“In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing.”
Those words, written by Norman Maclean and published in 1976, introduced a generation of anglers to the lives, loves, and losses of a Montana family. In October of 1992, Robert Redford’s silver screen adaptation introduced a whole new generation to Norman’s Montana, and to the desire to understand what happened and why. For me, a 21-year-old kid fresh off an undergraduate degree in film study, the production represented both a well-timed professional opportunity and deeply personal journey that took me back to my roots as a fly fisher.
I caught my first trout by my own hand not far from Storm Castle Peak in Montana’s Gallatin River drainage. A lucky cast, followed by a shout from my father, and I was soon clutching a 13-inch ‘bow. That was 1972. Nearly 20 years later, I found myself back in essentially the same spot as a casting double in Robert Redford’s film adaptation of A River Runs Through It.