Fly Fishing at Tangle Lakes

Seeing my boys fly fishing was one of my favorite parts about camping last week. Though I don't know how to do it I can appreciate the poetry of the movements and I sat there on the banks of the river watching him casting his line and catching grayling for quite some time. The only sound was the ripple of the water as it dragged against his hip waders.

From the opening paragraph of Norman Maclean's A River Runs through It:

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 Christ's 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.

Technorati tags: Wordless Wednesday, fly fishing, grayling, Tangle Lakes, Alaska