Getting Away From It All

“Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity.”
(John Muir)

It's good, on a regular basis, to get out of the noise and crush of the city, and drive out into the country...where it's much quieter. Where life slows down. Where you can hear the sound of the breeze and Red-winged Blackbirds. Where you can hear your own thoughts...

Where you can just rest.

As much as I love standing waist-deep in a swirling river, pursuing and catching big trout, the drive through the countryside that takes me to my destinations are just as cleansing, and magical to me.

The smell of burning stubble in early spring. The smell of mint in summer fields. And the smell of onions being harvested at the end of summer are forever implanted in my senses.

There's something about getting up before dawn, and hitting the road at first light, that makes me come alive. A fresh start. A new road to explore. A new day in the journey.

My camera is always on my car seat next to me whenever I hit the road. You never know what you're going to see out on the open road. You have to be ready.

When I was younger, the prize was always the destination and especially the fish to be caught there. But now, the real prize for me is the journey.  The fish that may be caught at whatever the destination, are merely sprinkles on top of the frosting. 

Whenever I get a really early start, I always see things that I wouldn't have otherwise. An amazing sunrise, deer, elk, or wild turkeys. 

A beautiful trout, with just the right light and background, can make for a great photo as well.

Coming home from a long work road trip, I witnessed this amazing winter sunset over the lower Snake river.  To get the shot, I had to walk out onto the bridge over the interstate. From the road, the area you can (supposedly) walk on looks a lot wider. But once you're out there, it looks two feet wide at best, and the wind thrown at you by diesel trucks screaming by at 85 MPH feels like it will blow you right off the bridge and into the river. I literally took my life in my hands to get this shot, and swore to my wife I'd never do it again...

As much as I like "glory shots" of the big fish we're often blessed to catch, my favorite photos taken over the last ten years are shots captured on the way there, the way back, and exploring the scenic areas in-between fishing...

I also love capturing an unsuspecting friend in a surprise shot at last light.

Or a glimpse of rapidly vanishing small town USA...

There are times when you have to act quickly to catch that perfect lighting before it's gone...

For me, getting away from it all is found in seeing the beauty along the journey and capturing those priceless moments in my heart, mind and camera. 

More and more, what I want to get away from are the hordes of consumers. The noisy, insensitive, competitive anglers, ready to steal or defend their favorite fishing spots.

The once longed for destinations are rapidly being overrun by the very same people Muir wrote of that long to come home to the mountains. And many of the wild places we need to escape to aren't so wild any more.

But the journey of the soul in the wild places of a man's heart is something no one can take away or spoil. 

The memories of hot summer days, the smell of wild roses and sagebrush, the sound of a peaceful river, an afternoon breeze whispering in the pines, and Red-winged blackbirds chirping in the willows, and the peace that passes understanding, are mine to cherish forever...

—At The End of My Line. 

A Breath of Spring

Finally... mercifully... it begins again.

The long dormant winter is fading away and brilliant green blades of grass are appearing. Crocus, Tulips and Hyacinth are poking up through the dry, arid soil, crying out for, and beckoning the spring rains.

Succulent green buds are popping out on the Lilac bushes, and those cool fuzzy things are draping from all the Aspen trees in the front yard.

My soul cries out for the breath of new life that always comes with the arrival of Spring.

My heart longs for the refreshing spring showers and the intense thunderstorms with deafening claps of thunder that accompany each piercing bolt of lightning. I love the big spring storms that shake the entire house, and also shake your spirit, letting you know just how alive you are... that there's something much bigger out there than just yourself.

I'm not a winter person. As I get older and my joints and torn meniscus ache, I don't miss the times I used to ski as a younger man. Six months of spring, four months of fall, and one month each of winter and summer would suit me just fine.

Hopefully, in the next life it will be eternal spring there. Perpetual times of refreshing, cool, cleansing breezes, brilliant green plants and trees with sparkling, crystal clear springs and creeks everywhere.

I love to walk out into the back yard on a warm spring morning and just breathe in the fresh air and newness of spring.

The breath of life.

The first day of March called me out to don my waders, and hit the river in town, with boxes packed full of every kind of fly I think might entice a hungry trout or two. It was great to get my rusty fly casting arm loosened up and see if I could still hit my target. Fortunately, it's just like riding a bike. You never forget how.

The sky will continue to get brighter blue and the grass and trees more brilliant green in the the upcoming weeks. Bugs are hatching rapidly and the trout are hungry. Get outside and breathe in the fresh spring air. 

It's a time of new life. 

A time to become fully alive...

—At The End of My Line.