As a kid, I used to spend two weeks every summer vacationing with my family at our cabin in northern Minnesota.

I remember early mornings, just before the sun rose, the sound of my two older brothers shuffling around in the darkness in the room we shared.

The sound of zippers zipping, a door creaking open, fast footsteps back and forth.

They were getting ready to go out.

My brothers loved sneaking out at dawn, firing up the motor, and sailing off to a quiet bay across the lake.

As their younger brother, I was never part of this planned escape. But I loved fishing with them.

My strategy to make it onto the boat and on the water was even more hurried than theirs.

I would lie silently in my bed until just before they were ready to leave, waiting for the perfect moment.

When I heard the front door of our cabin open, I’d spring quickly into action. Pants. Shirt. Boots. Hat. GO.

I’d race out to intercept them as they made their way down the hill to the boathouse.

“NO, he’s not coming!” one brother would groan.

“SHH!” the other would hiss. “Just let him come, he’s already here. Let’s just go.”

And so off we would go on our morning adventure, buzzing quickly away from our dock, leaving our parents fast asleep back at the cabin, and cutting our motor boat through morning fog that was still lazily rising and swirling above the water.

Fish were caught, squished PB&J sandwiches were eaten, stories of past adventures were told, and lifelong memories were made on those morning trips.

That’s what happens when you make room for someone else on your fishing trips. You realize fishing is about teaching and bonding as much as it is about catching.

And a one-time invitation becomes a life-long hobby for the person you included.

That’s what fishing and hunting is all about.

— Rob Wormley, Publisher

Lee Wulff was born in Valdez, Alaska in 1905, which probably had something to do with the way he turned out. He trained as an artist in Paris, worked as an art director in New York, and then walked away from all of it because the rivers kept calling him back.

He became a bush pilot, a filmmaker, a fly tier, a casting instructor, and one of the most celebrated Atlantic salmon anglers who ever lived. He invented the modern fly fishing vest in 1931 because he was tired of carrying his gear in his pockets. He was one of the first to use animal hair instead of chicken feathers in dry flies, which changed how flies were tied for generations. He caught an Atlantic salmon on a fly with no rod at all, just his arm, to prove a point about the sport being more about the angler than the equipment.

He was, by most accounts, incapable of doing things the conventional way.

But none of these facts are what he's remembered most for.

In 1936, Lee Wulff wrote ten words that changed the way anglers think about fishing forever:

Game fish are too valuable to be caught only once.

He formalized the idea in his 1939 book, Lee Wulff's Handbook of Freshwater Fishing, and from there it took on a life of its own.

At the time, that was a radical idea. Fishing success was measured by what you brought home. The more fish, the better the day. Releasing a fish wasn't a conservation philosophy, it was something that happened when a fish shook the hook before you could land it. The notion that you might deliberately put a fish back, that the act of releasing it was itself valuable, ran against everything the fishing culture of the era believed.

Wulff didn't just say it. He lived it.

He became one of the earliest and most vocal advocates for catch and release at a time when Atlantic salmon runs were declining and most anglers simply accepted the fact and kept catching what they could. While others mourned shrinking populations, Wulff argued that the fish you released was more valuable than the fish you kept. That a salmon returned to the river was a gift, not a loss. That the same fish, caught and released, would grow larger and wiser and give another angler an even better fight the next time around.

He put it plainly: "The fish you release is your gift to another angler, and remember, it may have been someone's similar gift to you."

Lee fished into his eighties, still piloting his own plane to reach remote rivers that most people couldn't get to any other way. On April 28, 1991, the plane he was flying crashed shortly after takeoff from a small airport in New York. He was 86 years old.

The rivers he spent his life fighting for are still producing fish today. Some of the same Atlantic salmon runs he advocated for in the 1950s and 60s are still swimming. The catch and release ethic he pioneered is now so embedded in fishing culture that most anglers practice it without thinking about where it came from.

New this week: we’re featuring one unforgettable fishing story from our community.

This week, Minnesota angler Nick LeRoy shares an epic deep sea fishing experience he had while on a vacation in Hawaii.

In his own words:

While in Hawaii, I joined a fishing charter at 5:00AM. There were 6 of us total including the captain. He rigged us up quickly (we were going for larger fish) and really quickly someone had hooked into a small marlin.

We watched it jump out and spit the lure out. Then it became quiet. Back and forward across specific sections of the ocean the captain knew about.Then it happened. One of the rods bent over 180 degrees.

It took all 6 of us over 3 hours to get this massive 333-pound marlin into the boat.

