The desperate urge strikes every year, sometimes as early as January, and it grows stronger with every warm day. Grayling come from the arctic, but ironically, we have to wait for winter’s grip to ebb before they re-emerge from the ethereal depths of imagination. So the memory of billowing iridescent sails takes hold, and I wait.

We need snow to fill our lakes and reservoirs so we can keep the forests lush and green through summer and to fill streams with cold, clear water for trout, char, and whitefish, and for something else too: Arctic Grayling. Continue reading “Fly Fishing For Spring’s Gray Ghosts”