“In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing. We lived at the junction of great trout rivers in western Montana, and our father was a Presbyterian minister and a fly fisherman who tied his own flies and taught others. He told us about Christs disciples being fishermen, and we were left to assume, as my brother and I did, that all first-class fishermen on the Sea of Galilee were fly fishermen and that John, the favorite, was a dry-fly fisherman.”
I wanted to learn to fly, not because it was the smart thing to do in the 1920s, but because I was afraid of anything that flew.... I reasoned that if I learned to fly, I might conquer my fear of it. The remedy worked.