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We celebrated a friend’s birthday two nights ago at the Banff Mountain Film Festival.   It’s a series of 8 films,  ranging from 4 to 25 minutes long. The longest was a fly-fishing documentary.

My group’s reaction was, at least it’s not all fly-fishing. Afterward I was mournful. Why wasn’t there more fly fishing?

What’s to love?   Really, it’s the editing.   But okay:  marvelous fish.  The reverence of the fishermen.  That helicopter.  Does Frank really believe in Sasquatch, or not?  The baby in the fishing net.  The jaw-dropping landscape.   The guy who cannot make the jumpshot.

Here’s the trailer.  The Festival is on tour and it’s left Boulder, but it’s worth finding out if it will be in your area.

(Note: forgive me for the f-bomb. The whole film was remarkably clean but the film’s single obscenity managed to find its way into the trailer.)

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