It was an amazing and exhausting experience that I'll never forget.

Check the video below to catch a few seconds of the fight that landed this behemoth, courtesy of Nick.

A few things worth knowing before you head out this week.

Ahead of every issue we send, we dig through forums, threads, and comment sections so you don't have to, and surface one piece of gear hunters and anglers are actually standing behind.

This week, after interviewing one fly fisherman out of Montana for a future OUTFIT feature story, we went looking for hand net recommendations.

If you do a lot of walk-wade fishing, you know the drill: bushwhacking through tight willows and having your net catch on just about every single branch.

The Fishpond Nomad® Yampa Hand Net - River Armor - 2.0 was basically built to solve that problem. It features a compact hoop and a slender handle, meaning it slides easily into your pack’s net slot and stays out of the way until you actually need it. Because the core is built from a blend of carbon fiber and fiberglass, it is incredibly lightweight, totally waterproof, and most importantly, it floats if you happen to drop it in the current.

Here's what anglers who’ve used it had to say:

“FP nets will last a very long time and the price is worth it. They won’t warp or break. I’m going on my 6th season with mine and I think the money has been worth it.”

“Love my long handled fishpond.. it doubles as a hiking staff when needed and actually helps me out crossing a steep snowfield yesterday.”

“Yeah I’ll be the guy who has 2 different fish pond nets. I love them. The only important thing is a rubber net instead of mesh. If all your barbs aren’t clipped your fly is 100% going to cause a mess in a mesh net.”

“Fishpond is honestly the most lovely company. I adore everyone there. I used to do a whole bunch of tradeshows adjacent to them and they are just the best people with amazing products.”

Because this is the River Armor edition, Fishpond wrapped the entire frame in woven DuPont™ Kevlar® for some serious impact resistance. It’s perfect if you’re notoriously hard on your gear.

Overall, whether you're hopping rocks on a local blue-line or wading out on the flats, it’s a really solid, low-profile net that just does its job without getting in your way. Price: $179.95

Getting them hooked

A lot of hunters and anglers fish and hunt alone, not because they want to, but because they’ve never figured out how to convince their spouse to join them.

A few tips this week for changing that:

Don't make it about the outcome.
The first time you bring your spouse fishing, the fish are almost beside the point. What you're really doing is sharing something you love with someone you love. A slow morning with no bites but good conversation is a win. A beautiful spot with coffee and no agenda is a win. Let go of the idea that a successful trip means fish in the boat and you'll both leave wanting to do it again.

Ask what they actually want out of it.
Some spouses want to fish. Some want to sit in the boat with a coffee and watch. Some want to be involved in every step and some want to ease in slowly. The fastest way to lose someone's interest is to assume you know which one they are. Ask first. Then build the trip around the answer.

Make it comfortable.
Bug spray, good snacks, a comfortable place to sit, shade if it's hot. These things matter more than you think for someone who isn't already conditioned to ignore discomfort in the name of fishing. A little planning before you leave goes a long way toward making them want to come back.

Let them set the pace on coming back.
Don't ask on the drive home if they want to go again next weekend. Give it a few days. If they bring it up, you did something right. If they don't, try something a little different next time. The goal isn't one good trip. It's building something they want to be part of over time.

Walleye fishing is a way of life in the upper Midwest. Ask anyone who grew up here and they'll tell you exactly where they were when they caught their first one. There's a reason they call it walleye country.

Where to find them.
By late July walleye have moved off the shallow water they were in during spring and pushed out to mid-depth structure. Rocky points, sunken humps, and basin edges in the 12 to 25 foot range are where you want to be looking. In rivers they sit behind wingdams and in the slack water just off the main current. The real key in summer is the thermocline. Walleye hang just above the cold, low-oxygen water below it. Find that transition and you're in the right neighborhood.

What they want.
A leech or nightcrawler on a live bait rig worked slow along the bottom catches walleye when nothing else does. In stained water a jig with a paddle tail swimbait in natural colors is a close second. In rivers, a slip float over a leech in a current seam is hard to argue with. The common thread is slow and deliberate. Walleye aren't usually chasing things down in summer heat.

One thing worth knowing.
Walleye can see in the dark better than what they're eating can. The best fishing happens at first light, last light, and after dark. If you're grinding through a bluebird afternoon and coming up empty, get on the water before sunrise instead. You'll figure out real fast why walleye anglers keep strange hours.

That's it for this week. Get out there when you can. We'll see you next time.

— OUTFIT