I’ve really enjoyed reading some of the new online fly fishing mags. My latest find is Blood Knot Magazine. Good articles, videos and other content are found there.
I wrote to the editor, Matt, with 4 short questions. His answers appear below.
1) What inspired you to develop Blood Knot?
You ever sit around with friends and tell stories and laugh? Before life got in the way, my best friends and I used to get together once a week for just that and to bounce ideas off of each other. We called those meetings our “state of the union”. There’s an element in that bond that’s evident in fly fishing, and it’s my favorite part of the sport. You spend time with people you care about, you visit areas you might not otherwise see, and then you get to look back one day with those same people. Blood Knot Magazine’s inspiration is just that—an anglers’ bimonthly state of the union from around the world.
2) How long has it been in existence?
Jason Duong, our creative director, he and I started Blood Knot Magazine at the end of last year. We’ve been fortunate to put together a fantastic staff, and we’ll be rolling out our second issue this month.
3) How do you describe it in relation to other fly fishing magazines?
We don’t. Those poor bastards are on their own!
4) Who is the typical subscriber?
You know, everything’s out of whack. The older anglers love what the younger ones are writing, the younger anglers are tuning in to read why the older ones took so long to fish beneath the surface or for other species, and almost as many men as women read “Bitch Creek”, which is written by women for women. It’s some kind of media-oddity goin’ on over here!
5) What is one of your favorite fishing stories/memories?
I almost killed Jason about 15 years ago when we first started fishing together. Only kids, we were fishing off the end of a dock and it was getting dark and time to go. Two sections of my rod were stuck together and I had asked him to pull on one end while I held the other. So when he yanked hard, I let go and sent him swimming. He disappeared and I thought he was just messing with me, so I started packing up our stuff.
After a good while, he finally popped up and was flapping his arms around like a bird and probably choking. I looked at him and said something along the lines of, “Stop fucking around and help me pack,” before he went back down again. When he re-emerged and called for help, he was pretty freaked out. I just stood there digesting what was happening while he waited again under water for my sense of urgency to kick in. When I came out of my stupor, I couldn’t decide whether I was more afraid of diving in and landing on him or his pulling me under while he fought for air. My selflessness and bravery would come with age. I was a wimp.
Luckily, he was only seven or eight feet off the dock the last time he made his way to the surface and I was able to pull him in with my rod. Who knew he couldn’t swim? But God bless him! Mid-air, Jason threw that rod to me before he fell in. That’s character!