STREAMER FISHIN’
My favorite days are full of fishing. I live in the mountains of Montana, so I have a lot of favorite days each year. Fishing is there, too, when bad things happen. Maybe then most importantly of all. By October 2020, the nation could have used a day on the river. Chokeholds and riots; caustic, fevered politics; and that virus on the loose again, taking meaty bites out of our civility. The President even had the damn thing now; hospitalized, with many rumors swirling.
In Bozeman, we had our own troubles. The canyon north of town had just burned. Lightning flashed into its flank, and the flames raked up and over the ridge, encouraged by the tinder of drought. On the other side, barns and farmhouses simply vanished, their foundations broken up like old bones into a crematory drawer.
In a frozen dawn, Scott Bosse and I drove through the gap at Drinking Horse and up toward the old ski hill. Scott works for American Rivers, helps save
