The Moldy Chum Chumion breaks the story! I can neither confirm nor deny. The satire is strong with this one…
Looks like I’ll be up at Sundance Mountain Resort November 10-11 to be a part of the 25th anniversary celebration of A River Runs Through It. Planning on doing some casting and a bit of storytelling from days on the set. I’ll even have a few copies of SHFC floating around. If you’re in the neighborhood at that time, come on up and say hello.
The 25th anniversary of the film, A River Runs Through It, is coming up shortly (October 9). Below is a link to a good read about some aspects of the film’s pre-production/production and post-release influences. I’ll be posting a few memories of my own related to the fly-fishing scenes closer to the anniversary date.
Since I’ve been posting a bit about A River Runs Through It, I figured I’d also add link to George Croonenberghs. If you don’t know who George was, the link below should fill you in (he’s in Norman’s novella, too).
I first met George on-set and immediately liked him (as did everyone else I can think of). He was big, happy, eager, and had a giant box of vintage Montana fly patterns that would make any red-blooded fly angler weep.
After I doubled for the film’s shadow casting scene, George was waiting. He said something to me that was for me only. I’m not going to get into what it was, but it changed my perception of my own life in some ways.
George died more than a decade ago, and sometimes I think about him, and the words he said, and I feel like I want to go back. I can’t, and he can’t come forward, and that’s just the way it is.
George and I did see one another after the film, but I was too busy in my own head to realize the potential friend I had there. That’s a regret that time can’t erase.
Listening to the ARRTI soundtrack. Still swirls up such nostalgia and longing for me after all these years. Days perfected into memories that remain forever despite the endless flow of time.
So my little daughter, Brooke, wanders over to me:
“I had a sleep show [read: dream] last night.”
“Yeah, what was it about?”
“I was fishing for sharptooth minnows [read: prehistoric minnows] with my fly rod.”
“Oh. Did you catch any?”
“Yes. I was using the rainbow fly from your fly box [her favorite sparkle woolly bugger].”
“Did you fin tag them and release them?”
“Yes, they were snapping at me!”
She’s a really cool kid.
As some friends already know, I’ve been following the 30 Reasons film project. Just found out that the website is now live. 30 Reasons is absolutely worth a look (watch the trailer).
From the latest of my weekly front page entries over at Sexyloops.com.
Years ago, I was fishing a small Montana spring creek regarded for its tricky drag/presentation situations and touchy trout. I had located a big fish feeding near the bank on a gentle bend in the creek. A mayfly hatch had the trout rising, pushing a small wake every time it surfaced. Having spooked a rather large rainbow earlier in the day with an approach that was too close, I decided to hang back, and drop a long Puddle Cast up-and-across to the fish.
Several casts, mends and drifts later, the fish was still rising, but not to my fly.
Read the rest of the story here.
One summer, my wife, Kelley, and I devoted a few days to fishing some of less-pressured stretches of Montana’s famed Gallatin River. While the public access points were stacked with Bozeman and Big Sky traffic, a bit of walking and wading often found us a quiet place on the river. One of those places still held the remnants of a modest channel. Its flows were slowed to a crawl by the summer sun, and its thread-bare riffles babbled softly into two deep pools.
Read the rest of the story here.