I love fly-fishing. It requires a finesse that other forms of fishing lack. It also requires a knowledge of habitat, the learned ability to "see through" the surface structure of the river, to discover the pockets where trout lurk.I love to stand thigh deep in a spring creek on a bright summer day, surrounded by cottonwoods, aspens, and snow capped peaks. Even if they aren't biting.

I remember the first fish I caught on a fly, using my new reel, rod and waders. He was a fingerling rainbow so small he went through the holes in my brand new net. I also remember the 20 inch brown I hooked on a dry fly by a crumbling wooden bridge on the Madison, how it took me 5 minutes to land him. I set him free to return to his deep hole behind a living-room sized boulder.

In "A River Runs through It", McLean says " I am haunted by waters." I know what he means.