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| On a recent trip to Montana, the big league of western fly fishing, I found myself headed for a place called Five Rivers Lodge. An indistinct image of a primitive log cabin floated through my mind as the jammed airplane approached Missoula where a couple of months before I had been told someone from the lodge would be waiting for me. Scotch and sodas, fishing fantasies, or both, my travel-zonked brain was having trouble placing the cabin so that it could overlook or be beside five separate rivers. Oh well, I would see. Waiting to board the flight a couple of hours earlier in Salt Lake City, a phenomenon I had heard and read about suddenly blossomed before my eyes. Since I now live and fish on the bottom side of the globe, thousand so miles to the south, what I had been hearing was like learning that the idyllic hometown you grew up in had been devoured by swarms of fire ants. It's the kind of thing you feel bad about, yet considering how far away it is and your good fortune in having left there-not for too long. < previous - next > |
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| Fly Fishing Magazine Printable version here |
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