Cover photo courtesy of Kevin Knight
By Ryan Stemkoski
A man does not usually walk into a fly shop expecting his life to change. He comes looking for a rod, a reel, a handful of flies, and perhaps a little advice. Sometimes, he comes with curiosity and uncertainty, hoping someone behind the counter can help make sense of a sport that feels both beautiful and overwhelming. For Kevin Knight, that walk into the House of Fly inside North 40 Outfitters was exactly that. He had no idea it would become the beginning of a friendship, a mentorship, and a turning point that would quietly reshape his life.
Behind the counter stood Chip O’Brien, wearing his familiar scally cap, calm and unassuming. Kevin asked the question nearly every beginner asks. “I am on a budget. Where do I start?”
In a retail world that often equates the value of a customer with the bottom line, Chip responded differently. He did not point Kevin toward premium rods or showcase the most expensive reels. He did not overwhelm him with jargon or pressure. He listened. Then he guided him toward a modest rod-and-reel setup, something honest, affordable, and appropriate for someone just beginning.
It was a simple exchange. Professional. Respectful. The kind of interaction that feels refreshing but not yet remarkable.
What Kevin did not realize at the time was that he was standing before a fly-fishing icon. Not a casual enthusiast. Not simply a seasoned angler. Chip O’Brien had written hundreds of articles and several books. His work had appeared in respected national publications such as American Fly Fishing and Active NorCal, as well as a long list of fly-fishing magazines that anglers trust for education and truth on the water. He was, in many ways, a celebrity in the fly fishing world, a man whose words had already shaped how countless anglers understood rivers, insects, and fish. Yet there was not a trace of ego in how Chip approached Kevin. Chip genuinely wanted to help a beginner get into the sport.
To Kevin, Chip was simply a kind man behind a counter who took his question seriously.
That alone would have made the encounter positive. But what made it unforgettable came later.
A month or two passed. Kevin took his new rod-and-reel combo to the North Fork of the Coeur d’Alene River. He was still learning. Still fumbling. Still unsure of himself. But that day, he landed his first Westslope Cutthroat trout. The moment carried weight far beyond the fish. It marked a shift from curiosity to connection, from interest to belonging.
He returned to the House of Fly and held up his phone. Chip leaned in, studied the image, smiled, and said, “What a beaut.”
Three simple words.
For Kevin, they carried the gravity of affirmation. Those words felt like recognition. He now felt welcomed into the fly-fishing fraternity.
They talked that day for nearly two hours, interrupted only by customers coming in for flies, leaders, and advice for the coming season. During that conversation, Kevin learned that Chip was not just knowledgeable. He was a writer. An author. A former guide. A retired school teacher. A man whose life had been built around teaching others to understand both water and words.
What Kevin could not have known then was how deeply that conversation would echo into his life.
At the time, Kevin was stepping into one of the darkest seasons he had ever known. A divorce after seventeen years of marriage had fractured his sense of identity and stability. The future felt loud, uncertain, and heavy. Fly fishing at first became an escape. Then it became something far more powerful. It became a rhythm. A place of stillness. A way to breathe again.
And Chip was his guide on that journey.
Not through dramatic gestures. Not through speeches or prescriptions. He was there through time, conversation, and shared experience. Through showing Kevin not only how to cast, but also how to slow down. How to pay attention. How to let the river become a place of restoration rather than distraction.
Fly fishing gave Kevin peace. Chip gave it structure and possibility.
Kevin would later say that Chip saved his life. More than once.
That is not a statement made lightly. It is one that reveals how deeply mentorship can shape a person when it is grounded in care and compassion. Chip never positioned himself as a hero. He simply showed up consistently, with patience and respect. With genuine care and support.
And that is the thing about Chip. He affords every person he meets the same opportunity.
Customer after customer, he smiles and offers help. He learns names. He remembers stories. He treats beginners and experts with equal dignity. In a world shaped by speed and transaction, Chip practices presence. He understands that people rarely walk into fly shops carrying only fishing questions. They carry stories. Longings. Grief. Hope. Uncertainty.
The House of Fly inside North 40 Outfitters becomes a perfect reflection of that philosophy. North 40 is a store built for work and practicality. It serves farmers, hunters, gardeners, homesteaders, and families. It sells feed, boots, tools, and equipment. And tucked inside it is a fly shop that feels entirely different in pace and tone. It is slower. Quieter. Thoughtful. It feels like a classroom and a gathering place at the same time.
