Field & Stream

KEEP ON TRUCKING

WENT FROM SERIOUSLY pissed off to a murderous rage at some point in the wee hours of the morning. This was after I’d given up all hope of sleep. My cognitive function was frazzled. My grip on sanity had slipped. By then, my buddy Lee Davis and I had pulled everything out of the back of the truck. We booted the dog. We shoveled sleeping bags and pads, shotguns, dove stools, a cooler, drink cans, bags of chips, and candy bar wrappers into a heaping pile in the cornfield. We

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Field & Stream2 min de lecture
4. Hit the Road for the Snow Migration Marathon
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The Company of Stars
BACK IN THE DAYS WHEN A fly rod was my compass, I rarely found myself in a position to contemplate the stars. Nor, on most trips, did I have anyone to share my slice of heaven under them with. I would fish until dark and crawl into my sleeping bag as