deliver exclusive reports from the best global fishing locations, guidance for planning tailor-made fishing trips, and stories that combine adventure with environmental stewardship. With this new launch, H20 Magazine USA expands the brand’s family alongside its European editions, becoming a key reference for those who see fishing as a way to discover the world. Welcome aboard this new adventure!

let's keep in touch: www.h2oflyfishing.com info@h2oflyfishing.com • info@cavatortigiorgio.it

Contents

DISCOVERING FISHING IN THE SUSA VALLEY

Land of fishing LEGENDS

Xcalak Fishing

ART IN FISHING: YUSEI NAGASHIMA

SHE TIES FLIES: ARTISTRY MEETS ANGLING

A FLY FISHING JOURNEY IN MONGOLIA

THE HISTORY OF WADERS

ST. BRANDON – WHERE DREAMS COME TRUE

Venture into an Alpine valley where crystal-clear rivers, wild trout, and breathtaking...

If you're a passionate angler or simply someone who appreciates the art of fly...

Fly fishing is more than just a sport-it’s an art, a craft, and for some, a way of life...

One of the greatest innovations in fly fishing has been the advent of waders...

COWBOYS, HORSES AND YELLOWSTONE CUTTHROAT

Cameron Mayo patiently rigs the panniers on an ornerylooking...

It was the mid-eighties. I was dating this blue-eyed beauty who accompanied me on...

Is a contemporary Japanese watercolor artist who has mastered the delicate art of...

Dreaming of witnessing some of the most remote and pristine rivers on the planet...

Imagine yourself at the edge of the world, where the ocean is painted in shades of...

COWBOYS, HORSES and Yellowstone Cutthroat

Jess McGlothlin

These are old mountains; home to history and myth, and it’s easy to let one’s imagination run wild while the gentle one-two sway of a long-striding horse moves beneath.

ameron Mayo patiently rigs the panniers on an ornery-looking buckskin pack mule, dust kicking up around his feet under the heat of a summer day. It’s nearing noon and the sun is high, temperatures pushing into the high 80s, and the air is heavy with the signature scent of horses, dust, and sweat. It’s the scent of a Montana summer. For Cameron, this is a normal day at work. When he’s not leading groups of anglers of

hunters into the backcountry of southern Montana, he’s working the family ranch near Big Timber, Montana. Big Timber isn’t much; the county seat of Sweet Grass County boasts less than 2,000 residents, most of whom are in the ranching or agricultural industries. It’s the quintessential Western town; the main drag is a combination of bars, cafes, feed stores, and gas stations, designed to offer everything needed for life on a working ranch—and not much more. During the warm summer months, Cameron

and his wife Lonny spend many of their days in the high country of the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness, one of the wildest swaths of land remaining in Montana. Just to the south of the wilderness lies Yellowstone National Park in all its summer-tourism glory, but in in the backcountry where Cameron and Lonny make their second home, it’s easy to imagine the “bison jams” and tourist buses crowding the roads in the park don’t even exist. Just north of the remote reaches of America’s first national park, the vast Absaroka-Beartooth

Wilderness is a land where lush green plateaus give way to craggy granite spires; where bears still roam freely and it’s easy to imagine oneself a century in the past. Among the mountains dotting the wilderness is Montana’s tallest peak, Granite Peak, reaching nearly 13,000 feet into the famed Montana Big Sky. Rivers trickle, animals range freely and native Yellowstone cutthroat trout thrive in the rivers. It’s paradise, seemingly untouched save for the small outpost of Bull Moose Camp, where Lonny and Cameron base their summertime operations.

Scenes like this, however, don’t come easily. The day-long ride into Bull Moose Camp is not for the faint-hearted; riders canvas miles of Big Sky Country, climbing sharply uphill to cross over the Great Divide at Hellroaring Divide before dropping into bowl-like valleys that make it easy to imagine glaciers occupying thousands of years ago. These are old mountains; home to history and myth, and it’s easy to let one’s imagination run wild while the gentle one-two sway of a long-striding horse moves beneath. Descend further and the scene takes on the qualities of a Zane Grey

novel; broad, sweeping meadows nestle in the valleys, lined by trees burned 31 years ago in the great Yellowstone fires of 1988. The land has recovered remarkably, but the burned trees remain, sentinels serving as a reminder of the harshness of this landscape. A congregation of wall tents becomes visible in the midst of a stand of tall pines. This is Bull Moose camp, situated strategically at the confluence of the three forks of Hellroaring Creek—the same Hellroaring that meanders into Yellowstone National Park a mere eight

miles south and eventually feeds into the mighty Yellowstone River. There are no moose in Bull Moose camp. They were chased out by wolves and have been absent four years. There are, however, plenty of fish in the nearby creek, which is of more

interest to those riding into the camp during the dusty summer months. A fishing session in the creek can easily turn into an impromptu bath after the long ride, and soon life succumbs to the rhythm of the camp. Eat, hike, ride, fish, sleep, talk by the fire… things are simple here. Things are good.

