Tag: fly fishing mindset

  • Part 6: Full Circle — What the Backcountry Teaches Us

    Part 6: Full Circle — What the Backcountry Teaches Us

    There’s a rhythm that sets in when you spend days wandering rivers, casting dry flies, and capturing the land through your lens. After hiking into La Plata, following the Pine River Trail, rising early on the Animas, and whispering along the Dolores, something starts to shift—not just in the way you fish, but in how you move through the world.

    This final chapter isn’t about a specific cast or photo. It’s about what all of this meant once I came off the trail, rinsed the mud off my boots, and looked back at the miles behind me.

    From Maps to Moments

    When I first sat down to plan this trip, it was a checklist: routes to hike, rivers to fish, hatches to chase. I studied topo maps and overlays on Google Earth, watched weather systems roll in and out of the San Juans, and marked backup camp spots in case storms closed the trail.

    But once you’re out there, none of that matters as much as the small moments. Like the first rise in a quiet pool. Or the sound of elk bugling across a valley at dawn. Or finding the perfect shaft of morning light filtering through lodgepoles, with a river bend waiting beneath it.

    The Camera Changed Everything

    I brought my Canon R5 to document the trip, but photography became more than just documentation—it became a second way of fishing. I wasn’t just casting for trout anymore. I was casting for light. Waiting for angles. Watching how clouds moved across the sunlit ridges. Timing the shutter for a take or the ripple of a rise.

    Using Sigma and Canon L-series lenses, I played with depth and storytelling: wide shots to show scale, macro shots to capture tiny streamside blooms, long exposures for rivers flowing like silk. Editing in Lightroom on my iPad Pro, often while huddled in a tent during afternoon showers, gave me time to reflect while still on location.

    What the Rivers Taught Me

    Each river had something to say.

    La Plata taught me to slow down and observe.

    The Pine River showed me the power of patience and hiking deep.

    The Animas reminded me to cast boldly, to adapt, and to respect fast water.

    The Dolores whispered the importance of silence, solitude, and light.

    Fly fishing in these places wasn’t just about catching trout—it was about connectingwith wild places. And photography made me see them differently. Not just as terrain to cover or fish to find—but as stories, shapes, and shifting light worth remembering.

    The Final Campfire

    On the last night, I sat at a bluff above the Dolores, fire crackling, stars just beginning to show. I had one more trout on the line earlier that evening, and one more photo of the sky turning peach above the canyon wall. The tent was pitched, the boots were drying, and my gear—rod and camera alike—was dusty but intact.

    It hit me then: This trip was less about fish and more about presence. About choosing to walk farther, wait longer, and look more closely. About building a rhythm between motion and stillness, casts and clicks, silence and shutter.

    So What Comes Next?

    I’ll be back on the flats of the Texas Coast soon—casting from my kayak, camera tucked into my hatch. And later this year, another mountain trip to Maine where I’ll be fishing for brooks. Then up to Colorado and Utah. Maybe back to New Mexico. That’s the beauty of it: the stories never end. The rivers are always waiting.

    Final Reflections and Tips

    Planning is critical, but stay flexible—rivers don’t follow your itinerary.

    Photography adds depth to fishing; carry your camera, even if it slows you down.

    Capture everything, not just the fish—landscape, weather, details, movement.

    Don’t chase numbers. Chase the experience. The cast. The quiet. The light.

    Bring a journal or use your camera as one. Tell your story while you’re still in it.

    Thanks for following this journey.

    Whether you’re chasing trout in the Rockies or tailing reds on a coastal flat, I hope this series inspires you to slow down, look deeper, and carry both a rod and a lens. The wild places are out there—and they’re best explored with muddy boots, weathered gear, and eyes open to everything between the casts.

    Want to revisit the full series?

    Check out the landing page https://beyond-the-cast.com/wilderness-water-a-colorado-fly-fishing-and-photography-series/ where all six parts are organized and downloadable.