The Art of Grayling III

Part III By Ken Marsh In camp along the Denali Highway the night is broken by the popping of my campfire and, more subtly, by the hissing of a creek that enters one end of the little grayling lake and exits the other. Those water sounds have me thinking again about grayling, and about time,Continue reading “The Art of Grayling III”

The Art of Grayling I

Ancient, elegant and innocently gullible, the little fish with the big dorsal fins promise admission to a world of clean, wild waters and unspoiled vistas. By Ken Marsh I’d uttered my good-byes earlier that evening, not aloud, but inwardly, and without sadness. Of course, the grayling wouldn’t have heard me anyway, nor would they haveContinue reading “The Art of Grayling I”