The camp is ruled by Pat, the steadfast camp cook. Charged with providing three hearty meals a day for both guests and wranglers, Pat leverages ingenuity developed in many years of travel into ensuring life runs as smoothly as possible at Bull Moose. Her nonsense tolerance is low, and I make a

point to spend a bit of time with Pat my first morning in camp. In the early mornings, the sun not yet peeking over the mountains and the air frosty, Pat rules Bull Moose. The camp cook is 70 but looks 15 years younger, with the gravelly voice of a lifelong smoker. The temp hovers near 30F,

but she's making cowboy coffee and prepping breakfast in a battered tank top, seemingly impervious to the cold. We hunker in front of the fire, coffee in hand, watching the sun finally climb over the horizon and begin to warm the tents. Talk moves meanderingly as we both feel each other out. She’s the eldest of 12;

I’m the eldest of two. We both are ambitious (perhaps overly-so) world travelers and share an appreciation for the remote corners of the world. Things are gloriously companionable and quiet; then camp begins to wake up. After all, the sun is rising, eggs are ready to be cooked

and the heavy smell of cowboy coffee and woodsmoke hangs in the air. It’s a new day, and in the backcountry there’s no shortage of ways to fill it. I grab the camera and join Patrick and Jacob, two of the wranglers, as they bring the horses in. The simple morning activity is a glorious cacophony of whinnying horses, spraying dew, golden morning sunlight, and dusty air. There are more than twenty horses and mules in camp with us; allowed to range in the nearby meadow at night and brought into camp each morning for the day’s work. It’s a good living for any equine, as the shimmering coats and healthy physiques of these mounts prove. Today, the horses’ job is simple: ferry a handful of anglers a few miles south along Hellroaring Creek, then bring us safely back to camp. Most anglers are used to accessing waterways via the traditional modes of transportation: some form of vehicle or occasionally one’s own feet. As I load my reel and fly boxes into the saddlebags and tie my rod tube onto the saddle, I realize this is likely the first time I’ve relied on a horse to get me to the river. The big-boned bay gelding doesn’t seem to really care much about what I’m putting on his back, ears flicking back patiently to listen when I mount, hooves trailing steadily along the rough terrain surrounding Hellroaring as we ride south. I eye the airspace to the south. Not far lie the northern reaches of Yellowstone, and as we ride through groves of trees burned in the 1988 fires, I think about what hell it must have been here when the world was on fire. Hell in heaven… it’s an odd juxtaposition, and hard to imagine the green hillsides and meadows chocked with fire, smoke, and ash. Fires roar—anyone who has been close to a running forest fire will tell you as much—and I realize just how fitting the place’s name is. Hellroaring, indeed. Eventually we stop next to a quiet, bubbling stretch of Hellroaring and I drop from the bay, tying him before working to assemble my rod. He’s not too invested in the endeavor; instead more intent on the tall, lush grass directly in front of his face, and with a look around the meadow, I decide I couldn't blame him. The

grassy meadow is only beginning to surrender to midsummer Montana heat, turning crunchy under our footsteps, and the branches of a large tree offer shade from what promises to be another unseasonably warm day. The trickling sound of nearby Hellroaring Creek draws my attention as I rig a Royal Wulff. It’s a classic dry fly; a “prospecting” pattern that typically produces well. Yellowstone cutthroat trout are native to these waters and, according to the National Park Service, “… are the most widespread native trout of the park and were the dominant fish species prior to Euro-American settlement… Genetically pure Yellowstone cutthroat trout populations have declined throughout their natural range in the Intermountain West, succumbing to competition with and predation by nonnative fish species, a loss of genetic integrity through hybridization, habitat degradation, predation, and angling harvest. State and federal wildlife agencies classify the Yellowstone cutthroat trout as a sensitive species.” The fish themselves look like something out of a coloring book; prominent crimson slashes marked their lower jaws, lean light brown, silver, and even yellow-tinted bodies were dotted with an artist's splatter of dark spots, the concentration heavier toward the fish's posterior. There was no mistaking these trout with their Montana kin, and even a child could easily identify the differences between a Yellowstone cutthroat and a rainbow or brown trout. True locals of any sort are becoming a rare thing in Montana, and the reverence felt for native fish is a tangible thing. And while Yellowstone cutthroat currently range throughout parts of Montana, Wyoming, the upper Snake River drainage in Idaho and even into Utah and Nevada , the fish in the drainage are special… they are native here, a pure, unhybridized population. They face extremely low fishing pressure—very few anglers make it this far into the backcountry— and therefore they are keen to rise to any flies that look remotely interesting. The clean, cold water flowing through the AbsarokaBeartooth Wilderness is well-suited for the species, providing a steady diet of aquatic insects and, in the summer months, a plethora

The combination of small water and eager fish makes Hellroaring a stellar fishery for new anglers. It’s not technical; at one point I go eight fish for all eight casts (all fish under 12 inches, but who’s counting?) before deciding to give the little eddy a rest and move on to other water. Beginners will find great success with obvious, aggressive dry fly takes, while more advanced anglers can ply undercut banks for larger fish.

dry flies are the program. Foamy terrestrials, Royal Wulffs and Stimulators were the obvious options, and worked so well there was no reason to change. A well-placed cast in “fishy” water will almost always raise a fish, and there’s no shortage of promising water to explore. If lingering saddle-soreness makes a ride out of camp sound a bit less romantic, the three forks of Hellroaring, which convene conveniently at the camp, offer plenty of easy-access fishing less than five minutes from the cook tent. They also present a delicious decision each morning: which way to go? What water to fish?

