when watching movies as a child, how the theater seat—everything—would vanish,
leaving me floating disembodied before the images on the screen. And it was
this sort of possession you looked for when angling: to watch the river
flowing, the insects landing and hatching, the places where trout hold; and to
insinuate the supple, binding movement of tapered line until, when the
combination is right, the line becomes quite rigid and many of its motions are
conceived at the other end. That stage continues for a time that is dependent
on the size of the trout and the skill of the angler. When the initiative
changes hands, the trout is soon in the net, without an idea in his head until
you release him. Then you see him going off, looking for a spot, and thinking.
We had this only briefly: our trip was over.
On the way out we
got a Cessna instead of a De Havilland and the airline didn't lose my luggage
until Seattle, where it vanished through the looking glass of computerized
bungling. A week later it surfaced in Bozeman, Mont., and we were reunited. I
took a good look at the suitcases. Someone unable to stand the pressure had
enjoyed himself with a ball peen hammer.
I opened my
luggage on a hot Montana day and all the woolens began to steam. I was home