Sales director Will Jordan and I made the trip to Denver last week for the annual fly fishing retailer show. The show was impressive, but we had our fill of big city traffic, paying to park and car alarms blaring.
Regardless of our disdain for the concrete jungle, it amazed us just how many people at the show wanted a piece of Montana. The average fly angler we spoke with spent at least a week each summer in Big Sky Country; a lot of those guys would reside here permanently, if they could.
I felt a little guilty for taking Montana for granted, needing to be reminded how great our state was, reminded that we have resources that many sportsmen would die for. On the drive home from Denver, I vowed I would fish those rivers that I ignored this summer and hunt the big, wide-open spaces that are made for a man, a dog and a gun.
On a recent hunt since returning from Denver, the birds were not as numerous as past autumns, but the views were sweeter. And more cherished.
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