But I'm just a fly fisherman, and as strange as this may sound, I'm part of a huge industry. In that sense, I speak a universal language: cash.

Utah has more than a half-million anglers and another 200,000 hunters. Combined, we contribute more than $685 million to the state's economy, according to a new study by the Theodore Roosevelt Conservation Partnership and Sonoran Institute.

Angling in Utah is second only to skiing and at times surpasses skiing in the revenue that it generates. That's not bad for a desert.

The reason for this is simple enough: Utah is a great state for enjoying the outdoors, blessed as it is with more than 20 million acres of public lands preferred by hunters and anglers. About one-fifth of that land is roadless, nearly pristine country that protects wildlife, provides critical habitats, and stores and filters water. These critical watersheds and habitats are a significant reason why Utah has such an economically viable hunting and fishing industry.

But while it's easy to appreciate our wealth of natural places, we should also appreciate how imperative it is that we conserve these unique resources if we are to continue seeing the jobs and income created by our thriving outdoor-recreation industry.

As it happens, roadless areas are incredibly valuable in other ways. Roads disrupt wildlife and lead to habitat degradation on fisheries. Road- less areas give wildlife room to feed and breed and are often their last refuges. According to the U.S. Forest Service, roadless areas are home to more than 220 wildlife species listed as threatened, endangered or proposed-for-listing. More than half of the West's summer elk herd is concentrated in roadless areas.

Roadless areas are also remarkably free of sediments that can and do literally suffocate the life out of many of our fresh water habitats. Roadless areas are the birthplace of many of our fragile watersheds, providing large amounts of clean, fresh water to streams elsewhere, a significant reason we have so many healthy fisheries in Utah. It's what makes the Provo River a superior trout stream, even if it is within an hour of more than a million people.

Small wonder hunters and anglers are drawn to Utah's public lands. They go where the fish and wildlife are. Nearly nine of 10 hunters in the state say they hunt on public lands, according to the Roosevelt/Sonoran report. They spend a fair amount of money, too - an average of $1,731 each per year. Each fisherman spends nearly $1,000 a year in Utah.

I've been fishing since the age of 9, when I used to bicycle 10 miles to catch bluegill and bass at a friend's lake in Ohio. For the past 20 years I've catered to the needs of fellow fly fishers from my Salt Lake business, Western Rivers Flyfisher.

The Roosevelt/Sonoran report does a nice job of putting into numbers what I've been casually observing over the years, be it in my shop or traveling around the world to fish in Belize, Russia, the Bahamas, Key West and British Columbia. Anglers are a hardy, dedicated bunch. I've worked a hard week, staying late on a Friday for a shop meeting, and still headed out for the four-hour drive to Henry's Fork to pitch my tent after 3 in the morning.

Late in the year, I'll gladly freeze my body parts numb in a day of chasing steelhead on the Salmon River in Idaho. I can spend a day pursuing a single fish, guessing the hatch, tiptoeing about in my waders, secure in the knowledge that I'm testing my wits and skills against some of the most beautiful backdrops in the world.

Yes, there is a fine line between a hobby and mental illness. My line is made of monofilament.

But hobby or not, strange or normal, anglers gladly part with our money for this experience. That profits Utah. It's a tribute to our pristine public lands as well, and a great reason to make sure they stay that way.

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Steve Schmidt is a sportsman from Salt Lake City and owner of a fly-fishing store. He is a member of the Utah Blue Ribbon Fisheries Advisory Committee to the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources.