I would call myself a slow writer but that feels willfully understated. The 2018 Baikal Headwaters Expedition took place a scant five years ago. My first book, Principles of Navigation, was begun in 1983 and published in 2013. (I’ll trust you to do the math.) My second, The Coconut Crab, originated as a story told to my daughter in 1999—and was released in 2022. Rowing to Baikal ships on December 5. So at least I'm getting faster with age.
Though not really. It still takes a maddeningly long time to scribble out the sentences, identify their weaknesses, fix their faults, cobble their connections.
This one happened more quickly because if I’d waited twenty years to get the paragraphs right, the river might have been gone. And with it, so many things that have sustained me and countless others. Things worth loving. (For the record, 50 percent of the royalties from this book have been allocated to the International Taimen Initiative.)
Elsewhere, you can find my story about the pleasures of friendship in issue 15.1 of The Flyfish Journal, while issue 15.2 will include a brief musing on mayflies—or, in other words, youth and fragility—and the epic of Gilgamesh.
And the most recent issue of Destinations, a publication of Fly Fisherman magazine, features a description of a revelatory moment with the guides of Salvelinus in the foothills of the Pyrenees, arranged by my friends at Orvis Travel—with art by Rob Benigno—while Fly Fisherman’s annual Gear Guide closes with the origin story of my guiding career, which began way back in 1979.
But this year, the book has been the focus of most of my waking hours, even on the river in Mongolia, where I made some pre-dawn edits using my phone and then, thanks to the miracle of LTE, passed them along to the publisher before getting down to the more serious business of catching taimen on the fly. (Thanks to Matt Koerber for the pic.)
