After a painfully slow negotiation at the baggage claim, I was handed a security pass and I sprinted through the airport O.J. style, hopped the train, ran upstairs and arrived at the gate slightly winded. The door had closed and my racing heart skipped a beat. I looked at the United staff with a desperate look. A smiling gate attendant reached behind the counter and there it was! Flyrod safe and sound.
When I got home my wife produced from the pile of waiting mail the latest copy of The Drake, by far my favorite fishing magazine. I love it because this poetic sport deserves a literary journal. I had almost forgotten, a letter I had written this fall about running and flyfishing ended up in the Winter 2012 edition.
I'm reading Trout Bum by John Gierach at the moment on my Kindle Fire. In my opinion Gierach is an outdoor writer of great distinction. With apologies to those who know the sport better than I, and who can write about it more knowledgeably, here's my first published contribution.
I landed in D.C. and headed immediately for the Urban Angler in Old Town Alexandria. I wanted to see what an East Coast fly shop looked like. There I picked up my first copy of The Drake.
I sat in my hotel room that night, pouring over your provocative articles and exhilarating photos. I even read every ad. For the first time in more than 30 years I was reminded of the first time I picked up a copy of The Runner. I was a track and cross country runner in the late '70s, and The Runner had its finger on the pulse of my sport and my generation.
To this day I read its successor, Runner's World, religiously. The Drake reminds me of the intensity and intimacy of those days in running just after the sport's boom, when running culture was being built.
Keep up the great writing. You may well be shaping flyfishing culture for generations to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment