The Drift: Is Fly Fishing Too Luxurious These Days?

A few headlines this past week grabbed my attention, and not in the best way. The first was someone’s response to the new TV show “The Madison,” another entry from Taylor Sheridan (creator of “Yellowstone”). The author said that his wife finally understands why he fly fishes, after she watched that show, which stars Michelle Pfeiffer and Kurt Russell. It’s set on the Madison River in Montana.

The other headline was about a luxury ski resort in Utah pulling double-duty as a great fly fishing destination during the summer. Most of Utah’s ski resorts are a stone’s throw from decent fly fishing (I’d hesitate to call it great, and I grew up there), and there’s no shortage of multi-million dollar homes lining the banks of some of the state’s most pressured rivers.

This all sat in the back of my mind as I drove through Bozeman and Livingston this week. I don’t begrudge anyone their success, and I applaud folks who figure out how to live and play in some of the prettiest places in America. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I feel more and more like an outsider whenever I visit some of these places, and I’ve lived in the West all my life.

Fly fishing has always been a pastime of the better-off, but in recent years, I feel like the sport has made serious strides in being more accessible. The beginner fly fishing kits these days are leaps and bounds better than what I started out with. There’s no shortage of great instruction on YouTube, in books, or at fly fishing shows. The community as a whole feels more welcoming and accepting of newcomers.

I understand that exotic travel sells, that luxury resorts make a tidy profit, and it makes sense to market your wares to the folks who have the most disposable income. That’s just good business. But these headlines, and that feeling of being an outsider, aren’t one-off experiences. It feels like there’s a concerted effort to show off the luxurious, high-end side of fly fishing, even as the sport is probably more visible and mainstream than it’s been since the ’90s.

To put it another way, there’s been a major shift in the way a lot of folks consume media, especially video content. Creators with massive followings are still doing well, but they don’t have the stranglehold on the ecosystem they used to. Folks want authentic, relatable content, and they don’t care if you have 50 or 5,000,000 subscribers. If you’re telling a story they can relate to, people will gravitate to your content regardless.

I’d argue that we’re losing out on a lot of connections with potential anglers when so much of fly fishing media wants to focus on the sexiest destination, the biggest fish, or the newest gear. And before you ask—yes, I’d rather have more people fishing right now, even if it means my rivers are a bit more crowded, because that means we’ll have exponentially more reach and help when we need to stand up for and defend our fisheries.

Maybe I just saw the wrong headlines, and maybe I’m wrong about the geographic centers of Western fly fishing—Montana, Colorado, even parts of Wyoming—becoming resort towns that cater to the extremely wealthy. I very well could be completely off-base.

Regardless, I think we can all use the reminder that fishing isn’t about fancy lodges or drift boats or five-star meals after a day on the water. There’s an awful lot to love in the small creeks, after-work sessions, the long drives with friends, sleeping in the car because you don’t want to spring for a hotel, and fishing dawn-to-dusk. And it’d be a shame if we lost our focus on what this is all actually about. To borrow a phrase from John Gierach, at the end of the day, we’re all just standing in a river, waving a stick.