Author Archives: Kris Millgate
About Kris MillgateKris Millgate is an outdoors journalist for whom the quiet cast of a fly line cures writer’s block. Many production ideas for her Tight Line Media company come from the time she spends in her Idaho Falls base camp. Her two decades of journalism experience and several cross-country moves prove she’ll go anywhere for a good story. See more of her work at: tightlinemedia.com
A Solo Anniversary By Kris Millgate It’s my fifteenth wedding anniversary. I lay my fly line on the East Fork of the Salmon River at sunset. I help cook dinner on my truck’s tailgate-turned-table. I mingle with every man in … Continue reading →
Wet-Run Research Story and Photos by Kris Millgate I’m looking at a lot of black. Black bark on the banks. Black bodies in the water. The bodies belong to snorkelers wearing dark wetsuits. They’re crawling facedown in a stream that … Continue reading →
Island Park is beautiful in the green season, but summer is short in this high land where winter reigns supreme. I’ve seen Island Park in peak bloom, but now I want to see it in peak gloom. That’s why I’m riding with the Fall River Electric Cooperative line crew in January. Continue reading →
You can turn a lousy dinner of cottage cheese and crackers into a delectable dining experience if you crack open the portable packaging at the right time, in the right place. In this case, it was Grays Lake National Wildlife Refuge at sunset.
My colleague Jay Krajic, a videographer, reminisced with me recently about our evening shoot there. “Sitting on the edge of the marsh eating dinner was cool,” he recalled. We had used every hour of daylight to capture the natural beauty of Grays, only stopping for a few minutes to eat at the edge of a pond. All the bugs and birds serenaded us with a symphony of their own sweet sounds. Continue reading →
What in the world am I doing? Am I crazy? Did you hear that smack? Am I hurt? Is this a midlife crisis? Such questions crash through my mind as I lie loose-limbed on my back looking at the metal-beamed ceiling above me through a metal-barred cage across my face.
The cage is the front of my hockey helmet. The ceiling is the cover over the ice rink in Idaho Falls. I’m back-bound because a new skater who doesn’t know how to stop just took me out from behind. I dropped as quickly as an icicle unhinged from a roof’s raingutter.
It’s week one of hockey season for the Idaho Falls Youth Hockey Association. Dozens of chilly-faced children are at the city rink for their first hockey lesson. They pile through the gate onto the ice like chips poured out of a bag. They sort themselves into a single layer and try to stand. They scramble for footing on finely-ground skate blades, find no steady stance, and pinwheel their limbs until they’re laid out on the ice again. Continue reading →