t has been a high-water year in Montana’s Bob Marshall Wilderness, and the river is running bank-full and ice-cold, even now, in the middle of July. But the water is clear as ether, and we can see the cutthroats holding in the current, their perfect fluid shapes against the clean gravel of the bottom, their backs as green as emeralds. We have all stopped talking for the first time all morning, watching the river and the up-and-down dancing of a hatch of caddis in a shaft of hot sunlight. The fish begin to rise, dimpling the surface, and there is a heavier splash near the cliff on the far side of the river. Yvon Chouinard is rigging up his Tenkara fly rod—an unadorned 12-foot collapsible pole with no reel. The line holder near the butt is held on with two slightly bent paper clips with rubber bands. It is a simple rod for a man who strives for simplicity.