BY KAREN BOSSICK

As a fisherman, Mark Levin has often found himself up against some stiff competition.

He's drifted down an Alaskan River, rounding a bend when he's come face to face with a grizzly after the same fish he was.

He's walked across tundra in search of the perfect fishing spot only to encounter a sow with three cubs.

"I didn't see her until she stood up, said Levin, who has spent five Alaskan fishing trips fishing the Copper, Alagnak and other rivers in Alaska. "We slowly backed away, my heart racing all the time. But, that's what Alaska's like. Bears will go for fish at the end of the line—it’s easy pickings. And all you can do is cut your line and get out."

Levin got hooked on fishing while living in California where he was a lawyer to doctors.

"I loved mountains and rivers and I'd go backpacking in the Sierras when I was in my late 20s. I got started on salmon eggs and worms. I killed a lot of fish then but I ate them all. Now, I haven't kept a fish in 25 years," he said.

Levin took a fly fishing class in California from six-time national casting champion Neil Taylor and was hooked on the sport.

Once he got into it, he wanted to move somewhere where he could indulge in his passion. He found that place in Sun Valley while spending two nights here ahead of a rafting trip on the Middle Fork of the Salmon.

After seven years of "nagging," he convinced his wife Dora--also a lawyer--to move to Ketchum sight unseen in 1990.

"I wasn't a very good fly fisherman then. I would carry a spinning rod and fly so that, when I wasn't having good success, I could switch. Finally, I got good enough to leave it behind. It sat in my garage for 25 years--I donated it to the Gold Mine last year," he recounted.

Levin has been to Patagonia where it's so windy the outfitter had to turn the truck around so the doors wouldn't blow off when they opened them. He's also done some deep sea fishing. But he never took to it like he did fly fishing.

"There's not a lot of ocean around here," he said. "And standing on a boat shoulder to shoulder with a bunch of people is not that pleasant."

Levin built his first fly rod, cutting the fiberglass himself.

"It becomes an obsession. I like to go into fly shops to see what I don't need that I have to have," he quipped.

Come spring he loves to go with Woody Friedlander to the Owyhee River. There, just below the Owyhee Reservoir in Eastern Oregon, the two men can catch brown trout between 17 and 25 inches long all day.

Levin and a handful of fly fishing buddies have also made a yearly trek to the Bighorn River in southern Montana  for the past 25 years where they drink a lot of martinis and fish for five days.

Other favorites include the Ruby, Beaverhead and Madison rivers in Montana. And closer to home: The Lost River.

"So many choices and not that far away,” he said.

Levin revels in the challenge of landing a fish using just the right tension.

"It's harder than you'd think. If the fish are rising consistently, it's like labor contractions where they come every 25 seconds. My challenge is to cast a dry fly on top of water in front of them but not too far in front."

As much as Levin loves his fish, you won't find him ordering trout in a restaurant.

"There's nothing like cooking and eating a fish you just caught. Once you know what that tastes like, you know it can't be duplicated in a restaurant,” he said.

After 28 years of fishing in Idaho and surrounding states, Levin says he's still got more to learn.

"I learn something every time I go out. I see someone do something and it clicks--I think: I should try that. There's always something new to learn,” he said.

“And, really, I can't think of anything more therapeutic than fishing--you're looking around at these beautiful places like the Owyhee Canyonlands, the mountains of Idaho--there's just something so magical about all that."