It’s dry fly fishing at its finest. Light rods (I brought a 3-weight fiberglass rod and my old trusty five-weight), floating lines, and attractor

Each stem of Hellroaring is home to the Yellowstone cutthroat, so there’s really no wrong decision. Mountain lakes also dot the

of terrestrials that fall into the water from the grassy banks.

high-altitude countryside, offering a cold respite from the afternoon heat or a fresh fishing venue. Stripping a streamer through these lakes presented several opportunities at larger trout and, when coupled with an afternoon swim, makes for a delightful afternoon diversion. Whatever water is on the day’s menu, Cameron joins the adventure. In his ever-present, weather-worn cowboy hat and ancient Simms fishing vest, Cameron is a jovial, endearing friend in the mountains. He’s keen to share his favorite fishing spots and point out productive undercut banks, and isn’t shy about picking up a rod and joining in the fun. At one point he’s quick to give directions around the next few bends of the river before backtracking,

jogging into the trees like a whirling dervish in a cowboy hat to retrieve the horses from where we’d left them and meet us further down the river. Several miles later, we round a bend and there he is, relaxing with the horses underneath a copse of pine, the mounts lined up like so many cars in a posh parking lot. It’s like an odd sort of backcountry valet service, and I’m admittedly happy to bypass the long afternoon hike back to our starting point. Back at camp, life is surprisingly luxe. Large wall tents with roomy cots provide comfortable housing against cold mountain nights, and Pat’s well-stocked kitchen is complete with a

bear-proof snack cabinet that houses a healthy emergency supply of chocolate. An outdoor shower provides a bit of privacy for those who prefer not to rinse off in the river, and the tented pit toilet has a lovely view of a meadow. The real magic of camp, however, lies around the campfire. This is the soul of Bull Moose; where we gather around after a long day of adventuring to trade stories and tell tales. Whiskey and s’mores are traded liberally, and we sit in companionable conversation as the late afternoon light fades into dusk, then twilight and then, finally, the dark velvet of a Montana summer night. Sitting around the fire, comfortably ensconced

on a dusty bed of dried pine needles, I look around at my companions. Most could have readily stepped from the screen of a John Wayne movie. Cameron and Lonny sit comfortably in their camp chairs, Cameron in the midst of telling some grand ranching tale, hand gestures and all. Lonny looks remarkably at home, and it’s no wonder, really. Her family has been running sheep in these mountains for generations, and she has the stories to prove it. For her, this is as much home as anywhere. The wranglers are a wild bunch all their own; good guys who I would want by my side at any adventure. Seasoned ranch hand Patrick also runs a small-town bar (the Grizzly Bar in Roscoe, Montana) with his wife. Tall Jacob is

a third-generation Montanan who competes in rodeo events when he’s not working the family ranch or in the backcountry. And young Jeremiah brings a quick whit and good tales from the annual Miles City Bucking Horse Sale. It’s a motley crew, but the conversation is real, flowing freely around the flickering fire. We laugh when a mouse jumps from the log behind me into my lap before scurrying off into the

blackness surrounding us. Just another creature that calls this place home, and will continue to do so long after we make the long ride back to civilization. But for the moment, we grin and laugh in the darkness, eyes flashing and the bottle of whiskey catching the firelight as it’s passed around. For the moment, the rest of the world fades away and we’re newfound friends on an adventure; breathing clean air and watching the stars wheel overhead, tucked safely in the

wilderness. And perhaps that’s the odd magic of it all… we’ve all gathered to chase fish, to stalk through a high mountain creek and ply clear waters for cutthroat. Once again, angling brought together an unexpected group of people and made an improbable clan of them. There are no moose in Bull Moose Camp. There are, however, plenty of cowboys, horses, mules, and a curious supply of rather good boxed wine.

DISCOVERING

Fishing in the

SUSA VALLEY

Javier Peña

Venture into an Alpine valley where crystal-clear rivers, wild trout, and breathtaking landscapes turn ever fishing day into an unforgettable experience

he Susa Valley, in the Piedmont region of northwest Italy, is one of the great natural gateways to the Alps. Stretching about 80 kilometers, it connects the city of Turin with the French border. The Dora Riparia River runs through the entire valley, fed by alpine streams that flow down from the mountains through forests of oaks, chestnuts,

ash, and maples, all watched over by peaks exceeding 3,000 meters, inspiring both awe and admiration. Although mountain tourism and winter sports are the valley’s most well-known attractions, it also offers another, lesser-known gem: fishing. Here, the scenery is breathtaking,

the fish completely wild, and fishing pressure remarkably low, making the Susa Valley an ideal destination for those seeking peace, nature, and authentic catches. Following the invitation of our friend Luigi Mautino from Spacefishingaventures, we entrusted ourselves to his guidance and spent

a few days exploring some of the valley’s most representative rivers and lakes. The experience was unforgettable—not only for the warmth of the locals and the excellent cuisine, but, of course, for the fishing. In just a few days, we went from small mountain

streams—straight out of a fairy tale, hidden in almost inaccessible gorges—to larger, more technical rivers that tested both our physical endurance and mental skills due to strong currents and the challenge of fooling the valley’s fierce trout.

The valley is a dynamic and versatile destination, suitable for any fly fisher, regardless of style or preference. From dry fly enthusiasts to those who like to alternate techniques in diverse settings, everyone can find challenges as demanding as they are rewarding.

In our case, we began in the beautiful Argentera Valley, fishing trout and char in crystal-clear turquoise waters. Dry fly fishing stole the show, producing visual and exciting catches, but delicate ones: any noise or sudden movement sent the fish rushing upstream, spooking the rest of the school. On the second day, Luigi took us to target trout in a lovely lake near Bardonecchia. Here, we fished in a style similar to stalking barbel in reservoirs: moving slowly along the shore, observing good-sized trout feeding near the surface. Although it was not the peak season—the trout had eaten well over the summer—they were persuaded to take our small winged ants with long casts and fine tippets. To top it off, we followed the small stream feeding the lake, fishing among waterfalls and wild trout in one of the most spectacular spots we had ever seen. Another highlight was the wild Torrente Ripa, a river with strong currents, deep pools, and fish that were difficult to tempt.

Here, euro-nymphing was the technique of choice, perfect for trout hugging the riverbed or hiding under rocks. It was demanding fishing—physically and mentally—but immensely satisfying: the purity of the fish and the untamed environment make it an unforgettable challenge. Indeed, on this river, we managed, with persistence and patience, to land the largest and most beautiful trout of our trip, on our last day, accompanied by Andrea, a young local guide with a promising future who, along with Luigi, showed us the valley’s most authentic corners. In short, the Susa Valley is much more than a mountain destination: it is a paradise for anglers, where each day brings a new challenge and every river hides a different adventure.

Here, fishing, nature, and Italian hospitality combine to offer an experience that is truly unforgettable.

Land of fishing legends

Barry Langley

t was the mid-eighties. I was dating this blue-eyed beauty who accompanied me on a nine-hour drive from our suburban homes in New

Jersey to the western edge of Maine’s North Woods. Turning off the macadam and onto dirt and gravel, we caught glimpses of a lake, mist swirling over

its surface. I navigated around exposed rock, over rusted culverts, and through potholes deep enough to hold a school of largemouth bass while bumping and

grinding up thirteen miles of logging road that led to Bosebuck Mountain Camps. On that first visit to western Maine, we hiked into bogs and around

deadfalls, canoed across tannin-stained ponds, and swung streamers through rapids that broke over boulders as large as a moose’s shoulder. I’d been looking for

some good fishing, but found a whole lot more. So much so that we returned the following year. By then, I’d married the woman who to this day would rather

wear blue jeans than dresses and prefers hiking boots to heels. We were hooked as good and true as her first landlocked salmon, a fish that leaped across the pool below Keenan Dam not once but four times. Some might think it was

the brook trout that captured our imagination, those big-kyped phantoms willing to teach you the value of checking your tippet before casting into a dark pool, or perhaps one of those little six-inch bully boys that streak across the surface

"...See that mountain over there? Well, it was jest a hill when I began guidin’..."

of a forest stream like a star fallen from the sky. Others would say it was the terrain as wild as the fish swimming in its rivers and the moose lumbering through the shadowy coves of its lakes and ponds. Like so many others before us,

all of that is true. But there is something more about this land back of beyond. I could tell you about Metallak, a member of the Abenaki tribe reputed to have lived for 120 years and who came to be known by the settlers he’d helped

as the Lone Indian of the Magalloway. Then there’s the story of how Johnny Danforth and Fred Barker, two young men, spent the winter of 1882/83 hunting and trapping the region above Parmachenee Lake. You might wish to

learn about Ed “Ned” Grant. Known as the Sage of Beaver Pond Camps, he once told a sport, “See that mountain over there? Well, it was jest a hill when I began guidin’.” Then again, you might ask about those three Belles of the North

Woods—Cornelia Crosby, Carrie Stevens, and Louise Dickinson Rich. And what about the accomplishments of fly-fishing’s Renaissance man, Herbert Welch? And those of Carrie’s husband, Wallace, and Colonel Joseph Bates, or perhaps any one of the many other UpperDam notables. Maybe you’d rather hear about the Barrett brothers and Herbert Ellis, and how they built their Rangeley boats. You’d certainly get a chuckle at Shang Wheeler’s tale about White Nose Pete or the brook trout known as

Salmo Polaris lined with fur rather than scales. You might also be interested in the men who guided those “from away” during the “golden years” such as Walter “Skeet” Davenport, Harland Kidder, and Kenneth Crocker. But although the Rangeley Lakes Region of western Maine deserves to be called The Land of Fishing Legends, it’s the folks my wife and I met along the way—the guides, wardens, lodge owners, store keepers, and sports—all those men and women living today that make

this part of Northern New England The Land of Living Legends. I can assure you that Tom Rideout, the owner and operator of Bosebuck Mountain Camps when we first visited, knew the Parmachenee Lake Region as well as Johnny Danforth, as does Mike Yates, the lodge’s present owner. I mustn’t forget outfitter and Registered Maine Guide, Bob Duport, whose wanderlust matches that of Fred Barker. And you just know that Maine’s first registered guide, Cornelia “FlyRod” Crosby, would be

proud of Bonnie Holden, the first woman to win Maine’s Legendary Guide Award. Former executive director of Rangeley’s Outdoor Heritage Museum Bill Pierce and retired warden Charlie Atkins can tell tales as tall as any spun by Shang Wheeler or Ned Grant. And although Carrie Stevens is gone, Selene Dumaine carries on her tradition of tying exquisite streamers. Herb Ellis may no longer build Rangeley Boats, but you can talk to John Blunt about the fleet of Rangeleys he maintains at Grant’s Camps, the sporting lodge located on Kennebago Lake he and his wife, Carolyn, have owned and operated for more than forty years. I imagine Walter “Skeet” Davenport might be smiling down from the Great Beyond upon his friend’s grandson, Steve Kidder, who as a young guide is carrying on his grandfather’s tradition. George Fletcher’s Sport Shop is in Brett and Susan Damm’s capable hands. And although the music hall at Upper Dam is long gone, Moose Alley continues to rock and roll along Route 16. Sadly, Herbert Welch’s shop, once located at Haines Landing, has been closed for many years. But Gerry and Sally White continue to outfit sports from River’s Edge, their store just up the road, and I can assure you, Fern Bosse’s Sneeka is a streamer pattern every bit as effective as Herb’s Black Ghost. Yes, there’s much to be said about the Rangeley Lakes Region. But as this new year unwinds, I’d like to simply thank all those folks Trish and I have had the pleasure to meet on our backwoods adventures.

Bob Mole

Xcalak Fishing 42

f you're a passionate angler or simply someone who appreciates the art of fly fishing, Xcalak, Mexico, is a destination you should absolutely consider. Located at the southernmost tip of the Costa Maya, this pristine area offers an unmatched fishing experience

that combines breathtaking natural beauty with world-class angling opportunities. This hidden gem is a must-visit for any fly fishing enthusiast. Located along a truly unique stretch of the southern Caribbean coast of Mexico, Xcalak boasts some of the most pristine waters

in the world and an extraordinary variety of fish species. It offers unique opportunities both for beginners who want to approach this style of fishing and for seasoned anglers in search of particular tropical species. Xcalak is also one of the few places where you can attempt the famous

"... you can attempt the famous "grand slam"..."

"grand slam": you might have the chance to catch a Permit, a Tarpon, and a Bonefish in a single day. But to have a successful fly fishing trip, there are a few things you need to prepare before boarding the plane. Keep reading to find out what to check off your list to enjoy an unforgettable fly fishing experience in Xcalak. The Region: Xcalak At the southernmost point of the Yucatán Peninsula, just a few kilometers north of Belize, Xcalak is still an untouched paradise. Compared to the more touristy areas to the north, development here is minimal. The

beaches remain wild, and the water is a brilliant turquoise. Off the coast lies the Mesoamerican Barrier Reef, the second-largest coral reef in the world. This reef protects the area from waves and rough seas, creating a perfect refuge for the fish and wildlife that inhabit the flats. The town’s position on a peninsula that separates the Caribbean Sea from the Bay of Chetumal makes it an ideal base camp. From here, you can fish the saltwater flats, the edge of the bay, and the mangrove lagoons—three dream environments for any fly angler. Fishing the flats of Xcalak is a dream come true, but arriving prepared is essential. Bringing the

right rods, reels, and fly lines is only half the battle. Practicing your casting before the trip is crucial—you could miss the fish of a lifetime due to poor technique. It’s recommended to practice casts between 40 and 70 feet (12 to 21 meters) with minimal false casts. Additionally, having the right flies can make or break the success of your trip. Target Species 1. Bonefish – Known for their speed and agility, they are among the most beloved fish for fly anglers. The flats of Xcalak are ideal

bonefish habitat and offer many opportunities to test your skills. 2. Permit – Considered one of the most challenging fish to catch on the fly, permit are abundant in the waters around Xcalak. It’s said that Permit is “the fish of a thousand casts”: if

you see one, it’s already a great day. If you catch one, it’s a true milestone. 3. Tarpon – Whether you’re chasing juvenile tarpon in the mangroves or the larger specimens in deeper waters, Xcalak offers some of the best tarpon fishing in the region. Their acrobatics

and powerful runs provide an unforgettable thrill. 4. Snook – Aggressive predators found in mangroves and estuarine areas. Known for their strong fighting ability, they are a rewarding catch for any angler.

Xcalak Paradise Fishing Lodge This is the perfect accommodation in this marine paradise. The lodge offers top-level fly fishing for Permit, Bonefish, and Tarpon. With space for up to 8 guests, you’ll enjoy personalized service, all-inclusive comfort, a swimming pool, and expert guides. It’s an experience that blends adventure and relaxation in one unforgettable destination. For those who want to take a break from fishing or explore other experiences, the lodge also offers alternative activities to discover the wonders of Xcalak and its surroundings—from nature tours to total relaxation, there's something for everyone.

ART IN FISHING:

YUSEI NAGASHIMA

usei Nagashima is a contemporary Japanese watercolor artist who has mastered the delicate art of capturing the essence of aquatic life. With a singular focus on fish, his works transcend mere representation, delving into the depths of nature’s elegance and

mystery. Nagashima's paintings are more than just portraits of marine creatures; they are windows into an underwater world where each brushstroke reveals a story of fluidity, movement, and life. Growing up near the coast, Nagashima developed a deep connection

with the sea from an early age. This bond is vividly reflected in his art, where he meticulously studies the shapes, colors, and behaviors of different species, bringing them to life on paper. His unique style combines traditional Japanese watercolor techniques with a modern

sensibility, creating works that are both timeless and contemporary. Nagashima’s fish are not merely subjects; they are muses that inspire him to explore the relationship between nature and human emotion. Through his art, he invites viewers to experience the tranquility and

beauty of the aquatic world, while also contemplating the fragile balance that sustains it. His work has been exhibited in galleries across Japan and internationally, garnering attention for its serene yet powerful imagery.

SHE TIES FLIES: Artistry Meets

Angling

ly fishing is more than just a sport—it’s an art, a craft, and for some, a way of life. Few embody this fusion of artistry and angling as uniquely as Erin Hyde and Alex Burnett, the creative forces behind She Ties Flies. With Erin's deep-rooted passion for fiber arts and newfound love for fly tying, and Alex's experience in professional videography and editing, they have captivated audiences with their mesmerizing ASMR-style fly-tying videos. But their journey into fly fishing is anything but conventional. A Lifelong Love of Fiber & Fishing Erin has spent over a decade immersed in

the world of fiber arts—knitting, weaving, sewing, spinning, and felting—developing an appreciation for natural materials, especially wool. But long before she ever held a tying vise, she was an enthusiastic (if not always successful) angler. Fishing with her grandfather until dusk on ancient spinner rods and reels, Erin learned to love the rhythm and ritual of being on the water. That passion continued into adulthood, though it wasn’t until meeting her partner, Alex Burnett, that her interest in fly fishing truly took off. Alex, an experienced angler and videographer, introduced Erin to the world of saltwater fly fishing in Tampa Bay. While she took to the

water with a spinning rod, the intricacies of fly fishing remained elusive—until one moment changed everything. Discovering the Art of Fly Tying The pivotal moment came when Alex handed Erin a c-clamp vise and a bag of fly-tying materials. The realization struck immediately: fly tying is fiber art. With that, she was hooked— both literally and figuratively. What started as a casual curiosity quickly became an obsession, and before long, Erin was on a mission to gather materials and refine her craft. One of her early influences came unexpectedly through a retired fly fishing guide she met

on Facebook Marketplace. In search of used fly-tying materials, Erin connected with a former instructor who had spent 30 years guiding and had even developed a fly sold in the Orvis catalog. He generously sent her a box of supplies—complete with extra materials not included in the original deal. To show her appreciation, Erin set out to tie his signature fly, an act that unknowingly set the foundation for She Ties Flies. The Birth of She Ties Flies With Alex’s background in videography and editing, they decided to capture Erin’s tying process on film. What started as a simple

gesture quickly evolved into a full-fledged creative project. The natural rhythms of tying, the delicate sounds of the materials, and Erin’s meticulous technique created a mesmerizing experience—one that resonated deeply with viewers. Combining fly tying with ASMR-style videography turned out to be a match made in heaven, drawing in an audience that appreciated both the craftsmanship and the soothing nature of the content. Today, She Ties Flies has cultivated a dedicated following, with thousands tuning in to watch Erin craft everything from saltwater streamers to intricate crab patterns. The overwhelmingly positive response has been both humbling and

inspiring, reaffirming her belief that fly tying is not just a fishing necessity—it’s an art form in its own right. Materials, Mentors & Creative Process When it comes to fly ingredients, Erin gravitates toward natural fibers—particularly wool and feather selections that lend authenticity to her flies - but also enjoys trying new and often unorthodox materials. While she is largely selftaught, she draws particular inspiration from female fly-tying pioneers like Megan Boyd, whose dedication to the craft was legendary, and Carrie Stevens, whose innovative construction techniques revolutionized fly tying. Erin’s

approach is meticulous, ensuring each fly is both visually stunning and functionally effective. She Ties Flies is a true collaboration. Every video is a labor of love, requiring hours of tying, filming, and editing to achieve the high-quality production values that set their content apart. With Erin at the vise and Alex shaping the visual storytelling, the duo has created something truly unique in the fly fishing community.

What’s Next? Looking ahead, the pair has big plans for She Ties Flies. Erin recently picked up her first fly rod and is actively learning to cast—a new challenge that she’s embracing with the same enthusiasm she brought to fly tying. Future projects include expanding their video library, collaborating with brands, and possibly launching educational content to help more people discover the joys

of tying flies. Through it all, one thing remains clear: She Ties Flies is more than just a digital project—it’s a celebration of craftsmanship, creativity, and the endless possibilities that come when artistry meets angling. As Erin continues to refine her skills at the vise and on the water, one can only imagine what’s in store for this dynamic duo.

Sean H. & Omar G

MAURO BARBACCI

A Fly Fishing Journey in 68

RASMUS OVESEN

RASMUS OVESEN- Anders Ovesen

MONGOLIA 69

Dreaming of witnessing some of the most remote and pristine rivers on the planet, and experiencing fishing – frozen in time – for salmonids of epic proportions? Then Mongolia might just be your place. But you might have to hurry...

ust north lies the border with Russia. Further downstream, the river flows into Russian territory before splitting through desolate, mountainous plateaus. However, we won’t venture that far. We have about 100 kilometers of widely branching river to drift

over the next six days, and even if we continued another 100 kilometers downstream, we would still be in Mongolia; the world’s least densely populated country, squeezed geopolitically between the superpowers Russia and China. We are in the upper reaches of this remote,

picturesque river, born in the mountainous region where Genghis Khan – the great Mongol leader – is said to be buried. At the height of his power, in the 13th century, Genghis Khan controlled most of the Far East, ruling over a territory as large as the African continent –

about 30 million square kilometers. His empire was the largest in history, collapsing only after being divided among his four sons. Escape from Civilization It was a liberating relief when our group left the capital, Ulaanbaatar, crossing vast, endless

plains to reach the deep, serpentine, prehistoric bed of our destination river. Today, about 1.7 million people – nearly half of Mongolia’s population – live in Ulaanbaatar; a fastgrowing, bustling metropolis, modernized in places, that many Mongolians see as a beacon of

hope for a glorious future. But from a distance, Ulaanbaatar feels to me like just another dirty, cynical metropolis – alienating, dissonant, and close to collapsing under its own excessive weight. I have no doubts: Mongolia’s true greatness lies

in its extraordinary nature. And it’s precisely here that we find ourselves. Our river merges with other larger rivers further downstream, becoming the Amur – one of the ten longest rivers in the world, spanning over 4,500 km. As it twists and winds, it grows

in width and power; at its mouth in Siberia, across from Sakhalin Island, it stretches over 10 kilometers wide. Muddy Waters I imagine that much further downstream, the Amur is perpetually swollen and laden with

sediment. However, for months, I had dreamed of a crystal-clear river, as is often the case at this time of year in the starting area of the "Buryat Expeditions" organized by Mongolia River Outfitters. But now, that’s not the case! It has rained non-stop for weeks.

The river is swollen, the color of strong Sunday morning coffee, and the guides battle against fierce currents. Banks have eroded, trees uprooted, new branches and channels formed. In some sections, the river is unrecognizable. We cannot afford despair. Instead, we look

for small favorable windows: areas where the current, depth, and cover offer a chance for a catch. We’ll cast our flies close to the banks, under overhanging trees, eroded shores, and among submerged roots. Extreme Sport

It’s a high-stakes game! It’s like trying to sink a basketball shot from the back of a pickup truck driving on a bumpy road. One misplaced cast and you're hopelessly snagged. Rowing upstream to retrieve a stuck fly is nearly impossible; most times, you just

have to pull and hope something breaks free (with a LOUD snap!). At that point, you can only forget the hours spent tying that giant fly. Vivid Memories The last time I was here, I caught a taimen almost 125 cm long – a primitive, perfect fish I will never forget.

But what I remember just as intensely are other moments: Deep, ghostly stretches of river under sculpted rock walls; the crystalline white snow on the banks; the crackling of the fire in the yurt’s stove in the morning; the aroma of coffee promising immediate warmth; the deep conversations by flickering candlelight and the lively faces, like

those of two elderly Americans – well into their 80s – who fished harder than anyone during the day and laughed louder than everyone in the evening. I wonder if they are still alive, ten years later. I realize it’s not just about the fish. The places, the cultural experiences, and the people we share them with are just as important.

"... the aroma of coffee promising immediate warmth; the deep conversations by flickering candlelight and the lively faces..."

Great Company This time, my brother and I are joined by two Norwegian entrepreneurs: wonderful, fun guys who would probably fish more often if they weren’t so entangled in board meetings, investments, and strategic decisions. Evenings in the dining tent are filled with laughter and Mongolian folk and rock music played via

Spotify. Wine, beer, and Ghingis vodka are plentiful. Yet, even here, we can't escape emails, messages, and social media. Internet connection reaches even these remote corners – a clear sign that Mongolia is changing. A River in Flux During the week, the nighttime frosts intensify

the autumn colors. The larches and birches blaze gold under a deep blue sky, blueberry bushes blush red among still-green meadows. This landscape, more hypnotic than a Van Gogh painting, completely envelops us. The presence of ancient trout as big as a human being is just a bonus.

Fishing in Slow Currents My first fish of the trip is not a taimen but a big Amur trout, about 65 cm, caught in a side current. Admiring its magenta fins and olive-green flanks, I quickly release it. The river hosts many species: lenok trout, Amur pike, grayling, whitefish, catfish, asp, burbot, and of course taimen. We find taimen more easily in dead currents. Strikes are sporadic; we land fish between 60 and 90 cm, as the difficult conditions make it unlikely to catch giants over 1.5 meters. My biggest taimen comes three days later, in a small side channel among scattered rocks. The strike is fierce, and I immediately feel the fish’s weight. After a tough battle, I manage to bring it to the net. Fish to Remember When the fish slides into the net, it seems both big and small at the same time. A salmonid over a meter long is always impressive, but compared to the giants of past trips, it feels smaller. Peter Fong, our guide, is by my side again, just as he was ten years ago. We release the fish, and a wave of mixed emotions hits me. I wish everything could stay frozen in time, but I know that’s impossible. The forces of change are blowing even here. The river will remain one of the most remote and wildest on Earth, but it will no longer be immune to the changes affecting Mongolian society.

The silence has been broken. When I make the final cast of the trip and start mentally preparing for the long journey back, it feels like slowly waking from a dream. It has been another magnificent,

educational, and fun journey – full of magical moments, new friendships, and unforgettable memories. And with my senses still sharpened, I know I must return to this river – sooner rather than later.

Riccardo De Stabile

THE HISTORY OF WADERS

ne of the greatest innovations in fly fishing has been the advent of waders. These high waterproof boots allow anglers to stand waist-deep in cold water while staying dry—and even reasonably warm, if properly dressed. Without waders, a fisherman could still wade into a river, much like characters in Hemingway’s novels, but humans wouldn’t last more than an hour in the waters of most flyfishing rivers. Take a look at lithographs and illustrations of

fly fishing from any period before the mid-20th century, and you won’t see anglers standing in the water. They fished from the riverbank, sometimes perched on large overhanging rocks to cast farther. Before waders, there was a wide variety of similar accessories, mostly designed to keep a fisherman’s legs dry, at least in shallow waters. In England, the wealthier fishermen even had a precious additional resource: the gillie wetfoot—a servant who would carry the fisherman across the river on his shoulders.

Then Europeans discovered rubber, which had already been used for centuries by South Americans who extracted it from the Hevea tree that grew naturally in the rainforest. According to legend—likely true—Christopher Columbus introduced rubber to Europe after seeing the people of Haiti playing with rubber balls. However, rubber was not commercially used until 1823, when Scottish chemist Charles Macintosh used it to produce a waterproof fabric, which he employed—among other things— to make waist-high fishing pants held up by

suspenders. Then in 1839, Charles Goodyear discovered the process of vulcanization, which led to the industrial production of rubber. Rubber overshoes or boots—galoshes—began to be produced in the 1850s, their name derived from the Latin word for the footwear worn by the Gauls. The first chest-high waterproof garments— what we now call waders—appeared around 1850, manufactured by the Hodgman Rubber Company of New York. The idea of standing in rivers to fish didn’t catch on immediately. Sir Humphry Davy said it wasn’t healthy. Thomas Tod Stoddart, author of the 1847 volume The Angler’s Companion to the Rivers and Lochs of Scotland, complained that rubber boots didn’t hold up well in rivers. By the end of the 19th century, however, fishing magazines began writing about a new breed of fly fishermen who waded into rivers. In the 1930s, lighter and more durable waterproof materials appeared. In 1931, DuPont developed a synthetic rubber called Duprene, now known as neoprene—a material not only lighter and

stronger than rubber but also insulating against the cold. However, it wasn’t until 1970 that the first neoprene waders were manufactured: warmer, lighter, and tougher, they made it safer and more comfortable to fish in wide, cold rivers. At the start of the 21st century, 1.4 million pairs of waders were sold each year in the United States. Wading—fishing while standing in the water—has become a standard technique. One reason anglers wade is to gain better access to fish, but often what they enjoy most

is the experience itself: standing in the river, observing the ripples on its surface, feeling the current pulling downstream. When you’re standing in a river fishing, you feel like you’re participating in the life of the river itself. For a moment, you become a creature of the river. Haig-Brown wrote: “Wading makes you a part of the current more than anything else.” Joan Wulff wrote of wading: “It makes me feel more connected to the creatures living in the river, to the fish I’m trying to catch.”

ST. BRANDON WHERE DREAMS COME TRUE

Alberto Zanghieri

magine yourself at the edge of the world, where the ocean is painted in shades of blue and green, and the air is filled with the thrill of adventure. In this remote corner of the Indian Ocean lies a hidden paradise called Saint Brandon, a place where fly fishing becomes a dance between man and nature. Saint Brandon is a group of atolls located 268 nautical miles north of Mauritius. This 10-night trip, with 7

full days of fishing, is designed for enthusiasts seeking an unparalleled experience of fishing in close contact with unspoiled nature. But first, let’s talk about the journey and logistics, which are certainly not for everyone. The trip begins in Bologna with a direct flight to Dubai. After about six hours of flying, you’ll land in the capital of the Emirates. Here, you’ll have a short layover before catching your connecting

"...a place where fly fishing becomes a dance between man and nature..."

flight to Mauritius. Once you arrive at Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam International Airport, a taxi will take you to the capital, Port Louis, where you'll have an entire day to rest and spend the night at the excellent Le Suffren Hotel, located in the main port's marina area. The next morning, a transfer will take you to the port, where the most demanding part of the journey begins: a sea crossing of over 30

hours. Let's not sugarcoat it — your patience and endurance will be put to the test. The boat is sturdy but by no means a yacht; the onboard comfort is basic at best. You'll need unwavering determination — and a few seasickness tablets if you’re not used to rough seas. I recommend preparing a good playlist or podcast for the crossing, packing an extra power bank, a bag of snacks, and a waterproof

jacket. Finally, after a long night, a makeshift breakfast and lunch, Saint Brandon’s atoll will appear on the horizon, and you’ll immediately realize this is no ordinary place. Upon landing at Raphael Island, tenders brought us ashore. We were shown our accommodations, met the team, and held a safety meeting, during which the guides checked all our gear. The first night

was spent in a temporary structure because the main lodge was still occupied by the previous group of anglers. Raphael Island looks like a classic pirate island: it has a chapel, a cemetery, it is filled with seabirds, and the ground is made up of crushed coral. The atmosphere is thick with history and epic tales. For the next seven days, wakeup calls would come early, and after a hit-or-

miss breakfast, we'd set out full of energy for our fishing day. More than 80 km of untouched atolls are reserved for just 8 anglers per week, with threemonth intervals between groups. This carefully managed fishing pressure makes the atoll truly unique. Here, the crystal-clear waters hide living treasures: Bonefish, fast and explosive like the wind, challenge anglers with their incredible speed. But they are not alone. IndoPacific Permit, elegant and powerful creatures, stand as guardians of the vast coral flats, ready to challenge anyone daring enough to cast a crab fly before them. And then there are the GTs, along with the Bluefin Trevallies (which reach impressive sizes here), prowling the waters with the majesty of true "neighborhood bad boys," always ready to start a fight. With their impressive size and explosive strength, every catch becomes an epic battle, a story to tell for generations. You’ll also encounter various reef species like groupers, emperor fish, and many others that will give you moments of pure action! The fishing here is exceptional. It's not unusual to land a trophy Bonefish over 9 pounds — even 12 pounds! You'll have clean shots at tailing Permit almost every day, and there’s always the chance to complete the slam with a big GT or Bluefin. Of course, easier said than done, but having the chance to chase these trophies in such a setting is simply incredible. Tough conditions caused by a warm tide entering the atoll made it difficult to get any clean shots at GTs for almost the entire group, except for Giles, a great English angler specialized in catching these giants. The Bluefin, however, were more cooperative, with some trophy-sized specimens successfully landed — truly a spectacle! Almost all of us had chances with the Permit, but the "yellow devil" remained undefeated: 9 encounters, 9 losses, only adding to its legendary status. But it’s not just the fishing — strictly wading, with occasional "relaxing" boat sessions along the reef — that makes St. Brandon magical. It's the guides, the true guardians of this paradise, who turn the trip into an unforgettable story. With their deep knowledge of the waters and the passion burning in their eyes, they lead you on a journey of discovery, chasing the dream of the catch of a lifetime. Thanks to their help, professionalism, and

"...Welcome to Saint Brandon, where dreams come true....."

experience, every fish caught becomes a dream come true — a moment to frame and treasure forever. There are always laughs and good times, especially in the evenings, when everyone gathers for dinner to share stories of the day's catches and adventures. Being able to laugh about mistakes or funny moments strengthens the bond between anglers and guides. Sometimes a hearty laugh is the best remedy. The evenings also offer a great opportunity to listen, learn, and exchange experiences. It's impossible to forget David's stories about Permit — beautiful and inspiring. Conclusion and Personal Reflection: A trip to Saint Brandon is a unique experience for lovers of wading fly fishing, in an environment that feels almost unreal. It’s an adventure recommended for those who prioritize the quality of the fishing experience over comfort — which I still found acceptable, though improvable. The uniqueness of the place, the beauty of untouched nature, and the expertise of the guides make this trip unforgettable, despite the high costs and the long boat crossing. If you’re an angler looking for an extraordinary adventure, Saint Brandon might just be the perfect destination for you. Even if the boat ride seems long, remember: every mile brings you closer to a life-changing experience. Because in Saint Brandon, you're not just fishing. You're living a dream. So get ready to dive into a world where every wave tells a story, and every catch is a chapter in an endless adventure. Welcome to Saint Brandon, where dreams come true.