I grew up with a spinning rod in my hand, fishing for bass, bluegill, crappie, catfish and just about anything else I could find. While I lived overseas for most of the year, I spent many of my early summers with my father exploring the warm water fishing of the East Coast.

When I became a teenager, I found a fiberglass fly rod in my father's basement and began to flounder around the crystal clear creeks of the Shenandoah Mountains. Eventually I found myself a newer graphite setup and caught my first trout on a fly rod, a small native, wild brook trout. That summer I spent every weekend in the mountains.

Fly fishing had grabbed me so much that I packed up my belongings and headed out West. I found a job at IBM in Boulder, Colorado. I started hanging around the local fly shop, and the head guide took me under his wing. I learned the arts of fly tying, fishing dries, and micro nymphing on the famous tail waters.

I packed my backpack and a few fly rods and bought a one way ticket to New Zealand. Having arranged a working holiday visa ahead of time, I quickly landed a job as a deckhand on a game fishing boat. Throughout the year I worked on various charter boats fishing for marlin, tuna, kingfish, and snapper. One day I packed my station wagon with everything I had, and spent four months living in the back of my car and fishing my way completely around both islands of New Zealand.

A year later I returned to the US and worked at Cabela's Fly Shop while saving for my next trip. As summer ended and the days grew colder, I hopped on a plane to Australia. My girlfriend and I bought a station wagon and spent a month camping our way up the east coast, before arriving in Cairns, Australia. Work was slim, and even slimmer because of September 11th.

I managed to procure a position as a deckhand aboard a prestigious private sport fishing boat. We were the flagship boat for the Lizard Island Black Marlin Classic, the world’s largest black marlin tournament. My employer happened to be the organizer of the event, and despite splitting our duties as flag boat and fishing in the contest, we tagged seven black marlin in as many days of fishing, including one grander. We lost a fish the size of a Volkswagen after an hour and a half fight, when the fish bit through the 900 pound wire leader. M.V. Calypso later weighed a fish at 1280 pounds; our fish made it look like a minnow. We tied for first place in the tournament, losing due to a count back (the other boat caught seven fish as well, but caught theirs first).

When the wet season came, I headed south to Tasmania, where I spent three months hitchhiking around the lakes of the central highlands chasing big browns in beautiful lakes. My experiences there are another story altogether, including working at a winery to pay for my plane ticket back to the mainland, meeting a millionaire who gave me exclusive access to his fishing shack, and picking raspberries for $2 and hour.

After a short stint on the East Coast, I moved to the Pacific Northwest. About a year ago I arrived in Vancouver, BC, and have spent the last ten months living here in the Washington area learning the ways of pacific salmon and exploring the wonderful fishing. My favorite type of fly fishing is spring creeks and headwater streams.