Here, one of the most experienced fly fishing writers and educators in the country chooses to spend his days helping people find their footing.
To understand why that matters, you have to understand who Chip has been long before Spokane ever knew his name.
Chip grew up in the Midwest, moving between Wisconsin, Michigan, Minnesota, and Illinois. His introduction to fly fishing came almost accidentally. After his father passed away, an old bamboo fly rod was left behind in the garage. It was not a cherished heirloom yet. Just an object waiting for meaning.
That meaning came when the family moved to eighty acres outside of West Bend, Wisconsin, with their own private lake. Chip tied on a bass popper that was already attached to the line and cast it out. A bass inhaled it almost immediately. Years later, he would reflect on that moment and wonder who had really been hooked.
Around the same time, his mother planted another seed. After a strong grade on a piece of writing, she said, “Maybe you should be a writer when you grow up.” Those words ignited a spark.
There were no fly fishing magazines then. Chip read Outdoor Life, Field and Stream, and Sports Afield, eagerly waiting for the one fly fishing article each issue might contain. He decided that someday, he would write those stories himself.
So he pursued journalism, earning a bachelor’s degree and later a graduate degree in writing. Like many young adults with clear passions, he detoured into something that promised stability. Corporate sales in Los Angeles. A good income. A predictable future.
Then one morning, he told his wife, “All I really want to do is fish.”
That sentence changed everything. It altered finances. It strained relationships. It reshaped priorities. And it led him north to Northern California, where wild trout water and possibility ran side by side.
There he began writing seriously. Fishing seriously. Learning deeply. He worked with California Trout and later guided for Clearwater House, where he met Dick Galland. It was Galland who would give him the sentence that would define his life:
“I am not looking for people who are expert fly fishers. I can teach you that. I am looking for people who love people.”
Chip carried that sentence into every role he ever held.
He spent fourteen years guiding the best waters in Northern California. He taught fly-fishing classes for beginners, intermediates, and experts. He wrote prolifically. He discovered that while teaching others brought great fulfillment, it left little time for fishing. So he pivoted again.
He became a school teacher, teaching writing during the year and guiding and fishing during the summer. He lived a life built on curiosity and service. He wrote hundreds of articles. He authored several books. He wrote about technique, entomology, equipment, conservation, history, and the fragile places that should be protected through silence.
Life took him to Oregon through love and marriage. Then, eventually, to Spokane, drawn by the powerful bond between a grandmother and her grandchildren. After retirement, he fished throughout the West. And then restlessness returned.
He began searching for fly fishing opportunities in Spokane.
That search led him to the House of Fly inside North 40 Outfitters.
Much like guiding and teaching before it, Chip discovered that working in a fly shop suited him perfectly. Fly shops are places of conversation and connection. People come for flies but stay for stories. One day, it is carp tactics. The next day, it might be Hemingway. Then entomology. Then life.
Chip writes for the House of Fly blog. He fishes weekly, year-round. His articles continue to appear in national publications. Yet he chooses to spend his days helping beginners build confidence and veterans sharpen their understanding.
Spokane’s fly fishing culture is rich, and Chip is at the center of it. He is involved with Spokane Fly Fishers, Inland Empire Fly Fishers, and Spokane Women on the Fly. He helped organize the first annual Spokane Fly Fishing Showdown, bringing clubs together in friendly competition built on community rather than money. No prize purses. Only a trophy, pride, and a year of lighthearted rivalry. Again, none of it is about ego; it is about true love for the sport.
Through it all, Chip remains the same man behind the counter. The same scally cap. The same smile. The same willingness to listen. To guide. To help. The same love for people that Dick Galland saw in him decades before.
Kevin did not walk into the House of Fly looking for healing. He walked in looking for a rod. What he found was a man who understood that fly fishing is rarely about fish alone. It is about patience. Belonging. Learning how to be present again. Fly fishing is a community, and Chip welcomed Kevin in.
Chip has spent sixty years fly fishing. But his greatest craft has never been casting or tying flies. It has been loving people well, one honest conversation at a time.
And the Spokane outdoor community is better because he has chosen to do it here!
