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In March 1997, as I was driving east on Highway 2 out of the Idaho panhandle into northwestern Montana, I became very apprehensive as I found myself literally having to plow through the snow. Flakes as big as silver dollars fell and overloaded my windshield wipers time and time again. What a contrast from the Sacramento Valley that I had left just a few days earlier, where some of the trees in the orchards had already started to bloom. I was heading for the last best place: Libby, Montana.
My father first brought me to this part of the world when I was ten years old. We used to float the Kootenai River for days, catching some remarkable fish. Although we returned a number of times after that, it was never enough and we both dreamed of how wonderful it would be to someday come here and never have to leave. My father never quite made it, but now it was finally coming true for me.
The fishing forecast for the Kootenai River that year was gloomy. Some say over thirteen feet of snow fell in the Kootenai River Valley, to say nothing of the snow they received in Canada where the Kootenai originates. The runoff that year was as expected with that kind of winter. I was anxious to go fishing, but the water was too high and fast. I was getting a bit frustrated. Finally, I received word one day in August that a world record rainbow, over 33 pounds, had been taken by the David Thompson Bridge on the Kootenai. That got my adrenaline going! I now had a renewed excitement and I knew after seeing this magnificent country once more, I wanted to write again. However, I also realized that there were many obstacles in my path that might prevent me from doing one of the things I love.
Before I left California, I had placed my personal belongings into storage temporarily. Shortly after my arrival in Montana, my daughter contacted me to report that some perpetrators had taken all of my fly-fishing books, manuscripts, pictures, fly-tying tools, materials, and other priceless memorabilia from the storage facility. This was disheartening, to say the least, as much of it was of no consequence to anyone except me. After learning of this, I felt it would be impossible to reconstruct years of work and collecting, and I despaired of doing any more writing. One day, while I was having my car repaired, a fellow drove up and I noticed his license plates read, "ANGLISH." As he walked by me I could not resist commenting on his choice of plates. On introducing ourselves, we recognized each other's names; he was Glenn Overton of Wonder Wax fame. Although I had often purchased his wax, I had never connected him with Libby, Montana.
Right away, Glenn had to show me all of the access points on the Kootenai River. It was not long before I realized why they called this one of the best tail-water fisheries in North America, and I've been fishing the Kootenai tirelessly ever since. While getting some great fishing under our belts, Glenn and I came to know each other rather well. As a result of our common interest and friendship, Glenn offered me the use of his extensive fly-fishing library. With a lot of hard work, I was finally able to reconstruct much of what I lost in the way of manuscripts. In many ways the whole experience of the loss of my personal library and collections might have been an awakening, as it forced me to look at my writing from a whole new perspective. And thanks to Glenn, I was able to work with a very complete fly-fishing library.
It is said that we are our own worst critics and I am no exception. I'll be the first to say that the first edition of Fish Flies, with another publisher, was not as complete as I had envisioned and it lacked clarity in some places. Thanks to my wife, Patricia, who has devoted huge amounts of time typing at the keyboard and working with the graphics, this edition of Fish Flies is what I wanted to create from the beginning. I would still be struggling had it not been for her support, her work, and her love of fly-fishing. It is nice to have a partner who loves fly-fishing as much as I do.
